#oc clone troopers

[monako-jinn-stories]

Echo X Fem! Reader FanFic

A Returning Echo ~ After the Citadel

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Part Thirty Nine

Part Forty One

I'm barely alive and not kicking but here I am battling depression and anxiety with alcoholism and nicotine addiction WOOHOO COLLEGE IS SO FUCKING GREAT

ANyways I'm hoping to be 'back' soon so here's something I've been working on for months

Hope yall are well

Part Forty

As you stare at Tayah’s sickly yellow eyes, you feel the entire universe collapsing around you. Anakin is silent at your side, and you feel his discomfort rising. He’s just lost his padawan, and now you’re being given an offer to save someone close to you, bring them back to the light.

“I can go wait outside,” Anakin offers.

“I would prefer to keep you where I can see you,” Dooku replies, his eyes briefly leaving you to glance at the Jedi Knight. “I am sure you have a lot of internal conflict, but I advise you to make your choice quickly.”

“I-” you start, but then you bite your tongue, unable to speak the words. You stare at Tayah, noticing how helpless and desperate she looks. It’s as though even through the curse she’s pleading for you to help her. You glance at Anakin for help, and you already know what he’s thinking. You want to shake your head, knowing that his idea won’t work. But it’s at least worth a shot, right? “I’ll give myself up,” you say, “but release her curse first.”

“Now now, young one,” Dooku says while shaking his head, “I know better than to trust you deceitful Jedi.”

“I’ll prove my surrender,” you say before unclipping your lightsaber and using the force to pass it to him. He takes hold of it and examines it, a smirk residing on his lips.

“This will make a fine addition to Grievous’s collection,” he says before clipping it somewhere under his cloak. Next, you walk over to stand in front of him, and he motions for Tayah to get up and join you. She glares at you the entire time, eyes filled with the look of murder. “Tayah, you are now released from the sith curse,” he says while waving a hand above her head. You wait, hoping for something to happen, although you know it won’t. This has been pointless, you can’t take the sith curse away from someone. They have to give up the darkside themselves.

Tayah blinks a few times, confusion swirling in her eyes before she looks up at Dooku. “Master? What curse?”

A low, slow chuckle begins deep inside Dooku’s chest, and before you can get yourself back to your senses, his hand is around your neck and your back is pressed against his chest. He’s just barely choking you, and his lightsaber is held just millimeters from your throat. “You foolish Jedi,” he says in a humored tone, “you know there is no such thing as a curse to turn someone to the darkside.”

“It was worth a shot,” Anakin counters, igniting his own lightsaber. Dooku’s saber gets closer to you, and you stare at Anakin with wide eyes.

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” Dooku says, and you feel his hand loosen on your throat as he moves it to the back of your neck. You tense up, but then his arm is sticking out to the side. “Tayah, shall we show these Jedi all that you have accomplished so far?”

You feel your blood drain as you realize what’s about to happen. You want to scream, but all sound refuses to come out. When she steps forward, she ignites your lightsaber, and the green glow contrasts greatly with her orange skin and yellow eyes. You can remember the first time you’d shown her your lightsaber, how her eyes were silver like Kwol’s back then. 

“You don’t have to do this, Tayah,” Anakin says, holding his hand out, “you can come back with us. We can save you.”

“Don’t listen to his lies, Tayah,” Dooku counters, “remember how they abandoned you. How they never went searching for you.”

“We did all that we could, Tayah,” Anakin says, shaking his head, “we never gave up on you.”

“Why isn’t she talking,” Tayah questions slowly and quietly, her head turning to look at you briefly before refocusing on Anakin. “She’s the one who let me get taken.”

“I’m so sorry, Tayah,” you finally speak, “I tried, I did all I could, but when they jumped to hyperspace…We had no idea where they took you.”

“Why didn’t you use the force? You always told me about how you could use it to feel where people are.”

“It’s not that simple,” you counter. 

“Yes it is!” she screams, grip tightening on her lightsaber.

“I promise I would have come to you if I was able to!” you plead back, hoping to calm her down.

Dooku’s arm tightens around you, and you resist the urge to struggle in his grasp. “Quiet down, young Num,” he says quietly, “let’s watch this first.” His hand comes up and covers your mouth, and if it weren’t for the gloves on his hands, you would have tried to bite him. “Begin, Tayah.”

With that simple command, Tayah launches herself forward, a growl coming from her as she moves toward Anakin. In defense, he quickly grabs his own lightsaber and ignites it to block her strike. She’s small and quick, but Anakin is still more skilled than her. You watch in horror, unable to say or do anything while trapped in Dooku’s arms.

“This isn’t you,” Anakin says as he backs away from a slash, “you don’t have to give your life away, Tayah!”

“You don’t know me,” she growls back, and when their sabers clash together, something clicks in you. 

You take a deep breath through your mouth before you clamp your teeth down on Dooku’s covered palm, at the same time stomping on his foot. His grip loosens just enough for you to slip an arm backwards and grab one of his sabers. You ignite it just as he moves away from you, narrowly avoiding getting cut by it. He ignites the saber he still has and you lunge forward to clash with him. 

“No matter what you do, she is already too far gone,” Dooku states as he swings at you. You bend back just in time and swing towards him, which he again dodges.

“You don’t know that!” you shout as you shift into a better stance, “you’ve never tried to bring someone back!”

“You’re right,” he says, “but I tried to fight the urge myself. I tried to fight for your father’s sake, but it didn’t work.”

“Tayah isn’t you, she has family that loves her. Family that wants her back! She won’t be alone!”

“And you think that I would have been alone if I had reached out?” Dooku questions. “What about your father? Don’t you think that he would try to help his former master?”

“I didn’t know my father well,” you start, “but from what I’ve heard about him from others, he would have done anything to bring his master back to the light side.”

“That is the problem with you Jedi,” Dooku says before his eyes flash yellow. He thrusts his hand out, and you can’t dodge the force lightning that strikes your body. “You believe that everyone can be saved, when in fact, not many can be. Myself and Tayah included. You end up slaughtering more people than you save because you are blinded by pointless optimism.”

You scream as you writhe on the ground, and the shouts from Anakin are barely heard by you. You don’t see when Anakin gets angry, but in a matter of moments he’s slashing his saber toward Dooku and you are relieved of the force lightning. 

“Look at you! A Jedi flinging an innocent child to the ground!” Dooku’s words make you roll your head to the side and look for Tayah, and the sight of her crumbled on the ground spurs you into action. You reach out and pull a lightsaber towards you before pushing yourself off the ground and running to her. 

“Y/n, I need your help!” Anakin yells, and you pause, halfway between him and Tayah. She still hasn’t moved, but you can feel her life force. She’s not dead, but she might be injured. “We can help her after we escape!” Anakin shouts, and you give a silent apology to Tayah for abandoning her again, and you turn and run back toward the dueling pair. 

“Finally, a challenge,” Dooku sneers. “Fighting the daughter of my former padawan, and the padawan of his padawan. I can see him in both of you, but that is your weakness.”

You ignore his words and instead focus on blocking the swing of his saber. The force of his attack nearly knocks you down. It surprises you that an old man like him can be so strong, but then again, Yoda is one of the strongest Jedi you know, and he’s ancient.

“If only Obi Wan were here, that would be much more interesting of a fight,” Anakin jokes, but you just roll your eyes before rolling forward and trying to catch Dooku off guard. He jumps out of the way though, and you barely push yourself across the ground in time to avoid his strike. 

“Perhaps I overestimated you,” Dooku comments as you stand back up, “I should have known that just because Qui-Gon was your father, that wouldn’t inherently give you skill. I knew Codo was a weak Jedi, it’s a shame that your potential was ruined by him.”

You feel a rush of anger run through you, and you begin acting with less control. How can Dooku stand here and spew hatred about those that once loved him? Those who were once his allies, comrades? People he had spent a majority of his life with, training and becoming closer with the force?

“Codo is far from weak,” you spew out, “he is one of the strongest Jedi I know!”

“He’s a delusional man who believes that he can follow a life of passivity. He ignores the war raging across the galaxy to keep his own conscience clean.” Dooku raises his sabers and swings at both you and Anakin at once, and the power of each shows just how strong he really is. You wonder if it’s purely his skill and strength, or if the dark side is aiding him as well.

“You’re wrong if you think that makes him weak,” you fire back while swinging at him. Your blade nearly clips him, but he moves out of the way just in time, dodging both you and Anakin. “It takes great strength to choose passivity in a time like this!” 

“Passivity won’t bring the suffering to an end,” he counters, knocking you back and taking the opportunity to focus on Anakin. As you regain your balance, something coming from behind you feels strange. Your body seems to act on instinct, moving on its own. Anakin glances over to you in a free moment and you see his eyes go wide before he yells at you.

“Behind you!” 

You don’t hear the words, but you see them play on his lips. You turn as if someone is controlling you, slashing your lightsaber back before you even look to see what’s–or who is there. You don’t need to, though, as you already know the presence there. Your eyes only take in her face the moment her life leaves her body. It’s like you’re watching everything in slow motion, but you can’t make it stop.

You feel your lightsaber cut through her neck, swiftly and effortlessly. You didn’t even hear any screams of pain, only the rage that had slipped from her as she ran toward you. Nor had you noticed Dooku tossing one of his sabers, which now rests at your feet, having slipped from her grasp as her body fell to the ground. Her head rolled to the side, the tips of her lekku cut and singed from your lightsaber.

You don’t even think about your next moves, you just act. Rage flows through your body, and your vision seems to go red. You feel the saliva flying out of your mouth as you scream in anger. Dooku’s name rings from your lungs as you act with more power than you’ve ever felt before. 

It doesn’t register in your mind as Anakin backs off, nor do you notice the utter fear in his eyes as he watches you. You just swing, jab, slash, like there’s nothing else to life. Dooku’s face is contorted in an evil grin, and distantly you hear his chuckling. The noise spurs you on more, and you feel hot tears streaming down your face.

“You killed her!” you seethe out, the words barely more than snarls. Dooku stops chuckling then, and his face changes to one of pure hatred.

“I did not kill young Tayah,” he replies calmly. He pulls his saber back as you jump forward again, and he reaches his spare hand out as he finishes his sentence. “You, y/n Jinn, killed Tayah Caree with your own lightsaber, without a single thought against it.” You’re thrown back into the wall, all of your breath knocked from you by the force of the impact. Crumbling to the ground, you lay there, and in your mind you debate whether or not you should fight unconsciousness. You decide not to, as you don’t want to see the destruction you caused.

“Y/n, you have to tell them something.” Anakin is turned to face you as the ship flies through hyperspace. You’re staring out the viewport, trying to keep your mind off of the sight of Tayah’s headless body.

“Why? She was given to the Jedi Order, her family has had no contact with her or Ringo since. Nobody else is told when their children die, so why would I tell Ahni and Kwol?”

“Because they’re your friends, and Tayah was under your responsibility-”

“No, she was not under my responsibility,” you snap, turning in your seat to glare at him. “I have never been involved with the younglings except for a few lessons here and there. I do not take responsibility for her or for her life, or death for that matter.”

“But you’re the one who brought her here.” When you don’t answer, Anakin stares at you as if you’re crazy, but you stand your ground and don’t back down. “So you’re just going to burn her like any other Jedi? Not tell her family and just let her be dead? What about Ringo?”

“Ringo has likely felt the death of his sister through the force. There is no need to tell him, it’ll only distract him from his training.” Anakin shakes his head and looks away, and you turn back to the viewport. Is it really all that wrong to do this? It would keep so many people from hurting, and only you would bear the weight of knowing how she died. Well, you’ll probably tell Jawa Squad, they’ll know right away that something is up. 

“Num is an interesting name,” Anakin comments, and you can tell he’s trying to lighten up the conversation, but it does the opposite.

“My only biological family other than my daughter is dead, and I only found out who I was supposed to be when it was too late. It’s not interesting, it’s utterly devastating.”

A deep sigh comes from him as he slumps in his seat, but he sits up again and turns to you. “You’re not the only one whose mother is dead you know.”

“Oh, I’m sorry,” you counter, “I didn’t realize that never having even known my mother was comparable to someone who got to spend most of his childhood with his.”

“I’m not comparing our tragedies,” he says, “I’m just saying that I know how it feels to not have a mother.”

“I’ve never had any sort of motherly figure to love me, at least you got some time with one.”

“Maybe that’s worse, because I know what I’ve lost, whereas you never knew her and don’t know who she was or what she could have been for you.”

“You’re right,” you sigh, “but I am a mother now, and with me being a Jedi, Echoa could have to grow up without me if something goes wrong. And Ahni is a mother who had to give up both of her children. We all have different pains, but that doesn’t mean one is greater than the others. From now on, just don’t mention that name.”

“Are you sure? What if we could look for some information about-”

“No,” you say, cutting him off, “I know everything I need to know. The more I find out, the more lost I’ll feel.”

“I understand,” Anakin replies as the ship leaves hyperspace. Coruscant glows below you, and for the first time it doesn’t feel like you’re returning home, it feels like you’re going to a cage. You feel like you’re even more lost than before, and nearly ask Anakin to turn around, but you know you can’t. You have to face the truth sooner or later, and you have to tell the Council what happened. You have to burn Tayah’s body in a proper Jedi funeral, but you know you won’t tell anyone who really cared for her. It’s better this way, you keep telling yourself. It’s better that they just move on, not knowing what happened to her, as at least they can still hope that she’s alive and well.

As he lands the ship, your mind jumps to Codo. You feel the color drain from your face as you imagine having to tell him what happened, what you have done. Is it possible that he can still love you the way he always has if you tell him you murdered your best friends’ child? Will he understand that it was out of instinct and to protect yourself? Or will he merely see it as you killing an innocent child who had needed your help to bring her back to the light?

Your mind then wanders to what Dooku had said about Codo and his passivity. Did he have a point?

“Y/n, it’s going to be okay.” Anakin’s hand rests on your arm as you pull yourself from your spiraling thoughts. You stop the trembling in your hands and take a deep breath. “I…I wish I knew what exactly to say, but I was there, so I know. I understand why it happened. I’ll be here if you need anything at all. Okay?”

“Okay,” you sigh, and he holds out his hand for you to take. You gently do, and he gives you a soft smile before pulling you in for a hug. Tears begin to well up in your eyes and before you can stop them, they spill down your cheeks. Anakin holds you tighter and you grip onto his shirt harder. “Why…why is it always me who suffers? Why do I always lose everyone?”

“I don’t know, y/n,” he replies, his hand rubbing at your shoulders, “I wish I could protect you more, you don’t deserve this.”

“Maybe I was just born cursed,” you sniffle, pushing back slightly to look up at him. “Do I look cursed?” He seems to be taken aback by your words as his eyes go wide and his mouth drops open. His expression quickly changes to one of sympathy as he shakes his head.

“No,” he starts, brushing his hand along your cheek. “You look like a strong Jedi master, a legendary queen, a ruthless and powerful warrior. You look like…” He trails off his words, confliction seeping into his eyes.

You shake your head, knowing why he had stopped. Who are you really? Y/n Monako? Y/n Jinn? Can you possibly be Y/n Num? “Thank you, Anakin,” you reply, wiping your tears from your face.

“I’m always here for you,” he repeats. As you close your eyes and take a steadying breath, he leans down and places a gentle kiss on your forehead. “I wish we could have grown up together. Maybe we would have been able to save each other.”

“I think we were both always destined to be this way,” you whisper, “but I will always love you as a brother.”

“And you’ll always be my little sister.”

You push back from him then, your mood suddenly changing. “Hold on, Skywalker. I'm the older sibling here.”

“But I’m taller,” he counters, “taller always means older.”

“No it doesn’t.”

“It’s just sad if someone is the older sibling and they’re shorter than their younger one.”

“Oh shut it. If anything, I’m the older one because I’m smarter than you.”

Anakin gasps and holds a hand to his chest, his face plastered with offense. “You are not smarter than me!”

“Bantha shit I’m not!”

“Prove it then!”

“What’s twelve plus five?”

“That’s not fair! You know I can’t do math!”

“Hence why I’m smarter than you!”

He huffs and folds his arms, eyes narrowing at you. “No, I don’t accept that. What’s the name of the system Felucia is in?”

“Well, its direct system is the Felucia system, but it is also a part of the bigger Outer Rim system,” you respond, folding your arms to mock him. He just huffs again and rolls his eyes, mumbling to himself as he grabs his cloak. You smirk triumphantly, but it doesn’t last long as you realize that now you have to take Tayah’s body to the funeral pyre. 

“Do you want me to come with you?” Anakin asks, but you shake your head no.

“I think it’s best I do this alone,” you reply before adding “maybe I’ll have Codo there since he worked with her the most.”

“You still set on not telling her family?”

“Yes. I don’t need to deal with that right now. Maybe I’ll make the time for it in the future,” you say before using the force to lift up her body. You walk past him as you leave the ship, and for once you’re not greeted by your troopers in the hangar. You hadn’t commed them to let them know you were returning, and they might be getting worried by now, but you have something important to do.

“I’ll see you around then, y/n,” Anakin says before turning away and walking toward the elevators. You sigh and raise your wrist up, comming Codo to ask him to meet you in the funeral room. You then comm Jawa Squad to let them know that you’re safe and back on Coruscant, but it’ll be a little while before they can see you.

~~~

When the door to the funeral room opens, Codo comes in quietly, followed by a small figure. At first you assume it’s Yoda, for obvious reasons, but then you realize it’s exactly who you didn’t want to be here. Ringo shuffles around to stand at Codo’s side, and you can already tell he knows about Tayah.

“Auntie y/n…?” he says quietly, “is that…Tayah?”

You glance from him to Codo, letting out a sigh before nodding. “Yes, it is. She…there was an accident. We tried to save her, but she was too far lost. I’m sorry, Ringo.”

“It’s okay,” he replies while looking down. “I felt her come to me after she died. She said she’d always be here for me. And with me. Master Daawa said it’s a force connection between us since we were twins.”

“I knew something had happened, I felt it as well. There was a disturbance when she left us,” Codo explains. “Is there anyone else who is coming to say goodbye to her?”

“No,” you say, “there’s no one else who needs to be here.”

“What about-”

“No.” You cut Ringo off swiftly, knowing what he had been about to ask. “They already said their goodbyes to you guys when you came here. I’m sorry, but they can’t be here. This is a sacred Jedi ritual, outsiders cannot observe it.” Ringo just nods and steps forward, reaching out to pull back the cloth covering Tayah’s body. “Don’t,” you say, quickly reaching out and moving his hand away. “It’s better if you don’t.”

“But…” Ringo trails off before looking pleadingly at Codo, who then looks at you.

“Are you sure he can’t see her? To give a proper goodbye?”

You take a breath before motioning for Codo to come over to you, wanting to whisper to him instead of speaking aloud. “She was…decapitated…” you say, “I don’t think it would be a good idea for him to see her like that.”

“I think it would help him to move on.”

“But it’ll be traumatizing.”

Codo thinks for a moment, looking back to Ringo who was patiently standing off to the side. “He’ll be fine. He’s strong enough, I can feel it, and I’ve seen it within him.”

“Fine,” you sigh, “but if he has a bad reaction, you’re the one responsible for helping him get through it.” You move back then, looking at Ringo. “You can look at her, but just know that it might not be what you want to see.”

“Okay,” Ringo says. He hesitantly steps forward, taking a moment before reaching up and pulling back the cloth. His face barely changes, and you see it flicker in his eyes for only a moment, but then he goes back to neutral. You realize he has better control over his feelings and emotions than you thought, especially because he is so young. “How did it happen?”

You bite your tongue, shaking your head. “I’d rather not talk about it. It just happened today. I need time to process it.”

“Okay. It probably won’t help to know. The energy just feels so…familiar around her. Like I know the person who did it…”

You take a deep breath and look up to the ceiling. Your emotions are pushing the limits of your control, but you make yourself calm down and proceed with the funeral. You can feel Codo’s eyes on you, questioning what is off about you, but you ignore it and focus on making sure everything goes to plan. 

It’s a bit rushed, and definitely not clean, but it gets the job done. It doesn’t matter to you, not really. She’s already gone, and nothing can bring her back. The funeral was the best way to get her close to the Force, and that is your only goal. The only Jedi funeral you’d seen before was your fathers, and you weren’t the one leading it. You didn’t have time to learn how to do it properly, though, as you wanted to get this out of the way and move on. But with the end of the funeral comes the questioning from Codo.

“Are you alright to walk back to the dormitories yourself, Ringo?” Codo asks, and you immediately perk up and shake your head.

“I think you should take him, I need to catch up with the Jawa boys.”

“I know there is a lot on your mind, y/n. I would rather hear it now and help you than let it fester. Besides, Ringo is alright to go alone.”

“I think you should talk to him,” Ringo agrees, “I can sense your feelings as well.”

Strong with the force, while his sister was weak, you think to yourself. You watch Codo nod before Ringo leaves the room, and you follow shortly after, waiting for Codo to speak first. The air is tense between the two of you, and you can feel him walking further away from you than normal. You know why, he can probably sense it, but you don’t know if he’s strong enough to ask it.

“What happened?” Codo finally asks, and you stop walking to address him.

You meet his eyes, making sure you’re holding eye contact before you speak. You stare in a way that holds him there, daring him to look away from you and your truth. “I killed her. I had zero thoughts about it. She was running up behind me, I sensed the danger, I swung my saber back and severed her head.”

Codo shakes his head, still looking at you. “My child…this is not how I trained you.”

“You trained me–no, you raised me–to take care of myself. To sense danger and act on it. To not let myself become the victim.”

“That was not my teaching, that was your Dohbarian military training.” He shakes his head again, looking down now. “They trained you to kill, but I trained you to defend. I trained you to practice peace, they trained you to practice war.”

“Peace can’t be gained without war,” you snap back, anger now boiling through you. “I’m sorry that my people, my culture, turned me into a murderer. I’m sorry I can’t just turn my back on reality like you do! I’m sorry that I have the courage to fight for what’s right, and not just sit in my room and meditate for peace!” Your words get louder with each sentence, and you feel the tears welling in your eyes, but you don’t stop. You can’t stop. You don’t want to. “I’m sorry I’m actually trying to make a difference in this galaxy, that I’m out there risking my life to save people, while you’re sitting here in your peace and safety, watching the drama play out with a karking bag of mantell mix! I’m sorry I’m not a weak, incompetent, old man who can’t bother to actually do something to help end this war!”

You don’t linger around to see his response. You don’t even think he would’ve had one. You’ve never blown up on Codo before, but you’re an adult now. You have the right to defend yourself, especially if he’s disrespecting you and your people. The only thing you didn’t mention, but probably fed into, is the lingering thrill of acting emotionally. 

When you fought Dooku after killing Tayah, you had let go. You let everything out, and you had the intention of trying to kill him, even though you knew you couldn’t. And when you blew up on Codo, you had done so with the intent of severing your ties with him, of showing him where the two of you stand in relation to each other. You wanted to show him his wavering importance in your life, and the increasing importance of following your instincts.

The silence in the room rings loud in your ears as Sans, Hex, Steele, and Aid wait for you to talk. You pour them cups of caf and add everything each one of them likes. It still surprises you that you can remember each of their ‘orders’, and manage to slip in a little surprise each time to watch their eyes light up. It doesn’t happen today, though.

“I found out what my mothers name was, and a bit about her,” you say, taking a sip from your own mug. “Well, just that she was a servant at Castle Serreno before she and her brother died.”

“You had an uncle?” Steele questions, his expression softening as he looked down. “I’m sorry, y/n.”

“His name was Estiv, and my mother’s Estia. Num was their last name—what I should have been named.”

“You wouldn’t have taken Jinn from your father?” Sans asks, and you shake your head no.

“If he wasn’t there to raise me with my mother, then I wouldn’t have acknowledged him until I came here. Although I suppose it would have been up to my mother what my name was, at least until I got older.”

Hex takes a drink before setting his mug down, letting Steele fiddle with a string on his undersuit’s sleeve. “I’d argue, respectfully and with my best understanding of your situation and life, that not growing up with your mother, or at least until you would have been brought here, was better than the life you could’ve had if that stuff had happened.” 

You look at him with a questioning look, curious as to what he means. “You wouldn’t be the same person as the y/n we know today. You likely wouldn’t have been as strong or smart. You understand your troopers better than all other Jedi generals because you grew up in a culture that emphasized military experience. You’re a kriffing queen for maker’s sake! You could put any of these other Jedi in their place. Hells, you could get the senate or that damned Palpa-piss to sit down and shut up. You are the best leader this Republic has, and if you hadn’t been raised the way you were, by who you were raised, you wouldn’t be these things. We’d probably all be dead if not for you and your leadership.”

You can’t help the small smile that comes to your lips as he speaks, and you look down and take another sip. It doesn’t take long for your smile to drop, though, remembering all that has happened because of you. “Tie wouldn’t be dead if I wasn’t your leader. Bomber wouldn’t be either. Not to mention all the other troopers under my command. And Tayah…”

“You didn’t kill them,” Sans counters, “like Hex said, we all probably would have died sooner if not for you. It’s because of you that we had so much time together, and actually feel as though we’re special.”

“You are special,” you say, setting your mug down. “I just…I don’t know.”

“Did something else happen while you were at castle Serreno?” Hex questions, pulling his hand away from Steele.

“A lot happened,” you reply while leaning forward and resting your head in your hands.

“Did you want to talk about it or just have us take your mind off of it?” Aid asks before adding, “we’re here for you either way.”

“Thank you, Aid. All of you, thank you for always being here for me and dealing with my banthashit.” You lean back and sigh before looking back up at them and starting to explain everything. “It was all a major mess,” you say to start, “it…it turned into something that it never should have. And now we’re never getting Tayah back…”

“You can’t give up hope, y/n. You know that we’ll help you find her, no matter what,” Aid states.

“No…she’s dead,” you reply, shaking your head. “It happened so fast. Me and Anakin were fighting Dooku–well, initially it was Tayah attacking Anakin and I was fighting Dooku, but then Anakin pushed her away with the force. I thought she was knocked out well enough to not wake up, but I was wrong. I got caught up in us fighting Dooku and didn’t sense her wake, but I sensed a presence coming up behind me. I instinctively swung my saber back, as all I felt was evil. But then I turned and watched myself slice through her neck. After that, I lost my grip again. I just…lost myself in my emotions. I couldn’t stop myself from moving, and I felt myself consumed by the same darkness that surrounded Tayah. But this darkness…it felt powerful. Exhilarating. I almost didn’t want to stop, but then Dooku ended the fight pretty quickly.”

“How does it make you feel knowing that you enjoy the power of the…darkside?” Sans questions, straightening out his sleeves.

“I don’t know, honestly. Well, I guess it sorta makes me feel like the Order is restraining me, but I don’t want to turn into a sith.”

“Well, do the Jedi need to know what you do and how you act?” Hex asks before leaning back. “I mean, theoretically, how would they even know? Unless there was another general on a mission with you.”

“You have a point I guess,” you agree, “maybe I can somehow convince…never mind.”

“What?” Aid questions.

“I was going to say maybe I can convince Quin to join me on missions, since he’s not really a Jedi, but then I decided it was probably best to keep him out of the war. Trix doesn’t need anyone else dying on her.”

“Well, who knows. Maybe you can get Codo-”

“No, no way in karking hells am I going to go on a mission with that fishman!” you sneer, and all of their eyes widen at once.

“What hap-”

“I don’t want to talk about it. All you need to know,” you say while standing up and grabbing your mug, “is that I won’t be talking to him for the foreseeable future. I finally spoke my mind to him, and need to move on.”

With that, you walk over to the couch and sit down, waiting for them to join you. Slowly they do, and once they’re settled around you, the tears fall again. They all take turns holding you, with Sans being the most gentle. After a while, you end up falling asleep, and the boys lay you down on the couch and begin to leave. As they do, you wake up and call them back, telling them that you don’t want to be alone. You’ve been alone for too long in your life, you can’t stand another second of it.

If you enjoyed this, likes, comments, and reblogs are greatly appreciated!

Tag list! Use this tag list form if you would like to be added, removed, or change preferences!

@lonely-day3636 @snarkyfina @echo-is-worth-more-than-2000 @srryxmate @shitexcuseofausername @imabeautifulbutterfly @m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @kaykates @tacticalsparkles @lucyysthings @namesmox @crosshairxs @milppa @techssexythighs @paige6768 @rintheemolion @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @echoxbuggs @lightning-wolffe @ilikemymendarkandfictional @megafrost4 @darkangel4121 @hedahobbit98 @shuttlelauncher81 @sleepy-tog @littlemisscare-all @ladykatakuri @that-one-weeb-but-starwars @rain-on-kamino-deactivated20231 @shadowwing1324 @salaminus @southernbaguette @wolfpack-arts-industries99 @remuslupinsfatass @oo-hazel-oo @pshhbam @howlerwolfmax @bloodmoon-bites @misogirl828 @i-donot-want-it @andyoufollowyourheart @tachyon-girl @andrakass2

#star wars #the clone wars #clone wars #the bad batch #jinn the storyteller🤍🤍 #star wars the clone wars #tcw #star wars: the clone wars #clone troopers #clone trooper #echo #arc trooper echo #clone trooper echo #tbb echo #echo x reader #a returning echo #anakin skywalker #oc clone troopers #count dooku

[obes-kenobes-benos]

Von: I’m a bisexual and I haven’t even made out with a guy or girl yet.

Obi-Wan: So, you’re a guy who’s attracted to girls and guys, but no girls or guys are attracted to you?

Cody: Damn, he really put’s the 'L' in LGBT.

Von: I-

Von: I'm getting bullied by my parents.

---------------------------------------------------

Von is OC clone adopted by Codywan. 

More info about Von: His name means hope. Von is last of his batch because others were decommissioned before the longnecks could be stoped. He is also force sensitive and was found by Obi-Wan when 212th were on Kamino. He will bite you if he thinks you deserve it. Von also likes to float others. 

Quinlan Vos likes to tease Obi-Wan about his name because its close to Vos (he also may or may not be teach his favorite nephew things he really shouldn't be teaching him)

#obi-wan kenobi #cody #marshal commander cody #codywan #cc-2224 #oc clone troopers #oc clone #oc clone von #incorrect clone wars #incorrect quotes #incorrect star wars quotes #star wars

[catawampuscorner]

There is literally nothing better than drawing round little fellas in a bad mood 😌 A super-fun commission feat. Slick, OC Rano, and ✨Jedi Shmi✨

Redbubble  |  Instagram  |  Ko-fi

@ahsoka1 @all-hallows-evie @onwardsandsideways @pentowrite-wingstofly @pyromanicdaydreamer @dangerousstrawberrypie @clonecyare @youngcheesecaketale @techissweet @ladykatakuri @freerunner4427 @weridgreenaurora @burning-quesadilla @constellation-savvy @chromia7567 @ahsokatano-thetogruta @my-flights-of-fantasy @darkangel4121      @zoeyserpentluck @theproblemwithstardust @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life  @ladysongmaster @yellowflicker09 @mmmdixie @needlefrost @queencousland101 @imrowanartist @bloom-domino-akrum @evergreen-lyricist​​ @molly-mcgiftens @korribanarchive​​  @victoryandlife​ @negative-ghostrider

@ceeeeeeleeeeeebriiiiiiaaaaaan @mysticalturtleenthusiast @happyant21 @smiley-miley @bikerlorian @hikime @starlightrows @fabuloushan @clonecyare @mmmdixie​ @corazar6 @zmczophie​  @marbled-polecat​  @vanilla-chip-101​ @i-am-rosebud​ @cats-inthe-cradle @imnoteventechnicallyinthisfandom @jonathananubian @sgt-knit @saphirlefanz @makeshift-prime​

.

Chuck your name in here if you want to be tagged!

#their little faces just kill me every time #this one came out SO well and i'm still SO in love with it #cat art #commission #baby clones in animal onesies #onesie au #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #clone trooper slick #shmi skywalker #oc clone troopers

[hyperesthesias]

Clone trooper Aces says Happy Pride! 🖤🤍💜

#star wars #star wars the clone wars #clone wars #star wars fanart #oc clone troopers #clone trooper fanart #clone wars fanart #pride fanart #pride month #asexuality #acespec #ace spectrum #asexual #demisexual #ace pride #swtcw #swtcw fanart #demisexual positivity #demisexual character #clone trooper #clone trooper oc #* #bro i dont think aces is aspec anymore bc this painting fucked me over HARD lmfao 😭 #but he's finally finished!!! #and in time for pride! yay!

[clonefandomevents]

Hello clone fans! We want to get the prompt list out for Trans Clone Week before the end of the month, so we are starting out with an official prompt submission and interest check!

#trans clone week #trans clones #star wars #clone wars #prompt submission #oc clone troopers #canon clones #all the clones!

[letsquestjess]

Blood Daughter - Chapter 11: Ricochet

Story Summary: After Kallar Viren flees the Empire, his daughter sets out to find him, only to discover he has been taken by Imperials. With help from Clone Force 99, Zeraphine pushes through her losses in a race against the clock to rescue her father or face the galaxy as the last of her family.

Warnings: Character death. Blood.

Chapter 10 | Chapter 12

Read from the beginning.

-- -- -- -- --

The corridors stretched out endlessly, their twists and turns disorienting and their uniformity making it impossible to tell if they had already ventured down one. If the intention was to make a dizzying labyrinth, the effect had been thoroughly achieved. 

“It’s this way,” Ricochet said, bolting ahead of Echo and Zeraphine and picking up on the minute landmarks pulsing on his datapad. 

A powerful blast outside shook the structure. Sprinklings of dust cascaded from the ceiling and droid units skittered in a panic on tiny wheels. Another distant explosion sent tremors rippling against the building and Echo reached out to steady Zeraphine as she clicked a detonator inside a wall grate. 

“Wrecker is working his magic,” the Phominian smiled. 

“As long as it keeps those scaly beasts preoccupied, I don’t care what they do,” Ricochet grumbled. “Come on, hurry with the rest of the charges. The control room is up ahead.” 

His companions exchanged a glance and obediently concealed the remaining domed devices in discreet spaces along the walkways. With the final one fastened to the back of a pipe, they snuck their way through the facility, meeting with little opposition from the hunters. 

“Where are the other Trandoshans?” Zeraphine wondered aloud. 

“Probably hiding,” Ricochet answered with a glimpse at his datapad. “Most of them will be out there defending the dam, but they won’t have sent all of them.” He scouted beyond the next corner and signalled up ahead. “Echo, if you could do the honours.” 

Echo jogged to the far left entryway and implanted his scomp link into the connector. With a whirl of locks, the door released. Blaster fire hurtled through the opening and the three dove for cover, smoke hissing from the smouldering wall opposite as it withstood the brunt of the attack. 

When the projectile storm finally dissipated, Ricochet rounded into the control centre, flanked by Zeraphine and Echo. Maintaining a tight formation, they swiftly moved through the semi-circular hub and dispatched of the Trandoshans within. 

“Over here,” Echo announced, directing them to a storage unit. “I suspect this is where our weapons are.” 

Zeraphine aided him in hoisting the weighty lid and unceremoniously dumped it onto the ground with a resounding clang. On her tiptoes, she balanced over the lip and withdrew their gear. “Keep that safe,” she instructed as she handed Echo Tech’s datapad. “If we lose that now, he’ll never forgive us.”

Delving into the pile of weapons, she located her glass swords, all but cradling them before she secured them to her belt. 

“When you two have finished playing dress up, I’d appreciate some help,” Ricochet called, keying at the control panel attached to the sprawling window. 

Zeraphine suppressed a grumble and neared the flashing controls. “I’ll shut down the communications,” she said, working at speed to disconnect each channel. Some remained stubborn, but within minutes, the power lines on the screen depleted and the speakers emitted a fizzled whine. “Rico, if you can get the chariots.” 

“Got it.” 

“Ready to terminate the dam whenever you are,” Echo said, kneeling down beside main console and linking in with his prosthetic arm. 

“Execute on my mark,” Ricochet instructed. “Three, two, one… mark!”

Like a well-tuned machine, the trio deactivated the various segments of the system and the elongated bulbs on the ceiling puttered out. 

“Communications are down,” Zeraphine confirmed. “Chariots are offline and I think we can safely say the dam is no longer operational. Ships are unlocked at the port, and power has been redirected to the charges. Nice work, team.” 

“Don’t celebrate just yet, Commander Viren,” Ricochet said. “We still need to get out of here.” 

“I’m sure we’ll-” Struck by an overwhelming rush to her senses, her eyes darted to the open doorway. She signalled her insight to Echo, and he stole a brief peek outside.

“Company on the way,” he verified.

Needing no further explanation, they departed the control centre and sprinted in the opposite direction of the clamours and blaster bolts that pursued them. 

A growl ripped out of Zeraphine’s throat and she unclipped her weapons to unleash a flurry of strikes. Glowing projectiles battered the darkened blades and pinged straight back in a riotous melody of glass chimes and rifle pops. 

“You two keep going,” she said, blocking another aggressive wave. “I’ll take care of this and meet you outside.” 

Ricochet opened his mouth to argue, but Echo dragged him into a run and assured him she knew what she was doing. 

Transferring her swords to one hand, she stretched the fingers of the other and discharged a powerful fluctuation down the corridor. The enemy tottered. Unbalanced and frustrated, she used their instability to slam a series of hits into them before they could recover. 

At full momentum, Zeraphine launched herself into the fray and avoided a trembling bullet, impaling the offending creature and leaving her sword embedded in his torso as she swung her second blade to cut through fabric and flesh. Every movement she made in the fight was precise and calculated, a testament to the years of training that devoured her youth. 

She veered both blades down onto the last Trandoshan with a gritted grunt. A laboured gasp wheezed from him as he slumped to his knees and flopped forward. 

Around the corner, she was met with the unmistakable sounds of a struggle and she pelted to the two clones engaged in an unfortunate altercation. Neon bolts flew in an onslaught attack as Echo bravely shielded Ricochet on the floor.

Zeraphine’s heart lurched. A fortifying rush of adrenaline coursed through her veins as she charged at the attackers. With Echo’s support, their enemies rapidly fell, and the world grew hushed in the aftermath. 

“Rico, keep your eyes open,” she begged, straining to get her pleas out as she cradled the wounded clone in her arms. “I need you stay awake, okay?” 

“Go,” he breathed. Shaking, he opened his bloodied fingers and offered the detonator button to Echo. “Take this and run. Once you’re…. once you’re in the clear, push it.” 

“No,” Zeraphine told him resolutely. “We are not leaving you here. Between us, we can lift you.” 

“I was named for my ability to bounce back after injuries, but I’m not bouncing back from this one. I don’t think it’s in anybody’s power to save me now, not even yours, commander. Now go. I’ll hold off the others.” 

Echo noticed his clawing attempt to reach for his gun and assisted him in grasping it, positioning his finger on the trigger. “It has been an honour to fight alongside you,” he said, lifting his scomp link in a reverential salute. 

“And you, brother,” Ricochet replied. 

Careful not to aggravate his injuries further, Zeraphine held him close and placed an apologetic kiss to his damp forehead. “Rest easy, Captain Ricochet,” she choked out through the gooey knot in her throat, saying her farewell with a Phominian gesture of respect and pushing herself to her feet.  

Following Echo, she broke into a crestfallen sprint. A riot of gunfire and a final, anguished scream crawled from the pathway behind them, but they kept running. Never looking back out the fear that if they did, none of them would make it out alive. 

Humid air and the clamour of battle enveloped them as their boots clashed with sodden mud. At the designated spot, they eased to a steady halt. Zeraphine fired a flare into the sky, its trajectory accompanied by a distinct pop and a shower of red. A second signal erupted a few tense moments later from within a sparse clearing some klicks away. 

“They’re at the withdrawal point,” she said. The detonator trembled in Echo’s tight grasp, a gloved thumb primed to blow the charges and faltering. She settled her hand over his and managed a reassuring nod, and together they activated the explosives. Plumes of shimmering gold and smoky grey erupted from the dam wall, creating a destructive display before the structure withered, engulfing the enemy and another fallen brother. 

Blaster ammunition sung in wavering bursts. Feet trampled and thumped in a thunderous sprint. Breaths escaped from parched lips and overworked muscles pleaded for a break. 

“Trandoshans are fleeing. Should we pursue?” 

“Negative. Get going.”

“Southern quadrant all clear. Heading to the meetup point.”

The comms buzzed with orders, survivors confirming their status and their situations, and if the worse had happened, that of their friends. 

“Located The Progenitor,��� Hunter reported within the fluctuating static. “Sending up a signal.”

Seconds crawled by in a slow haul, standing by for the telltale screech of a military flare. It materialised in a whir of smoke and soared for the clouds, popping in a shower of red and white. 

Echo and Zeraphine sprinted for the smoking spill, never stopping, never slowing. Far away, water gushed into the northern sector of the forest, unrestrained and sweeping the base into the drift. From the wreckage, thousands of ghosts found their peace. 

Zeraphine’s chest heaved, every exhale wheezing up her throat in an adrenaline fuelled rasp. It took her back to her days in the war, and a distant whine of security alarms rung in her ears. Even though Mantle Squad had a track record of success, there were odd instances where they had been forced to make a hasty retreat after accidentally triggering a surveillance system or a keen-eyed officer had spotted them. Those moments filled with pure dread and heightened senses flooded her veins, urging her onward until she dashed across the outskirts and slowed once at a rocky overhang. 

Her ship stood on the end landing pad, exterior blemished with scrapes. To her relief, there didn’t seem to be any permanent damage, and it seemed operational.

“There they are!” Omega shouted, splitting from the group of remaining survivors huddled by the lowered ramp. In a burst of energy, she bounded to her brother and threw her arms around his middle. “You weren’t at the withdrawal point and nobody could find out where you were.”

“It’s all right,” Echo soothed. “We ran into some trouble in the base and had get out another way. But we’re here now.”

“Where’s Rico?” Mylo asked as he approached, craning his neck to locate the third survivor that was supposed to be with them. Their lowered chins and sagging shoulders told him his answer. As his own gaze followed theirs, he caught sight the crimson blotches on the Phominian’s hands, the rusted red crusting her nails. 

“He didn’t make it,” Zeraphine replied, swallowing down her remorse, but it bubbled defiantly and refused to be contained. “His sacrifice ensured we got out of there.”

Mylo’s teeth clenched to stem the tide of grief. He and Rico had both been captured together, fighting side by side through it all, and the pain of not being there beside him in his last moments pierced his soul. In amongst his regret, Zeraphine’s hand rested warm and comforting on his arm, and he gave her fingers a grateful squeeze. 

“I’m so sorry, Mylo,” she whispered in a mournful breath. 

“He is with our fallen brothers,” the devastated clone said, voice cracking despite his stalwart attempt to withhold his mourning. “Wherever they may be.” 

Zeraphine made sure Mylo, Echo, and Omega were close by as she traipsed to her ship. Waving them onboard, she ushered the survivors onto the craft and scanned the area for any stragglers before boarding. “It’s going to be a bit of a squeeze,” she said, manoeuvring through the small crowd, “but we’ll be away from here soon.” 

Once free from the shuffling bodies, she hurried into the cockpit. The metal grating gave way to transparisteel flooring, light reverberations shuddering beneath her worn boots. Echo came in behind her and sealed the door. 

“I’ll get a message to Rex and see if he can help us,” he said, as she started the engines and got them airborne. She didn’t utter a sound, liquid silver gaze locked onto the rolling sky above them. “You all right?” 

Zeraphine opened her mouth, intending to convince him she was fine, but her words dissolved in her throat. They would be a lie, an injustice to Ricochet and his sacrifice. Instead, she slumped back in the tall seat. “Could we have saved him?” she asked, her voice unnaturally meagre and uncertain. 

“Only if we’d had more time,” Echo replied. “And that was something we didn’t have.” He perched himself on the side of the control panel while the atmosphere engulfed the craft in a flickering kaleidoscope. “He will be remembered, like all of those before him. It’s how our legacy survives all of this. Through the good we do and the lives we help.” 

#star wars #starwars #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction #star wars oc #sw oc #tbb #the bad batch #tbb fanfic #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch fanfic #the bad batch fic #clone force 99 #oc: zeraphine viren #oc clones #oc clone troopers

[yukipri]

5 random facts about an Oc that you haven’t shared before. Pass it on once done!

Thanks for sending this!

Uhh, one I haven't shared before...lemme share some thoughts on another clone OC!

This isn't a formal Clone File, so some of these may be adjusted whenever I get around to making a file for him.

Name: Vax

Division: 212th Attack Battalion

Rank: Assistant medic

Speciality: Preventive measures, specifically the research and formulation of counter-measures against bio-weapons developed to target clones, as well as the extremely rare natural disease that clones lack immunity towards.

Five Random Facts:

He is constantly a mix of bored/tired/lazy, and is the spot of stillness in medical, especially in contrast to the manic energy from his boss, Stabber, and the frigid tension from Ashe. The ship could be on fire, everyone could be running to evacuate, they could be in the middle of a battle and he could have two dying brothers draped over his shoulders, but his expression won't budge from deadpan. He doesn't run or stand at attention unless he has to.

He is extremely unenthusiastic about being a medic. To be fair, he's incredibly unenthusiastic about pretty much everything, so it's not like he'd rather be doing anything else, and "doing nothing" unfortunately isn't a career option for clones. He isn't even enthusiastic about sleeping or getting rest; he isn't actually tired. If anything, he finds going all the way to the barracks a pain. This is also partially why he likes ("likes," comparative to everything else) his speciality; he'd rather get issues dealt with before they become a greater pain in the ass.

When he's not on a tight schedule and has some down time, he has a habit of just spacing out and standing there. Sometimes he will do this while still covered in blood, possibly holding a scalpel. He has given many brothers a fright when they didn't realize he was there.

His hair is on the longer side and held back from his face with a headband. This is because he doesn't care enough to shave it, or style it long, or do anything with it.

Some common phrases he uses:

"How unfortunate." (in response to a vod's injury that he's treating)

"Must I?" (in response to Stabber telling him to go on a non-essential errand)

"I see." "Interesting." "How nice." (in response to most things people say to him, all delivered in deadpan)

I feel like I stretched the "5 facts" part a bit, but I hope this was interesting! I'll make a proper clone file for him, one day, once he starts appearing more in my content. ^ ^;

Passing this on to anyone who wants to talk about their OCs!

❀ ❀ Send YukiPri an Ask! ❀ ❀

#YukiPri replies #YukiPri OCs #OC clone troopers #clone troopers #OCs #clone medic #yes I'm aware this is my third clone medic and I swear I have other boys too but they're all kinda connected #I think I've already mentioned Vax once in maybe Take Flight? #He'd be ranked higher than assistant except he keeps declining promotions #on paper he says it's bc he needs time to research on the rare times his specialty is called upon #in reality he just doesn't want the responsibility and extra work #he is essentially Stabber's lackey and he is totally fine with that

[uponrightful]

Phantom Squad - What Gets Their "Special" Attention?

A/N: If you liked this, please leave likes, comments, and reblogs to show the love 🤍

Also, if you'd like to suggest something for any of Phantom Squad (or all of them) send me a message of what you'd like to see ✨ HERE✨

Summary: Sure... Phantom Squad is nothing if not well-trained to avoid distraction. But that doesn't mean they're invincible. They've all got a weak spot, it's just a matter of what you're doing that they just can't help but notice.

Omen:

The Commander isn't one to be easily distracted by most... trivial things. He's practical in that sense, but a difficult nut to crack in another. With his walls built high and impossibly thick, it's nearly impossible to get a great impression from Omen right off the bat. But there is one thing that really gets his attention right away.

A hot-girl strut.

The kind that lets everyone know you're aware of just how good you know you look without ever saying a single word. Slow and deliberate steps with your hips swaying. High heels or combat boots, it doesn't matter to Omen. He'll see and hear it from a mile away. It's the perfect blow to a Commander who sees people shy away at his mere proximity to them. People are constantly afraid of him and it's been forever since someone acted like his presence wasn't utterly threatening.

For a while, Omen attributed it to the way he was conditioned to snap to attention when a superior walked into the room. Their heels clicking in warning and a hanging feeling of suspense in the room. seconds before their arrival. But years later, long separated from orders and reporting to a superior who actually had the guts to reprimand him, he still had the same base reaction. Only the lingering effects adjusted to one of intrigue instead of duty.

He loves a woman with a lingering power. Someone who knows exactly what they're doing making such a grand entrance like that. Effortlessly garnering respect and undeniable sex appeal. And don't think for a moment that size has any effect on Omen's opinion. Hip dips or a thigh gap, tall or short... The Commander couldn't complain either way. Hells, he's going to stare either way and feel the slightest bit of a buzz in the back of his head the entire time.

Wraith:

The Lieutenant has had his fair share of opportunities to enhance his taste in... carnal sights. He plays a lot of Sabacc to win extra credits for the squad, and without a table of opponents, it's hard to make a significant profit. Normally, he's got his head down in his hand of cards and focusing on the sweat beading on the other player's foreheads and their twitching fingers. Wraith is a fantastic bluff, but he's even better at faking his own tells consistently enough that even if he plays you one hundred times, you'll never catch him. It's one of his most valuable assets when on a mission where capture and interrogation are always a threat.

Even if you're not playing Sabacc against him, being able to determine if he's lying about something catches Wraith's attention -and his gaze- right away. He's going to be shocked at first that you picked up on it quickly. But you won't visually see that no matter how taken aback he is. Most people never can tell and leave a table broke; Wondering how he's able to play bad hands so well. If you're not only good enough to call him out but not let any of the other players at the table know about it. You've simultaneously earned Wraith's respect and now you're playing a game of two. No matter how many people have been dealt in. If you're handling your own against him, soon people will start folding out. Aware that something between the two of you is going on, and they're smart enough to bow out before they get caught in the mental crossfire.

Add in the idea of winning against him? Now you've really got Wraith's undivided attention. He won't ever let you out of his sight.

Now. If you're just having a conversation with him, and he decides to start playing some of his little games. The rules are far different. He'll definitely start by making some subtle attempts to see if you just made a really good guess, or actually knew. Wraith's not shy about it either. He's not above shamelessly flirting, and he'll make your ears burn with the things he says to catch you off guard and make you spill.

Wraith isn't afraid to play dirty. But... the possibility of either of you losing in that particular situation is rare.

Revenant:

Revenant is a jumpy guy. There's an element of shell shock that clouds his demeanor and overall disposition in everyday life. So suddenly popping up behind him or anything surprising is not only a no-go, but it could be slightly dangerous. Revenant isn't trigger-happy, but it's still best to air on the safe side around him. That being said, hearing someone with a soft voice instantly grabs his attention. Out of the Phantoms, Rev is the most observant. He sees and feels things much quicker than the others, and most of the time those senses aren't leading him to believe something good is about to happen. So if he hears a voice that's soft, quiet, maybe even a little timid... He's going to have quite the reaction to it.

Despite his aptitude for being the most friendly of the Phantoms -which isn't saying a whole lot- he's certainly not going to say anything to you. Or give you any idea that he's even noticed your presence. But he certainly has. He's relishing in the sound. Damn-near drowning in it really. Gentleness isn't something Revenant has much experience with. So he's without a doubt going to stay within earshot of you for as long as he can manage it without feeling like he's going to be confronted about being lurky... or just downright creepy.

If you were to confront Revenant about it, he would be a bit short with you. Never even thinking about mentioning that he just really took a liking to your voice. Add in the possible intimidation that comes along with seeing a man like Rev, and he's going to do everything he can to keep you from feeling uncomfortable. Or risking your silence. He couldn't get his head around you not speaking all because of him. After some serious acclimation however, Revenant isn't afraid to ask you to talk to him. Stating very openly that the sound relaxes him. Eases his nerves. Steadies that constant feeling of tension in the depth of his mind.

Ghost:

Being the deep-minded man he is, Ghost spends a lot of his time reading, mapping star systems, daydreaming about all the places he'd like to go to, and keeping a detailed list of all the places he's been and what he liked best and least about all of them. As a pilot, the different sectors are all something of an opportunity. He's constantly thinking about it. Even at the gentle dissuasion his brothers give. (They don't want him to get hurt when he never gets the opportunity to go everywhere and see everything he wants to.)

You're going to catch Ghost's eye if you like to write.

He's a really deep thinker, and he's a great talker as well. But getting words written down in a meaningful way that someone else can understand is a struggle for him. So seeing someone like you confidently writing, seemingly lost in your own world of imagination is infinitely interesting to Ghost. He knows staring will create a lot of attention whether it's meaningful or not. But you're not watching him. You're far too blissfully preoccupied. So that's all that matters to him. He can handle anything or anyone else that wants to make something of it.

Ghost likes to imagine what you're writing about. How you're able to create worlds just as detailed as the ones he's visited all over the galaxy, without ever having to see them with your own eyes. Make light of situations that are otherwise gruesome... Terrible. The things he's seen -and done- would make fiction look totally unbelievable. So having the opportunity to see you weaving a story right before his very eyes is entrancing.

If you're to the point that Ghost opens up enough to tell you a few of his fantastic daydreams and visions of planets to visit, it would be utterly shocking for Ghost to see you write them for him. Bring his thoughts to life. Flesh out the pieces he's been unable to express. Bring tangibility to the sensations and feelings that he can't quite unblur in his tangled web of thoughts. Ghost wouldn't know how to respond at first. But rest assured, he wouldn't ever lose sight of those written words. He'd keep them close or somewhere safe at all times. Treasuring them and always keeping his eyes peeled on you, wherever you are, hoping to always catch a glimpse of creativity and imagination working itself out right before him.

Specter:

Specter isn't the type of man to get struck by any romantic interest easily. You're not going to impress him with makeup, hair, clothes, or even a flirty attitude. He's the least likely to get flustered over anything, and it's more likely that one glance from him will have you sweating from nervousness. Unapproachable is the key word to understanding what it's like to be in the same room as Specter. He's stiff. Cold. And for a lack of a better word, threatening. Moreso than Omen by a long shot. His smoke grey armor and thin visor give him a particularly menacing look. One that someone like you would only approach if all your other options were even more unfriendly.

You're only going to get Specter's attention if you're running to him as a defense.

Maybe it's someone who won't leave you alone at a bar. They're not taking no for an answer, and they're not buying the lie that you told about having a boyfriend who was "going to show up at any minute". And you've seen other girls pull the stunt before, even a couple of your friends have randomly picked a stranger to pose as their significant other just long enough to ward off any unwanted attention. But you're not quite that certain a regular guy would do something like that for you. And even then, if something bad were to happen, none of them have any physical protection like the grey-painted trooper leaning his back against the wall across the room. Or a few blasters hanging from his hips for that matter....

Specter sees you coming from a mile away. Fearful and nervous eyes focused practically everywhere but on him. And a quick gait that adds to the frantic body language you're displaying. He's also well aware of the man trailing behind you. Specter's wondering just what your plan is, and if he's correct in the assumption brewing in his mind. He's stunned when you walk right up to him and put on a serene smile and give a casual greeting. The sight of his helmet tilting in question doesn't bode well for you, and you try to make the point a little more clear. Slipping an arm around his waist and giving a vague comment about "wondering why it took so long for him to show up".

At first, he won't play into it. Standing stiff and resolute against your advances. But if the man trailing after you decides that the sight of you curling yourself underneath him isn't threatening enough, he's not above scaring someone just for the fun of it. Especially when they're threatening an innocent woman. Even Specter won't cross that line. He'll immediately spin both of you around, putting himself between you and the man. Creating a shield for one, and a lack of personal space as well. You can't see his face, or really any part of him for that matter, but you're certain he's staring right at you. You're about to say something. Maybe thank you, or explain what's going on. But Specter beats you to it with a dangerous voice and a mocking tone.

"You think I'm safer than him?"

***

Some Tags I Thought Would Appreciate This Post: @queenquazar @justanothersadperson93 @loth-wolffe @lackofhonor@ladykatakuri @rebelmedic99 @altered-delta @saltywintersoldat @imalovernotahater@imabeautifulbutterfly@ulchabhangorm @itsagrimm @lokicat5 @rembra-legacy @taz-107

#phantom squad #omen #ghost #specter #wraith #revenant #oc clones #oc clone troopers #uponrightful #uponrightful writes

[looseleafteeaves]

A quick part 3 for Jedi+Tea

Clone Wars Edition

1. The droids- fondly called JT models, for lack of better name, remember every Jedi to ever pass through the Halls of the Temple. (The Temple remembers zir children too-). This includes the much adored lights that were clone troopers. Obi-Wan and the others in Nexu clan loved a tea droid yhat was only found in an entrance through the Stone Garden of Xia’thril, one of the more secluded gardens in the Room of A Thousand Fountains. The 212th is loved there too.

2. JT-F8 is a droid who lives and works in the archives. She made friends with a very young shiny who was assigned to the Corrie Guard. CT-13-2639, who chose the name Oolong, is know to sit and record all the kinds of tea the F8 remembers. Eventually, there is a squad- called T-Squad, who all spend thier time recording the traditions, tea, people, and memories of the JTs. The squad is made of Oolong, Teapot, Leaf, Brew, Ceremony, Matcha, Yerba, Meditate, Teacup, and Chip. They love the tea droids, and accidentally ended up sending clone trooper culture more in-line with Jedi Culture. So, caff is drank by natborn officers and jedi/clone “heretics” according to T squad. (In this universe it maybe sorta saves the Jedi-)

3. Clones are the best Finders in the galaxy. They seem to have this genetic disposition to sense when children who are force sensitive are nearby or need help. So, when the Jedi go on Search… they take a squad with them. It very neatly saves the Vode and makes them part of the Jedi Order, setting up for sentient rights! The other fun with this is that the Jedi Order has become much larger, and the Corps are far more celebrated.

4. T squad is made of younger troopers than most, only around 7 years old. JT-F8(fondly called Fate by most) had decided the little crew are hers now and manages to save the galaxy when Ceremony’s control chip malfunctions, sending vem into a seizure. Fate leaves her room for the first time in 300 years to get help.

#star wars #headcannons #jedi love tea #jedi appreciation #clone trooper appreciation #oc clone troopers #t squad #clone trooper oolong #clone trooper ceremony #clone trooper brew #clone trooper teapot #clone trooper teacup #clone trooper matcha #clone trooper chip #clone tooper meditate #clone trooper yerba #clone trooper leaf #man do i love this series #part 3 of ? #sorry it is slowly becoming far more than I meant it to #enjoy

[chicknstripz]

∘₊✧ [[ Dust Motes ]] ✧₊∘

Pairing ||  Captain Fordo X OFC Word count || 3059 Warnings || Loss, Anger, Bitterness, One grumpy Alpha ARC, Kaminoan behaviour, Angst Overview || Fordo finds himself transferred to the corrie guard, whereupon he gets a chaotic (and stressful) introduction to the joys of being assigned to a planet side battalion. Chapters || [1][2] (Reposted as original won't allow formatting)

Fordo wasn’t in a good mood.

Not only had he been pulled away from his batch, his heart aching as he wondered if he’d ever see the ten again, but he’d been pulled away from the front! The delighted smile on Windu’s face as he told him he was being reassigned to the guard had only made the situation worse, the bitter anger mixing with deep disappointment and resentment. How could he? A high-general? Tell him that Corrie was the best place for a man of his skill? That Fox, a vode of the highest caliber who could more then handle anything the core threw his way, would welcome the assistance of a highly trained alpha.

If Fordo didn’t know any better he’d say he was being punished!

He clicked his back teeth as he waited for the elevator to reach its destination, the frustration mounting as he watched the blurred lights of neon advertisement dance across his vambrace. There was no indication the galaxy was at war in this urban metropolis, the relative safety of the core allowing the citizens to live in peace, and once again he wondered why he’d been sent here. This was, as Jango would have said, below his pay grade - the grind of his teeth becoming more pronounced as the elevator shuddered to a halt.

‘Floor two hundred and thirty one. Alight here for the Coruscant Guard offices’

Fordo was awfully tempted to go AWOL, the temptation itching at the back of his scalp as he stepped into a bustling hall, but alas he didn’t get the chance to make his escape - a grumpy looking Rodian with an armful of flimsi taking his place in the elevator before he got the chance. Lucky skug. At least he was getting paid to be here! Not that it would have made things bearable for him, but Fordo might have been more inclined to enjoy the supposed ‘promotion’ if the brass had sweetened the deal.

He gave the now closed elevator one last look over his shoulders, huffed an annoyed exhale, then stomped off down the hall with all the grace of a rankled nexu. The building was just like every other civvie building he’d been in. Well maintained, smartly decorated, and lined with garish carpeting that made him long for Kamino. And the staff? He can’t decide what’s worse. The fact that most of them are nat-borns, their eyes following his path as he sloped into a cozy looking reception area, or the fact that they’re scowling at him - the attention making his neck tense with discomfort as he sloped toward the back of the room where another trooper waited.

“What they get you for?”

Fordo scoffed, curling his arms across his cuirass as he leaned his weight against the wall.

“Outstanding bravery in the field, you?”

“Back chatted a kaminoan.”

The shiny was lucky to be alive. The kaminoans were notoriously strict about the behavior of the troopers, and any man that overstepped the line into independent thought were liable to end up on the chopping block. He watched from the corner of his eye as the shiny extended a hand, the pristine surface of the troopers' plastiod making him (once again) lament his maker awful luck.

“Atin'la”

Fordo almost did a double-take at the mando’a, his lips pursing as he wondered how it had worked its way to the troopers. It almost certainly hadn’t come from one of the training instructors, they’d been kicked off Kamino shortly after the war started, and it wasn't the commandos either - their interactions with the troopers kept intentionally short. So that meant an older trooper had taught him in their down time, his flash trained accent twisting the word in a way that made Fordo feel like he was the odd cog in a foreign machine.

“Fordo”

Atin'la shifted from one foot to the other, his visor moving in such a way that Fordo knew he was staring at his jaigs.

“Forgive me for saying this sir, but you’d be better placed elsewhere”

“That’s what I told the jetii, but you know what they’re like.”

Atin'la cocked his head to one side, the movement familiar enough that it soothed Fordo's soul.

“Couldn’t say sir. Never met one.”

“I wouldn’t recommend it, it’s more trouble than it’s worth.”

A chime from down the hall announced the arrival of another trooper, the garish paintwork making Fordo’s eyes ache. Varying shades of scarlet red overlaid myriads of green in a haphazard urban dazzle camo, and Fordo, still annoyed at being reassigned, wanted to tell the trooper that it was a bit early to be wearing the Guard’s distinctive sigil.

“I’m glad I’m not the only old timer here.”

He nods to Fordo, the motion smart as he settles at parade rest in the middle of the room.

“Good to see you too Havok, Though I would imagine you’d rather be elsewhere?”

He remembers the di’kut from back in his training days, the wide-eyed and bushy tailed cadet sneaking his way into Jango’s sessions with all the grace of a snuffling tookah. Fett had hated it at first, dragging the trooper back to the main-barracks by the scruff of his neck the moment he spotted his stupid smile, but with each year that passed he had given in a little more - until the boy became a constant presence in their life. It was no surprise when he became an ARC in the first year of the war, and it was even less of a surprise to see him here, the need for well trained men extending further than Fordo expected.

“You know it vod! Kriff, I’d take another tour of Geonosis over this steaming heap of osik any day of the week!”

Fordo might have laughed if it wasn’t for the gruff cough from the corner of the room, the interruption causing the group to jump to attention. The red of the new comers armor was near pristine, the stylistic wings that decorated their helm setting them apart from the man who stood beside them - the familiar markings of a commander reminding the lone alpha that his vode weren't the only thing he'd lost. He's lost his command too, the painful sting hitting somewhere between his tight throat and aching heart.

“I know you aren't happy to be here CT-33-5532, but I won't have you bad mouthing our fine establishment. Have I made myself clear?”

“Sir! Yes sir!”

Fox fixes his visor on Havok, unyielding - unblinking, until he’s absolutely sure the trooper has committed the command to memory before turning his attention to Fordo.

“Same goes to you, vod.”

Fordo can feel the silent ‘I won't put up with any alpha nonsense’ in his voice, and Fordo, not wanting any trouble - lifts his hands submissively. He might not like being assigned to law enforcement, might not like one thing about this civvie nonsense, but he wasn’t about to disobey a direct order from his superior.

“You won’t hear a bad word from me, promise.”

Fox hums, the implied 'I’ll believe it when I see it' making Fordo shake his head in slight offense.

“I also won’t stand for any disrespect to our peers in the CSF. Understood?”

Another ‘sir, yes sir’, except it’s three voices rather than one, the synchronicity slightly off as each man responds in kind. It’ll take time to become a unit, will take time to learn the in’s and out’s of the other’s minds, and Fordo isn’t sure if he wants that or not. The part of him that has trained for solo-ops wants nothing more than to lick his wounds in the barracks, while the part that had worked with the ten? It wants to bind itself to these new brothers - the low ache settling in his gut as he watches Fox move from one side of the room to the other.

“Good. Life is difficult enough without Obrim down my neck on a daily basis.”

Fox rolls his head, a helmeted stand in for an eye roll that all clones learned early in their lives.

“Obrim sir?”

“He’s the current captain of the CSF and a right pain in our shebs.”

Fordo says nothing about the blatant double-standards. It’s a commander’s right to bad mouth natborn allies, especially ones they work with on a daily basis. Stars, he’d probably be complaining to his vode about his Jedi all day long if he’d been assigned one, their penchant for finding trouble making him wonder if any of them would survive the war.

“So what you're saying, is that we’re swapping a jetii for a nat-born?”

Fordo barely holds in his laugh at Havok’s statement, Fox’s sigh full of frustration as he returns his attention to the ARC.

“I expected to get sass from the alpha, not you”

Havok shrugs, the movement casual as he elbows Fordo in the side.

“He’s just trying to be all polite and stuff, right Fordo!”

“Some of us have respect for the chain of command Havok”

Fordo wonders if Havok expects him to act like one of his di’kutla ori’vode, the look he’s giving him through the helmet bordering on disrespect. He also wonders if Fox expects it too. He’d probably run into his gruff brother a few times in the past, and if anyone was going to give a false impression of what an alpha was like it was Maze.

“Jango trained us better than that.”

He adds the afterthought with a flick of his fingers, his arms flexing with the movement as he watches Atin'la lean forward. The kid was definitely staring, the way his visor settled on the side of his head making the hairs on the back of Fordo’s neck stand on end. Jango was one of the few people that you couldn’t mention without drawing a great deal of interest, and the shinies were no exception to the rule - the two or so years that had passed since Geonosis elevating the prime to legendary status.

“You were trained by Jango? That’d make you a gen-one right?”

Fordo tries not to roll his eyes, the misconception grating as he looks to Fox for permission to remove his helmet.

“If anything I'd be a zero point one.”

It’s been awhile since he last let anyone see him, especially a trooper, the cool air brushing his skin mere moments after Fox nods an affirmative. His hair is greyer than it used to be, the black peppered through with silver streaks that gather at his temples. He’s also got a few more wrinkles, the sides of his eyes crinkling as he fixes a hard stare at the younger trooper - a silent warning that he’s still dangerous despite the age that lines his face. And then there’s the scarring, the pull of the silvery burn that spans his throat throwing him right back to the clusterfuck that was Christophis.

“What my mysterious ori’vode means, is that he’s an Alpha-ARC! Raised and trained to be the best of the best! Isn’t that right!”

“You could say that.”

He’s starting to feel uncomfortable again, the tension gathering in the back of his neck as he tries his best to steer the conversation away from his genetic make up.

“Which is why I need you to send me back to the front. My skills are wasted here commander.”

Fox shakes his head, the slow movement dooming him to a lifetime of flimsi pushing and caff breaks.

“Sorry captain but it’s outside of my control, especially now we’ve got terrorists in the lower levels.”

Fordo knows enough about terrorists to know that it’s beyond the point of control once you’ve noticed them. Kriff! He wouldn’t be surprised if the cell has been here for some time already, his gut instinct telling him that he'd be clearing civvies off the street before the week is over.

“If they’re in the lower levels then they’re in the senate. You need to shut down proceedings immediately!”

“Don’t you think I’ve tried that already?”

Thorn clucks from beside his brother, the sound echoing oddly over his modulator.

“The di’kutla civvies don’t want to let the terrorists win.”

They had guts, he’ll give them that, but it was a stupid stance to take when one bomb could kill thousands - or in this case - wipe out the entire senate in one fell swoop. He sucks on his back teeth as Havok removes his helmet, the smart cut of his hair a stark comparison to the mess of curls that sit atop his own head.

“I don’t know if I should be worried or impressed that they’ve taken a stance.”

“Why not both?”

The two men chuckled, the low sound making Atin'la cock a brow at them. Fordo almost felt sorry for him. This might be the worst assignment that one could get right off Kamino but it was still a shock to the system. Asinine civvies, extreme boredom, luxury on every corner, and now terrorists. It was a soldier’s worst nightmare, the unnerving feeling that he’d done something wrong returning in full as Havok turned his attention to his favorite subject - sleep.

“What about barracks? Are we looking at a venator situation? Or do we get a little more luxury now we’re planetside?”

“Whatever that looks like”

Another shared chuckle, another odd look from the shiny - the lift of his shoulders near comedic as he watched the veterans interact.

“I’m afraid it’ll be more of the same.”

So private barracks for Fordo, and shared for Atin'la and Havok, the latter’s groan making Fordo grin as he tipped his head backward.

“Aww c’mon! I’m fed up of vode seeing my shebs first thing in the morning!”

“They wouldn’t see them if you wore a body glove to bed like a good soldier.”

Fordo grinned in victory at Havok’s muttered ‘kriffin’ smart alek’, the smile staying with him as Fox assigned rooms, schedules, and (of all things) a tab for a ‘damn good eatery’ the guard had become fond of. Fordo isn’t sure if he’ll take advantage of the tab, but he appreciates it nonetheless. It was, without doubt, the most valuable thing he’d ever owned, and it didn’t even have physical worth - the flimsi stashed beneath his vambrace as he followed Thorn to the officer’s quarters.

“How long did it take you to get used to the civvie street thing?”

“Me? Can’t say. I don’t think there’s such a thing as ‘getting used to’ civvie stuff, though I will admit the cake is nice.”

Cake? They got cake? Kriff, this really was the softest posting in the GAR!

“As long as it’s not Uj”

“Not a fan I take it?”

Fordo shrugged, counting the doors as he went.

“Too sugary for me.”

Thorn looks shocked and Fordo doesn’t blame him. Clones have a notorious sweet tooth, and most would kill for Uj once they got a taste of it.

“There’s something seriously wrong with you vod!”

“So I’ve been told, but hey, that’s on Kaminoan quality control.”

The joke is as old as time, the ‘my vat got spiked’ or ‘they brewed me for too long’ drawing plenty a laugh from the vode, and the dry humor draws a booming laugh from the younger clone - the hallway echoing with the sound of his vambrace hitting his cuirass.

“Oya! You’re going to fit in just fine!”

“Just as long as you don’t tell my ori’vode. I’d never live it down.”

Thorn laughs even harder at that, his visor gleaming orange in the overhead lighting.

“Don’t worry about those beskar heads. We’ll kick ‘em off planet if they say one bad word about your transfer.”

Fordo opens his mouth, then reconsiders, because haraan - the mental image of the Guard wounding the egos of his ori'vode is well worth the price of admission. Stars. He’d transfer ten times over just to hear Thorn tell him he’s going to chase Skirata’s precious boys off planet! Preferably with a massif snapping at their heels. Yeah, that’d certainly make up for being transferred to law enforcement - his smile indulgent as Thorn raps his knuckle plate to his cuirass

“This is you. Thire’s to your immediate right, Stone to your left, and I’m opposite. Don’t be afraid to come knocking if you wake up in the middle of the night, we might not have been on a battlefield, but we’ve seen enough to know there’s some trauma that can only be cured by your vode.”

Fordo exhales a breath, the offer relieving a hidden weight from his shoulders.

“I -- didn’t even know that was a concern of mine until you offered. Vore entye.”

“Hey, don’t mention it. You might not be a batch mate, but you're still a vod.”

Thorn will never know what that sentence meant to him, will probably never grasp the deep gratitude that grips Fordo’s heart - the knowledge that he was among vode making his spirit soar - but he would know that Fordo was grateful, the grip of his hand conveying a thousand words as he wrapped his fingers around Thorn’s wrist.

#Captain Fordo X OC #Captain Fordo #An attempt at serious crack #Making shit up about Fordo #clone headcanons #oc clone troopers #Did someone ask for this? #probably not but it's here anyway #Fox is 100% done #fanfiction #star wars fanfiction #the clone wars #fix it au

[monako-jinn-stories]

Future project snippet

The Weight of Rank ~ a femJedi reader x oc Commander Sans story

Reminder that Sans is pronounced like Hans but with an s

“Sans,” you say, rushing out of the elevator towards him, “Sans!”

“Leave me alone, General,” he shoots back sourly, and you pause in your steps for a second before quickening your pace to catch up to him.

“Excuse me, Commander?” you respond, “I am trying to talk to you.”

“I know, and I told you to leave me alone.”

Clenching your jaw, you stop in your tracks and reach out, grabbing Sans through the force and throwing him into a nearby empty room. “What is your problem, Sans?”

“My problem is you won’t listen to me,” he says, walking up to you with an angry expression. You return the look, letting him walk until he gets right up to your face. You stand there and stare at each other in silence, neither of you faltering. After a minute, Sans huffs and rolls his eyes. Turning away, he grabs the bridge of his nose and takes a few steps. “I was trying to tell the Council the truth.”

“The truth could have got you decommissioned!”

“Is that what you’re worried about? Me being decommissioned?” he asks, snapping his head around to face you. 

“Yes, Sans! For the love of the Maker, listen to me!”

“Oh, I’m listening alright.”

“What the kark is that supposed to mean?” you ask, narrowing your eyes in annoyance.

“What exactly about my decommission worries you?” he counters, and he watches your jaw clench tightly. You let out a harsh breath through your nose before closing your eyes and turning away.

“You know why, Sans,” you say, and you hear him scoff from behind you.

“Oh yeah? Why don’t you remind me.”

“You know I can’t say,” you reply quieter. 

“You can’t, or you won’t?”

“Sans, stop.”

“No, I want to hear you say it, General,” he pushes, stepping closer to you. 

“Stop it,” you say through clenched teeth.

“Say it, or else I’m just going to assume it’s because you don’t feel like getting acclimated to a new Commander.”

“You know that’s not true!” You turn around and look at Sans with more anger than ever before. “You are only making this difficult because you think there’s something to earn from it!”

“I’m not making this difficult!” he snaps back. “It’s a simple thing to admit, all you have to do is say it!”

“You know I can’t!”

“Why not? What are you so afraid to admit? Is it that I’m right? Is it just because of my position?”

“You know this has nothing to do with rank!” you nearly yell. 

“Then why can’t you just admit it?” he asks, his voice reaching the same level as yours.

“Because! Sans! You are my Commander, I am your General! You are a clone, I am a Jedi!”

“If that’s why, then this is exactly about rank!”

“ARGH!” you groan, throwing your hands to your head in annoyance. “I can’t, Sans! I cannot tell you what you want to hear!” Tears are brimming at your eyes now, from both anger and despair. 

“Why not?!”

“I want to!”

“Then do it!”

“Sans, please!” you beg, grabbing onto the sides of his face with your hands. Tears are falling down your cheeks now, and you have no more anger, only desperation. Sans looks back into your gaze, keeping his emotions from showing. “Please,” you say again, quietly this time. 

“Tell me why you don’t want me decommissioned,” he responds sternly, and you just close your eyes and let out a quiet sob. You open your eyes again when you feel Sans’s hands grab yours, and then he removes them from his face and drops them. They fall back to your side as he steps away, walking past you towards the door. 

After a few seconds, you call out to him again. “Sans, wait.” He doesn’t respond, but you sense his pause. You take a breath before speaking again. “I can’t say why I don’t want you decommissioned because of my being a Jedi and your General. But it is not your position that makes me not want you decommissioned.”

“I understand, Master Jedi General Jinn,” he responds sourly, and then he exits the room, leaving you alone. You let out another breath as you stand there, wiping the tears from your cheeks. After taking a few minutes to collect yourself, you turn and leave the room. 

As you walk through the Temple halls, your mind lingers on the argument. If you had just not been scared to go against the Jedi code, then you could have told Sans what he wanted to hear. But you’d refused, and you don’t know why. There is an obvious connection between the two of you, an obvious desire to be with each other, yet you’d denied him hearing those words from you. You just hope that you can make it up to him.

Ahhh I’m so excited to write this story, I’ve been dying to make a Sans X Reader multi-chapter story! I hope you guys are excited as well!

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#star wars #the clone wars #clone wars #star wars the clone wars #jinn the storyteller🤍🤍 #star wars: the clone wars #tcw #clone trooper #clone troopers #commander sans #oc commander sans #commander sans x reader #oc clone #oc clone troopers #clonetroopers #clonewars #clonetrooper #clone trooper oc #clone oc

[silent-sentry]

I am half way through Clone Wars and am obsessed! I would like to start a server for a laid back and literate rp set in that setting. Probably canon divergent just to give some wiggle room for creativity. Would probably have one jedi (taken) /maybe a padawan, a captain, and the rest would be oc clone troopers! Wanted to see if anyone would be interested!

Like this post or dm me if you'd like to help me figure all of this out!

#rp #roleplay #discord group roleplay #discord roleplay #discord group rp #discord #clone wars rp #clone wars #star wars #star wars roleplay #oc clone troopers

[catawampuscorner]

⁠OCs Kora, Sharps, and Gat for a dear dear friend 🥰🥰

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#*sobs* so chonky #cat art #commission #baby clones in animal onesies #onesie au #star wars #the clone wars #tcw #oc clone troopers

[clonefandomevents]

Original Clone Character request forms!! This bingo is to honor all the amazing original clones out there, from any battalion. As long as they're a clone you have created, they qualify! Look forward to seeing all the wonderful oc's!

#clone oc bingo #oc bingo #clone wars #oc clone troopers #clone ocs #fandom event #fandom bingo #card requests

[kruspp]

📕📗📘📙📖📚📒📓📕📚📙 go go go!

HELLO THERE THANK YOU FOR ASKING!!!! Warning, I ramble a lot so this gonna be long and maybe make no sense.

OKAY SO!!!! My brain is currently full of the Star Wars rot, so most of my recent ideas have been Star Wars related. And I've been absolutely OBSESSED with the thought of Force sensitive clones—like, theres no way there wasn't even ONE Force sensitive clone!!! Highly unlikely in my opinion. So I've been playing around with some fic ideas about Force sensitive clones. Particularly with the idea that a Force sensitive clone cadet becomes the padawan that Obi-Wan wanted at the beginning of the Clone Wars movie. I was greatly inspired by the fic, "Made For This (Rise Up From the Dust)" by TripMcNeill on ao3. It's an incredible fic and it made me want to do my own spin on the concept!

I have created my own clone cadet who I've named Edee, and she's trans (because it pleases me, and also it seems very unlikely that there were absolutely no queer clones, though I'd reckon the Kaminoians didn't take too kindly to them...). I would characterize her as someone who starts off as a bit anxious, and that anxiety causes her to hesitate when she shouldn't, but grows into a brave, confident and loyal soul with the same slightly unhinged tendencies that everyone in the Disaster Lineage™️ seems to have. She loves to learn and is able to keep up with Obi-Wan's philosophical lectures, much to Anakin and Ahsoka's bewilderment. Edee and Ahsoka become the best of friends, and Edee even gets cheek tattoos that resemble Ahsoka's own face markings to show their bond. I also really want Anakin gaining yet another little sister figure in his life, and I also really want for Edee and Obi-Wan to have a father-daughter relationship, because that's my jam. It produces serotonin in my brain. I've come to love Edee so much since I made her. Like, she's my daughter, Your Honour.

As for the actual plot, I was thinking that she would have stowed away on a ship after she learned she was to be decommissioned for doing poorly in her training. Turns out that ship is heading to Christophsis, and Edee is thrown right into the thick of it, and from then on is the story of Edee's padawanship and her journey of self discovery and the family she creates with the 212th, 501st, Obi-Wan, Anakin and Ahsoka despite being in the middle of a devasting war she and her brothers never chose. I also thought it'd be great fun for both Anakin and Obi-Wan to gain an unexpected padawan on Christophsis, one because Anakin didn't want one, and the other because no one knew that clones could be Force sensitive.

I'm torn on whether this should be a complete fix-it, partial fix-it, or an angsty canon compliant AU, because I do love me some Angst, but also canon Star Wars makes me cry buckets upon buckets so maybe my faves (and me) are due a happy ending. I don't think I'm capable of a complete rewrite of the series, (I have the attention span of a goldfish) so this would probably be like a series of oneshots or a series of short 2-3 chapter fics. I have only the vaguest of outlines and ideas for this, as well as a couple of drawings I've done of Edee to really help me finalize her look. I've also drawn out a few designs for her lightsaber, which has been incredibly fun to do!

So uhhh, yeah that's one of the fic ideas that have been spinning around in my head like a ballpark hot dog for the last couple of weeks. Thanks for asking!!!

#ask game #star wars #force sensitive clones #LOVE THAT THAT'S A TAG #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #edee the clone jedi #oc clone troopers #OC clone jedi #commander cody #captain rex #the 212th #the 501st #fanfiction #kruspp's fanfiction

[letsquestjess]

Blood Daughter - Chapter 10: Brothers of the Forest

Story Summary: After Kallar Viren flees the Empire, his daughter sets out to find him, only to discover he has been taken by Imperials. With help from Clone Force 99, Zeraphine pushes through her losses in a race against the clock to rescue her father or face the galaxy as the last of her family.

Warnings: Violence.

Chapter 9 | Chapter 11

Read from the beginning.

-- -- -- -- --

Morning crept in with a whisper of mist and a soft stream of hazy light. Wearied feet trudged through the thickets of overgrown brambles and squished the muddy earth. Like a rising melody, the forest woke in a shiver of scurries and screeches. 

“Commander?” Echo said quietly, quickening his pace to catch up with the determined strides of the woman at the head of the group. “Are you all right? We’ll find somewhere to stop if you need to rest.” 

“I’m fine, Echo, but thank you,” Zeraphine responded. A sigh lingered within her words and her breaths left her body in wearied huffs. “How is everyone else doing?”

“As best as they can, given the situation. Wrecker is hungry, but we all are, and Omega has been flagging this past couple of hours.”

“Perhaps it would be a good idea to stop for a bit.” They had been relentlessly moving since the moon started to dip, and the exhaustion was taking its toll on their morale.

Tilting to her left, she picked up a distant breeze on cool water and the muted splash of fish tails waggling in the shallow depths. “There’s a lake not too far west. We might be able to catch something to eat.”

“Sounds like a plan, commander.”

“You know I’m not a commander anymore,” she pointed out. “Those days are long behind me.” 

“You’ll always be a commander to us,” Echo told her firmly and lifted his scomp link in a salute. 

Zeraphine tapped the space between her eyebrows and then her chest before bending her head to him in the customary Phominian token of respect. The movement was so fluid, it appeared to Echo like the beginnings of a dance, far too elegant to be anything military. 

Her smile quickly faded as the faint vibration of hissed calls and clattering weapons teased the recesses of her mind. She slowed, heel about to hit a bundle of branches, and the first of many bolts hurtled past. 

Startled by the snap of air, the squad broke into a run. 

Along the way, flocks of winged animals took flight and creatures nestling in the undergrowth scampered into their concealed dens. 

Instinct drove Zeraphine, her senses alight and sharp to every smell and sound. She blocked out the turbulent emotions of those around her and honed in on the Force’s call. Nature pulsed, and beat, and fluttered, and she exhaled a measured breath before splaying her fingers at an angled tree. She plunged into the tangle of roots, urging them to free themselves from the earth and with a thunderous crash, the flaking bulk toppled onto their pursuers. 

She skidded to a halt and turned in the same motion, sparks spraying from behind the trunk. A single Trandoshan remained. Before he could regain his balance, her fist connected with the side of his head and he joined the rest of his unconscious fellows in the sparking debris. The Batch approached as she gathered weapons and checked ammo, distributing the guns and throwing the largest to Wrecker.

“More are coming,” she warned, hopping off the fallen tree trunk, “but at least we’re armed.”

“You can say that again,” Wrecker laughed, hefting the bulky weapon and disengaging the safety clip. 

The fervent hum of more chariots trilled, and the team sprinted in the opposite direction. Zeraphine and Wrecker covered the rear, firing backwards as they retreated. The brawler slammed to a stop and rotated to face the enemy, unleashing a spray of projectiles and standing his ground. With little time to react, the hunters were quickly overpowered, the loud hail silencing and smoke billowing from the defeated vehicles. 

As the forest hushed and the team slowed to assess the damage, Crosshair snuck over knotted husks and dry twigs behind them, weapon tucked by his hip and slanting to the side to make himself a slimmer target.

“Crosshair?” Hunter said quietly. “What is-”

The sniper raised a gloved hand and clenched it into a fist. He squandered no time with answers, and the squad acted on his silent command and spread out.

His eyes locked onto a brief flit of movement, and quick as a shot from his rifle, he reached behind a mossy rock to pull out the hidden captive. The moment he took in those all too familiar features, he loosened his grip. “You’re a clone,” he said to the man in a mixture of disbelief and shock.

The confused clone stared at the squad, smoothing down his jacket once Crosshair let him go. Crinkles decorated the outer edges of his warm eyes and branching patterns sliced paths into his buzz cut. “So are most of you, by the looks of it.” His attention dawdled on the Phominian and he noted the scarlet markings underscoring her grey cheeks. 

“Clone Force 99,” Hunter said, clasping the man’s forearm in greeting. “I’m Hunter. This is Crosshair, Wrecker, Tech, Echo, Omega, and Commander Viren.”

“Zeraphine is fine,” the commander herself called as she surveyed their immediate environment for more Trandoshans, her voice tinged with amusement. 

“I’m Captain Ricochet,” the clone replied, “but everyone calls me Rico.” 

The overgrown hedges rustled, and another emerged. His dishevelled bun wobbled, and neat curls fell in front of his eyes as he floundered to a hasty halt. “What in the name of…?” 

“No need to worry, Mylo,” Ricochet soothed. “We’ve got some surprise visitors.”

“You don’t say,” the other laughed. 

“I’ll make introductions later. Is everything in place?” 

“My charges are ready. The others are heading back up to camp.” 

“Good.” Ricochet beckoned with dirt-smothered fingers and led the way to a nearby cavern. With only a little room to spare, they managed to squeeze in. “Here,” he said, passing over some filled canteens from the makeshift table. “You must be thirsty.” 

“What are you all doing here?” Echo asked after gulping down a mouthful of water and peering at the sparse setup. A few roughly hewn planks of wood formed a counter where they stored their supplies, and an empty crate was tucked into the corner. 

“You’ll see,” Mylo said. 

For several minutes, Ricochet stood unmoved by the cavern mouth while his restless brother paced the meagre space, wearing down his nails between his teeth. Shudders rocked the foundations of the cave and a few loose pebbles skittered onto the ground. In the distance, smouldering clouds writhed into the sky. 

Ricochet counted the bursts. “That makes twelve,” he announced. “Ah, he’s here. Let’s pack up.” 

The new arrival cast a shadow over the cavern as his bulky form crossed the sunlight, and Zeraphine instantly directed her weapon. Primed to shoot, her palms grew sweaty and her breathing became shallow. Sad ochre eyes fixed onto her silver ones.

“Woah, there,” Ricochet said, putting himself between the commander and her intended target. “How about you lower that gun and explain what you think you’re doing.” 

“It’s all right, Rico,” Vesper assured him. Testing the waters, he began to lower his gesture of surrender, remaining totally still as his hands fell to his side. “I know why she’s aiming at me, and I don’t blame her. The last time we saw each other, I, uh… well, I…”

“Shot me, and then threw me into an escape pod to sacrifice yourself like an idiot?” Zeraphine hissed. “Yeah. You did.” 

Ricochet noticed the glistening tears on Zeraphine’s lashes in the seconds before they rolled free, and the adoration and heartbreak merging in Vesper’s demeanour. “Right now, nobody is shooting anybody. Okay?”

“Zera,” Vesper whispered, stepping nearer. The gun remained strangled in her white-knuckled grasp, rattling like a ship in atmospheric turbulence. He slipped his fingers around the barrel and held the end to his chest, over the violent thrum of his heart. “Pull the trigger. If that is what you want, I’m right here and I won’t fight it.”

Tears dripped from Zeraphine’s chin, neglected and painting their wet trails. Her shoulders wilted. The weapon tumbled from her grasp and she landed in his arms before it hit the stone.

Vesper embraced her like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the ground. As she shuddered against his chest, he nuzzled into her hair and reverently placed a kiss in the tangled strands. Her warmth on his palms sung of their past, their struggles, their unshakable bond before their world fell apart, and he didn’t want to let go.

“I thought…” Vesper’s throat tightened, and he swallowed hard to push down the knot. “Zera, I checked the list of the dead after the order and you and Amelina were… you were both on it.” 

“My father put us on there,” Zeraphine told him as he pressed his forehead to hers. A hint of ammunition smoke survived on his skin. “To keep the Empire off our backs.”

“Hate to split up this heartwarming reunion, but we really do need to get moving,” Ricochet said, scanning the idle land outside and ushering the group out into the open. “Come on. You two will have plenty of time to yourselves back at camp.” 

Boosting muscle and heaving strength, the party hauled themselves up the steep incline, passing colossal sculpted statues and vestiges of a bygone age. Blankets of rich green coated the chiselled faces and hung like dripping floral curtains, time-wearied eyes poking out to watch over the chased and the captive. 

Higher into the mounting forest, a dilapidated wooden bridge stretched out onto the first floating island. The planks teetered as weight transferred, and progress slowed. 

“Mind your step,” Ricochet cautioned as he led the way. “It gets quite shaky.”

“Are we safe up here?” Hunter asked. In front of him, Omega gripped the rope barrier tightly. With his hands by her elbows, he followed her steps and steadied her when she floundered. 

“Safer than we are down there. Trandoshans don’t come up this high. Altitude messes with their navigational systems and the birds have a taste for them.” The sergeant’s eyes betrayed his concern, and Ricochet chuckled softly. “Don’t worry. The wildlife doesn’t care about us. If you leave them be, they won’t bother you.” 

As if in a dance, creeping plants coiled themselves around the hovering rocks, their giddy spirals and faded pastel petals contrasting with the lush jade and weathered grey. Bridges and woodland unfolded before them, and as the prime star began its descent, they arrived on the flat land of the topmost island. 

Two dozen clones and a scattering of other survivors meandered through the encampment. Tents hung over connecting vines and miniscule fires flung shadows into the dying sunlight. 

Tech’s fingers twitched, aching to tap on the datapad he didn’t have and absorb the vivid tapestry of the surrounding flora and fauna. Close on his heels, Wrecker panted and lifted a scarred fist to wipe the beads of perspiration from his brow.

“Hate heights,” he rasped. “Why’d this place have to be so high up?”

“We are quite far from the edge now,” Tech affirmed. “The ground here is durable enough and if it ensures we remain out of sight of any Trandoshans, it is a reasonable compromise.”

“I suppose,” Wrecker grumbled. 

“You may hold on to me, if it will make you feel more stable.”

The taller clone almost took him up on the offer, but the dizzying sway of anxiety cooled and he gently shook his head. “I’ll be all right.” He absentmindedly scraped his nails down the back of his neck. “Are you okay? I mean… after Eriadu and everything, I noticed you don’t exactly enjoy being up high and…” 

“I am perfectly fine,” Tech responded levelly. “But I appreciate your concern.” 

“Well, if there is ever a time you’re not fine, you know you can count on me, right?” 

“Thank you, Wrecker. I will keep that in mind.” A grateful smile played at the corner of Tech’s lips that his brother returned with warmth and a light nudge to his shoulder. 

Further into the encampment, the new arrivals introduced themselves to the other survivors with handshakes and clasps of arms. Ushered to empty seats, the aroma of a steaming supper sailed from the pots on the fire, and heated bowls were placed into battle-weary hands. 

“What happened?” Hunter questioned while his squad settled onto the semi-circular benches and engaged in conversations with the other captives. “Why are there so many clones here?”

“Over the past few years, Trandoshans have been taking our brothers, dropping them in hunting spots like this,” Ricochet explained. Drawn by the welcomed warmth, he hunched forward, holding his icy fingers to the fire. “The Empire doesn’t really care about a handful of clones going missing, so pirates took us as fair game. Some of were sold, some hunted, some put to work. A lot have been lost in this forest.” He brushed off the dirt clinging to his palms with the pads of his thumbs. Scars of war and survival fastened to his skin, marking his life in the injuries he had sustained. “But we’ve got a plan. We’re not sticking around here much longer.”

Releasing a determined sigh, Ricochet withdrew from the heat. The firelight seized the cardinal tattoos under his eyes and the fierce patterns that cascaded down to his jaw. “Those explosions you saw were a test,” he said. “Now we know they work, we just need to get them to the top of that dam where the Trandoshans are based.”

Beyond the underbrush and torn trunks, he pointed to a chunk of slick rock that arched atop the waterfall in the distance. Rusted bronze pipes jutted from the outer surface and plunged into the foam and spray. In the centre, a towering structure pierced the line of clouds, subdued blossoms of light flickering in the windows. 

“Are you up for helping?” Ricochet asked. “The more assistance we have, the better our chances of success.”

“We would never refuse to help our brothers,” Hunter promised.

“And the Phominian? Is she a part of your squad?” 

Hunter made to respond, but a flicker of doubt crossed his features, as if he could foresee the day when their paths would separate. Zeraphine had her duty, a commitment to her family, and he had his siblings to care for. Despite his efforts to evade it, he knew that eventually, they would have to say their goodbyes. “She was a commander, back in the war,” the sergeant said. “Commanded her own squad of intelligence clones. My team worked with her a few times, and she’s in a bit of a tight spot at the moment, so we’re doing what we can to help her.” 

“Is that how she knows Vesper?” Ricochet questioned. A surge of curiosity overcame him as he observed the couple sitting opposite, their knees barely an inch from touching and their eyes brimming with unspoken words. 

“He was her captain.”

Ricochet’s attention snapped to the sergeant so quickly he almost gave himself whiplash. “He never told us.” 

“Commander Viren was with her squad when the order happened. You can imagine how that went.”

“Oh.” 

“I understand if the subject is difficult for him to talk about.” Pressing the bowl to his lips, Hunter savoured the heat of the broth, his focus straying to the Phominian commander and the brother he thought he’d lost.

Looking at the hunted and hurt, a gleam of sympathy stirred within him. So many taken. So many ordered to run, to flee, to die. His veins pulsed with anger, propelling it through his body and filling him with an undeniable fury. He was done running away. And even if he could only save a few of his kin, he would fight with the tang of blood on his tongue and exhaustion in his bones to ensure they could witness every future sunrise in peace and safety. 

#star wars #starwars #star wars fanfiction #star wars fanfic #sw fanfic #sw fanfiction #star wars oc #sw oc #tbb #the bad batch #tbb fanfic #the bad batch fanfiction #the bad batch fanfic #the bad batch fic #clone force 99 #oc: Zeraphine Viren #oc clones #oc clone troopers