#Clone Trooper Stec

[clonememesfrikyeah]

Sitting down and watching Hank Hill and trailer park boys with all the alpha arcs would cure my depression and fix me

[totallycorrectjediorderquotes]

Fordo: I CAST FIST!!!

Stec: OOOOOW!

Fordo: NOW, GET OUT OF HERE!

Stec: I, Alpha ARC Stec, can’t feel my teeth...

[wyvernsrus]

I really enjoy thinking of small things the Alpha's do that also kind of show who they view as family.

For example my designs for Stec and Fordo have matching earrings. Stec has maroon, blue, and red for fordo, 17, and maze while Fordo's are the same just switch the maroon for teal (Stec)

Maze has three braided bracelets from when they were younger that match Fordo, Stec, nd 17's armor colors

17 would never admit to it but he has his younger siblings colors painted on the inside of his right vambrace (the left has his command squads)

Sull and Queenie, though they never got along, view eachother as a form of family so Queenie has a hair clasp thats the dark blue of Sull's armor and Sull has a bracelet that matches Queenies gold.

Fordo was also really close with Spar as kids and has an anklet that matches the red of Spar's old armor.

Just little things that show who they're close to or who they view as family

[mrsfeiix]

My special needs children are here

Thank you @lychgate

[insomnis-noctis]

Just scrolling and saw this. This— but imagine nothing but Clone Supremacy.

family: “why are you just sitting in ur room smiling at ur phone?”

me who’s been reading smut about fictional characters for the past 6 hours:

[trudemaethien]

Muunilist ten between engagements for the WIP game?

So this was intended to be for Fordo week last october but i got too busy and my muse abandoned me. Maybe I will have it done in time for next year!

I love Fordo, and moment in the 2003 show right after CT-43/002 gets killed and he goes berserk with a railgun lives in my head constantly. That kind of unit camaraderie, the loyalties between and closeness of a group of soldiers who did not choose each other but unavoidably live on top of each other, is what I wanted to write about.

The Muunilinst 10 on screen count actually varies between 9-19 and includes distinct classes of troopers (ARCs artillery and infantry) so I was filling out their ranks.

We know Fordo was their highest clone officer, as a Captain, and he had Lieutenant Stec under him. I think Seventeen was there as well, before he worked with Kenobi, before he got hurt and sent back to Kamino to train more ARCs, also a LT. There were I believe a couple more ARCs who I hadn’t filled the slots for.

Able-472 was a callsign for an artilleryman, and of course the casualty, CT-43/002 was infantry. My artist OC fic took place in a temporary Muunilinst 10 barracks, so Walk-Away, Roach, Driver, and Granted were going to make another appearance. Nulls helped train some spec-ops, so I assigned Copyright to Jaing and/or Prudii, even though they are probably not appearing.

And despite the fact that this unit served with a variety of Jedi Generals (Kenobi, Windu, Mundi, Yoda) I wanted to give them a “permanent” Jedi, Jon Antilles.

They routinely face Ventress, Grievous, and Durge.

Despite the focus on battle scenes in the 2003 show, I wanted to focus more on the between times you don’t see, the recovery and readiness, grief and care. The mundane things.

It will hopefully end up a short fic, but I do all this background work of who knows who and what their training is, what action they’ve seen, etc., to try and help it feel more real, have depth.

Just needed some more time to marinate, I guess!

[arc-77]

@t0hno

"Sir, I've got another life-sign. We might want to check this one out."

The salvage mission had been running for approximately 48 hours since the last Separatist forces on Zaadja had been mopped up. Clones, labor droids, and contracted civilian teams worked in shifts to drill through the collapsed remains of the droid factory, searching for anything of value. Intact tech, intelligence, raw materials. Maps before the war indicated the factory was built on the remains of a Mandalorian stronghold, which the ARC Captain was markedly more interested in than iterations on the latest B1 Battle Droid designs, or whatever the hell it was they were building there. News was slow on that front.

Though it was not meant to be a rescue mission, the nature of the factory's destruction presented a training opportunity for his search and rescue team. When the mound imploded, it was filled with Geonosian workers — the entire hive's worth, sheltering from the planet's cold weather. They were finding and pulling bodies out of the rubble left and right. Survivors were used as subjects for some hands on medical training. They were treated until stabilized, and then promptly euthanized, rather than kept as prisoners of war. It was grim work. After a dozen or two of these cases, he'd begun to find the practice too distasteful even for him, and ordered it to stop.

"We're not digging up any more bugs, Corporal. Ignore them."

The ARC Captain sat on a rock, turning a Mandalorian helmet over in his hands. It came from the only non-Geonosian body they'd uncovered thus far, which he ordered to be catalogued and bagged for repatriation. He stared into the helmet's T-visor, wondering what events had lead to the man's death. His own reflection was its own response.

"Sir, this one's human. Do you think it's—?"

Human?

The ARC Captain tossed the helmet aside and grabbed the scanner out of the trooper's hand to look at the screen. Sure enough, there was someone down there, trapped in a small cavity roughly four and a half meters beneath the rubble. It couldn't have been Mandalorian, and as far as they knew, no other Separatist member-species were present on the planet.

It was her.

"Stec! Bring the load-lifters over here, we've got something!" He shouted across the cavern, shoving the scanner back into the trooper's chest. "Corporal, go get the medics, all of them. Tell them I need a triage set up in this cavern ASAP."

[panther-os]

random fordo headcanons in no specific order

looks like Generic Clone (TM) except has a y-shape scar on the right side of his face from the corner of his mouth and from just below his cheekbone back into his hair and the shrapnel that did it also sliced off part of his ear on that side

speaking of ears, he loses his helmet mid-battle like obiwan loses his lightsaber and is hard of hearing for various explosion shaped reasons. stec and the rest of the m10 accommodate him well enough it doesn't become an Issue with the kaminoans until far enough in the war for him to get hearing aids instead of euthanized

("but panther! him losing his helmet is clearly not the case in clone wars 2003!" consider: clone wars 2003 is in-universe propaganda (bad propaganda bc palps) about the negotiator and the hero with no fear and is largely not representative of the bodies actually fighting the war or their general disposition)

although i will allow that part of the m10's accommodations are relying almost exclusively on hand signals in combat because a) their co can't keep his comm on his goddamn head and b) even if he could it's 50/50 whether or not the audio quality is bad enough he wouldn't be able to understand them anyway

he's good with teaching cadets and enjoys it v much but when it comes to being around children in any other setting, he's that guy that leans away from them as they come closer. kids ofc think this is hilarious and so make a point to swarm him at any given opportunity which does not help endear them to him as individuals or as a concept

he went to the ct-27-5555 school of showing brotherly affection (or more accurately vice versa)

thinks either extremely deeply or not at all, there is no in-between

started mimicking 17 as a cadet just because it was funny and it has not stopped being funny since so he has not stopped either

in general just a rock solid absolutely batshit insane dude who delights in being a chaotic contradiction and faux contrarian bastard but has an emotional intelligence and easy insight that makes him most trooper's go-to for good advice

also he/they neptunic enbian for relationships and also views sex as a social interaction which is fun with just about anyone and everyone

[commanderbengiskywalker]

98. Fordo, Kit, and Plo whump where Fordo's finally done with the republic?

98: “I am done with…”

Characters: Fordo, Monnk, Plo Koon, Kit Fisto and Bant Eerin.

Summary: Fordo gets a call to come down to the Temple.

A/N: I apologize for getting this in late. I hope you enjoy it. This is set in the Shadows of Republic Verse. The other is on the way.

Beep…

Beep..

He groaned, as he tossed to his other side, pulling the blankets closer. He sighed, attempting to return to dreamless sleep. There was creaking above him as his vod’ika turned, beeping clearly disturbing the other.

Beep.

Beep.

Beep.

“Fordo…” the voice above him sighs.

There was no response.

Beep.

Beep.

“Ori’vod…” they said again, growing irritated, tossing. “Ori’vod, get the comm.”

Still no response from the one below, only the sounds of tossing and turning.

Beep.

Beep.

Bee–

“Ori’vod!” The other hissed, banging the bunk.

“...Yes, Stec?” The one below huffed, tiredness edged at his voice.

“Answer the comm, Fordo,” Stec hissed. “It’s been beeping for half an hour.”

“I know.” Fordo replied flatly, though muffled by the pillow.

“So answer it.”

“The vod’ika know not to call me after the fourth ring. It can wait.”

Beep. Beep.

Beep. Beep.

“Clear it can’t, Fordo.” He states. “Now answer it.”

There was a sigh and the sound of shuffling underneath.

Fordo huffed, reaching for his comm on neat nightstand. He blinked as the bright blue light of the holocommunicator sprung to reveal another one of his younger brothers.

“Monnk,” he said, gazing at his clearly dressed brother. Presumably it was morning where he was. “What is it that you need?”

Monnk was fairly capable like all his brothers were. He rarely needed assistance like Kote, Rex or Wolffe did, but he wasn’t like Doom or Gree who preferred being a solo platoon. Then again, he was more suited for diplomatic missions when the underwater missions weren’t available.

“Master...Fisto..” Monnk starts, glancing somewhere off screen, seeming worried, “has been... irritated lately.”

“How so?” He asked, rubbing the exhaustion from his eyes.

Kit Fisto was a...difficult Jetii to deal with. Not disobedient or uncooperative on missions per se–at least from Monnk’s opinion–but is rather hesitant to trust. He always says that he patrols a ways away from him, while being as always as upset. Though the leading General could not blame him. The Republic is full of a bunch of shebs. With only a few trustworthy ones–which are few and far between, in his opinion.

“I assume you read the reports of the Umbaran incident?” Monnk asked, clasping his hands on his helmet, rubbing it.

He raised an eyebrow. “No...we’re a bit preoccupied with the Hunter crew. Why?”

“The...Besalisk, Pong Krell was killed on Umbara.” He continues carefully.

“So? He’s a sheb and sheb’urcyin to the Republic. I fail to see why Master Fisto is upset.”

His younger brother was silent for a moment, glancing once more at presumably Fisto, who was presumably standing angrily somewhere.

“I think it’s best that you come to Coruscant, Ori’vod.” He said, gazing back at him.

He hums. “Very well, Monnk. Just don’t call unless he becomes more upset. Jate ca.”

“Nuhoy pirusti, Ori’vod.” Monnk said, as he turned off the comm.

He sighs, setting the comm back on the nightstand.

“What do you think it is?” Stec asked.

“I don’t know,” he grumbled, as he laid back down, “but if Fisto seems more agitated than usual, then it either has to do with the Grandmaster or…”

“The Koon?” He inquired.

“Hopefully not.” He replied. “Jate ca.”

“Jate ca.”

____________________________________________________________

They landed on Coruscant two weeks later after completing their mission. He and Monnk walked through the be’Jetiise Temple, passing by younglings who peeked behind their Masters’ legs or behind marble columns, looking at them with fear in their young eyes. While their elders frowned distasteful at them. The vod had free reign of their only home. It was natural for them to be upset, even if they seemed used to it at this point of the War.

As they walked, slowly but surely, the types of walls changed from those that were old, stained and cracked—to those of better conditions. They were more of beautiful marble that glistened with the sun shining through the tall windows, almost giving an air of peace and tranquillity. It almost gave him a false sense of hope for why he was called here in the first place.

“Is this wing closed off?” He asked, as he glanced about, noting the decrease of Jetii in the area.

“You could say that.” Monnk replied casually.

Though he did not say a word since he arrived, his casual nature seemed offsetting to him.

“This is Councilors Hall,” he continues, smiling, “or as it’s also known as–the Favoured Hall.”

He frowned. “What?”

The younger one asked, he halted in front of a pristine beige colored door. He glanced around the empty hall before he raised his hand and knocked.

“You remember the bounty hunters that were causing trouble for the Republic?” He asked, as they waited.

“Yes.” He answered, adjusting his helmet under his arm. “The ones who were ‘kidnapping’ the Jedi, yes?”

“Indeed.” He nods, as he glances once more before knocking again. “They were apparently the ones who killed Krell on Umbara.”

He chuckled. “They had every right to.”

The red head nods in agreement.

There were rumors of bounty hunters kidnapping Jedi and taking them to who knows where. Originally it started with those in the Outer Rim, picking up Padawans and Knights. Before becoming more bold and taking those of who Guarded the Senate Building. The head of security went missing halfway through the previous year. Since then, security has been lacking at the Senate Building with Senators becoming furious by this.

Though they weren’t the only ones, apparently. There were hushed rumours of the Grandmaster of the Order becoming more distant and irritated by the event.

Monnk sighed, as he knocked once more. “Fisto. It’s us.”

They were greeted with more silence.

“What’s wrong?” Fordo asked.

“There was...an investigation on Krell’s death.” He said slowly, knocking. “There’s a Padawan and a Knight missing from the mission.”

“I see...though not too worrying.” The General nods.

“Well that isn’t the—”

The door suddenly opened and revealed a Mon Calamari standing in the doorway. They were short, with big blue eyes staring at them, rubbing their hands on a towel. Though, Fordo couldn’t help but notice how parts of their dark blue robes and brown pants were stained with–what he hoped wasn’t–dried blood.

“Who—”

“Enter.” The Mon Calamari said simply, as they turned back into the apartment.

He glanced at Monnk, who calmly followed after the Jetii. He followed them into the rather large apartment, but it was hardly what he would call up to code with med kits covering the floor, packets of juice littered the counter and the dining table, the liquid staining it. Whereas the caf table–that was pushed to the side of the room–was piled with new or used gauze, a suture kit, and a few glasses of juice.

For a moment, he could’ve sworn that the fan must’ve been turned on low, as there was a faint whirring sound that buzzed through the apartment before he gazed at Fisto, as he sat cross legged on the floor with–what he feared the most–Plo Koon.

They sat there with Fisto holding him close, resting his chin on his head, while the other rested his head on his shoulder, wheezing as he slept. Though from what he could see, there were half attempts at bandaging laceration wounds along his back, sides and arm, as blood seeped through the gauze and onto the Nautolan’s robes and pants. If he cared he would have changed it by the looks of it, as he stroked his broken wrist.

“What...happened?” He grits out, glaring at the injured Kel Dor, fist clenched.

“Umbara.” Monnk answered, frowning with his arms crossed.

“What?” He hissed, glaring at his vod’ika. “Explain.”

“I told you, the Knight and the Padawan were unaccounted for after the mission was completed on Umbara while Krell was killed by the bounty hunters. Rex and Wolffe only mentioned that Krell was killed by bounty hunters, but failed to tell as to why the two leading Guardians were unaccounted for.” He explained calmly.

“Knight Skywalker and his Padawan?” He asked.

There was a faint whistle from the Kel Dor, but Master Fisto hushed him while stroking his forehead.

“Yes,” Monnk answered. “They are considered important as they are a part of the Grandmaster’s line.”

Kit hissed at the mention of the Grandmaster, glaring over his shoulder at them before returning to Plo.

“I understand...It is usually more of the...lesser known and easier to catch Jedi. Not much investigation being done for them.” Fordo mused. “Though it does not explain why they would harm Plo over it.”

“Well he was the other senior Jedi there with them, as well as having close ties with Skywalker and Tano.” Monnk said, stroking his chin. “The only other one was killed.”

“So? They interrogated the only suspect they had?” He asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Indeed.” He nods. “The kidnappers got away through the ceiling so he and the vod say.”

He gazed at the wheezing Kel Dor, curled on his side, clicking softly at the Nautolan. His breathing sounded off, making small noises as he attempted to breathe.

“They nearly killed him over this.” He seethes, tightening his fist as he turns to walk to the door. “I am done with this karking Republic.”

“Who said it was the Republic who did this?” The Mon Calamari Jedi asked, as they leaned against the sofa behind the Jetiise.

He paused in his step.

“The injuries on Krell were too precise to be any given bounty hunter,” they continued, as they glanced down mournfully at the other Jedi. “The Grandmaster believes that most of the blows dealt to Krell were from a highly trained individual. With the final one being a Lightsaber to the chest which ended Krell.”

Fordo glanced back at his vod’ika.

“Skywalker and Tano are the recent ones who were taken. The other being—”

“Cin—” Master Fisto whispered.

______________________________________________________________

Mando’a translations:

Ca: Night

Jate: Good.

Nuhoy: Sleep.

Ori’vod: Big brother/sister/special friend.

Pirusti: Welll.

Shebs: rear, backside and butt.

Sheb’urcyin: “Butt kisser”.

Vod’ika: Little brother/sister/younger sibling.

A/N: I hope you enjoyed it. I apologize for the delay and take full responsibility for it. I really enjoyed writing it and hoped it had a proper tone of suspense. 

[lordechostan-can-draw]

for @threetinyshinies's May I Prompt You? event Day 9: Hevy!!

The paint is inspired by @meridiansdominoes fic, Dominoes!

[ID: An edit of clone trooper Hevy from The Clone Wars. It is from the 2003 Clone Wars series. He is hefting a Z-6 rotary cannon. His armor and helmet are decorated with flames. There is a gunship visible behind him, and you can see the legs of two Alpha-class ARC Trooper Lieutenants behind him. Hevy's thumb is on the trigger of the Z-6, and his other hand is holding the handle on the top of the handheld cannon. End ID]

original image and version without the paint under the cut

the version with no paint, same as above, but the paint is gone

and the original image, with Stec there instead of Hevy

[clonememesfrikyeah]

Stec: “Hey Maze!”

Spar: “Force sakes, just say corn, Maze is corn everybody!”

Fordo: “He calls himself that because he thinks it sounds more mystical.”

Jangotat/Nate: “Well I like the way he said it; Maze!”

All the other arcs: “Maze! mAze! MaZe!”

Trantos: “It’s fantastic!”

Alpha-17: “It’s a-Maze-ing.”

Maze: ” :/“

[totallycorrectjediorderquotes]

Stec: Where winks, suggestive remarks, and body language won’t get me what I want

Stec: A well aimed semi-automatic will

[mis-mcgifsten]

Absolute utter perfection. Bitey baby Cody!

I really wanted to do a baby Cody for Cody Day and who better to show their nephew how to bite than the Alpha disaster twins! Stec might not have been prepared to almost lose two fingers today.

[clonememesfrikyeah]

Fordo: “I don’t identify as ‘male’ or ‘female’, I identify as a warning.”

Maze: “Bro is an omen.”

Stec: “Congratulations it’s a Harbinger!”

[clonememesfrikyeah]

Fordo: “I am the dirtiest, nastiest little slut for cheesecake, and I can’t even tell you why. I hate cheese and cake, but this shit? Uuhhhh! The things I would do.”

[clonememesfrikyeah]

Stec: “Vod I think you need to chill on the chain smoking.”

Fordo: “Every cigarette I smoke is one less cigarette for the kids I give cigarettes to.”