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𝐂𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐚𝐢𝐧'𝐬 𝐒𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

Captain Rex x F!Reader Pt. 1 Rex tells the story of his first love, his first heartbreak, his one last regret. Word Count: 1,166 Warnings: None (from what I can tell) A/N: This is meant to be a multiple-part story, the second chapter will be out soon!

"Rex? How come you're so good with kids?" Hera's soft voice rung out in the almost empty cockpit of the Ghost. It was an early afternoon when Kanan, Ezra, Zeb and Sabine left, leaving the two captains behind. And Chopper.

They had been sent on another stealth mission, something about retrieving data on the Empires latest star fighters. Now it was the early hours of the evening, and they still weren't back.

"Huh?" He hummed as he turned around, his swivel chair squeaking in protest at the sudden movement. "What do you mean?"

He had an inkling of an idea of what she meant, though he wasn't too happy to pursue this topic. Play stupid, yes, play stupid, Rex thought as he nervously made eye contact. Maybe she'll drop it.

"Oh come on Rex, you know exactly what I mean. You're practically a second father to our youngest ones!" She exclaimed, elbowing him in the ribcage as she leaned over, egging him on.

"Beep boop!" Chopper added, his tiny, robotic arms raising into the air.

Rex left out a soft grunt at the sudden dig, recoiling into the soft cushion of his chair. He rummaged through his thoughts, trying to form the most believable lie in the next five seconds, before the two managed to catch on.

The cogs in his brain turned, working overtime as Rex dragged on the silence, scratching at his beard in thought.

After a few moments, he let out a sigh, his shoulders drooping.

"I-I'm not sure this is appropriate, Hera." His voice was soft and yet firm, he used it often on his brothers back in the day when they wanted to disobey command, he agreed, and yet followed orders like a good soldier.

In response he received a confused 'huh' before a sudden pain erupted in his shin. That goddamn clanker!

A grunt left his lips as Rex attempted to smack the top of Chopper's metallic head, a slight burning pain erupting in his palm as the robot mechanically cackled, enjoying Rex's demise.

Though to Hera and Chopper this was a sweet, lighthearted moment, to Rex it was a sticky situation. He hadn't yet told the others of this part of his past, and he wasn't sure he wanted to dip his fingertips in deeply drowned memories.

"Oh come on, you know we won't judge." Hera continued, wiggling her eyebrows at the older man. "And plus, this is great for team bonding." She wiggled her eyebrows at him, trying her best to look as convincing as possible.

The two got on well, being somewhat close in age even with Rex looking like a grandpa. He still had the refreshing energy and spirit of a young man, but he also had the knowledge and experience of an experienced veteran. How fitting.

Rex would do anything but talk about this. The room felt a little too hot for his liking, his heart beating harshly against his rib cage.

"It's a bit hot in here, isn't it?" He asked, getting up and moving over to the temperature control panel.

Though as his gaze moved from the control panel to his fellow captain, Rex couldn't help but sigh out loud, his head hanging down. "Fine. You got me."

Before she could even proclaim her victory, Hera was quickly hushed by Rex.

"Just know this doesn't have a happy ending." He warned, crossing his arms over his chest. All of a sudden, the cool steel grey of the cabin seemed more inviting to look at than his fellow crew members.

Leaning back against the wall, Rex thought over how to tell her. These.. Memories, these events, he had hidden them away deep within his subconscious, like sacred mementos in a time pod.

Only a few people were allowed to dig them back up, if they hadn't been by his side as he lived through them.

I guess it's their time now too.

A heavy sigh and a shake of his head later, Rex was feeling ready enough. As ready as he could be.

"Long ago-"

"You sound old."

"Be quiet," Rex hissed out, his words whistling out like bullets from a gun.

He could tell Hera meant it as a joke, but this wasn't something he could bring himself to joke about.

"Long ago, when I was just a shiny, I met this.. Girl."

"Ooo."

"It was during one of my first missions," He paused, observing the scratched out pattern on the floor, "She was caught in the crossfire, and I saved her." He felt his chest twist as more words spilled from his lips. Even though so many years had passed, the memories still felt as fresh as the day they were formed.

He couldn't stop now. He wouldn't. 

"As we made our escape, a plasma bolt grazed her hand, and she fainted and then we defeated the bad guys and my brother Kix had gone off to tend her wound, he was a medic clone, y'know." His shoulders shook as he scoffed, remembering how well Kix had handled the situation.

"She was so.. So weird. She insisted on walking herself home, but then proceeded to get lost on our ship. So I had to find her and escort her, like a gentleman," He paused, his gaze locked onto a scratch of the ships floor, "I think that was the first time I ever felt like a human, like a man."

"From there on, we became closer. She was moved t Coruscant and so I was able to see her during every shore leave. We wrote letters to each other, we went out together, we slept together. Waking up to her by my side was like a dream come true. Until it wasn't."

At that, Hera's posture straightened out a little. She wasn't sure where this was going, and she could feel Chopper shielding himself with her leg.

"My duty to the Galactic Republic outweighed my duty.. My loyalty to her. I left her when she needed me most." He paused again, this time his shoulders shaking, tears tiptoeing at the edge of his waterline. "She wasn't my priority. And neither was Tala."

"Rex-"

"I spent so many months, weeks, days yearning for her. She was there when I closed my eyes, reaching out to me, she was as beautiful as a morning sunshine, her eyes held so much love for me. And I abandoned her." He paused, hiding his face in one hand, seemingly pushing the tears back with his thumb and forefinger. "Tala was three when I left, and I hadn't seen them since."

Silence fell over the trio. Rex didn't want to continue, and Hera was at a complete loss for words. Even Chopper, the usually chippy chirpy robot, had nothing to beep out at this.

Simply put, nobody knew that side to Rex.

"R-Rex I- I don't know what to say.."

"It's fine. I've made my peace with it." He waved her off, the tears having evaporated from his eyes in mere seconds.

"Are they.. alive?"

He felt his breath get caught in his throat, encircling and squeezing at his wind pipe like a tight fist.

"I.. I don't know."

“Just look at me. Forget everything else.”

An injury on the battlefield, hands clasped tightly - im thinking a clone x reader during the clone wars timeline, even better if reader or clone is a medic

~🍯

oh yes, we love hurt x comfort, especially combined with angst! one of my favorite tropes and i eat it up every. single. time.

i think we'll do a commander wolffe x jedi healer reader for this one. just a psa, this one has mature content, so if you have a meek stomach, i suggest scrolling past this one! (also idc if this is not canon. this is my canon.)

"he's over here!"

as the world around you seemed to crumble, you could pick out comet's distressed call, the desperation inflected in his tone nearly cracking his voice.

"i'm coming!" you cried, cupping your hands around your lips to amplify your voice, "who is it?"

"it's wolffe!"

oh gods.

fuck, fuck, fuck.

sprinting forward, the clamor of battle was nearly deafening. your heart was thumping, adrenaline pumping through your veins as you stumbled upon the sight of comet, holding wolffe to his chest.

wolffe was nearly unconscious, his breathing ragged, streaks of blood caked to the right side of his face. for just a moment, you felt your body still, the hairs on your neck tingling.

his right eye was gone, a gaping, horrendous wound in its place. the worst aspect of it was that the blood did not seem to end, gushing nearly all over his features.

yet, you clenched your jaw, exhaling a shaky breath. no matter who it was, you needed a clear mind. you were a healer, a medic for the jedi. this is what you were meant to do. this is what you did best. this is the person you were meant to be.

"wolffe," you murmured, kneeling beside him, "i'm here. it's okay."

"i can't fucking see!" a mangled sob rang out, "i can't fucking see! where are my brothers? what's happening? i need to know!"

"wolffe," carefully, you cradled his face, "i'm here."

"oh gods," he groaned, nearly going limp under your touch, "it hurts. it hurts so fucking much. fix me, baby. please."

"i will," your voice was softened, just enough to comfort him, "you'll be okay."

"w-what about my eye?" you noticed the glitter of a tear as his lip trembles, "what are we going to do about my eye baby?"

"wolffe, just look at me. forget everything else."

"i'm just so scared baby," the tears were relentless now, "i'm so scared. what if they decommission me? put me medical leave?"

"you're worrying about the wrong things right now," somehow a giggle bubbled up in your throat, your hands searching for your medpack, "we'll figure it out. we always will."

"just don't let me die," a trembling hand found yours, intertwining your fingers together, "don't let me die baby."

"i won't," pausing from your work, you squeezed his hand gently, "i won't let anything else happen to you. not while i'm here."

"stars, i love you," his voice was growing more quiet now, raspy and broken. yet, you heard. and you knew comet heard them. but he was quiet, a solemn expression painted across his features.

however, you could sense an understanding in his aura. almost like an unspoken promise.

he would not speak of this. not to buir. not to the council. not to anyone. this would be a secret he would keep for the two of you, for many moons to come.

as wolffe began to slip into unconsciousness, he dipped his head, almost prompting you to say the words you desperately wanted to blurt out.

"i love you too, wolffe. more than you will ever know."

and with that, the commander's world grew black.

I'm not sure if it's canon that hunters face tattoo continues further down, but I came across @lornaka s take on hunters tattoos and really wanted to give it a try myself :3

Just a really really nice Boil fanfic for any 212th and Waxer and Boil lovers out there 😭💕

Double, Double Boil and Trouble - Part 5

A/N: This is part 5 my fic for the @rare-clone-fic-exchange, which I wrote for @goblininawig. The story takes place in a shared continuity with Stars Beyond Number, Martyrs and Kings, and “Do It Again,” but it stands alone and can be read independently of those fics.

Pairing: Clone Trooper Boil x Reader (GN, has hair; reader practices tasseomancy/reads tea leaves) 

Rating: M (mature content intended for readers 18+; minors DNI)

Wordcount: 3.1K

Warnings and tags: mysticism; angst; fluff; mild critique of the Jedi Order (but no Jedi hate); fade-to-black sensuality; implied oral sex; ritualistic drug use; a description of being high on hallucinogens/psychedelics

Obligatory disclaimer: Please don’t use this as a how-to guide for or endorsement of drug use, because 1. it’s inaccurate to the real world, and 2. depending on your location, ThAt WOuld Be ILlEGal. This is a Wendy’s fanfic.

Summary: Boil is willing to do what it takes to get answers about Waxer.

Suggested Listening:

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Masterlist | Sign up for my tag list

“You sure this won’t make me pop positive if I get tested?” Boil asked, eyeing the tin of tea warily.

“Completely. You have two rotations left of shore leave, and this will be out of your system in twenty-four hours.”

You spoke with certainty, and Boil felt some of his doubts ease. He picked up the tin and removed the lid, giving the tea a curious sniff. It didn’t smell like much; just faintly earthy and vegetal. 

“So how does it work?”

“You brew it and drink it, just like regular tea,” you replied. “After a few minutes, you start to feel the effects.”

“And what do the effects feel like?” He set the tea tin down and took a bite of his breakfast.

“Nothing much at first,” you replied. “But when it hits, you’ll know. Everything will look a little clearer and brighter. Food will taste a little better. Everyday things will start to seem really, really interesting. People will be prettier and funnier and smarter.”

“That just sounds like a couple shots of Cheedoan whiskey,” Boil observed.

“Oh, somebody’s fancy,” you teased. “I didn’t realize I was in the presence of royalty.”

He laughed and tossed his crumpled napkin at you, mostly for the fun of seeing you shudder and flick it away with a revolted expression. “The general bought a round for Ghost Company one time.”

“I hope he charged it to the Jedi Order,” you laughed. “Do Jedi get paid?”

“Search me,” he shrugged. “Clones don’t.”

You grimaced. “I know. Kriffing banthashit, is what that is.”

It didn’t change a thing, but Boil still felt a little better knowing you weren’t as complacent as the rest of the galaxy seemed to be about the clone troopers’ situation. 

“So what makes this tea any different from a decent buzz?” he asked.

“That would be the visual hallucinations,” you replied with a cheeky grin.

He eyed you curiously. “I take it you’ve done this before.”

“A few times,” you nodded. “It can be pretty fun. You haven’t lived until you’ve watched the Eye of Aldhani—you know what, never mind.”

He laughed. “What about the ritual part?”

“It’s a little different. The dosage is higher, so the effects are more intense.” You hesitated a moment before adding, “There’s another element to it as well.”

“What’s that?”

“Force sensitivity,” you replied bluntly. “You need to either be able to wield the Force yourself, or have a strong connection with someone who can.”

He nodded, recalling a detail you’d told him months ago. “And your grandmother taught you to wield it? Why didn’t she send you to the Jedi for training?”

“Our world isn’t part of the Republic,” you explained. “The Jedi order has no jurisdiction that far out in Wild Space, and to be frank, we prefer it that way. They mind their own business, and we mind our own.”

Boil pondered your response quietly, noticing the strained expression in your eyes, and he remembered that you tried to stay off the Jedi’s scopes. “You don’t have to tell me if you’d rather not talk about it.”

You gave him a grateful look and replied, “It’s all right. It’s not a secret or anything. It’s just…” You paused and took a deep breath before continuing. “We do things our own way. And when someone is born with the Sight—the Force—we train them in our own way, too. It doesn’t happen often, and there weren’t many elders with the Sight left by the time I was born. Gran took on my training, but I was only fifteen when she passed.”

Boil gazed steadily at you, feeling a deep sense of foreboding. “What happened?”

“I came to Coruscant, hoping the Jedi could help me. I scraped together everything I had in the galaxy to pay for the trip. But when I went to the temple, they said it was too dangerous to train someone who’d been ‘corrupted.’” The word came out harshly, as though it tasted bitter on your tongue. “They sent me away. Said I would be better off knowing nothing of the Force.”

Boil was horrified. “But you were just a kid!”

“Yeah,” you replied grimly. “I grew up pretty fast after that.”

He didn’t know what to say. He couldn’t imagine most of the Jedi he’d met ever treating a child with such callousness, but he and his fellow clones knew better than anyone that the Jedi order contained all sorts of beings, ranging from those who were kind and wise like General Kenobi, all the way to monsters like that kriffing traitor, Pong Krell.

“I’m sorry,” he said at last, feeling the inadequacy of his words. “I didn’t know.”

“It’s all right,” you replied. “I’m older and wiser now, and I realize I probably wouldn’t have been the best fit in the Order. And I’ve picked up quite a bit of knowledge since then—especially since I met Tas. There are more paths to the Force than people think.”

The conversation had strayed into territory that was wholly unfamiliar to Boil, so he was relieved when your serious expression faded and the usual glint of humor returned to your eyes. “Lucky for you, I know what I’m doing.”

He smiled, content to let you steer the topic back to the ritual. “So when you say we need a strong connection, how strong are we talkin’?”

“It requires a very high level of trust. We will have to lower our mental defenses enough to allow each other in. When I’ve done it in the past, it was with people I was very close to—people I had known for years.”

“So you don’t do this for every trooper you bewitch?” he asked.

You grinned. “Actually, yes. After tonight, I will have done this for every single trooper I’ve bewitched. One-hundred percent success rate. Hopefully.”

“So what happens if our connection isn’t strong enough?”

Your smile faltered slightly. “Nothing. We’ll have a hell of a trip, and tomorrow we can thank the Force that it wasn’t our money that got wasted on the tea.”

“That doesn’t sound so bad,” he said. “When should we do it?”

“We’ll need a few hours of uninterrupted privacy, so we’ll want to wait until I get off work tonight,” you replied. “It’ll be about half an hour before you start to feel the effects, and then we’ll begin the ceremony.”

“That sounds ominous,” he laughed. “Is there a blood sacrifice, or is that only on Centaxdays?”

“You know, I’m fresh out of sacrificial victims, so we’ll have to skip it this time.”

Your eyes sparkled, and he inhaled softly, stunned by how beautiful they were when you looked at him with that mischievous expression. Not that he would tell you that, obviously. What was he supposed to say?

You have the sweetest eyes in the galaxy.

I’ve never kissed anyone with such perfect lips.

The last two weeks have been the best of my life.

When I’m with you, I feel like everything is easier.

I don’t want to leave.

Please. He wasn’t a total sap.

“Cutting corners?” he asked instead, a hint of a taunt in his tone. “And here I thought I’d get special boyfriend privileges.”

He watched for your reaction out of the corner of his eye, and he didn’t miss the way you bit your lip to keep from smiling.

“Oh, you get boyfriend privileges,” you replied. “Door keycode, toothbrush, unlimited conservator access, your very own caf mug… And other things.”

He grinned, moving closer and sliding his hand around your waist, easing his fingers inside your ridiculous bathrobe to caress the bare skin of your hip.

“What other things?” he murmured in your ear, nipping the skin of your neck softly.

Kriff, you taste delicious.

“Ten percent discount on readings,” you replied.

“Ten percent?” he whispered, trailing kisses down your neck to your shoulder as he untied the sash of your robe and brushed his fingers lower on your body. “You can do better than that.”

“F—five percent,” you stammered in a gratifyingly breathy voice. “That’ll teach you not to haggle.”

“Mm,” he hummed as he worked his mouth down your torso, dropping slowly to his knees in front of you. “Maybe we could work out a barter system. I’m sure I could provide some services you might find appealing.”

Your only response was a broken whimper as he took you with his mouth, gripping your hips and then sliding his hands back to cup your ass and pull you against his face.

Maker, I could worship you forever. I don’t want to leave.

Boil would rather die than admit he was nervous. For kark’s sake, he faced off against entire divisions of battle droids on a daily basis; how intimidating could a cup of tea possibly be? Besides, you seemed perfectly comfortable as you brewed the tea and lit a stick of incense, and there was no way he’d let you see him blink. He was a soldier of the Republic, and he wasn’t afraid of anything.

Still, some of his definitely-not-nervousness must have shown on his face, because you gave his arm an encouraging little touch as you walked past him into the living area. He watched as you pulled all the throw pillows off the sofa and your bed and piled them on the floor to make a soft, chaotic nest, and then you dimmed the lights. Your flat had already taken on a strange, mystical air, and he hadn’t even tasted a sip of the tea yet.

He watched curiously as you placed colorful stones in all the windowsills and doorways of your flat.

“What are those for?” he asked.

“Just making sure the only spirits that show up are the ones we want,” you replied with a lopsided grin, but the look in your eyes made him think you were deadly serious. “Nothing to worry about.”

He blinked. So I guess that’s definitely something to worry about.

“I’m not gonna get haunted by this, am I?” he asked, aiming for a casual tone and not quite nailing it.

“Definitely not!” you replied, before adding under your breath, “... probably.”

“Probably?”

“I’m ninety percent sure,” you reassured him. “Eighty-three percent sure.”

“Are you kriffing with me, or are you serious?” he demanded.

You laughed. “I’m kriffing with you. You definitely, probably won’t get haunted, and even if you do, Tas has a banishing spell that’ll get rid of anything.”

“You know you’re not exactly inspiring confidence, right?”

Your only response was a playful smile that made him want to kiss you until you forgot your own name, so he did. He caught you by the hand and hauled you into his arms, threading his fingers through your hair as he kissed you again and again.

“Could you be serious for ten seconds?” he murmured between kisses. 

“No promises.” You flicked your tongue against the corner of his lips, and he nearly called off the entire operation and tossed you onto the bed on the spot.

With a rather impressive display of self control—if he did say so himself—he pulled away slightly and asked, “Are the walls of the Venator going to start weeping blood if I do this?”

“Oh, almost certainly not,” you replied. “Maybe just a droplet or two on the refresher mirrors…”

He stared into your eyes for a moment, then let out a reluctant laugh, dropping his forehead to rest against your shoulder. You wrapped your hand around the back of his head and pressed your lips against his temple.

“We don’t have to do any of this if you don’t want to,” you said quietly.

His arms tightened around you as he inhaled deeply, trying to memorize your exact scent. “No. I want to know. I need to know.”

You held him silently for a moment, and then you nodded. “If you’re sure, then everything is ready.”

“I’m sure,” he said, pulling back just far enough to look into your eyes. “Let’s do this.”

“Okay.” You held him tightly for another moment, then broke away to retrieve the two mugs of tea from the kitchen. You passed one to him, then tapped your own against it. “Bottoms up, Buttercup.”

Boil was expecting the concoction to taste awful: bitter and sinister, maybe with a hint of brimstone. In reality, it was actually pretty good. It was smooth, a little spicy, and sweetened with honey, and he drained the cup without complaint. He waited expectantly, but nothing happened.

“Now what?” he asked.

“Now we watch an episode of It’s Always Sunny on Abafar and wait for it to kick in,” you replied, glancing down into the mug to quickly scan the leaves the way he’d noticed you do every time you finished a cup of tea.

Whatever you saw must not have been too terrible, given that you didn’t immediately cancel the evening’s activities. He shrugged and moved to the sofa, pulling you down with him as you turned on the holoscreen. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to the luxury of being able to watch whatever he wanted, any time he pleased. Not to mention that your sofa, shabby as it was, was quite possibly the most comfortable piece of furniture in the galaxy—particularly with your head resting on his shoulder and your body tucked in close to his own as he curled around you. 

“Don’t fall asleep on me,” you warned, nudging him with your elbow. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he lied.

The episode failed to hold his attention, and his mind and hands began to wander. He traced his fingertips over your shoulder and down your bare arm, around your wrist and back up again, enjoying the smooth warmth of your skin. He’d never touched shimmersilk in his life, but he would have bet a month of rations that your skin was softer. Eventually, he draped his arm around your waist and began to play with the hem of your shirt, tugging it up to expose your abdomen.

“Don’t even think about it,” you said, resting your hand over his. “There’s no way in hell I’m going there on your first trip.”

“Even if I want to?” he murmured, kissing the back of your neck.

“Nope. Besides, we’re not just doing this for fun, remember?” You rolled over to face him.

“Fine. Maybe next time.” He rested his forehead against yours, stroking your cheek softly as he gazed into your eyes. “Your pupils are huge.”

You snorted a laugh. “Seems like the tea is working. Shall we get started?”

He nodded. “What do we do?”

“I have bad news,” you said gravely. “We’re going to have to break the cuddle.”

“Not the cuddle!” he gasped in horror.

“I’m afraid so.”

He grumbled, but begrudgingly disentangled his limbs from yours. As he sat up, the room seemed to sway slightly, almost as if the entire building were floating in water. He didn’t want to alarm you, so he didn’t mention that the pattern on your wallpaper was definitely, absolutely, one-hundred percent coming to life. The designs gyrated and churned in a nauseating swirl, and he tore his eyes away from it, determined not to abort the mission for a reason as pitiful as tea-induced motion sickness.

He followed you silently to the nest of cushions you’d arranged on the floor, sitting opposite you with his legs crisscrossed. You scooted forward until your knees touched his, and you took his hands, holding them in a loose grip. He stroked his thumb over your palm, and the smile you gave him in return made him forget all about the wallpaper.

“Close your eyes,” you said softly, “and take a slow breath, all the way down to the bottom of your lungs.”

He did as you said, and as he exhaled gradually, he felt his stomach settle and the tension drain out of his shoulders. The pair of you repeated the exercise a few times, and then you asked him to focus on keeping his breath smooth and even. He was starting to feel incredibly relaxed and drowsy, and only his promise not to fall asleep kept him from drifting off.

“Think of somewhere you felt safe and happy,” you said in a low voice. “Picture it in your mind.”

Here. With you. 

“Do you see it?” you asked.

“Yes,” he whispered, envisioning your cozy, colorful little flat as clearly as though he had opened his eyes. 

He was alone in his mental version of the flat, and he took a moment to look around. It was tidier in his mind, with the nest of cushions all put back where they belonged, and no telltale pastry crumbs on the kitchen counter. But aside from that, it was the same, filled with signs of you—the eclectic jumble of teacups on your kitchen shelf; the colorful array of robes hanging on hooks on the wall; the vibrant collection of thrifted art hanging on the walls. It even smelled like your scent. The only thing missing was—

Knock knock.

He turned toward the door in his mind, and then he was standing in front of it without ever having moved his feet. He leaned in to look through the peephole—wait, your door has a holoscreen. The image in his mind warped, and suddenly the holoscreen appeared. You stood outside in the hallway, waiting.

“Will you let me in?” you asked quietly.

Your lips didn’t move in the vision of you he saw within his mind, and he realized you’d spoken the words aloud.

“Yes,” he replied, opening the door.

As you stepped inside, your gaze flicked around the flat, and your breath caught. Too late, Boil realized he’d revealed far more than he intended. He swallowed nervously, bracing himself for your mockery now that you had witnessed the true depth of his feelings for you. 

When you looked at him, though, there was no trace of ridicule in your eyes. You stepped closer and took his hand in yours, and as you did, he felt the soft pressure of a gentle, reassuring squeeze on his physical hands. To his relief, that was the only acknowledgment, though he had a feeling the two of you would be having a long conversation once the effects of the tea had worn off.

“Are you ready?” you asked, and somehow, he knew you’d asked the question directly to his mind.

“Ready as I’ll ever be,” he replied without speaking.

You smiled. “In that case, I’d like you to meet someone.”

Your gaze shifted to a point over his shoulder, and he turned slowly. A stranger stood behind him, ancient and wrinkled, with eyes that somehow seemed very familiar and very, very kind. A faint blue glow emanated from her, and though she seemed solid enough, Boil had the distinct feeling that if he were to open his eyes, he’d see nothing but you, sitting across from him in a nest of cushions.

“Is this the boy you told me about?” she asked, inspecting him closely.

“Yes,” you replied. “Gran, I’d like you to meet Boil.”

my sincerest reaction to clone wars style thrawn

He has the most adorable smile ever y'all 🥲😭😭

Just my daily ramblings on how much I adore and love Rex.