#oc clone trooper trigger

[hesthermay]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐆𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐓 𝐅𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 (𝐏𝐓 𝟐)

PAIRING: sergeant hunter x fem!oc reader

SUMMARY: the aftermath of order 66 for the bad batch, and the reunion of a jedi and her squad.

WORD COUNT: 3.8k

WARNINGS + RATINGS: general audiences, mature themes, angst, fluff. happy ending to this chapter! female oc, use of she/her, mentions of death and order 66. series. follows the bad batch timeline.

NOTES: part tew. peep the masterlist!

STAR WARS MASTERLIST THE GREAT FIGHT MASTERLIST

Things were tense in the Marauder, the air thick and suffocating as they finally departed from Kaller. They had remained there for longer than the other clones on the planet, for they had suffered a loss of great devastation. 

Miri Rocksled had been an exception to their isolation from the rest of the GAR, she was one of them and perhaps she had been all along; thus was why approximately eighty percent of the Bad Batch was more than certain she was not guilty of the things the Jedi had been accused of. All, except their own sniper—Crosshair had never been one to express the warmest of emotions to the world around him, but he was unusually callous on the status of his former General. 

It had started with the kid, how he reacted to the orders to kill the padawan that struck something in Hunter. Orders or not, this was not something Clone Force 99 stood by; to claim they had been avid followers of the rules to begin with would be a shameful lie, but to choose such a time to start raised concerns in the man. And it was his reaction to Hunter’s reaction to realizing Miri was in danger that triggered such tension. 

“Hunter, we cannot go look for her,” Tech stated, voice stern as he spoke from the front of their ship. “Do you realize how that would look to the other troopers? To whoever gave us this order?” 

“When have we ever cared?” Hunter shot back. “You know her, there’s no way this is true.” 

From the back of the ship, like a creature lurking in the dark, Crosshair's voice filled the space. “The Jedi are traitors.” All eyes turned to him, sitting alone with his helmet still on, and he leaned in closer from his hunched position to put emphasis on the next blow. “We were given orders to execute those guilty of treason, and your Miri was no exception,” he sneered. 

An unexpected eruption came from where Wrecker stood, and everyone soon realized it was the large man launching himself at his brother.

Wrecker, with his heart on his sleeve and his fists bared, would not stand for such talk of his General. It took all three men to pull him off of Crosshair, but eventually they were able to separate the two. “Wrecker, enough!” Hunter grunted, shoving him into a seat. 

“Listen,” he panted slightly, holding his hands up to diffuse the situation. “This is getting us nowhere. Tech’s right,” he finally agreed, the prior exchange having knocked some sense into him. “It won’t be a good idea to go looking for her, we don’t wanna catch the wrong attention.  But—” he gave a pointed look at Crosshair, “we all know Miri isn’t a traitor. She’s almost loyal to a fault, something the other Jedi never seemed to stop giving her a hard time about. Whatever it is that they’re saying the Jedi are guilty of, we need some more information before we start blindly following orders. Got it?”

One by one, they all nodded their heads, Crosshairs albeit reluctant. But in his true nature, he couldn’t help but have the last laugh. Quietly, almost as if he didn’t want the others to hear, he questioned Hunter. “Besides, what would you even do if you found her body?” 

As they entered hyperspace, Hunter held himself together with the hope that she had gotten away. That her death was also falsely reported; the padawan had gotten away but nobody really needed to know that. Perhaps Miri, that clever one, was able to escape. This hope resided in them as they walked into the facility on Kamino, it was what kept their heads high and facing forward as everyone around them acted even more strange than usual. 

The sight of red and white armor once again raised alarm in Hunter. “Shock troopers?” He questioned as his head turned to watch them walk by. “What’s the Coruscant Guard doing here?” His attention was broken by the words over the intercom, the modulated voice repeatedly announcing ‘level five lockdown remains in effect. Security teams, report to the command center.’ 

He looked to Tech, and without fail he had the answers. “This isn’t a drill,” he stated, sounding surprised to hear such information. 

“Oh man,” Wrecker whined. “What did we miss now?” 

“The end of the war,” a Shock trooper answered as he walked by. 

 Hunter stepped forward, as per usual. “Say again, Trooper?”

“General Grievous was defeated on Utapau. The Separatist leadership has collapsed,” he answered. “The war is over.” A statement spoken so casually, yet possessed the weight of thousands of tons.

Behind him, Tech looked over at Wrecker. “Just like I said,” he quipped seriously.

Wrecker gasped dramatically. “It is just like you said,” he marveled, earning a side eye from his brother in response. Hunter was hardly paying any attention to this, however, as two troopers carrying a gurney walked by, a body with a sheet covering it laying motionless. Just as they passed him by, a lightsaber fell from under the sheet, and the shock trooper he was speaking with crouched down to pick it up.

When he rose to his full height, his eyes were trained on Hunter and the look he was wearing as he watched this scene unfold. He had tried to mask his emotions, but evidently he wasn’t doing that good of a job at the moment as the clone questioned him with slight hostility. “Is there a problem?” 

Though he made no effort to put some trust in his gaze, Hunter answered immediately. “No problem,” he replied, glancing over at Wrecker and then at Echo as casually as possible. “We’ll just head to our barracks then.” 

“Best hurry,” the trooper responded as he turned to walk away. “There’s a mandatory general assembly at 1500.”

And this assembly, one of the first the Batch had committed to attending, shed light to the situation while, somehow, leaving a dark shadow behind. 

“And the Jedi rebellion has been foiled. The remaining Jedi will be hunted down and defeated.” 

Chills ran down Hunters back at the words coming from the cloaked figure of what was said to be Chancellor Palpatine. Claims of an attempt on his life leaving him scarred and deformed echoed in his ears as his eyes drifted to the gallery, when the higher ups of Kamino watched from above. But what had caught his attention was a little girl, already watching him. 

She smiled when they made eye contact, but his focus shifted as Tech spoke up from behind him. “What is it?” 

When he looked back, she was gone. “Nothing.” His eyes remained there as Palpatine's voice grew louder and louder. 

“...the Republic will be reorganized into the first Galactic Empire!”

Briefly, a memory came forward of Miri meditating on the ship while they were stuck in hyperspace for who knows how long. She had been uneasy as of late, yet she tried to hide it. Meditating was something she did often, but what was peculiar to them was the scrunch of her face as she sat still as stone. They tried not to bother her when she did this, understanding it was…just something Jedi did, when she looked so distressed they felt inclined to keep watch. 

It was when she began to breathe heavily, almost gasping, that Hunter stepped forward. “General?” He questioned lowly, not trying to startle her, but she jolted at the sound of his voice anyways. “General, are you alright?” 

She had not responded, only looked at him with wide eyes as her chest rose and fell quickly. “Miri,” he tried again, formalities slipping away in his worry, “are you okay?” 

“Something is…going to happen,” she began, voice slightly frantic as she tried to gather her thoughts. “I—I don’t know what it is, or when, but it’s heavy. It’s…” She sighed, rising from her seat and running her hands through her hair. “It’s dark, and I don’t think anyone is going to see it coming, and if they do it’s just going to be too late.”

That feeling had persisted throughout the end of the war, nagging Miri any chance it got. It was ever present, when she rested, when she relaxed, when she was dispatched for missions and campaigns as well. Constant, the shadow was for Miri Rocksled, and now the curtains had been drawn and it was displayed right before their very eyes. 

Around them, troopers cheered at the revelation, unaware of the looming darkness that weighed heavy on Clone Force 99. “Still don’t think the clones are programmed?” Tech questioned, side eyeing the men around him. 

They would soon find that they were, in fact, programmed. Everything that transpired on Kamino before their forced departure was an echo of Miri’s prediction. She had been so unfortunately correct; it was heavy, it was dark, and it had been too late for anyone to stop it. The plans, orchestrated by someone they could not yet pinpoint, were already in motion, and all the Bad Batch could do was play the game as they always had; and it would seem the game had always been rigged against them. The food fight in the cafe with Omega, the live rounds during their battle simulation for Tarkin, Omega’s warning to not return, the supposed insurgent retrieval mission they were sent on. The undeniable and jarring change in Crosshair, the revelation that Omega was one of them, the weight of the fact that Miri would never leave a child in harm’s way, the devastating betrayal of one of their own. 

It had been made clear that the Empire had no room for Clone Force 99. It was time for them to leave, and Omega would be coming with them. They had a Jedi to look for. 

Many rotations had passed before the need for a pitstop was brought to their attention. Rations, medical supplies, and fuel were running low; and the severe lack of resources for a child was something Hunter had not thought of when he asked Omega to join them. 

They had learned from their visit with Cut and Suu that the Empire was spreading quickly, and travel between planets was growing much more difficult. They had to go out of their way to look for places seemingly untouched, or as much as they could be, by the heavy presence of stormtroopers. Options were running out as their journey was only just beginning, but they had no choice but to make do with the cards they had been dealt. The village they found themselves in was seemingly alright, people milling about but minding their own business; excitement was minimal and danger was mostly undetectable, a rarity these days. 

However, Hunter could feel something. A nagging feeling, that someone was out there. Watching, waiting, plotting, he did not know; but they were there. It was hard to ignore, impossible to shake off as Omega rambled about whatever had caught her interest in the market, and his eyes scanned their surroundings over and over again. He could not put his finger on it, though, for no matter how many times he looked, he came up short. He tried not to let frustration fester where caution resided. 

Until his eyes, squinted and serious as they flit over the horizon, caught a flash of a cloaked figure in his peripheral. A smaller frame shrouded by the loose fabric, identity shielded by the wide brim of their hat, he lets himself hope that it is Miri. A foolish and desperate hope, made as the figure turned away from him in the distance, disappearing in the blink of an eye.   

The hunch he had was far too big to just let this go. The feeling, still lingering on his skin as he quickened his pace to catch up with his brothers, was familiar because it was her, alive and breathing. It had to have been. 

To test this theory, he told everyone to finish gathering whatever they needed, as they were headed out, but instead of making their way towards their ship, however, he led them into the forest with arms full of supplies and faces full of confusion. Their feet carried them past the treeline and deep into the greenery, and still Hunter offered no explanation. Wrecker whined, Tech and Echo fired off logical explanation after logical explanation, and Omega was left looking around in wonder. So caught up in what was potentially ahead of them, he didn’t even notice the body tailing them from behind. In fact, it was Omega who pointed it out, feeling the eyes on her from afar. 

“It feels like we’re being watched,” she whispered, looking up at Hunter with furrowed brows. Worry was etched onto her face, but he didn’t really know how to soothe that worry at the moment. Miri was always better at this than he was. 

“That’s because we are,” he answered gruffly, as if it was no big deal. Nonchalance was something Hunter wore well, but they had so much to lose now that Omega ran with their crowd that so little care in a situation such as this was out of character for him. 

“We are?” Echo shot back through gritted teeth, alarm evident in his tone. “Hunter—”

“I think it could be Miri,” he interrupted, not looking back at Echo. The sergeant found himself almost hesitant to reveal the information he had been hoarding for the last little bit for how it would make him sound. Yes, she was special in a different way, but she was still their general and he knew her. He knew her, and what she felt like, and he was almost certain this was her. The fact that he didn’t hear a branch one snapping coming from their watcher, the fact that she remained out of their sights while keeping them in hers, the fact that nobody ever followed them with intentions of just watching; it all made too much sense to not make any at all. 

“The likelihood of that is quite low,” Tech started, holding a finger up but he never got the chance to continue for Hunter held up a closed fist, a signal for them to stop in their tracks. His eyes were trained not on ground level, but up in the trees, and he spun around as he searched for the lost Jedi. 

Unbeknownst to him, his brothers share skeptical glances. They did not like it, but they had stepped closer to accepting that Miri Rocksled may never show her face again for one reason or another than Hunter had. His desperation, while understood, was painfully obvious. 

But, always one to prove someone wrong, the missing woman made her presence known from a thick branch above them. Hunter had ventured too close for her liking, it would seem, and she stepped into view with her saber drawn and pointed at him. Perched there perfectly, draped in the same neutral colored poncho he had seen back in the village, Miri Rocksled was alive. 

The orange blade hummed lowly as the glow illuminated the expression she wore. Brows furrowed and eyes wide in a horror Hunter didn’t recognize from under the brim of her hat, her knuckles gripped the weapon so tightly the skin had gone ghostly white. Once again, the brothers exchanged glances, this time one of shock. Wrecker’s gasp cut through the ambient noise of nature. And Hunter, who could only stare up at her in awe, could not think of what to do or say. Instead, his limbs remained frozen as his eyes took her in for what she was, his greatest love. 

He had missed her so terribly, more than he thought a close was capable of, and yet he had carried through every rotation she was missing. The weight of it was suffocating, and just seeing her lifted it from his tired body tenfold; he was light with his eyes on her once again, for she was the answer to every problem he could ever have. 

“Miri…” The words left him of their own accord, coming out as a breathy whisper pointed towards the heavens. 

His voice, the sound of it in her ears, made her face screw up even tighter, eyes drawn to slits and lip quivering ever so slightly. “Stay back,” she demanded lowly through gritted teeth as tears brimmed her eyes. They stung, and she blinked rapidly to keep her sights clear on them. She tried to keep the fear at bay, tried her damndest, but to finally be face to face with her clones after Order 66 had dread settling itself in the pit of her stomach. Against her order, Wrecker took a few steps forward, eyes wide as he looked up at her. “I said stay back!” She shouted, voice harsh as it echoed throughout the forest. “I don’t want to hurt you guys; please, please, don’t make me,” she begged, words shaky as emotion threatened to take over.

Hunter repeated her name, snapping out of his daze at the genuine fear that they would try to kill her. Fear, it was not something he was used to seeing on her, and he didn’t like it one bit. His hands went up in a show of peace, demeanor that of a man approaching a cornered animal. “It’s okay. The chips didn’t work in us, we didn’t follow the order,” he explained, desperation hiding behind his words. When she remained still he gave her the smallest of shrugs and the smallest of smirks. “Defective, remember?” 

Tech took that as his signal to step forward, for he knew that Miri needed all the details then and there in order to clear the air. “What he means by that is the inhibitor chips the Kaminoans implanted in all clones did not show signs of controlling us. We have since discovered that is how Order 66 was administered, and that is why we did not participate in it; well, all except one,” he rambled, eyes never leaving the General in a show of true honesty, though Tech was never one to lie. “That is why Crosshair is missing, he…he now works for the Empire.” 

“Crosshair…” she whispered, voice low and hesitant. “It worked on him? He—” she looked away, sadness taking over for but a moment. “He would have tried to kill me?” 

“Yes,” Tech affirmed. “He believed that the Jedi were guilty of the accused treason, because that is what we were told by the Emperor himself.”

Oddly enough, Miri appreciated the bluntness of Tech’s delivery in that moment. One would feel the need to soften the blows, but they had since been dealt. Dealt the moment she had to fight for her life on Kaller against her own allies turned enemies. The facts of the matter almost helped ease the sting of betrayal she had harbored since, knowing that it had not been personal. They could not help but turn their weapons on their generals and commanders, and Crosshair could not help the change in his ideology. 

With this information, she had deduced that the Bad Batch were not a threat to her any longer. They did not display the behaviors other clones did in the presence of a Jedi, and that was the largest indicator that what Tech had said was indeed true. But it was also the look on Hunter’s face that swayed her heart when she tried to keep it stoney. 

A man in love, a man lost in his love, looked up at her as if she was the angel he had been hoping for. The grief of her presumed death, and the denial of acceptance, had worn him down along with everything else, and she could see how he had been changed. He would not harm her, could not harm her; that much she believed. 

There was one question to be asked, however. “What happened to the padawan on Kaller?” 

When Hunter stepped forward to answer, her weapon moved to point at him once again. It startled him, pausing in his tracks as he held his hands up once again. “I let him get away,” he answered, the words spilling out of him. “Lied to Crosshair about it, lied to the Empire about it.”  

She eyed them all one by one, gaze lingering on the little girl tucked away in the back with Echo by her side, before she retracted the blade of her saber, orange light disappearing into the intricate hilt. Her arm fell to her side, but her feet were still planted firmly on the branch. Miri had been in survival mode for so many rotations that she was finding it difficult to let it slip away, even if slightly. Her heart beat rapidly and almost painfully in her chest as she took a deep breath in an effort to steele the resolve to relax. 

With that, she clipped her weapon to her waistband and effortlessly leapt to the ground below. Her feet hardly thudded as her boots made contact with the dirt floor, and she looked to Hunter. She felt herself being pulled to him by something greater than the both of them, and she couldn’t even try to fight it. He watched her as if watching a ghost glide toward him, helmet at his feet as he had dropped it upon seeing her once again, and his hands had begun reaching out for her without even knowing. She almost tripped over the piece of armor as he yanked her into him when she was within reach.  

He held her close, arms wrapped tightly around her as if she would disappear again if he let go, and he breathed. He breathed clearly for the first time in what felt like centuries, lungs able to expand to their full ability instead of being constricted by constant worry. He breathed her in, the scent of her still lingering after all this time of chaos and turmoil. She was her, alive and persisting, and he felt as if he could weep as her body weight felt so solid in his hold. 

“I knew you were still out there,” he whispered into her hair, voice cracking. 

“You found me,” she whispered back, throat tightening as she fought off the same feelings. Hunter, her Hunter, had found his way back to her. She had been so worried that what they had was forever lost, that what she had with them all had been forever tainted, and to let go of that felt incredible. 

He shook his head the best he could while having her so close. “No, you found me, Miri,” he insisted, not caring about anything else besides this moment. “You found me.”

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[enigmaticexplorer]

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter V

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 4.6K

Beta. @/starstofillmydream

3 Helona

“These symptoms are extreme for this stage of her illness,” Healer Natasha said.

Kazi didn’t respond as she studied her sister. 

Asleep, Daria looked fragile. Easily breakable. Like the glass dolls common in Reformist households on Ceaia. The dolls with unblinking eyes, perfectly plain skin, and rosy lips. 

Sweat glistened on Daria’s forehead. Her breathing was shallow yet slowing, courtesy of the anesthetic med-spike Kazi stabbed her with an hour ago.

The fear in her sister’s eyes—the sheer terror—when Kazi pinned her to the ground was imprinted in her mind. 

It happened so fast. 

Kazi had only just returned from work. Exhausted, she visited Neyti’s empty room to place a new stuffed animal—a space whale—on the pillows. On her way back, she caught sight of Daria in her room, staring at a wall, rocking slightly.

“Daria?” Kazi asked hesitantly. 

Daria flinched. “Where are we?” she whispered. “Why am I here?”

The fear in her sister’s voice moored Kazi to the floor. She was so tired—mentally and physically worn to the bones—that she could only stare at her sister. Confused. Uncomprehending. She took one step forward but Daria collapsed to the floor. Her hands flattened against her ears. Her body curved into a ball. She panted for air. 

It was the sound of her panicked breaths that snapped Kazi into action. She snatched the med-spike from the hallway closet. The medicine had sat there, unused, for months. 

She had never expected to use it.

And she hadn’t expected Daria to start crying, begging, her not to hurt her. 

Scared and unnerved, Kazi stabbed Daria with the med-spike. Her sister fell limp beneath her. 

The only good thing about the situation: Neyti was downstairs sketching, and Commander Fox and trooper Nova were gone, so no one witnessed the ordeal. 

“I thought you said her medicine was supposed to prevent these symptoms.” Kazi faced Healer Natasha, folding her arms across her chest.

After endless appointments with Ceaian healers unwilling to treat Daria, Kazi was relieved to meet Healer Natasha. 

A decade older, Healer Natasha was quick to diagnose Daria, create a treatment plan, and enforce necessary care all within two weeks. The healer was dedicated to Daria’s treatment. Determined to ease her suffering and preserve the stability of her mind for as long as possible. Her kindly personality and patient attentiveness made her respectable and trustworthy.  

However, months ago, Healer Natasha claimed a morning and nightly potion would curb Daria’s symptoms. That severe episodes of forgetfulness and panic were improbable the first fifteen months of the disease’s three-year timeframe.

The disease wasn’t supposed to progress for another eight months. 

“The potions should be working.” Healer Natasha studied Daria’s pulse and scribbled a note onto her datapad. “Their efficacy is tested and proven. There must be something interfering…”

Kazi swallowed a bite of fear. “How much time do you think she has?” 

“Possibly a year.” Kazi blanched and Healer Natasha offered her a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry. I can ease the symptoms as much as possible until the next stage.”

“The next stage is—”

“Loss of memory. I advise moving her to the medical center for 24-hour care.”

“You said Stage Two won’t happen until Telona of next year. At the earliest.” Her heart was beating far too fast, and she swallowed, forcing her breaths to calm. “You said she had at least two years to live from Telona. She’s only been sick for seven months.”

“Daria’s disease is an anomaly, and one we have little information to study,” the healer said gently. “The disease has few similarities across patients and we still don’t know the cause or if it’s curable. I am operating based on what I have researched, but much is left to the unknown.”

Kazi knew all of this—they had talked about it before. But it didn’t make acceptance easier.

Seven months ago, she was working in Ceaia’s capital when she received a comm message from home. Nearly eight years had passed without word from her mother, and she had rarely spoken to Daria in that time. So the comm message shocked her. She didn’t know what to expect.

That night, she quit her job, packed her belongings, and bought a one-way ticket back home. 

The local healer didn’t know how to treat Daria and the few droids available were just as useless. Kazi threw herself into researching Daria’s symptoms, cross-referencing potential illnesses, contacting various healers across the planet and then expanding her search to neighboring systems. She argued her way into consultations with the most renowned healers. 

All of those hours researching, all of those days she spent trying to find a solution, were ultimately futile. The last healer they saw on Ceaia claimed the disease was a progressive destruction of memory and mental functions. There was no cure. 

In private, the healer had advised Kazi to stop wasting her time and monetary resources on her sister. To instead enroll Daria in a 24-hour hospice center. The pity on his face at her immediate refusal still rankled her. 

Through it all—the dozens of consultations and various healers—Daria became more withdrawn. Reclusive and quiet. Kazi assumed it was a combination of shock and grief. 

Their mother was no help. Daria was her pride, and her hope for the future, and Daria’s inability to marry into society left her depressed.

Her hopelessness didn’t matter much since she passed away a few months later. From heart failure. It wasn’t a shock considering she was in her early seventies. She didn’t have Kazi and Daria until her early forties, as Traditionalist and Reformist culture encouraged, and the combined stress of Kazi leaving home at eighteen and the onslaught of Daria’s disease was too much for her to handle.  

Kazi thought their mother’s death would upset Daria. To her surprise, her sister became less morose and reclusive. 

“I don’t have much time,” Daria said one day, her smile forcibly brave, “and I won’t waste it moping.”

Healer Natasha placed a hand on Kazi’s shoulder, her fingers dark brown and scarred. “You should prepare yourself for the possibility that Daria’s illness is progressing at a faster rate.”

“I understand.” Kazi observed Daria’s pallid features. “Thank you for coming by tonight. I know it’s not in your contract—”

“Daria is my only patient. I’m here for her.” Kazi nodded her gratitude while the healer packed her bag. Once her instruments were sequestered away, Healer Natasha straightened, a frown marring her features. “A question, Ms. Lucien: has Daria encountered anything at home that could have increased her stress levels in the past months?”

The last three months zipped through Kazi’s memories, like a holofilm fast-forwarded. The clones’ arrival was the sole anomaly. But had built a rapport with Commanders Cody and Fox, and on some occasions, she even cooked with the former. 

An indicator of high stress probably emerged from—

“We’ve had a few disagreements about the future,” Kazi admitted.

“The future?” Healer Natasha hefted her bag. “Her future?”

“No.” Kazi scrunched her nose. “Mine.”

Healer Natasha nodded in understanding, approaching the bedroom door. “It would be best to avoid stressful conversations as they can exacerbate her symptoms, especially conversations about the future. Patients suffering from terminal disease struggle with both the unknown and the desire for a future. Talks about what you will be doing in a year or two can increase distress.”

Late evening sunshine bespeckled the surrounding jungle when Healer Natasha left. Kazi locked the front door and leaned against the wall, pressing her palms to her eyes. 

Her head felt too heavy. Too full. Like it was stuffed with wet sheep wool and she couldn’t stop it from expanding and thickening. 

Deciding fresh air and the setting sun might ease her headache, Kazi wandered to the sunroom. She expected to find Neyti absorbed in a sketch. Instead, she stumbled on a puzzling sight.  

Outside, Neyti sat among the ferns, a canvas on her lap and a paintbrush in her hand. For a brief moment, Kazi was distracted by the canvas and paints. The ones Commander Cody had gifted Neyti a few days ago. She hadn’t seen Neyti use them before and the sight eased some of her tension. She made a mental note to tell the commander when he returned to the house from his mission. He would appreciate it. 

And then she took in the entire situation, and former elation gave way to exasperation.

Rather than painting, Neyti was scowling, her knuckles white against a paintbrush. Scowling at Commander Fox and trooper Nova.

The clones must have returned from the Marketplace while Kazi was speaking to Healer Natasha. Each carried a bag of groceries, but it was Commander Fox who also held a cup in his hand. He stood a few meters from Neyti and was gesturing to the cup. Behind him, Nova grimaced. 

Commander Fox took a step closer. He started to kneel. 

Eyes narrowed, Neyti brandished her paintbrush and stabbed it in his direction.

“Oh my fucking gods,” Kazi muttered under her breath. 

The commander lifted a hand in surrender, and he slowly lowered the cup to the ground. Neyti swiped at him. Again. Kazi hurried outside.

“Neyti.” The girl blinked at her. Kazi gave her a long look. “We don’t hit people with paintbrushes.” She turned on the commander. “And if she doesn’t want whatever you have, don’t pressure her to accept it.”

Commander Fox shrugged, his casual demeanor forcibly unruffled. “I was going to leave it there and walk away.”

Kazi turned her attention back to Neyti, lifting an eyebrow. Neyti glowered at Commander Fox and then lowered her brush. A frustrated huff spoke her true feelings. 

Sharing a look with Commander Fox—the clone’s mouth pressed in a hard line—Kazi accepted the cup he placed in her hands. Lemony shaved ice filled it to the brim, and she felt herself start to smile as she knelt on the ground. Neyti eyed the cup suspiciously.

“This is a treat,” Kazi explained, spooning a lump of ice.

“I told her that,” the commander said. A distinct line wrinkled between his eyes. “I thought younglings liked dessert.”

“They do.” Nova’s voice was quiet, softer than Commander Fox’s. His hair was longer than any of the three commanders and a yellow tattoo of a rising sun lightened his left cheek. “Guess the problem is you.”

Commander Fox rolled his eyes. 

Ignoring them, Kazi offered the spoonful of ice to Neyti. The girl hesitated. 

“It’s really good, I promise,” she encouraged. 

When Neyti continued to eye the cup, Kazi shrugged, taking a bite for herself. Commander Fox had opted for a simple flavor: lemon with a hint of mint. It wasn’t half bad, though she preferred lemon and lavender. 

“You know,” she said, meeting Neyti’s intrigued gaze, “shaved ice is popular on Ceaia.”

The pointed comment was a theory she had developed the last few weeks, and Neyti’s reaction—her lips parting and former suspicion melting into interest—partially confirmed it. 

Neyti set aside her canvas and paintbrush, and Kazi handed her the cup. Carefully, Neyti spooned a small mouthful of the ice and took a tentative bite. 

Her eyes widened. Fascination, and subtle delight, lit her face. She took another, larger bite.

A quiet, hoarse chuckle emanated from the clone commander, and Neyti stiffened. A disparaging glare darkened her face. To Kazi’s slight amusement, Commander Fox winked. An angry flush darkened Neyti’s face. The little girl shoved herself to her feet, huffed her annoyance in Commander Fox’s direction, and stomped toward the closest tree, collapsing among its knotted roots. 

“Good going,” Nova said. Shoving the commander in the shoulder, he grabbed both bags of groceries and strode into the house.

Commander Fox slid his hands into his trousers’ pockets, watching Neyti. “You have your hands full. With that one and your sister.”

The amusement in his tone—the suggestion behind his comment—made Kazi stiffen. He had no right to judge Neyti and her sister. He had no right to make them his entertainment. 

“Don’t talk about Neyti that way,” she said coldly. “And don’t talk about my sister, either.”

The commander blinked his bemusement. “I wasn’t—”

“I have work to do.” Stepping away, she settled her attention on Neyti. “You should go inside. I think it’s best if you don’t bother her.”

A muscle ticked in his jaw but Commander Fox inclined his head, retreating into the house. 

The moment the back door snapped shut, Kazi grimaced. Maybe she was too quick to judge him. Maybe she shouldn’t have snapped at him. And she probably should have thanked him for thinking of Neyti. For buying her a treat. 

But Kazi couldn’t muster the energy to care. To feel ashamed for her behavior. 

Stress had gnawed through her muscles and was now working on her bones, dull teeth steadily eating her away. 

She wondered how long she would last. 

It didn’t matter, really. Once Neyti was adopted and Daria passed away, there would be nothing left to concern her. And no one to know her.

The bluish glow of Eluca’s three moons washed across the first level while Kazi mopped the hardwood floors. Unable to sleep, she thought the repetitive motions would soothe the amalgamated mess of conflicting thoughts pounding inside her head. So far, it hadn’t worked.  

She needed to access the bank codes for Bash. And yet she still didn’t know how to.

She needed to research Daria’s disease and see if there was an explanation for her rapid progression. And yet she knew it was ultimately futile.

She needed to reconvene with the adoption center and confirm Neyti’s application. And yet she had to wait for Neyti’s testing. 

She needed to call a mechanic and get the kitchen fixed—the squeaky drawers, broken cabinets, weak faucet grew more problematic by the day. And yet she couldn’t muster the fucking energy to make one comm call.

The house was dirty. She hadn’t properly cleaned the kitchen, living room, and sunroom in a month, and her bedsheets were unwashed for more than three weeks, and she hadn’t dusted in a long time, and there were crumbs—fucking crumbs—on the kitchen counters because the adults in this house were too lazy to properly clean the fucking counters after a meal. 

Living room floors scrubbed and drying, Kazi made her way to the kitchen. A glance at the chrono heightened her fatigue. 

She closed her eyes, telling herself not to cry. She wanted to sleep, but she couldn’t. And she despised lack of sleep. Her head felt too heavy to think and her muscles too slow to respond. She would most likely opt out of a swim and then she would miss an important workout and—

Kazi opened an upper cabinet and retrieved the sole bottle of alcohol in the house. A bottle of aged red wine. 

Daria couldn’t drink because of her medicine, and Kazi disliked the lack of control she experienced when she did drink, so alcohol was in short commodity. The bottle of wine she was uncorking was a gift from the neighbor a kilometer away. An older man she hadn’t spoken to since, though she did wave whenever she saw him drive by. 

A short pop and the cork fell away. A regular glass filled to the brim. A dark red unsavory.

At the first mouthful, Kazi nearly spit it out. Gods, she hated wine. Too sweet. Too thick. Too many uncomfortable memories. 

Another mouthful and she closed her eyes. The image of Daria, pale and sweaty, begging not to be hurt, seared her mind. Her eyes flew open. She released a shaky breath.

The urge to run spasmed down her spine. The urge to leave the house, leave her sister and Neyti, and just run. 

Run far away. Away from the responsibility, away from Daria’s suffering.

Kazi stared at the dark wine, its color too reminiscent of blood. Her hand started to shake and she set the glass aside. It was pathetic, but the bloody glass reminded her of her first, and only, time fishing with her father. 

She was five, eager to prove herself a reliable sailing companion. 

They sailed to one of the islands, her father cast a line, and they sat for an hour. Waiting. It was a rare day. The sun peeked through Ceaia’s usually gray clouds, its rays a gregarious warmth. 

Little Kazi had high expectations. For both herself and the experience. 

The line snagged, and she and her father shared an excited grin, reeling in the first catch of the day: a fish longer than her arm and quite fat. She watched her father kneel on the wooden boards. The fish squirmed and struggled. Kazi no longer felt excited. 

Her father raised a long spike. She kept watching the fish try to escape. To return home and live. Her father stabbed the fish in its head.

The sight haunted her nightmares for an entire year.

The fish wriggling. Blood oozing from its scales. The sound of its tail smacking the deck.

It took a long time for the fish to quiet and then still.

Little Kazi sobbed. She sobbed over the pain and suffering of a fucking fish. 

Startled by her reaction, her father abandoned the rest of the trip and they returned home. And so began a life avoiding the signs of pain and suffering. 

More difficult to avoid than Kazi had expected considering her mother owned the local apothecary and served as a healer on most days. She had forced Kazi and Daria to accompany her during busy hours. Daria helped. Eager to ease patients’ suffering. Eager to do good. Kazi stood in the corner, hands pressed to her ears, trembling as she listened to grunts of pain. Screams.

She took to running away. To avoid it all. 

The day her father died, she was ten, and she saw him in the med-center bed. His body was broken; his face was swollen. He had reached for her. His pain was too similar to Daria’s. 

Except his death was different. 

His sudden absence left her shocked and grieving—there was no time to prepare. She had eaten breakfast with him that morning, and he was gone by dinner.

Daria’s illness prolonged her pain and suffering. 

There would come a time when her little sister no longer remembered her. A time when Daria wouldn’t even know her own name. 

And Kazi wasn’t prepared for it. No matter the façade she wore, she wasn’t prepared. 

Swallowing another mouthful of the sweet wine, Kazi drained two-thirds of the glass. She was about to force herself to finish it when the front door banged open.

The glass fell. Its shatter was as loud as a blaster shot in the silence of night. Wine splattered her freshly mopped floors. 

Heart slamming against her chest, Kazi peered around the staircase wall and toward the entryway. A glaring Commander Wolffe followed by a narrow-eyed Commander Cody shadowed the hall. The front door snapped behind them, the lock sliding in place.

The anger emanating from them was palpable enough that Kazi’s stomach dropped. Tension slithered down her spine and she retreated into the middle of the kitchen, the bar serving as a barrier. 

The clones trudged toward the bookcase, Commander Cody offering her a grim nod before disappearing into the basement. Commander Wolffe paused beside the bookcase. He tucked a small, worn notebook into his utility belt and lifted his gaze to hers. 

A blackening blob puffed his right eye. His tetchy expression reminded her of their last conversation a few nights ago. The conversation when he rudely dismissed her. 

Tapping her fingers against the counter, she studied the harsh lines of his face. 

Mouth pressed in a thin line. Shoulders rigid. Jaw clenched painfully tight. 

“Do you want to discuss the intel?” she asked.

It was like poking a shark with a fishing pole—purposeful agitation with the expectation of a reaction. She knew she should ignore him. Clean up the glass and go to bed. However, she wanted to antagonize him. Because he was rude and dismissive and she needed to know why he no longer wanted to share intel. Needed to know why she wasn’t considered good enough for him.

“I told you,” he said, voice taut with restraint, “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Why.” 

The commander regarded her. Bored, unfazed by her question.

“I don’t understand you.” She chuffed a sardonic laugh. “You were the one who asked me to work on the intel—”

“I don’t believe you’re capable of handling it.”

Her lips pursed. “I attended one of the most prestigious universities in the Outer Rim. I received not only my first degree in basic analytics, but I received a second and third degree in military and political intelligence. Military analytics is my specialty. I’m more than credentialed to analyze your intelligence. More than you probably are as a soldier.”

Commander Wolffe released a scoff so full of scorn her vision reddened. The commander’s outline blurred at the edges, and she knew she needed to walk away. 

“What’s your problem?” she demanded. 

A moment of silence passed. The commander seemed to be wavering between his two options: engage or back away. His soldiery background must have won out because he squared his shoulders and let the bookcase close. He took a step closer, countenance ornery. 

“My brothers and I are the ones out there. Running missions. Risking our lives,” Commander Wolffe said. His voice was low, strained with a rising rage that set her on edge. “We don’t have room for a shoddy analytic job. We don’t have room for mistakes.” 

“My analyses are not shoddy,” Kazi hissed. “I dedicate time and effort to make sure they’re the most accurate they can be—”

“I know you don’t give a shit about the lives of my brothers. But I do.” He levelled the full weight of his glare on her. A glare full of vitriolic antipathy. “And I won’t put their lives at risk based on your analyses.”

Kazi blinked her shock, straightening her spine. This asshole was questioning her credibility. Questioning her effectiveness at a skillset she had honed for eight years. The skillset she dedicated years of her life to perfecting in order to escape the forced life of demure housewife and child-bearer. 

“I would never put someone’s life at risk.” Heated rage turmoiled beneath her skin, churning hotter and faster. “You have no right to judge my skillset—”

“I reserve every right to question your credibility. These are my brothers at risk—”

“Then why did you ask me for help?” 

“I miscalculated.” He shrugged. “I realize now you’re lacking the quality we need.”

Internally, she flinched, and it took more effort than she cared to admit to keep her features unruffled. His opinion didn’t matter. She knew her skillset was credible and refined, but she couldn’t entirely dissuade the self-doubt it procured. 

“You’re the one who asked me for help, and now all you can do is ridicule my work?” A hollow laugh broke loose. “You’re pathetic.”

Commander Wolffe jerked away, his nostrils flaring and scowl hardening into deep fissures. He took a breath. And then another. Never looking away. 

“Are you going to bring men around here?” The question caught her off guard but she didn’t miss the blatant mistrust and scorn. “I’ll need to know. For security purposes.”

Kazi eyed him for a long moment and then realization crashed into her. 

The commander had overheard her argument with Daria. A good portion of it.

The judgment in his gaze—the expectation that she would risk their operation for a male—was despicable. And it pissed her off even more.

“That’s not a problem you need to worry about.” She fisted her hands at her sides to steady herself, both from the wine blurring her vision and the defensive anger howling to get out. “Instead of worrying about who I spend my time with, maybe you should worry about your own missions. Since they’re clearly ineffective.”

It was a low blow. A punch straight to his ego and she knew it. She relished in his nearly imperceptible flinch. 

“I thought you were running rescue missions, Commander.” She gestured to the empty entryway. “Where are your rescued soldiers?” The taunt was cruel and horrible and she would regret it the moment the conversation ended, but in the moment, she wanted him to hurt. The way she was hurting beneath his criticism of her character. “Maybe if you had an accurate analysis—”

“Shut up.” 

“What? You don’t like hearing the truth? Your missions are pointless and do nothing for the good of the galaxy—”

“I’m rescuing my men. I’m doing something. What the fuck are you doing?”

Commander Wolffe took a step closer to the bar, running his tongue along his teeth. Kazi widened her stance, refusing to balk beneath his hostility. 

“You’re a nobody from a backwater planet that thought it could rebel against the Empire.” The commander leaned across the bar. “What good did that do for your people? For the galaxy?”

Kazi suddenly felt both cold and hot. How he knew about Ceaia, she wasn’t sure, but it threw her off-kilter. An attack on a vulnerability she tried so hard to bury. An attack on the guilt she harbored for her cowardice.

“You wanna talk about doing nothing for the galaxy,” Commander Wolffe growled, “let’s start with you running from your planet. You could have stayed and fought. And instead, you saved yourself—” 

“It would have been a massacre.” Her voice was quiet, underscored by a slight tremble. “Staying would have done nothing—”

He snorted. “You’re a coward.”

“I’m trying to help others. The rebel network—”

“Is an idealistic group of people. They naively believe they can take down the Empire—”

“And is it not naively idealistic to try to rescue clone soldiers from the Empire?” She snickered and the commander stilled, his features stony. “What’s the point? There are hundreds of thousands of clones. You can’t save them all.” 

“You wouldn’t understand.” He cocked his head, his sneer belittling. “Your home life is fucked up. You have a kid who doesn’t trust you. Your relationship with your sister is estranged. You’re a shitty sister and even shittier caretaker. And you wouldn’t know the first thing about familial duty.”

The accusation burrowed into her chest and flayed open the encaged emotions she worked tirelessly to repress. Her insides felt cold and tears—from both hurt and self-righteous anger—pressed at the corners of her eyes.

“How can you judge me for my home life when you don’t even understand the meaning of it?” She swallowed, ignoring the blood welling in her palms beneath her fingernails. “You’re a clone. What do you know about familial duty?”

The commander’s upper lip curled. “I have brothers—men I care for. Men I’m trying to save. Every mission I run is for them. What have you done for your family? Nothing.”

“You don’t know what I’ve done for my family. You don’t know what I do for them. You have no right—”

“And you had no right to question me—”

“You’re a paranoid bastard.” A tear eased down her cheek and she furiously wiped it away. “You’re so fucking paranoid because you turned on your own people. Your actions allowed the Empire to rise and the Republic to crumble. And now you expect any and everyone to turn on you because you were the traitor first.”

She was done with this argument. She was so fucking done with him.

“Ridicule the network; ridicule me. I don’t care. But you’re not the selfless hero you believe you are.” Stalking toward the staircase, Kazi threw him a final glare over her shoulder. “If you don’t trust my work—or me—then you can leave.”

Masterlist | Chapter 4 | Chapter 6

A/N: This is where the fun begins.

[techs-goggles9902]

Sha’s Masterlist ✨

Hi, you can call me Sha or Ge’tal. I’m a fan girl, writer, and artist (sometimes). I’m a book nerd! I’m on Instagram ( knee_s0cks1409 ) TikTok ( techs_goggles99 ) , and I make shuffles on Pinterest ( techs_goggles99 ) ! My general tag is Sha Speaks and my art tag is Sha’s art

Fandoms include: The Band Ghost, Star Wars Prequels (TCW and TBB included) & Republic Commando, DC, Arctic Monkeys, (anime account is @kacchans-gauntlet ), The Hunger Games, the Outsiders, and Wild Kratts.

REQUESTS FOR FAN FICTION ARE OPEN!

Rules for requests: no clone/clone, rexwalker, rexsoka, spicy stuff, or obikin, or Krattcest, or minor/adult. I will write my oc stories, and if you request it I’ll write your oc into canon typical situations or requested setting.

Send in an ask or dm me if you want to join/leave the tag list!

✉️ = request

⚠️ = possible trigger warning (blood or something)

My longer fics:

Two Souls Entwined

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5 (ongoing, unknown number of chapters)

Summary: Niva Veen (oc) x Captain Rex

Clone Heaven ✉️

Clone Heaven (Fives and Fox meet in clone Heaven)

Clone Heaven (Kix and 501st reunion) UPCOMING

TBB Modern AU

Masterlist

Summary: TBB in a modern setting.

One Time Things: (maybe)

Fi’s on leave (RC 8015 x gender neutral reader) ✉️

Tech, I don’t fit in (Tech x f!reader plantonic, Raven Skirata cameo) ✉️

I Like You (Rex x medic female reader) ✉️

Why Did You Wait For Me? (Crosshair x female reader) ✉️

Mr. Echolocation (Echo x gender neutral reader) ✉️

CX-2 is all that remains (Tech lives) ✉️

TBB Reacts to Ghost (My interpretation of how Clone Force 99 would react to their s/o listening to Ghost) ✉️

More than sniffles (Hunter x gn reader - who’s sick) ✉️

My art:

Death Troopers Helmet ⚠️

TBB Echo

Cody kicking a clanker

Obi-Wan fell asleep (Codywan)

Brainrot Hunter

@/dangracoon’s oc Jaine Vale x Crosshair

[dickarchivist]

Stars and Scars

Clone oc Specter x fem!Reader

Word Count: 1878

Song: Empty Crown by YAS

Rating: 🔞 MATURE!! 🔞 MINORS DNI 🔞

Contents and Warnings: self-harm/talks of suicide (Specter), blood, abandonment issues, off screen character death (not Specter or reader), trauma and pain, Post Order 66, just the saddest most painful fic I've written to date I am so sorry

Summary: It's rare to see a clone trooper outside of imperial control, especially on Coruscant. Specter asks you to meet him for a drink, and the night doesn't go as you'd expected.

Author's Notes: PLEASE HEED THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a heavy fic!! If you are in any way triggered by anything that is up there, DO NOT READ THIS FIC!!!

I will NOT be putting the taglist on this one because of the contents of this fic. Please read at your own discretion. "The Midnight Tavern" is a nightclub with live music and an escort service that my partner and I created for our Star Wars OCs.

That shock of white hair always seemed to catch your eye in the neon lights. You'd never seen Specter at The Midnight Tavern without his brothers there, but this time he was alone. You take your time getting to him, stopping just shy of his side to wait for him to notice you with a smug smile. "You like me."

"Kriff you're annoying," his glare, and his words, did absolutely nothing to hide the fact that his arm pulled you closer into him, thumb running over your shoulder as he surveyed the bar, "Lucky you're so pretty, Cyar'ika. I'd be less inclined to keep you around if you weren't." Yet still, his actions betray his words as he pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

You can hear him whisper to you, "Thought about you the whole time we were apart," and you feel blush bloom across your face.

"I missed you too Specs," you tease, leaning into him a little more with your arms around his middle, "What happened, where did you go? With the jedi, the-" he effectively shuts you up with a kiss that knocks the wind out of you. He dips you a little, and your hands to find purchase on his back as you grip his shirt.

When Specter pulls back, his eyes show pain that wasn't there before the end of the war. "Not here... can't draw attention." He kisses you once more before setting you back on your feet.

You swallow thickly, dazed, butterflies in your stomach, "Do you... want to leave? We don't have to stay here, we could take a walk?"

He simply nods, arm around your shoulders, not wanting to let you go even for a second. You'd be lying if you said you wanted him to let go, anyway. Your arm goes around his waist, the other hand lacing your fingers with his as his hand draps over your shoulder. You liked that he was clingy with you still, at least that much hadn't changed.

The air has bite to it, cold with an impending rain. Before you can shiver, Specter takes off his jacket and puts it around you. That's when you notice the bandages wrapping his arms, red lines of blood showing on the white gaux. "You're hurt... Specter, what happe-"

"An order came in." He snaps, breathing harsh, eyes dark, "We were told-- it doesn't matter. None of it matters anymore. My brothers- we're hiding, I can't be out long, I just-" his shoulders relax, warm breath causing clouds of steam in the cold, "I needed to see you one more time."

The phrase sits strange in your mind, and you want to ask him what he means, but suddenly he's pushing you against a wall. Your breathing hitches as Specter's body shields you from passing Corries, as if he wasn't the one who'd be taken if he was recognized. This close, you can feel his warmth, his heartbeat visible under his shirt. You're not sure if it's the close proximity, or the adrenaline of the moment, but the heat blooming in your core makes you blush, "Specter..."

"Shh", with his hand on your mouth, it only makes that burning heat more intense, "We have to get out of here, know a place to lay low?"

You guide Specter back to your flat, not too far from Midnight Tavern. He chuckled, "That's why you preferred it over 79's."

"Well, that, and Midnight's never let anyone get hurt or drugged," You're quick to add, "Not that 79's is! It's just... different in a smaller club, especially when their headliner is also the bouncer." You get a chuckle from Specter with the last bit, and your heart feels warm.

Now in the safety your studio flat, Specter's hands are on you again. He feels greedy, almost, the way his hands trail your body almost too rough, but never harder than you like. He tugs your bottom lip with his teeth and you instinctively open your mouth for him, moaning into that rough kiss. Possessive, you think. That's the better word, he's possessive of you. You belong to him.

When your hands touch his arms you recoil fast, pulling away, "Specs-" you push his face away, and a look of horror flashes across your eyes when you see blood on his face where you'd touched him. Specter reaches up to hold your face, concern in his eyes, "Did I hurt y-"

His eyes go dark again, looking at the bloodied bandgaes on his arms, "Kriff... you have anything for this? Bacta patch, gaux?"

As you hurry away with a nod, you hear Specter drop himself onto your bed. "Do not ruin my sheets!"

"Not yet anyway! That's a team effort," he chuckles, but when you return with tears pricking the sides of your eyes, his humor fades. His mouth is dry as he looks at you, voice softer now, "Bunny hey... no, I'm fine, really. Just-- just some cuts."

He tries to take the bandages from you, but you hold them away, "Let me see."

"Bunny, no, I--"

"Specter let me see your fucking arms." You know his habits. You know what he does when he loses someone. You know that everything is messed up right now and you don't know why, but you know something terrible happened to him specifically.

Tally marks. Fresh, all over his arms, dozens. The red cuts mar his skin in painful lines, and his lip wobbles as you look up into his face with fear, "I ran out of room..." You've never seen Specter cry before, but his quiet, broken mutter breaks into tears.

"Why didn't Wraith dress these? Fuck Specs, what happened to you?" As you dress the wounds, wrapping them tight after spraying them with bacta, you notice there's a dark patch under his shirt, and your stomach drops, "No..."

You don't ask as you pull the shirt off of him, seeing a small square bandage over his left pectoral, directly over his heart. You pull the soiled bandage off, and cover your mouth. Six tally marks, fresh, bigger than the others. Specter swallows hard, his body shaking, "Athena's dead."

"No, no, how- how do you know, maybe she-"

He snaps, yelling now, his hands on his head, eyes shut tight, "WE SHOT HER!"

You sit in silence.

Specter doesn't move, he looks like he's vibrating, holding his breath, holding in all the pain in his heart. When you reach for him, he pushes your hand away, but you lock your fingers with his, and grab his face with the other, making him look at you, "You're not dying on me, Specter."

He hiccups, shaking his head, "No, no I-"

""I needed to see you one more time,"" you parrot his words back to him, anger in your eyes, "That's not something you say to someone you plan on sticking around for. Now tell me what the fuck happened to you."

He chokes through his story. Order 66. The nightmare that came to life. Phantom pulling the trigger. Athena's fearful expression as she hit the ground. That curse being broken as soon as she hit the ground. The roar they knew so well, Dax'Malkin now hunting them, broken and turning toward the dark side. The brothers splitting up in the chaos, losing each other.

"I don't know who I am anymore... what I am. We killed our little sister, our fa- Dax, he's... Banshee left me," he breaks again, hugging himself tight, "He left me... we promised, and-- I went back to The Crypt, but it wasn't there, Ban wasn't-- WE PROMISED!!"

You dress the tally marks on his heart, placing a soft kiss over the bandage, and then press your hand firmly in the center of his chest, "Lay down. I'm going to get you some water, and something to eat. You're going to finish all of it, and then we're going to lay down, and I'm going to hold you, got it?"

You wait for him to nod, then help him get his boots off. Once he's comfortable in your bed, you head to the kitchenette and fix yourself and Specter something quick. Two small bowls of soup, but it was enough. "Hey, sit up for me, come on."

Specs does as he's told, but doesn't bother with the spoon you hand him, only drinking from the side of bowl because it's all he can really muster at the moment. He looks deep into the bowl, eyes glassed over, "You know... I don't think I'd be here without you."

"Shut up," you elbow him a little as you settle in beside him, drinking your soup in the same fashion, "Of course you would be."

"No." Specter lets his arms down, gaze still fixed on the bowl in his hands, "You're the reason I didn't kill myself that day. That's-- that's such a shit thing to put on you, kriff... I just-" he covers his eyes, tears flowing again, "If I'd lost you too, there'd be no reason left in the fucking galaxy to go on."

He turns to you, his head on your shoulder, "There's nothing left but you... my whole life was made for a war that's over, everything I know, everyone I loved... They're tally marks. All but you..."

For the first time, it hits you just how much of Specter's life wasn't his. He always talked about "being here for a good time, not a long time", always making a joke about his mortality, how expendable he is. "Credit a dozen toy soldier." You never believed he really thought those things until this moment, when you'd seen him raw.

"Finish your soup, Specs..." you kiss his head, caressing his face with a free hand, "You're okay... I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

Again, he does as he's told, and manages to pound the glass of water you'd brought for him as well. He struggles with that most, choking a few times, but eventually you're clearing away dishes and giving them a quick wash. When you're back in bed, you cradle Specter against you.

His arms wrap around you instinctively, face buried in your chest. You'd been like this before, held him like this before, but it felt different now. Your hands lay against him, rubbing his back and carding through his hair. He feels heavy in your arms, the exhaustion and sorrow physical weights on him.

"I'm sorry Cyare..."

"You better be... you know you're more than a soldier, more than a brother, right?"

He nods, but doesn't speak, and you huff. "Say it, dummy. Tell me, "I am more than what I was made to be."... please, Specter."

With slow movements, Specter moves his head to be nuzzled into your neck, his nose between you and the pillow, lips on your throat. He kisses there once, before whispering, "I am more... than what I was made to be..."

"One more time, okay?"

"I am more than I was made to be."

"Good boy..." you kiss his forehead, and soon he's drifted off, feeling safe in your embrace.

You won't press him tomorrow, you think to yourself. For now, you just want to keep him safe. Just keep him with you.

[samspenandsword]

Masterlist

Welcome to my masterlist! Enjoy your stay!

Featured Tags

#sam avoids writing for any non-writing related projects #sam's ocs for my OCs - also see further down this masterlist #sam's favorites for some of my favorite SW art pieces #sam's recs for some of my favorite SW fanfics with some non-SW sprinkled in (brand new tag, not a ton there yet) #samspenandshenanigans for my personal life (it's a mess prepare yourself lol)

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DNI: Star Wars RP blogs, people who support R*xsoka, clonec*st, master/padawan ships, or ships between adults and minors.

This masterlist will be divided into sections, and some pieces will be cross-listed. Each piece will be rated and labeled accordingly. Parts of this masterlist are rated for mature audiences and are rated Explicit, 18+. Minors, you will be blocked.

RATINGS

GEN — SFW, no content warnings

MA — Mature content, NSFW, no smut, (18+)

Explicit — NSFW, smut and explicit sexual content, (18+)

MA and Explicit fics will also have denotations for certain content warnings:

☕ — MA, steamy, adult themes, no smut

⚔️ — MA, violence, blood, and/or additional warnings

❤️️ — Explicit, smut or explicit sexual content

🥰 — Fluff, romance

😡 — Angst

📚 — Multi-chapter piece

*** — Request

There will also be reader denotations (f, gn) for each piece

CAPTAIN REX

Soulmate AU || gn!reader || GEN || 🥰 || Everyone is born with a mark on their body. It could be a name. It could be a symbol. It could be anything. But everyone knows that mark tells them who their soulmate is. And soulmates are precious in this cold, war-torn galaxy.

Untitled Rex/Reader || gn!reader || 🥰 || COMING SOON

ECHO

SFW Alphabet || gn!reader || GEN || 🥰 || SFW Alphabet for clone trooper Echo — featuring headcanons for both before the Citadel and after Skako Minor.

NSFW Alphabet || gn!reader || Explicit || ❤️️☕ || NSFW Alphabet for clone trooper Echo — featuring headcanons for both before the Citadel and after Skako Minor.

FIVES

Sweet, Sweet Satisfaction || gn!reader || MA || ☕🥰 || You're a civilian medic for the GAR and you are up to your wit's end with the 501st shenanigans. Especially the shenanigans of a certain ARC trooper.

Untitled Fives/Reader || gn!reader || GEN || 🥰 || COMING SOON

COMMANDER CODY

Just This Once || fem!reader || Explicit || ❤️️ || On a night out with your friends at 79's, you find yourself enraptured by a certain Marshal Commander.

Untitled Cody/Reader || gn!reader || MA || 🥰😡 || COMING SOON

COMMANDER WOLFFE

Untitled Wolffe/Reader Smut || fem!reader || Explicit || ❤️️ || COMING SOON

COMMANDER FOX

The Coffee House || ONGOING || fem!reader || Explicit || 📚🥰❤️️ || You own a coffee house on Coruscant famed for its especially strong and rare brews. One day, you find yourself meeting the Marshal Commander for the Coruscant Guard. Part 2 || GEN || 🥰 Part 3 || GEN || 🥰 Part 4 || MA || ☕🥰 Part 5 || Explicit || ❤️️🥰 Part 6 || MA || ☕🥰 Part 7 || Explicit || ❤️️🥰 || COMING SOON

HEADCANONS

PTSD Headcanons || Commander Fox || MA || ⚔️😡 || PTSD headcanons for Commander Fox || TRIGGER WARNINGS ATTACHED

I am a fan of The Bad Batch, and I wholeheartedly support #UnwhitewashTBB. To follow the movement and sign the petition, please proceed to the official Tumblr.

HUNTER

SFW Alphabet || gn!reader || GEN || 🥰 || SFW alphabet for everyone's favorite clone dad, Sergeant Hunter.

NSFW Alphabet || gn!reader || Explicit || ❤️️☕ || NSFW alphabet for everyone's favorite clone dad, Sergeant Hunter.

TECH

Untitled Tech/Reader Smut || fem!reader || Explicit || ❤️️ || COMING SOON

CROSSHAIR

Fantasy Integration || gn!reader || MA || 😡⚔️ || Trained snipers are capable of staying awake and focused on their target for up to 72 hours while on assignment by using a technique called fantasy integration.

ECHO

SFW Alphabet || gn!reader || GEN || 🥰 || SFW Alphabet for clone trooper Echo — featuring headcanons for both before the Citadel and after Skako Minor.

NSFW Alphabet || gn!reader || Explicit || ❤️️☕ || NSFW Alphabet for clone trooper Echo — featuring headcanons for both before the Citadel and after Skako Minor.

Haven || fem!reader || GEN || 🥰😡 || COMING SOON

COMMANDER MAYDAY

Glisten || fem!reader || Explicit || ❤️️ || COMING SOON

ANAKIN SKYWALKER

Training || gn!reader || GEN || 🥰 || While training together at the Jedi Temple, you and Anakin have somehow wound up being friends. And if your traitorous heart had a say about it, you would be more than that. Pre-Episode II.

OBI-WAN KENOBI

The Three Times You Meet Obi-Wan Kenobi, and the Last || gn!reader || MA || ⚔️😡 || You are the personal aide to Senator Bail Organa of Alderaan, training to one day perhaps take his place. These are the three times you meet the Jedi Obi-Wan Kenobi, and the last.

PLO KOON

SFW Alphabet || gn!reader || GEN || 🥰 || SFW alphabet for everyone's favorite Jedi dad, Plo Koon.

NSFW Alphabet || gn!reader || Explicit || ❤️️☕ || NSFW alphabet for everyone's favorite Jedi dad, Plo Koon.

KIT FISTO

Drowning || fem!reader || Explicit || ❤️️ || COMING SOON

COMING SOON

COMING SOON

COMING SOON

THE MANDALORIAN/DIN DJARIN

The Fields of Sorgan || fem!reader || GEN || 🥰 || When Mando takes the job on Sorgan, he runs into the reality that he’s never had to take care of a baby before. Let alone a non-human baby. Luckily, the woman housing him is more than happy to help. 

BOBA FETT

Midnight || fem!reader || Explicit || ❤️ || You decide to be a brat. Boba decides to handle you a little differently than normal.

FENNEC SHAND

Untitled Fennec Shand/Reader/Garsa Fwip Smut || fem!reader || Explicit || ❤️ || COMING SOON

SABINE WREN

Along For the Ride || fem!reader || Explicit || ❤️️ || COMING SOON

GRAND ADMIRAL THRAWN

Welcome to the Faire || gn!reader || GEN || 🥰 || Every year, your planet hosts a Faire, a festival where citizens can come enjoy food, fun, merriment, performances, ancient sports, and historical art. As one of the local artisans who hosts a booth at the Faire every year, it is both the most fun and stressful time of year for you. But one weekend, between the kids with sticky fingers and half-drunk tourists, you encounter someone who seems genuinely enthralled with your work.

DANAI NABERRIE (CAPTAIN REX/OC)

Kheresankh || Masterpost

Meet my OCs || Masterpost || Masterpost introducing all my current OCs.

Danai Commission || Art Commission || A wonderful commission of my OC, Danai.

LIOR (EZRA BRIDGER/OC)

Meet my OCs || Masterpost || Masterpost introducing all my current OCs.

Lior Commission || Art Commission || A wonderful commission of my OC, Lior.

AEYLI (ECHO/OC)

Meet my OCs || Masterpost || Masterpost introducing all my current OCs.

KA'RA SHEA (DIN DJARIN/OC)

Meet my OCs || Masterpost || Masterpost introducing all my current OCs.

STAR WARS

Afternoon Tea || Padmé Amidala/gn!reader || GEN || 🥰 || COMING SOON

LORD OF THE RINGS

By His Side || Aragorn/gn!reader || GEN || 🥰 || Long have the Dúnedain wandered without their home. But the age has come where the king will once more take up his throne. But the road to Gondor is a long one, a hard one, and it is up to you to make sure the king will be ready when he gets there.

ARCANE

Relax || Viktor/fem!reader || Explicit || ❤️️ || COMING SOON

Untitled || Silco/fem!reader || MA || ☕⚔️ || COMING SOON

CELEBRATIONS

Sam's Pen and Sword 300 Follower Celebration || COMING SOON

EVENTS

Kinktober 2022/23 (to be continued for Kinktober 2023)

CHALLENGES AND DRABBLES

100 Word Smut Challenge

MOODBOARDS

Name Series || A series of moodboards of the clones and the origins of their names. Captain Rex (our king!!) Commander Cody (marshal commander cody!!) Commander Wolffe (of the wolfpack) Commander Fox (i'm in love with him) Commander Bly (a fitting name) Commander Doom (underrated and underrepresented) Echo (and just how far he's come) Fives ("same heart, same blood") Captain Keeli (we deserved more of him)

Ahsoka Tano (Clone Wars, Season 7)

Sabine Wren (Rebels, Seasons 3 & 4)

DIVIDERS

Galaxy Dividers

Color Galaxy Dividers

Minimal Flower Dividers

Moon Aesthetic Dividers

Lunar Dividers

Solar Dividers

Winter Dividers (AtLA inspired)***

Life, Death, and Reincarnation Dividers***

[the-stage-manager]

Hey, @paperback-rascal I've got an OC who I think would do really well in the 347th! Tell me what you think:

His name is Wyrm. He was formerly a sniper who served in a yet-unnamed squad in the 212th battalion. He's obsessed with mandalas, he destresses by filling pages and pages of scrap paper with intricate mandalas. He's got them tattooed all up his arms and legs, with smaller designs on his chin and forehead.

He's an excellent pickpocket and an even better hustler, and he likes to spend his leave cheating at sabaac or space-poker or space-darts, and stealing candy from shops. He spends all his money on art supplies, not only because he goes through a lot of materials when drawing, but has a tendency to give out art supplies to younger clones who are stressed or traumatized after missions. He doesn't have much of a sweet tooth, so the stolen candy is either given to other troopers who could use a pick-me-up, or traded for armor paint.

His armor is covered in mandalas, and the patterns are constantly changing. Again, painting them helps him destress, so he has no problem scrapping off or painting over older sections. While his armor is mostly 212th Gold, if he's working with another battalion, he'll trade his contraband candy for paint, so he ends up with a leg plate covered in 501st blue and a vembrance in 104th maroon.

The war is going great for him. He gets promoted, he works hard (he wants to be an ARC trooper someday—who doesn't?) And then everything falls apart. He's captured by the separatists and spends months in a POW camp in horrific conditions. He keeps waiting to be rescued, but nobody comes. By sheer luck, he manages to escape with a handful of other clones, and they contact the Republic. When they're picked up, Wyrm's primary concern is contacting his squad to let them know that he's alive—only to find out that his squad was completely wiped out during the battle and he, himself, was listed as KIA, which is why nobody looked for him.

He spends the next couple of months in rehabilitation—he's severely underweight and riddled with internal parasites—but he never gets cleared for duty because his eyesight has suddenly started to rapidly deteriorate, seemingly without cause, and his hands shake uncontrollably, again, seemingly without cause. Tests reveal that the deterioration of his vision is being caused by an auto-immune disease, but his shaking hands are completely psychosomatic. Unable to shoot and unable to draw, he withdraws.

When I originally created this character, his story ended tragically, either by suicide, or after attempting to assassinate General Kenobi in revenge. But I've changed my mind. That isn't what I want for him anymore.

I've been reading this book called The Body Keeps The Score, and it's been enlightening. One of my favorite passages reads as follows:

"[Describing a test where traumatized children were shown pictures of benign scenes, as asked to tell a story describing what was happening in the picture.] The responses of the clinic children were alarming. The most innocent images stirred up intense feelings of danger, aggression, sexual arousal, and terror. These images were not selected because they had some hidden meaning that sensitive people could uncover; they were ordinary images of everyday life. We could only conclude that for abused children, the whole world is filled with triggers. As long as they can imagine only disastrous outcomes to relatively benign situations, anybody walking into a room, any stranger, any image, on a screen or a billboard might be perceived as a harbinger of catastrophe. In this light the bizarre behavior of the kids at the children's clinic made perfect sense.

Real-world studies are gathering more and more evidence of a definitive link between trauma, PTSD, and auto-immune disorders. The book also discusses the impact of the pharmacological revolution of victims of trauma. New studies are finding that SSRIs and other antidepressants are very rarely effective on people suffering from PTSD, because the source of the problem isn't chemical in nature.

"To my amazement, staff discussions on the unit rarely mentioned the horrific real-life experiences of the children and the impact of those traumas on their feelings, thinking, and self-regulation. Instead, their medical records were filled with diagnostic labels: "conduct disorder" or "oppositional defiant disorder" for the angry and rebellious kids; or "bipolar disorder". ADHD was a "comorbid" diagnosis for almost all. Was the underlaying trauma being obscured by this blizzard of diagnoses?"*

"Trauma victims cannot recover until they become familiar with and befriend the sensations in their bodies. Being frightened means that you live in a body that is always on guard. Angry people live in angry bodies. The bodies of child-abuse victims are tense and defensive until they find a way to relax and feel safe. In order to change, people need to become aware of their sensations and the way that their bodies interact with the world around them. Physical self-awareness is the first step in releasing the tyranny of the past.

In my practice I begin the process by helping my patients to first notice and then describe the feelings in their bodies—not emotions such as anger or anxiety or fear but the physical sensations beneath the emotions: pressure, heat, muscular tension, tingling, caving in, feeling hollow, and so on. I also work on identifying the sensations associated with relaxation or pleasure. I help them become aware of their breath, their gestures and movements.

All too often, however, drugs such as Abilify, Zyprexa, and Seroquel, are prescribed instead of teaching people the skills to deal with such distressing physical reactions. Of course, medications only blunt sensations and do nothing to resolve them or transform them from toxic agents into allies.

The mind needs to be reeducated to feel physical sensations, and the body needs to be helped to tolerate and enjoy the comforts of touch. Individuals who lack emotional awareness are able, with practice, to connect their physical sensations to psychological events. Then they can slowly reconnect with themselves."

That is not, of course, to say that medications shouldn't be used at all; they can help lessen the intensity of emotions, making the process of healing less traumatic. After all, it's easier to learn to walk again, if the prosthetic isn't actively causing you pain. However, medication alone is not effective in treating trauma.

I think Wyrm would make an excellent member of the 347th, who specializes in advocating for and treating traumatized soldiers. He specializes in soldiers with anger-management problems, dissociation, self-mutilation. With some training, he could be an excellent mind healer, and he could be invaluable when it comes to treating patients who suffer from psychosomatic illnesses.

Consider this Wyrm's application to join your battalion. I just like the world you've created and I'd like to be a part of it.

[the-royal-petals]

I would like to introduce you all to my clone OC squad, the 380th!

I hope you like them!

This is going go be a long post so please bare with me! I would appreciate it if you looked through everything 💕

Trigger warnings -Mention of suicide attempts [ Mentioned in Bob's section and Kirk's section ]

Click on the clones' names to see more pictures of them :D

A 💜 emoji means next to their name means they have a post about them

Who are the 380th?

The 380th is a subdivision of the 212th legion, led by General Kenobi and Marshal Commander Cody. Although Kenobi holds the rank of General, the day-to-day operations are primarily overseen by Commander Cody, ARC Commander Bob, and Captain Tim. The legion is referred to as 'The Ravens' as a tribute to their Mandalorian comrade, Paxel Tassia, who joined their ranks. This nickname serves to assist Paxel in coming to terms with her past and embracing her new path. Known for their lively interactions and knack for accomplishing tasks in the most chaotic manner imaginable, the group shares similarities with the renowned 501st.

In order to prevent further mayhem, the Jedi Council has placed restrictions on the 380th's collaboration with the 501st. The Council fears that the combination of these two units' unruliness would only perpetuate the chaos, a concern amplified by ARC Trooper Fives and Hardcase; this was also argued by Anakin, who was immediately shut down after the argument was made about him trying to recruit Captain Tim three months ago.

The colours of the 380th is primarily consisting of, Yellow/Orange, Pink/Purple, White and Grey. The clones based their colours of Commander Cody and their Mandalorian friend who was known for her bright pink armour, combined, they created a unique design which would make them recognisable among the clones who had a single colour scheme. The White and Grey were additional colours added by Clone Sergeant Silver who had made the changes overnight, but not wanting to remove the grey from the armour, the 380th kept it.

Oh also, the 380th fucking love watermelon. If you want to befriend them, give them watermelon. Like seriously, they go feral for that shit. It’s gotten so bad that Cody has to avoid planets that have that fucking fruit and even lure them to other places with watermelon as said bait.

The clones of the 380th

You all know who Cody is so lets kick it off!

💜 ARC Commander Bob - CC 80085-1

As much as Cody hates to admit it, Bob is the official 2nd-in-Command whenever Obi-Wan isn’t around. He is the most playful one out of the 380th, often seen as energetic and selfless. Bob is always willing to greet and hug new people, sometimes without warning.

He enrolled in the ARC Trooper program a year before Fives and Echo, which enabled him to be their ARC Commander when they first joined. Some suspect that’s where the two troopers got their chaotic nature from. Despite his chaos, he is a good leader who cares for his troops, always giving them something to smile about when times get tough.

When he was a cadet, he was teased for his CT designation number, being called ‘Boobs’ constantly, and while at first it annoyed him, over time he grew to accept the nickname, soon finding the fun in it.  He sees Cody as a strong and capable leader, looking up to him in many ways.  Despite their differences, they are great friends and often annoy each other with simple jokes and pranks. 

There was one time he was asked to deliver some information to the clone base on Coruscant. Cody had conveniently forgotten to tell Bob about the change of location, so he sent him on a massive errand run, lasting a good few hours before he found the base. Needless to say he doesn’t run errands for Cody anymore.

He is insanely protective of his brothers and anybody he considers as a close friend, going as far as putting himself in danger to protect the ones he loves. Whenever anybody is feeling down or needs any support, he is the first one to their side and will not leave them until their mood improves. This was the case when Cherry was murdered by a Jedi and Chase was listed as a fugitive, but also during the time when Kirk struggled with his mental health and attempted suicide. He gave him the proper support and assisted in Kirk’s healing from the experience.  

Captain Tim - CT-84923

Unlike other captains in the GAR, Tim is seen as a stern and strict leader, following the footsteps and influence of Marshall Commander Cody He is one of the most resourceful clones in the 380th; only when a plan goes to shit. He is usually seen as sarcastic and serious, having the mentality that things must be done exactly as ordered.  But despite the orders, he usually ends up following the lead of his men—much to his dismay.

He is insanely protective over the 380th. He can and will bully his brothers for fun, but the moment someone else lays a hand on them, he will be the first one to stand up for them. Tim is the embodiment of the “organised chaos;” he is the organised and his brothers are the chaos.  Whenever something goes wrong, he will take the blame for it in hopes it’ll extend time to fix the problem.

Tim understands his men and their strengths and uses them to the best as his ability on missions. Like Bits, he is analytic and quick on his feet, able to compromise when he can. Tim is also close friends with Rex, Wolffe, Cody and Fox, wanting to be as good as a leader to them; and he may have taken a few pointers from Rex on how to deal with chaotic clones.

Whenever he is off duty, he is catching up on work or taking some alone time so he can regroup and gather his thoughts. He is a firm believer in getting a problem resolved as soon as possible rather than letting it fester and get worse.

Clone Medic Kirk - CT - 44431

Kirk, the dedicated medic of the 380th, possesses not only his invaluable medical skills but also a talent for photography. Amongst the clones, he is known as the "War Photographer," assigned by the Jedi to capture crucial media pictures and document significant incidents on the battlefield. This is also so they could prevent future incidents. While most of Kirk's photographs focus on the less graphic aspects of war, there are some that depict the harsh reality that is not suitable for the faint of heart.

These photos also require him to capture haunting images of fallen comrades. The photos take a toll on Kirk's emotional well-being, often leaving him feeling helpless and burdened by the memories they evoke.

In an attempt to shield his fellow clones from the distressing imagery, Kirk  keeps the photographs locked away in a drawer, preventing others from stumbling upon them. Once the mandated time frame for retention expires, he burns them, allowing the painful memories to be released and moving towards healing.

While Kirk maintains a certain emotional distance from others to protect himself from attachment, he consistently watches over and supports his brothers. He constantly reminds them to look after each other and cherish what they have. Despite Kirk's attempts to keep a low profile, Bob, Cody and Chase support him with whatever they can, noticing Kirk's emotional distance. 

Kirk's selflessness is well known among the 380th, as he consistently places the needs of others above his own. He is always ready to provide whatever care there is necessary. While he has close friends with Chase, he is close friends with Commander Cody and with the 501st medic, Kix.

Kirk also has symbols on his armour. The red insignia and the semicolon in mando’a. The semicolon is a symbol of mental health and not giving up, but also a symbolism for those who have attempted suicide in the past; Kirk being one of them. Kirk put it on his armour to encourage himself to never give up hope, but also to keep going through his struggles of mental health. He hopes this inspires others to do the same. 

After his incident, Kirk had to be pulled out of service for a month until he gained control over his mental health and evaluated until he was fit for duty again.During this process he had Cody, Bob, Irony, Obi-Wan and Chase by his side. Now he is encouraging and supporting other clones who need the help.

ARC Trooper Chase - CT-54323

ARC Trooper Chase is the most serious and disciplined of the 380th squad.  He respects Commander Fox and Wolffe, embodying a strong sense of duty, he follows orders without hesitation. Chase's no-nonsense attitude can sometimes lead to irritation when his fellow clones deviate from established protocols. However, beneath his stoic exterior, he harbours a profound love and loyalty for his brothers.

He can be seen as the most protective clone in the 380th, more than Kirk or Tim. Chase is extremely distrusting of Jedi due to an incident that occured many years ago where an ex-ARC Trooper, Cherry, was killed by the hands of a Jedi master, being depicted as traitorous and a fugitive to the republic. 

Chase knew that these allegations were false, knowing his brother was framed and in the process of investigating, he too was depicted as a traitor; because of this, he lost trust in the Jedi and the people who were supposed to be protecting them. During those investigations, two Jedi came forward, Plo Koon and Obi-Wan Kenobi, who believed Chase and helped  clear his name from the charges.

However, despite everything, he is still seen as untrustworthy and unreliable. Only his brothers see him for who he truly is. (Along with Plo and Obi-Wan.) Since then, Chase has been insanely protective over his brothers, not allowing new people to linger too long near them. It takes him a while to get to trust people; but once you gain his trust, he will fight for you.  Irony was also another member in the 380th who helped to find out the truth behind the incident. It was soon revealed that Pong Krell was behind the attack and the killing of Cherry.

Lieutenant Silver - CT- 51723

Out of the 380th, Silver is the collector and the most child-like. He has a massive interest in anything metallic and shiny, with exceptions to some other things. He is awfully cuddly whenever he finds a new friend and is always willing to trade with anybody for trinkets; in return  he gives out rations or even any supplies he finds on his travels. Silver is intelligent, strong, and loves working with other people. While he can be rather childish at times, he is a loyal and reliable member. Whenever he trusts somebody enough, he will make them a small keychain with their name on it and maybe with a gem or something else that reminds him of that person. To get one of these is an honour in his world. 

Every member of the 380th has one and to get one means you are an official member and have passed the test. Despite his nature, he is resourceful and intelligent. Some people may see his trinkets as a mess or an interference on missions, but on multiple occasions, he has used them as a weapon (handed over to Bits) or included in explosives to help get rid of the enemy. He’s one of the best at improvising.

Silver is also someone who helps design and improve the armour with modifications and even assist in repairs with Meddel whenever he can. If the worst comes to worst, he will help be the back-up mechanic, though that is something Meddel wishes to never happen.

 Lieutenant Bits - CT-81754

Whenever he’s not on a high-risk mission, he is always trying to find things to blow up, even if there is no need to. Bits is the bane of Tim’s existence and if Silver’s constant hunt for shiny stuff isn’t the thing that gives him a migraine that day, it’s Bits. He is constantly on the move and leaving things about—if he’s not sorting out their arsenal, he’s studying separatist buildings, if he’s not doing that, he’s helping to create new weapons. 

He is seen to be the most chaotic out of the group. He is always coming up with new ways to better their strategies and much to Tim’s dismay is essential to the 380th’s success. Whenever possible, he’s giving people the chance to blow things up with him. 

Bits absolutely loves food. He is also one of the only people in the 380th who can actually cook something edible and prevent them from living on watermelon for the rest of their lives.

Sergeant Irony - 69423

Known for getting into Ironic situations, Irony is the pilot of the 380th. He is loyal, kind and has a massive love for ducks. He has the ability to be quick on his feet, and the ability to use humour to diffuse tense and difficult situations. Irony is one of the more relaxed people in the 380th, willing to crack a joke about how ironic something is and see things for how they really are. 

He is a realistic sort of thinker and doesn’t really like to have things sugarcoasted. Whenever there is a problem, he doesn’t stop at anything until he finds out the truth, even if it means going against orders to find it. (An example of this was when Cherry was framed for being a fugitive, soon being killed by a Jedi, did he assist in exposing the truth. It’s because of him that it prevented Chase from being executed or court martialled.) This sort of thinking has gotten him into a lot of trouble over the years, but it has always been for the greater good. He has a fear of heights, which earned him the “Irony” nickname by Meddel. They are close friends and grew up together in the cadets program.

Meddel was the one who encouraged him to become a pilot in the first place. Irony is a person who searches for any kind of adrenaline, doing whatever it takes to find the joys in life.

He is the original creator of the codenames: “Mother Duck” and “Duckling.”  Much to the dismay of the 380th, he is the creator of other code names and nobody can really argue with it.

Corporal Beetle - 833713

Beetle is known to be the hermit of the 380th, known for his introverted and ‘dark light’ seeking nature. He’s very stealthy and good at sneaking around even if he doesn’t mean to. Many clones have reported him ‘teleporting’ because they didn’t see him move. 

He is a very reserved and cuddly individual who takes an interest in anything bright and colourful, which is why he’s close friends with Bits. You can usually find him hiding under the table or in a dark place with his datapad in hand. Bits is good at problem solving and has a good knowledge of computer and security systems. He’s the go-to whenever they need someone to sneak into place. 

It takes a while for Beetle to get to know somebody, but once he’s comfortable you can find him sleeping on Bits, Bob or even Cody. Whenever he’s not doing anything, he is usually sleeping. He’s known for creating drawing ideas for Silver and even handing him unique shiny things. 

Whenever he is not cuddling someone, you can usually find him alone watching people. Beetle is also very aware of his surroundings and is able to understand people’s moods before everyone else. He’s insanely good at reading people’s body language.

Corporal Meddel - CT-84324

Meddel is the engineer of the 380th and the backup pilot for Irony. He is meticulous and has a good attention to detail, being someone who has pride in his word and one of the most important members within the team. Whenever he is not flying ships or is in meetings, he is making sure the gear, weapons and machines are working and up to standard.

Whenever they get inspections, he is the first person to check over everybody before the Jedi enter the barracks. Despite being an introvert, he is good at teamwork and collaborating with his fellow clones, especially Silver and Irony. 

Meddel is always giving Silver his tools to use whenever he wants to make things, but other times he finds his tools going missing. Despite that, Meddel is very protective over his stuff and will go feral whenever people move something he had put into place.

Usually, he is found lingering around the hangar or flying with Irony in the sky. His favourite ship is the x-wing and has been trying to get one painted the colour of his armour, but Cody keeps declining. He also really fucking likes watermelon. He will do anything to get that shit. Not to mention, he was the person who got the 380th into that fucking fruit. It has gotten so bad that Cody has to check in advance that the planet they go to does not have any watermelon on it. 

Who do you like the most?

[findyourrp]

🦚 Hey!

I’m a 21 she/they experienced roleplayer looking for an OC X OC plot set in Star Wars (Specifically the clone wars era).

I have a Female Jedi OC who I’m looking to pair with a Male, NB or Masc OC! Preferably another jedi or a clone trooper because I’m a sucker for secret relationships 🤭 give me angst and theatrics and forbidden love with our characters struggling through the war with each other!

My character has quite a heavy and dark backstory so preferably be down for angst but please let me know your triggers or what’s too heavy beforehand and I’ll always respect them!! I also use discord primarily and I create huge servers with ooc and music and moodboards!

If you’re interested, like this and drop me a DM! Thank you!

.

[roleplayfinder]

Hey!

I’m a 21 she/they experienced roleplayer looking for an OC X OC plot set in Star Wars (Specifically the clone wars era).

I have a Female Jedi OC who I’m looking to pair with a Male, NB or Masc OC! Preferably another jedi or a clone trooper because I’m a sucker for secret relationships 🤭 give me angst and theatrics and forbidden love with our characters struggling through the war with each other!

My character has quite a heavy and dark backstory so preferably be down for angst but please let me know your triggers or what’s too heavy beforehand and I’ll always respect them!! I also use discord primarily and I create huge servers with ooc and music and moodboards!

If you’re interested, like this and drop me a DM! Thank you!

.

[enigmaticexplorer]

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter VII

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 5K

4 Helona

Through the skylights of the vaulted ceilings, Eluca’s three moons painted the main level in a sea of blue. Streaks of gray and blue-white danced along the walls like friendly spirits, playing across the clones seated at the kitchen table. 

Kazi wasn’t staring at the clones, though. Her attention was drawn to the opposite mezzanine above the sunroom. To the little girl surreptitiously spying. 

Lying on her stomach while peering through the wooden spokes of the banisters, Neyti scrutinized the clones’ nighttime card game. The concentrated stitch in her eyebrows heightened her intrigue. 

Only three clones sat at the kitchen table—Commanders Cody and Fox, and trooper Nova. Too focused on their game—a game that had already resulted in an argument between the two commanders—they didn’t notice their spy. 

“She’s similar to you.”

The voice surprised her so much she jumped. Kazi blinked at her sister, resting a palm against the wall to steady herself. The ends of Daria’s mouth twitched but she didn’t smile. Her gaze rested on Neyti, who was so focused on the clones she remained oblivious to their watching.

“She’s curious about the men,” Daria said. “She watches them the way you do.”

Kazi sniffed. “I don’t watch them.”

“You do.” 

Dressed in a black, nearly sheer nightgown, her green eyes alit with a knowing gleam, Daria looked like a shadow. A shadow that observed all around and traded in secrets. 

Kazi shifted uncomfortably. She didn’t like the idea of anyone watching her, much less studying her.

“You watch them because you don’t trust them.” Daria hefted something behind her back. “You’ve been amassing a list of problematic behaviors, biding your time until they’re sure to mess up, and when they do, you’ll be ready to condemn every single one of their flaws.”

Disconcerted by her sister’s assessment, Kazi tugged on the end of her braid. “You don’t know me.”

“Not anymore. But I did, once,” Daria said quietly. “You used to do it with Mama. You would wait months, and when you couldn’t hold it all in anymore, you would burst.”

“That was years ago,” she muttered. 

Daria shrugged and returned her attention to a now-yawning Neyti. “I stand by what I said: you’re both similar.”

“We’re not.” Kazi folded her arms over her chest. “Neyti is sweet and kind and forgiving. She’s curious about the clones because they’re unknowns. Not because she’s mistrustful.”

“She’s curious about the men because you are. Have you wondered why she maintains her distance? Why she looks to you whenever a decision must be made where the men are concerned?” Daria breathed a wry chuckle. “She sees how wary you are of them and she mimics you. You’re so unaware of the effect you have on her.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Daria gave her a sidelong glance. “Are you seriously so surprised to learn that a little girl looks up to you?”

“Neyti doesn’t look up to me.” Kazi scoffed. “There’s nothing inspirational or encouraging about me.”

“I used to look up to you.”

The honesty in Daria’s tone—the wistful hurt quieting her voice—made Kazi wince. 

It was bizarre to remember those early years. The time when they were little girls who played together, who laughed together, who cried together, who dreamt together. 

There was a time when they were inseparable, their two-year age difference a nonexistent barrier. 

There was a time Kazi promised to always protect her sister. A time when she promised they would always be friends. 

Their father’s death changed everything.

Kazi sought comfort in solitude; as the seasons changed and the dead bitterness of winter gave way to the aromatic blooms of spring, the bond with her sister shriveled and died. 

The thing about being sisters was: Kazi loved Daria. She always would. And she knew Daria would always love her. 

So this broken bond between them, a bond amassed from memories of warmth and security and unconditional love, hurt worse than any physical pain. Because it was a hurt borne from the possibilities that could have been, and the silent weeping of two little girls who lost their anchors.

Most nights she yearned for the years when her sister looked at her with awe and love.

Now, Daria’s face only ever held disappointment. 

The disappointment of a little sister whose older sister abandoned her. 

“I didn’t know you kept this,” Daria said, drawing Kazi from her thoughts. She flipped open a page of the leather-bound book in her hands.

Kazi stiffened. A spike of anger singed her blood. 

Carefully preserved in Daria’s hands was her adventure book, an old, worn thing her mother gifted her when she was a toddler as a means to store memories. The first forty pages housed printed photos from her early childhood. From the years before her father died. The last sixty pages were blank. 

The adventure book had sat in the closet of her old home. Collecting dust and forgotten by all except Kazi, she tried to throw it away. But she couldn’t. The photos were too evocative and the memories too visceral. 

She couldn’t throw it away because she was sentimental, and she was desperate to cling to a time when life was innocent and she was hopeful. 

Kazi gritted her teeth. “What were you doing in my room?” 

“I saw your knitting stitches on your desk,” Daria said calmly, unrepentantly. “I didn’t know you still knitted—”

“I don’t.” Daria gave her a disbelieving look, and Kazi clenched her fists. “I wanted to see if I could still do it.”

For a long moment Daria studied her, and she knew, from whatever her sister saw in her face, that she didn’t believe her. 

“I saw this tucked away,” Daria said, returning her attention to the book. “Almost like you’re ashamed of it.”

“It’s a silly book,” Kazi muttered. 

“And yet you kept it.” More pages flipped; photos of a happy family flickered. “It was important enough for you to take from Ceaia.”

Ignoring the emotion clogging the back of her throat, Kazi eyed her sister. “What do you want?”

“Do you remember when we would visit the harbor and steal the fishermen’s best catches?” Daria ran a finger down a faded photo—a photo of the two sisters, smiles wide and teeth missing, as they posed at a festival. “Do you remember the woman who almost caught us?”

She remembered. She remembered all of it.

They would hide among the ships’ containers, listening to the fishermen boast their catches of the day. Usually larger fish.  

Some occasions a fisherman would come across a star succulent, or a turtle, or an anemone: creatures that could survive outside the water. The fishermen would place bets on the price of their rare catches. When they were distracted, Kazi and Daria would sneak aboard their ships, find the creatures, and free them.

One afternoon a female sailor caught them throwing a turtle overboard. The two sisters managed to dodge the sailor’s attempt to wrangle them, and they sprinted away. Days later, the sailor was still grousing about the miscreants. Kazi and Daria didn’t return to the harbor for three weeks.

They were never caught. 

“I was so scared,” Daria said. “I thought we would get in trouble, but you always convinced me to go. I could never refuse you.”

The urge to look at her adventure book was too hard to resist and Kazi caved. A new page of photos displayed the old lighthouse. Their lighthouse.

“I remember the time we were stuck here.” Tracing the lighthouse’s exterior, Daria quietly laughed. “The lightning was awful and I thought we were going to be struck. I was so scared and you kept telling me it was going to be okay, but I wouldn’t calm down.” Green eyes lifted to hers, searching. “Do you remember what you did then?”

“I told you a story,” Kazi said hoarsely. “The legend of the Sea Dragon.”

“The Sea Dragon.” The moonlight cast Daria’s countenance in a grayish darkness similar to that stormy night so long ago. “You told me he was watching over us. That he was with us so we didn’t need to be afraid.”

Kazi thought back to that day. 

The sight of a tear-stained, six-year-old Daria cowering in the corner of the lighthouse’s watch tower. The water slowly rising. The sheer terror of not knowing how to protect and comfort her little sister. So she started to tell Daria a story, like her father used to do when she was scared, and the first story that came to mind was the legend of Sea. 

By the end of the story, Daria had quieted. She was no longer shivering.

A crackle of lightning had split the air and eight-year-old Kazi squeezed her sister’s hand. “Are you okay?”

Daria squeezed back, smiling wetly. “I’m not scared, Kazi. Not when you’re with me.”

“When we got home, Mama and Papa were livid. You took the blame. You told them you forced me to go with you.” Daria stared at her, confusing wrinkling her features. “I never understood why you did that.”

Kazi looked away. 

“You kept this, and your dragon,” Daria mused. A soft snap of leather and then Daria pushed the adventure book into her hands. “I thought you didn’t care.”

“I know.” 

Shaking her head, Daria appraised her with a bemusement that bordered frustration. “I thought you didn’t care about us—about our culture. Our traditions. You went to the capital and I thought for sure you would adopt the Culturalist way of life.”

The Ceaian people were split into three groups—Traditionalists, Reformists, and Culturalists. 

Long ago, two sects of Ceaians coexisted, both revering the dragons and upholding traditions. But as centuries passed, and the last of the dragons perished, one group of people broke away. They were the Reformists. 

The Reformists turned the legends of old into dogmatic opinions of society and the world. No longer were the legends to be stories admired and awed; instead, interpretation of the legends enforced societal expectations of gender roles, marriage, and wealth. 

It was the Reformists who determined Higher and Lower Society—the refined versus the rugged. Similar to Traditionalists, they scorned technological reliance, but believed the cultural practices of the Traditionalists were too “common.”

Kazi’s mother came from a Reformist family.

The Traditionalists, on the other hand, lived among the ocean’s shores—sailors at heart. They maintained their culture and legends; they worshipped the natural process of life and respected all living things. 

Most Traditionalists refused the advent of technology that swept across the galaxy. Droids were uncommon and typically frowned upon. Traditionalists valued humanity first and foremost. Their cultural practices relied on a connection to the earth, a reverence for folklore, and a humble lifestyle built upon the legends of their people. 

Kazi’s father was a Traditionalist. 

Over the millennia, the Reformists built Ceaia’s major cities and established its central government. But then, a new sect emerged: the Culturalists. A people who sneered the Reformists’ hierarchy and scorned the Traditionalists’ “common” way of life.

The Culturalists respected technological advancements, belittled old legends and traditional values, and practiced the ways of the galaxy. Eventually they opened Ceaia’s spaceports to interplanetary travel. They learned new cultures and political ideologies. 

Their name—Culturalist—was originally coined by the Reformists. To sneer upon those who deemed tradition a nuisance. However, the Culturalists adopted the title, declaring their superiority based on their relations with other planetary systems, and their understanding of the galaxy at large. 

Most Culturalists looked down on the Traditionalists. Only the Reformists were taken seriously, thanks to their self-righteous view of advancement that permeated the Culturalist’s mindset today. Even then, the Culturalists emphasized choice rather than societal expectations.

Over time, and enraged by the Culturalists’ view of life, the Reformists returned to Ceaia’s mountain ranges and harbors, abandoning the cities they had built. They reclaimed localities and smaller cities, maintaining their doctrines on society. The Culturalists took control of the central government. But Ceaia’s central government lacked true, authoritative power. Today, the sole power exercised was relations with other planetary systems.

“You’re right,” Daria said, exhaling a bitter breath. “I don’t know you. I don’t know what ideologies you subscribe to. I don’t know why you have your dragon when it’s not in your room. I don’t even know if you still believe the legends. Or if they’re simply myths to be ridiculed and forgotten.”

No matter how cynical she became, Kazi would always believe in the dragons. They were stories that inspired. The stories that gave her meaning. 

“Some days I wish we were out on the boat with Papa,” Kazi said quietly. “I wish we were sitting out there. Just us and the waves and the gray sky.” She closed her eyes and pictured their old sailboat, the waves tossing them about, and the wind whipping her hair, and the ache in her cheeks from grinning and laughing too much. Too hard. “Everything was so simple back then.”

It was a time when loneliness, familial duty, and fears of disappointment were nonexistent. It was a time when she felt alive.

“What boat?” The question snapped Kazi from her memories and she found Daria frowning at her. “What boat are you talking about?”

The anger lining her sister’s tone caught Kazi by surprise. “The boat, Daria. We spent hours every weekend on it. Sometimes we went out after a long school day.”

Daria clenched her hands at her sides. Her knuckles were white; her fists were trembling. “There was never a boat.” 

Beads of sweat silvered her forehead. Daria brushed them away. 

Nonplussed, Kazi took a step forward but her sister retreated, blinking wildly. 

“There was never a boat. I don’t remember a boat.” A scowl marred Daria’s features. The whites of her eyes were enlarging. “You’re wrong. There was never a boat. What are you talking about? A boat? What fucking boat?”

“You’re right,” Kazi said hastily. She rested a firm but unthreatening hand on her sister’s shoulder, aware of Daria’s increased shivering. “I was wrong. There was never a boat.” 

Goosebumps dotted her arms and Daria eyed Kazi doubtfully. Confusion and anger hunched her shoulders inwards. She looked small. Frail.

“It’s late,” Kazi said gently. “Why don’t we get you into bed, okay?”

Indecipherable mumbles followed them down the hallway and into Daria’s room. As Kazi helped her sister into bed, each symptom tallied in her mind—a mental report for Healer Natasha. 

Memory loss was expected twenty months into the disease’s progression. Ultimately, it would steal all of Daria’s memories. She would exist in a world where she no longer knew her own name.

A world where she would forget their childhood, their parents.

A world where she would be alone. 

Bile rose in the back of Kazi’s throat. Tears pricked the corners of her eyes. 

She blamed the lack of sleep, the number of arguments the past few days, and the stress from last night and this morning.

But blame truly rested in this moment. In the knowledge that her sister had forgotten the boat. Forgotten years spent at sea. And soon, she would forget more than just a silly boat.

Her little sister, the one person she had loved more in this galaxy than anyone else, would no longer remember her. 

“Kazi?” Tucked into her bed, Daria fiddled with her light purple sheets, tracing a white flower embroidered along the hem. “Do you know why Papa stopped loving me?”

Kazi blinked her bemusement. “He never stopped loving you. Why would you say that?”

“He doesn’t take me out on the boat anymore.”

Daria’s train of thought both bewildered and exhausted her. The way her sister forgot the boat and then remembered it, but only seemed to remember a specific memory associated with it, left her feeling behind and twisted inside out. 

Kazi didn’t know if Daria’s feelings were an accurate representation of her current thoughts. She didn’t know if her sister ever questioned whether their father loved her.

Even in childhood it was obvious that Daria was their mother’s favorite and Kazi was their father’s. The unspoken favoritism was more overt the older she got. But Kazi had always thought her father was fair in his treatment of Daria. He wasn’t her mother—he never taunted Daria until her emotions overflowed.

Now that she thought about it, he had been harder on Daria.

Though both sisters were opinionated and stubborn, Kazi kept her opinions to herself, and her stubbornness never stopped her from disobeying her parents. Daria, on the other hand, made her anger known. And she never shied from obstinately refusing orders she didn’t like.  

Disagreements led to raised voices, and many tears, and moments when Kazi hid in her room, finding it difficult to breathe while she listened to angered shouts. She hid for hours, waiting for the anger to turn on her. Expecting it, because it always happened. She was always blamed.

She always held some resentment against Daria for those moments. For some reason, she never blamed her father. 

Squeezing Daria’s shoulder, Kazi managed a tired smile. “Papa always loved you.”

“Promise?”

Daria stared at her with such blatant hope it hurt. Buried itself into her chest, like a fishing hook, and yanked. Hard. 

“I promise.”

5 Helona

Avoidance was a skill Kazi had honed over the years.

Too nervous to make a final decision out of fear of making the wrong decision, she learned to avoid her problems. Ignore them until they forced her one way and the decision was made for her. 

But avoidance tendencies didn’t pair well with her level-headed mindset. She was self-reliant. To a point bordering hyper-independence. Responsible and disciplined, she had to be in control. 

And yet the fear—the fear of mistakes and being wrong—was crippling. 

Her mind was constantly at war: avoidance versus control; fear versus independence.

Kazi had managed to avoid Commander Wolffe for nearly two days. An incredible feat, if she was being honest, considering they cohabitated. 

Her conversation with Commander Cody had left her reeling. Like she’d stepped off a cliff and was plunging toward the ocean below, except the water was much farther than she originally thought. She was caught in the in-between and she didn’t know how to move forward. 

So she avoided the commander and ignored any issue related to him. 

Sitting on the uneven porch steps, Kazi laced her boots, eyeing the sky. Gray clouds were amassing, cloud swells ebbing, expanding from horizon to horizon. The weather gauge claimed it wouldn’t rain for another three hours. 

Maybe it was arrogant of her, but she decided the ten-kilometer walk to Neyti’s school was doable. A small part of her thought Neyti would appreciate the change in scenery. 

Anyway, she needed the fresh air. Needed the movement of a long walk to ease her tension, from the arguments the last few evenings and the unsettling sight of Daria this afternoon. She had found her sister smiling absentmindedly at an empty corner in the sunroom. The sight had unnerved her enough, she refused to dwell on it.  

Dressed in loose trousers and a black tank top—her early return from work allowed her to change into comfortable clothes—she pushed herself to her feet and started along the dirt path. 

With the sun curtained behind the clouds, the jungle’s temperature was cooler and tolerable. Kazi tilted her head to the sky. She made it a handful of meters before movement from the trees caught her attention. 

A frisson of alarm pricked the nape of her neck. Her heart lurched and her stomach fell.

Sweating and breathing heavily, Commander Wolffe emerged from the entangled trees of the dense jungle. He was slowing to a walk. His hands were on his hips. He looked like he’d just finished a hard run. 

Kazi froze. Desperation encouraged her to hide in the nearby trees; however, pride kept her feet glued to her spot. 

The commander seemed lost to his thoughts. Unaware and unobservant. Odd for someone like him. He lifted his black shirt to wipe at his face. That was, until his gaze landed on her.

An array of emotions played across his face, like one of those old toys she had as a youngling. A click of a button displayed an image, and if you clicked it fast enough, the images turned into a holofilm. 

Distraction blinked into surprise, furrowed into reservation, and then settled into apathy. 

Disconcerted, Kazi started to turn away, content to pretend she hadn’t seen him. 

The commander had other plans. Plans that resulted in him taking a step towards her. And then another. 

Kazi was too caught in her head—unable to decide between walking away and holding her ground. It didn’t matter. Commander Wolffe approached her. A healthy meter separated them. 

Maybe she should apologize, but she didn’t want him to think it was a false apology brought forth by proximity—

“I thought you worked.”

The hoarseness of his voice mixed with his non-question made her spine straighten. She tried to force her shoulders to relax. They didn’t.

“I do.” 

Vines thicker than her legs looped between the trees. Kazi could have stared at them for another hour to avoid his gaze, but she didn’t want to be a coward. So she met his eyes, remembering the hostility from two nights ago. The accusation and disdain and antipathy.

“I took off early,” she said, glancing at the graying clouds under the pretense of assessing the weather. When she looked back, he was observing her in a way that was familiar yet still set her on edge. “To pick up Neyti from school,” she added.

The commander nodded. 

For a moment it seemed the silence would expand indefinitely.

Commander Wolffe looked toward the house and then back at her. A hand slid through his hair. His jaw flexed; his posture was unnaturally stiff, agitated.

“May I join you?”

Her immediate answer was a resounding ‘No,’ but her chin dipped. In acceptance. 

Swallowing her discomfort, Kazi walked away, gaze set firmly on the dirt path ahead and the wild jungle enveloping the horizon. The commander appeared at her side. 

Kazi slipped her hands into her pockets. Not to hide their slight trembling. Never that. Merely for the aesthetic.

“I spoke with Cody,” the commander said. He clasped his hands behind his back, his gaze set on the path as well. “He said you talked.”

“We did.” A bird trilled, the sudden noise making her tense. “We spent some time in the garden.”

“You sound surprised.” The statement bordered accusation, his tone sharper than a dragon’s claws.

“I was. But not because he’s a clone.” She pursed her lips. “I was surprised he wanted to talk to me. I thought that after…”

“My brother likes to play diplomat and interfere where he’s not wanted.” Commander Wolffe rolled his shoulders back. “He told me to apologize—”

Kazi stopped, her eyes narrowing. “I’m not interested in forced apologies. If you’re only here because of your brother, you can go back to the house and tell him you apologized, but I’m not in the mood—”

“I agree with Cody. On some parts.” Commander Wolffe crossed his arms over his chest and stared her down, hesitating. “I overheard you. Last week. At the warehouse.”

Frowning, Kazi thought back to the day at the warehouse. It was the meeting with Fehr, Bash, and Carinthia. The meeting the three commanders interrupted. The meeting where Commander Wolffe first asked her to analyze his intel. 

“You told her you’re analyzing patterns of deserted clones. For the magistrate.”

“I am,” Kazi said slowly. 

She assessed the wariness darkening his features, the ticked muscle in his jaw. Everything—the abrupt change in his offer and the severity of his mistrust—suddenly made sense. 

“The magistrate asked me and I couldn’t refuse,” she said. “But I’m not going to do anything that endangers your missions. If it comes to it, I’ll scrub the data. I’ll correct the reports. Anyway, being on this project gives me an opportunity to warn you if something comes up.”

Disbelief flickered across his face and she tried not to feel offended. “Why would you do that?”

“What? Help you?” At his guarded scowl, she rolled her eyes. “Because, if you’re discovered, you lead a trail straight to my house. To my family. Because, I may not know you, and we may have our disagreements, but I would never turn someone over to the Empire.” 

His apathetic expression miffed her and she looked away, shaking her head. “You may not trust me, and that’s fine, but I’m not a traitor.”

“And you think I am,” he said lowly. 

“No.” The intensity of his gaze was hotter than Eluca’s sun at the height of summer. Kazi squared her shoulders. “I’m sorry for what I said.” 

The commander winced at her apology, either from shock or doubt, she didn’t know. 

“I had no right to accuse you of being culpable in the rise of the Empire,” she said. “And I had no right to call you a traitor.”

Commander Wolffe didn’t seem to know how to react. He was stuck somewhere between skepticism and perplexity. 

Discomfited by the awkward silence, Kazi drew her hands from her trousers’ pockets, turned on her heel, and continued along her original path. Only a few seconds passed before the crunch of dried soil alerted her to the commander’s presence. 

They walked together in silence. For a long time.

The scent of soil and coming rain surrounded Kazi. A low roll of thunder sounded far away. Beneath the dense confines of the jungle, she felt small. A pollinator lost in a field of wildflowers. Content for the moment yet unreasonably lonely. 

A throat cleared. Hands clasped behind his back, Commander Wolffe walked with an air of command, authoritative and intimidating. Kazi forced herself to walk straight, to not create more distance between their bodies. 

“My brothers…” He paused. “They mean everything to me.”

The corners of her lips twitched. “I know.”

He hesitated. “I had no right to question your credibility and skillset.”

Remorse underscored his tone, and Kazi nodded at his apology.

At the edge of the jungle, they halted. Above, the darkening clouds cast the commander in a somber light, emphasizing his haggardness. Stress lines wearied his features; unspoken duty hardened his posture. 

“I’ve seen how the Empire operates,” Commander Wolffe said. “Anyone will betray another for more power. Or money. I won’t allow my brothers to be in a similar position again.”

The emptiness in his eyes was both hollow and guarded, and yet the firm resolve in his tone spoke of his protectiveness. 

“My mission with Cody didn’t go as planned.” Annoyance lined his tone, underscored by a twinge of regret. “We infiltrated a military outpost and were caught by a handful of soldiers. We thought we could convince them to join us. To desert.” He released a bitter chuckle. “They said we were traitors and then killed the men we had come to rescue.”

Kazi felt the blood in her face drain.

“I thought you were running rescue missions, Commander. Where are your rescued soldiers?”

“I thought, if given the opportunity, those men would desert,” Wolffe said. Even though his eyes were on hers, they were distant. Like he was replaying the mission. “They looked at me like I was the worst scum in the galaxy. I was pissed at myself. And I took my anger out on you. I apologize for it.”

“I’m so sorry,” Kazi whispered hoarsely. “I shouldn’t have said those things, and I’m so—”

“I said things I regret, too.” He cleared his throat. “This work with the magistrate—”

Instinctively, Kazi tensed, prepared for accusation or disdain or complaint. Wolffe noticed the change in her demeanor and scowled.

“I’m not questioning you.” He heaved a heavy sigh. “I’m only asking if it’s safe.”

“Safe?” Her eyebrows scrunched together and she shrugged. “Why wouldn’t it be?”

“You’re intentionally misleading the magistrate by interfering with collected data,” he deadpanned. “If you’re caught—”

“I know how to handle data like this.” The doubt in his expression was offensive. Kazi dusted an imaginary spot from her arm. “I’m used to this. It was my job for years.”

Wolffe arched a brow. “Spying?”

“Analyzing intel and determining if it was credible and reliable.”

“That’s not the same as scrubbing—”

“We were feeding intel to the Empire: intentionally scrubbed and misaligned data that would interfere with their analytics without raising alarms.” Kazi played with the end of a braid. “I studied military weapons’ sales, numbers, storage. I split time between there and analyzing Imperial weapons’ construction.”

A hint of intrigue flashed across his face. “There were rumors some military technology was missing in the Outer Rim. It was kept quiet.”

Kazi smiled wryly. “Ceaia was unimportant in the Clone War. We were overlooked by the Empire. And from what I know, our allies were preparing for a coordinated rebellion.” Her voice faltered and she looked away. “We were gearing up for the long-term. We weren’t prepared for the Empire’s attack.”

Embarrassment warmed her cheeks and she shrugged, rubbing at her chest. 

It was stupid to share that information with the commander. He wasn’t interested in her past, and even if he was, it didn’t concern him. They were nothing more than random people cohabiting. 

Kazi glanced at her chrono. “I need to pick up Neyti. Alone. She’s still not entirely comfortable around you and I don’t want to force her—”

“I understand.” Wolffe surveyed the neighborhood bordering the jungle’s edge and then levelled a hard look on her. “You are aware you’re safe with us.”

She managed a tight smile. “Okay.”

“Ennari.” He said her last name quietly, seriously. She opened her mouth—to demand an explanation as to how he knew it when not even the rebel network knew her real last name—but he cut her off. “We won’t hurt any of you.”

“I know—”

“If a threat presents itself, we will protect you.” 

The promise in his tone was both genuine and lethal, and as Wolffe held her gaze, she knew she could trust him to keep his promise. 

Whatever he saw in her face seemed to satisfy him because he turned around and left. 

Soon the shadows claimed him. 

And still Kazi didn’t move, staring after him. 

Masterlist | Chapter 6 | Chapter 8

[ladykatakuri]

Stardust Reblog Challenge October 2022 Part 2

You can find part 1 of this list here.

17th:

TBB + Fives & Gregor x Blind Reader HC`s See You with a Touch by: @zoeykallus SFW

TBB + Maul x Reader HC`s - Left Behind by: @zoeykallus SFW

The Light Between Oceans Chapter 2 - Rex x F!Reader, Fives x M!OC, Fives x F!OC by: @rowansparrow Mature

Mine and Mine Alone - Hunter x F!Reader by: @zoeykallus NSFW

TBB + Rex x Reader HC`s - Sleepy Cuddles by: @zoeykallus SFW

Painted Nails - HCs of Clones who would allow you to paint their nails by: @zoeykallus SFW

TBB x Reader, Hurt/Comfort HCs - Its been a Bad Day by: @zoeykallus

Vampire in the Senate by: @ladysongmaster SFW

I`ll Always Wait for You - Frankie "Catfish" Morales x F!Reader by: @musings-of-a-rose NSFW

18th:

Walk Me Home Chapter 3 - Wolffe x Cherise by: @cyarbika Mature

Kinktober 2022 Prompt: Missionary - Jack x Fives. Clone Effect Crossover by: @twistedstitcher27 NSFW

TBB HC`s - Reacting to Abuse of a Teenager by: @zoeykallus SFW ( does have triggers )

TBB HCs - Please Dont Leave Me by: @zoeykallus SFW

TBB HC`s - Cars and Driving by: @zoeykallus SFW

Echo - There For You Ch.23 - Echo x F!Reader by: @zoeykallus SFW

I`ve Got So Much Love For You 2/2 - Fives x Virgin F!Reader by: @zoeykallus NSFW

Aggressive Negotiations - TBB x F!Reader HC`s by: @zoeykallus NSFW

TBB x Reader HC`s - Affectionate/Giggly/Touchy Drunk Reader by: @zoeykallus NSFW ( Crosshair part duh )

A Love We Never Got Over - Cobb Vanth x F!Reader by : @nahoney22 SFW

The Beginning of Something - Tech x F!Reader by: @nahoney22

Under the Surface - Crosshair x F!Reader by: @zoeykallus NSFW

Gym Membership - Echo x F!OC by: @imabeautifulbutterfly SFW

Kinktober 2022 Prompt: Leather - Fem!Shep x Thane Krios by: @twistedstitcher27 NSFW

Close Encounters of the Toothy Kind - Max Phillips x F!Reader by: @wardenparker and @absurdthirst NSFW

Clone Trooper Rambles - Surgery by: @wanderinginksplot SFW

TBB x F!Reader HC`s - React to your Jealousy by: @zoeykallus SFW

House of Sins and Pleasures IV - The Guardian, Din Djarin x F!Reader by: @princessxkenobi NSFW

One Last Time - Imp!Crosshair x F!Reader by: @zoeykallus NSFW

Call Me Home: Life Else: V - Rex x F!Jeadi OC by: @twistedstitcher27 NSFW

The Cover of Night Ch.4 - Steven Grant/Marc Spector x F!Reader by: @interstellarwraith SFW

The Light Between Oceans Ch.3 - Rex x Reader, Fives x M!OC, Fives x F!OC etc by: @rowansparrow NSFW

19th:

Kinktober 2022 - Set Alight - Din Djarin x F!Reader x Cobb Vanth by: @ezrasbirdie NSFW

Dirty Little Thief 14 - Hunter x F!Reader by: @zoeykallus SFW

Bad Moon Rising - Steven Grant/Marc Spector x F!Reader by: @interstellarwraith SFW

Clonetober 2022, Mercy Mission by: @ladysongmaster SFW

The Ultimatum 2/3 - Cad Bane x F!Reader by: @nahoney22 SFW

You Are Part of My Family - TBB x Reader HC`s by: @zoeykallus SFW

Walk Me Home Ch.4 - Wolffe x Cherise (F!OC) by: @cyarbika NSFW

Hold Your Head Up High - Alpha17 x F!Reader by: @zoeykallus SFW

Kinktober 2022 - ARC Echo x F!Reader by: @twistedstitcher27 NSFW

Silent Night, Bloody Night - TBB x AFAB! Reader by: @zoeykallus SFW

Happy Halloween! TBB x F!Reader by: @zoeykallus SFW

The Puppy Surprise - TBB x Reader by: @zoeykallus SFW

Soldier Boy. 17 - Unforgiven, Fives x F!Reader by: @zoeykallus SFW

Chin Up - Cad Bane x GN!Reader by: @nahoney22 SFW

Caught You Singing - TBB x Reader HC`s by: @zoeykallus SFW

Tagging my Taglist:

@imabeautifulbutterfly@chaoticvampirejedi@hellothere-generalangsty@cyroku@reluctant-mandalore@uponrightful@zinzinina@saradika@galacticgraffiti@ashotofspotchka@dindjarindiaries@dinbeskarbaby@djarrex@djarinsbeskar@rowansparrow@photogirl894@rigelmoonshine@rigel-the-moonstrider@nahoney22@loth-wolffe@neon-junkie@bobafetts-princess@cyarbika@charnelhouse@zoeykallus@kin-rokku@jgvfhl@honestly-shite@here-comes-the-moose@dindjarindiaries@firstofficerwiggles@fictional-men-ruin-lives @ladysongmaster @lozalot @moonstrider9904@lorjukka@m-o-o-n-s-g-o-o-n-s @rain-on-kamino @monako-jinn-stories @middimidoris @cross-my-heartt

[mamuzzy]

TAG MASTERLIST & ARCHIVE

THIS MASTERLIST IS STILL UNDER CONSTRUCTION AND WILL BE UPDATED.  Ok so I try to make a coherent taglist here, for myself to easely find something I remember I reblogged and for anyone to search for something specific. Or just block the hell out of my blog. But it’s easier if you don’t follow me at this point. And most importantly: I LOVE ORGANIZING THINGS. *completely and deliberately ignoring the mess on my actual desk* Content warning: | cw: gore | cloneship | clonecest | I'm not much of a tagger when it's about triggers, so mutuals and followers if you see something that needs a warning (I won't put nsfw tag under posts, this is still a 18+ blog), feel free to dm me to discuss and we'll see what can we do about it.

STAR WARS  THE CLONE WARS:  > Coruscant Guard: Commander Fox | Commander Thorn | Commander Thire | Commander Stone | Sergeant Hound & Grizzer |

> 501st: Captain Rex | ARC Trooper Fives | ARC Trooper Echo | Clone Trooper Hardcase | Clone Trooper Jesse | Clone Trooper Kix | Clone Trooper Tup | Clone Trooper Dogma |  > 212th: Commander Cody | Clone Trooper Boil  > 104th: Commander Wolffe  > 327th: Commander Bly  > Domino Squad: Clone Trooper Hevy | Clone Trooper Cutup | Clone Trooper Droidbait > Anakin Skywalker | Ahsoka Tano | Obi-Wan Kenobi  Plo Koon | Aayla Secura | Quinlan Vos | Luke Skywalker | Darth Vader > Riyo Chuchi THE BAD BATCH I decided to separate TBB and TCW tags unless it’s canon media where they shared episodes or fanarts/fanfics where specific characters from each show are present > Sergeant Hunter | Clone Trooper Tech | Clone Trooper Crosshair | Clone Trooper Wrecker | ARC Trooper Echo (501 Echo and TBB Echo are under the same tag)  > Omega > Captain Howzer |Captain Traito- Captain Gregor | Commander Mayday

REPUBLIC COMMANDO (the game and KT’s books)  >Null ARCs: Ordo Skirata | Mereel Skirata | A'den Skirata | Jaing Skirata | Prudii Skirata | Kom'rk Skirata  > Omega Squad: Darman Skirata | Niner Skirata | Fi Skirata | Atin Skirata | Corr Skirata > Delta Squad: RC Boss | RC Sev | RC Scorch | RC Fixer  > Kal Skirata | Walon Vau & Lord Mirdalan | Etain Tur-Mukan | Bardan Jusik > Alpha-17 | Captain Fordo | Captain Maze AHSOKA > Shin Hati | Baylan Skoll Misc. tags Movies: tpm | aotc | rots | Games: Jedi Outcast | Fallen Order | Survivor Other’s OC Other artist OCs I like! <3

Winged!AU Sw memes

SHIPS: I like certain ships and I don’t interact with ships I don’t like or not interested. Be civil about it. Ships with Clones goes under CLONESHIP or clonecest and their specific shiptag.

> Blyla | CodyWan |  Foxiyo | > 17Fordo | Codex | CrossHunter | DogmaTup | DogmaHardcase | EchoThorn | FivesEcho | FivesTup | FoxFives |  Jessix | MereelCorr | OrdoFi | SevFi | RexHunter | Techo > xreader

(SOON)

(SOON)

[lightsprouts]

STAR WARS: Ostin Jun & Winn

These are 2 of my Star Wars OC's, fighting in the Coruscant underground.

Ostin is a smuggler who was given a clone's Phase I helmet that he retrofitted with personal comms and a new paint job.

Winn is a Jedi padawan who was trained under Master Bultar Swan. Winn escaped Order 66 with the help of a Clone Trooper, Seafoam, who's chip didn't trigger due to a head injury.

[staycalmandhugaclone]

If you're new, this all starts with Touch Starved - Echo! You can read this little chunk as a standalone, or head back to the beginning for the full experience!

One of my besties on here mentioned they had some specific aversions severe gore, so I made a toned down version so they could still enjoy the story. Please don't hesitate to reach out with requests like this! If you're invested in my writings but aren't comfortable with a certain trigger warning, just let me know and I'll do my best to offer a version that is better for you!

Febuwhump Day 6 (Censored)

Secrets Revealed – OC Medic & TBB - An unexpected EMP forces Doc to reveal aspects of their past that could well turn the batch against them. Click here for the uncensored version.

Warnings: Mild descriptions of gore/injury, language, panic attacks, angst, PTSD flashbacks, self-depreciation, offhand reference to minor character death. This one hits a lot of potentially triggering topics pretty intensely and is fueled from a very dark place I was in with my own injury. Be kind to yourself. Healing is a nonlinear process.

WC: 6,291

Shoulder rolling to shift the strap of my medbag out of the crevice between my shoulder bell and chest plate, I glanced behind me to where Tech stood before a large blast door, fingers flying across the screen of his datapad. He’d been fighting to splice the security program for several minutes already, and each minute lost brought his brows furrowing closer together, lips bunching in annoyance. Turning my attention back to the hall behind us, I tried to listen for any signs of approaching enemies, but Echo and Crosshair’s distraction elsewhere on the Separatist flagship seemed to be a grand success. Hunter and Wrecker were on the level directly below us, acting as a secondary contingency plan should we run into trouble.

“It’s no use.” Eyes wide, I turned in shock to find Tech disconnecting his handheld from the panel near the door. “It would likely take me several more minutes to breach their firewalls. I am not comfortable with such a delay.”

“Guess Echo and I should have swapped places.” I said apologetically, earning a skeptical look from the tall clone.

“Echo is a highly skilled arc trooper. His chances of survival behind enemy lines far outweigh your own whereas your knowledge of the sciences will be useful in skimming through their records for relevant data.” I shot him a blank look - I’d been there when Hunter explained our roles, just the same as him.

“Doubling down on how quickly we can sift through their records is only worthwhile if we can get in there.” He didn’t wait for me to finish my retort before shutting down his datapad and hooking it to his waist.

“That won’t be a problem.” He dismissed. Without allowing me a chance to respond, he brought his comm to his lips. “Wrecker, go ahead and deploy-”

“I get to use it?!” Wrecker shouted. Tech frowned at the interruption, but his voice remained calm as he answered.

“Yes; it seems they’ve increased se-”

“Yeah, yeah; enough talkin’!” Tech let out a small sigh before beginning to shut down the communicator.

“Very well. Cutting comms.” I frowned, unsure why whatever Wrecker was doing would warrant actually turning off his gear.

“Is he blowing up some power unit for the door?” I asked doubtfully. His eyebrow cocked at my question.

“In a sense. I would advice turning off your communicator.” I stood still a moment longer, trying to understand. “Once the EMP detonates, we will be able to force open the door enough to” I didn’t hear the rest of his sentence, heart plummeting.

“E… EMP?” My voice nearly caught in my throat, body already taking a half step back. Hearing the sudden fear in my voice, Tech turned his full attention to me, as though he might find answers with a mere glance.

“Yes. That’s why he and Hunter are positioned directly below us.” Panic turned my blood to ice, heart bursting into a frantic pace.

“N… the-the radius – what’s the radius?!” Stammered words quickly turned into a shout, legs stumbling to remember how to move.

“Approximately thirty meters – enough to allow”

“No-no-no-no.” Thirty meters. Run. Run. Don’t think. The futility of the mad dash didn’t matter; the certainty that there simply wasn’t time to cross such a distance. The concern and confusion in Tech’s voice as he called my name didn’t matter. Just run.

I barely felt the ripple of static as the world went dark. Mid-sprint, my ankle went dead, foot falling limp and catching on the hard ground. And then I was falling, body crashing with enough force to tear the air from my lungs. For a single, blissful second, my mind was too taken by that threat of suffocation, lungs burning as my diaphragm balked beneath the sudden assault, but then that dread returned.

I remembered knowing we on the Separatist ship. I remembered knowing that Tech was with me, that Hunter and Wrecker were barely ten meters below us, and the Havoc Marauder was carefully hidden against an emergency escape on the outer hull. I remembered that the ship crash that first brought me officially into the Republic army was nearly two years ago and those wounds had long since healed, but, the instant the lights went out, those memories slipped away amidst the terror of nerves screaming beneath a memory far more consuming: pain.

Deaf to the wheezing of my faltered breathes, logic abandoned me. There was only fear; limbs flailing to push me upright, as though maybe I was mistaken; maybe I’d merely tripped, but, when I pulled my leg under me, when the sweeping beam of a flashlight showed how my foot hung listless to any demand to move, I was right back on that crippled transport unable to unsee the ruin of that joint.

“No-no-no.” The senseless plea stammered over numb limps and I felt myself crash back to the ground, strength abandoning me. Good leg dragging atop the smooth tiles, I just managing to push myself back against the wall, hands clawing into my shin as I stared dumbly at the useless joint. I knew there was no blood soaking beneath my hands, knew there was no pain shooting from ruined flesh, but the very memory of that long ago agony locked my every muscle, terrified that one wrong move might reawaken shrieking nerves – remind them that I should hurt, that it would never stop hurting.

I couldn’t hear the way my rapid gasps deteriorated into broken whimpers, nor the growingly frantic calls from Tech as he dropped to his knees beside me. It wasn’t until his hand slipped beneath mine, just beginning to cradle the wretched limb, that I even realized I wasn’t alone, and that horror struck me anew.

“Don’t touch me!” The screech tore from my throat, body violently lashing out to kick him away, still unable to tear my gaze from the way my foot simply… dangled, rocking listlessly with the momentum of my frantic movements. The thud of plastoid hitting metal was enough to pull my gaze away for just a moment, but it was enough. The fierce concern gleaming through the rich umber of his eyes… my friend… he was…

Bringing one hand back to bury my forehead against my palm, I strained to drag myself back to some level of control, cursing the fluttered racing of my heart, the way my entire torso convulsed in gulping, too-shallow gasps, lips twisted into a feral snarl as my teeth ground painfully together. The trill of a comm booting up drew my attention back to him, gaze wavering between him the that cursed joint.

“Very good. Now, can you tell me what happened?” I saw his mouth move long before hearing some distorted semblance of his voice. Had he been speaking earlier? What… what did he say? The familiar rhythm of my name fell from his lips in a tone far gentler than I’d ever heard from the man, dragging my focus back just a bit more.

“I will avoid contact as best I can, but I need you to help me understand what’s wrong.” He held his hands out before him, fingers splayed as though to further prove he wasn’t a threat. I found myself only able to stare at him for several seconds, mind lilting between the madness of fear and that fleeting grasp of logic. Tech. It was Tech kneeling before me. We were on a mission… My ankle…

“M… I-I…” I watched my fingers curl tighter around my leg, eyes sharpening into a glare as I looked back to my ankle in a sickening flurry of disgust and rage.

“Hunter, do you read me?” Scowling anew at the violent tremble I couldn’t begin to hide, my attention swept back to the man before me, the carefully leveled crispness of his voice a painful contrast to the unrelenting panic continuing to flood my veins with adrenaline. “I am unsure what happened, but the EMP seems to have compromised Doc.” Compromised. The consequences of his words broke through the fog of distortion.

“N… no-no! I’m not…” My lips moved before I could fully grasp the entirety of the thought, hand shaking as it darted out to snatch at his wrist. Still, I couldn’t quite grasp the sharp bark of Hunter’s reply.

“Just a moment – standby.” Tech said absently before disconnected the line. “Are you lucid enough to explain what happened?” Frowning, I had to repeat his words silently before finding some vague meaning. What happened…

“The… the EMP,” I stammered, gaze dropping to where my hand continued to cling to his wrist. He didn’t pull away, and the subtle warmth seeping through that slim space between his vambrace and glove suddenly felt overwhelming, attention tuning into it with a focus wildly disproportionate to the simplicity of it. “It killed the… the MPS.” He was silent for barely a second before understanding dawned on him.

“A micel power supply? You have a mechanical leg?” He asked, looking at my ankle with new interest. I’d just begun forming a reply when his hand moved toward the limb once more, and that terror tore through me with the same ferocity, body shying from him as though his very touch might rend my flesh to ruin.

“Don’t!” Even I could hear the madness in my voice, wide eyes staring blindly at my ankle as the color drained from my face. Instantly, he pulled back once more, expression falling back into that studious attentiveness, mind churning over some illogical equation.

“If this is from before you joined us, it should be long passed any ill effects from merely being touched.” He pressed, the simple rationality of his words reawakening the stomach-churning shame and wrenching a choked sob from me, knuckles cracking from where they still clenched his wrist.

“The battery should be easily replaceable. This is merely a temporary inconvenience.” He continued, confusion pulling his expression into a subtle frown. “For ease of mobility, a splint will keep the joint stationary until we can requisition a replacement.” The mere thought of seeing that limb in a splint again churned my stomach so sharply, I had to snatch my lip between my teeth to still the gag.

“What’s going on up there, Tech?” Hunter’s voice chimed impatiently from his comm, earning a flash of irritation from the pilot.

“Mechanical limb I wasn’t aware of – the EMP drained the power supply, but…” The words muttered absently from his lips, gaze quickly drifting back to mine.

“Doc has a robot arm?” The mic only just picked up Wrecker’s comment.

“Leg, unfortunately.” Tech automatically corrected.

“Can you get the both of you back to the Marauder?” Hunter asked.

“No!” The word burst from me with a whole new dread. “N-no, no, I’m… I’m fine-I’m…” I had to take a long moment to breathe, jaw shifting in some desperate drive to explain – to prevent them from calling off the mission because of me. “We don’t need to fall back!” It sounded like I was begging him… maybe I was.

“I believe there is time to retrieve at least some of the data before we need to leave.” Tech stated, eyes burring into mine as I looked up at him in shocked gratitude.

“Fine.” Hunter nearly growled after a long pause, “Wrecker and I will double-time it to you, but if there’s any sign of danger, get out of there.”

“Understood.” With that, he disconnected the call once more before watching me in a heavy silence, waiting. I tried to speak, lips twitching with words I couldn’t quite force into existence.

“If I may voice a theory,” He started, voice dropping into something almost gentle, “It seems whatever injury led to your augmentation left a greater impact than the augmentation itself.” Blinking against the burn of tears I refused to let fall, I felt the air fill my lungs; felt the still painfully quick racing of my heart; felt the heat of his wrist that he still made no effort to free from my grasp, and some wretched cocktail of defeat and fear and anger stole through me.

“It was… it was bad, okay?!” I finally snapped, already losing what little control I’d just begun to regain over my too-quick breathes. “I was… I was alone, and it… hm… It was c-crushed… It…” Just thinking of that night… my stomach seized, body going taut with the effort to force it back under control. I didn’t want to look at him – didn’t want to see that impatience or frustration in the face of my weakness, but my gaze seemed drawn to him. And I felt myself go still. There was no hint of annoyance in those eyes. With a deep quiet, he merely listened, focus tuned so fully onto me, I wondered just how much he learned from everything left unspoken.

“What you are describing is a type of post traumatic stress disorder.” He explained with a calm I found myself captivated by. “Just because it is considered a mental disorder, does not make it any less severe or debilitating that a physical injury.” A glimmer of sympathy and regret touched those eyes before he continued, “But, at present, I am afraid there is very little leeway to allow for appropriate consideration. If we are to finish the mission, we need to move quickly. That means securing your joint to prevent it from becoming a greater liability.” My throat constricted against the truth in his words. “If you are unable to apply a splint yourself, I can”

“No.” It left on a sharp breath, but he didn’t press as I gathered my thoughts, finally forcing myself to release him if only to begin slipping the pack from my shoulders, movements jolted and unsteady. “I can… I can do it.” He drew a slow, deep breath before reaching out to help me free my arms from the unyielding straps.

“Go.” I instructed quietly, trying not to think as I began digging through the main pouch to retrieve the brace. “I can do this.” Despite the weakness of my voice, he hesitated only a moment longer before nodding and pushing himself to his feet. Without another word, he darted back down the hall toward the powerless door.

I focused on the sounds booming through the darkness as I flicked on my own flashlight, forgotten in the depth of that momentary insanity. I focused on the quiet grunts as he strained against the weight of the door that I was supposed to help him with; listened to the metal finally begin to grind open. Eyes blindly following the movements of hands I tried vainly not to remember were mine, I listened to the quiet flutter of his footsteps darting through the neighboring room, certain he was using a mobile power source to boot up individual servers.

I was supposed to be helping him – pouring through that endless data right beside him; shouldering some of the weight of the endless responsibilities constantly thrown at these men I so desperately wanted to protect, but instead I sat curled against the wall, hands seizing inches from my unresponsive foot, grip burring into the split until my fingers ached. Move. Move, dammit! Just tie the damn thing up so you don’t slow them down any more than you already have!

Chest shaking beneath gasps too shallow to even feign relief from the suffocation burning my lungs, I felt the muscles of my arms tense, straining to push the limbs forward, to function, to just touch that useless limb before Hunter and Wrecker could see me in such a pathetic state. The very tip of my finger just managed to brush against my heal, and my body shook as though even that fleeting sensation might burn me. But there was nothing. Of course, there was nothing.

With that mental block finally broken, I wrenched the splint around my ankle, movements rushed by my own frustration and contempt. If I had just done this when the EMP first went off, maybe I still could have been of some use to Tech, but I couldn’t begin to guess how much time had been wasted in that pointless panic.

When I finally managed to push myself up against the wall, mind still rebelling at even the thought of resting that foot atop the floor, the sound of quickly approaching footsteps echoed distantly through the darkness. Bag tucked into the corner, I leveled my blaster toward the sound, eyes straining in search of those familiar silhouettes, finger ready to dance atop the trigger if I saw anything but.

“Can’t get you out of here if you shoot us.” Hunter’s weary voice carried down the hall seconds before he and Wrecker came into sight, and I couldn’t bring myself to offer more than a huff of relief. They said nothing more as they trotted quickly up to me.

“How come you didn’t tell us about the leg? ‘bet Echo’s gonna be jealous we found us first!” Wrecker asked. Beneath that boisterous personality, there was a subtle gentleness in his words that robbed me of any façade of stability.

“It’s a long story.” I could only risk whispering the words on a slow sigh.

“Wrecker: stay with Tech. When Echo checks in, I don’t care how close to finishing he is – get him out of there.” Hunter ordered. Wrecker glanced between us a moment but gave a reluctant mockery of a salute and continued quickly toward the server room. Only after the grinding of metal signaled he’d reached the door did Hunter turn to me, modulator further emphasizing a long exhale. I tried to force out some explanation; some excuse that might grant me reprieve from the disappointment I could feel even through the darkness of his visor.

“I’m guessing there’s a very good reason you didn’t mention having a cybernetic?” Defeat stole through me. There was no escaping this.

“It’s my ankle.” I finally whispered. “Just the joint – I was able to save everything else.” He didn’t move for a moment. Watching me in a heavy silence, he leaned down and absently picked up my helmet. I stared blindly at it for several seconds before managing to convince my body to move, to take the object that had become such a vital part of my identity and slip it seamlessly over my head once more.

“Come on.” He grumbled, stepping up against my right side and wrapping an arm tightly around me. The initial surprise of his touch left me tense, but he merely tilted his visor toward me; waiting. Hand still trembling, I tentatively slid my arm over his shoulders, gaze dropping both from guilt and shame as well as from the lingering afterimage of fear demanding I guard that ruined limb. He took a single step forward and stopped, shifting expectantly toward me. My thigh moved forward, muscles tensing to finish the stride as best as the immobilized joint would allow.

I didn’t notice how my fingers began to grip at the thick muscle sloping down to his shoulder, back going rigid as I strained to convince my body to walk; to move; that there was no pain; no traumatic injury still in need of coddling. Twice, I managed to just brush the tile floors with my heel, but both times the limb jerked back, an icy sweat quickly seeping through my blacks and soaking into my hair as that tremble stole through me like an infection.

“Set your toes down first.” His voice dropped into a murmur, wrenching my attention back to him. “Don’t add any weight; just let your toes touch the floor.” He continued, unrushed and free of the irritation so prominent in my own impatience. It was only because of that quiet understanding that I was able to obey him, knee bending to just let my toes rest against that cold tile. I felt my shoulders tense, anticipating how the limb would balk, and I hated the distant thought that I knew this – that I’d walked countless others through these very steps so many times before, but was powerless to recall any of those fleeting memories in the face of my own need.

“Good.” He spoke like we were at the range; like he was teaching me how to better my aim rather than how to walk, and I wanted to sob for the gratitude of his gentleness in that moment. “Now, just let your foot roll down until it’s flat.” Fingers tightening around him once more, I shift to follow those soft words, body shaking so violently, it was only his grip around my back, hand flared over my ribs to hold me close against him that kept me from tumbling. Still, it took several seconds to ease my leg straight.

“You’re doing fine, Doc; just lean on me.” Eyes closing tightly, I felt my focus shift to the rhythm of his breath; how his chest swelled and sank in an unbothered dance. Calm. Steady. Strong. “Good.” I didn’t realize I’d managed to lay my foot flat atop the floor until that whispered praise rumbled from him. “Now, hold onto me as much as you need. One step at a time.” Before committing to that first hobbled jump, I felt my gaze pull back briefly.

“My pack.” I barely managed to breathe the apologetic words. He didn’t bother looking at it before answering.

“Wrecker will grab it on his way back.” He assured me with a certainty I couldn’t doubt. Still, I hesitated just a moment longer before finally hopping forward, freehand darting up to lock around the top lip of his chest plate to steady myself, body once more going rigid beneath the expectation of pain. He didn’t move; didn’t rush me to continue forward, and I knew I’d never find the words to thank him as that tremor grew so intense in those first few seconds of waiting for that delayed hurt to cripple me that I could barely breathe.

I remembered the depth of my terror back when the red emergency lighting distorted the crimson stains to black, when the scent of fuel saturated the air so profusely, each gasp left me sputtering and gagging. I remembered the jolt of a pain so consuming, it robbed the sight from my eyes and the sound from my ears. I remembered the fear of realizing I was alone – that my partner was dead, and I’d die at their side if I didn’t escape that deathtrap of twisted metal and flashing warning lights. I remembered how my stomach seized at the first touch of that split beneath my heel at the way my vision narrowed and darkened as I forced my hands to maneuver the ruined joint into some semblance of stability, bound beneath gauze and cloth and straps of anything I could find; and I remembered the endless nightmare of dragging myself through mounds of sharp rumble and burning debris. I remembered the very moment I finally realized there was grass beneath my gnarled hands; when I turned back to discover an inferno now danced through the ship in a horrid display of hellish shapes made all the more vivid in the pale light of that planet’s slivered moon.

“Still with me?” I didn’t look at him; unsure when my gaze had fallen to the pale floors. Eyes blinking harshly against the afterimage of those flames, I felt my chest seize with a sharp gasp and wondered vaguely how long I’d only managed those fluttered, shallow gasps.

“Damn it.” Defeated… the way that curse fell from numb lips and clenched teeth, it couldn’t sound like anything other than that self-deprecating hatred that flooded my eyes with tears and sent my heart twisting with shame.

“You can hold on to me, and I’ll carry you to the Marauder, or you can take a breath and try again.” There wasn’t a hint of judgement in those levelled words, and I felt myself still beneath them. If I told him that I couldn’t, that I simply wasn’t strong enough to fight free of the unrelenting horror of something that I’d only barely lived through… I knew he wouldn’t question it. He’d haul me across the length of the Separatist ship without quip or comment, and wouldn’t speak a word of it until I could breathe without suffocating beneath the ghosts of engine oil and iron and sick that only I could taste… But I revolted at the very thought of yielding to that fear. I pulled myself from that dying ship… I could get through this.

Jaw setting in an enraged determination, I forced myself to breathe, forced myself to recognize the scent of recycled air and dust and the subtle oil Hunter used to clean his gear. There was no smoke. No emergency lights flashing in the darkness. There was no pain. Gaze shifting toward the hallway stretching out before us, I moved my leg forward, focusing on the sensation of the very tip of my boot brushing atop the flooring to guide the limb safely down. Hunter moved smoothly beside me, hold just supportive enough to steady me as I found my own rhythm, weight tentatively shifting onto my heel as though to prove the joint would hold.

The next step was only slightly faster, stomach still churning against every gentle movement, but even that slowly quelled. Gradually, I found the quickness of my breath shifting from panic to simple exertion; found my mind able to hold onto thoughts deeper than constantly screaming at myself that I was fine; that I shouldn’t be feeling this terror anymore. And a new dread and shame began to creep over me. I had to tell him. I had to tell him everything, even if he turned away from me because of it.

“My ship was shot down.” I heard the words escape on some simile of my own voice, felt Hunter’s attention shift ever so slightly as he listened. “My partner died in the crash, and my ankle… It was held together by more bandages than anything. I could smell fuel – couldn’t breathe, the air was so thick with it. By the time I pulled myself out of it, the whole thing was on fire. Must have been a couple hours before the ones who shot me down finally found me.” I stopped walking. He didn’t press, watching in silence as I struggled to force out the words.

“It was Commander Wolffe.” I finally whispered, and I felt the confusion seep through him. Knowing the coming questions, I merely continued quietly instead of forcing him to ask. “We were on Agamar. As soon as a battle ended, my partner and I swept the fields for survivors – had a few contacts to sneak them back to Republic airspace.” He didn’t say anything for a long time, and that anxiety and dread solidified closer toward panic with each passing second.

“Why?” He asked, and I could hear the simple confusion in that single word. Air fleeing me in a rush before my chest jerked against a broken inhale, I barely wasted a moment’s thought before answering.

“Because I had to try. I knew I could save some of them, and the ones I couldn’t… I didn’t want them to die alone.” He was still a moment longer before starting forward once more, arm still firm around my back to push me with him, and I quickly fell back into that unsteady gait.

“So, a Separatist doctor of rehabilitation medicine decided to forsake their home world to help the Republic?” He clarified as we reached the edge of the area effected by the EMP, gleaming lights blessedly dimmed by my visor. I cringed at the label but didn’t try to argue. “How’d you wind up serving in the GAR? Why didn’t Commander Wolffe finish you off when he found you?” My memories of that night were distorted with pain and shock, only vaguely remembering the figures approaching me from the tree line; my fleeting attempts to explain myself.

“There was a Jedi with him,” I replied, “General Plo Koon. I don’t really know what I said to them, but he believed me. They got me off Agamar, and General Koon… I guess he had friends in high places – he made me a new identity as a citizen of Dantooine and brought me into the 104th as a medic once I was well enough to fight. I was with them for almost a year when Captain Rex had me transferred.” The escape pod hatch connected to the Marauder came into sight before he spoke again.

“I just need to know one more thing.” He said, pausing a single stride from that door. I turned to face him, loathing the impenetrable visor hiding those grey and gold streaked eyes from me. “Where do your loyalties lie? Really?” I felt myself stand just that much taller, blossoming under the relief that this was a question I could answer without a shadow of hesitation.

“I’m loyal to this squad… The Republic isn’t perfect, but I believe in what it’s trying to be.” I said, willing the words into existence with my every cell and breath. “I swear, Hunter, I’m loyal to Echo and Wrecker and Tech. I’m loyal to Crosshair… I’m loyal to you.” I felt the trill of panic sending static down my fingertips as I waited for whatever judgement he settled on, body nearly collapsing when he finally nodded.

“You’ll have to tell the others.” It was nearly an order as he reached forward to open the latch. “They deserve the truth.” My mouth went dry, but I couldn’t dismiss the relief I felt at those words. Whatever happened, at least I wouldn’t need to maintain this cover anymore – I wouldn’t need to keep this distance between us.

-

We’d just come out of that first stint of lightspeed travel, floating in the darkness of space as Tech prepared to enter the next hyperlane. I had to do it now, before I could talk myself into further delays until Hunter felt compelled to step in.

“I… I need to tell you all something – I…” I caught myself on the verge of hiding, chin falling toward my chest, eyes staring blindly at the metallic flooring, and forced myself to draw a sharp breath before meeting their eyes, forced myself not to shy away from the tension stealing through them as those gorgeous eyes I’d come to know and love turned to mine.

The perfect silence that surrounded my every word was both blessing and curse – if they’d interrupted even once, I don’t know if I would have had to strength to continue, but it also allowed nowhere for me to hide, voice trailing almost thoughtlessly from listless lips lest I lose myself in the panic of what telling them this could mean. That quiet lingered for too long after I finally finished.

Hunter stood passively beside me, granting his brothers what time they needed to gather their thoughts. Crosshair’s disinterest had gradually dissolved into a seething rage, arms dropping from where they’d been crossed over his chest to tense at his sides, fists tightly clenched. Echo’s gaze remained locked blindly on a monitor beside him, brows just drawn together in a haunting dance between hurt and anger. Wrecker – sweet Wrecker – listened with a careful focus, but what sadness touched those eyes seemed born only from worry, while Tech hadn’t been still for a full minute before letting his fingers dance atop his datapad as I spoke.

“There is something I don’t understand.” Hearing those words in Tech’s eloquent voice nearly ruined me, but I waited in silence for whatever distain or betrayal might proceed them, unable to hide the weariness from my eyes as I forced myself to meet his gaze – I owed them that much. “There’s no reference to any samaritan involvement during that mission, and your records don’t have any mention of an ankle injury.” I drew a slow breath before explaining.

“A Separatist squad was sent to check for survivors – for anyone they could take prisoner. If the 104th took them out, it would have revealed their position, but they couldn’t risk moving some of their men, so I went… I told the droids that I’d been shot down by a lone clone, but that he’d already died from injuries sustained during the battle – even showed them a body. I was able to convince them that there was no one else still alive and got them to transport me back for medical treatment. I was barely out of surgery when then 104th snuck me out – their general didn’t feel right leaving me there after what happened.” The careful emptiness of my voice was a testimony to my certainty that my fate was already sealed; that I continued speaking purely to grant them every shred of closure I could while still allowed the freedom to speak.

“The cybernetic is Separatist technology. It was General Koon’s idea to keep it out of official records – he figured it would be best to keep my origins secret if I wanted to keep helping the GAR.”

“So much for all that bantha osik about trust.” I’d been waiting for that distain; that anger so vainly layered overtop a hurt I felt just as viciously as he did, but, when Crosshair’s sneered words lingered in the silence between us, it still sent my heart writhing within my chest as tears clawed up my throat. When my gaze moved reluctantly to find him, he looked at me with such hatred, I couldn’t keep those tears from spilling down my cheeks, and he turned sharply away to vanish into the hall of the Marauder. Jaw ground against the way my breaths began to waver, I sat perfectly still, waiting for the others to take their turn.

“Where you ever going to tell us?” Echo… That sliver of control crumbled beneath the quiet betrayal in his softly spoken question, chin dropping to my chest, face contorting with a grief too consuming to fight back. Jaw wrenching open in a gasped sob, it felt like an eternity passed in those fleeting seconds I took to gather enough strength to answer him.

“I wanted to – Maker, everyday I wanted to… but I was so scared.” Knuckles gleaming from how tightly my figured burr into my knees, I just managed to glance up at him. “By the time I trusted you enough to feel like I could tell you… I… just the thought of-of losing…” My lips shifted around words I just couldn’t force into existence, eyes sliding shut as though I could hide from what might come next.

“But we trust Echo.” My shoulders sank at Wrecker’s innocent confusion. “We got him from the seppies. If you say you’re on our side, I don’t see why it matters which planet you were born on.” When I turned to see the honest confusion in those mismatched eyes; the concern pulling his brows into the beginnings of a frown, I hurt all the more for it – for the distance this might wedge between them if he couldn’t understand.

“I have already received a response from Commander Wolffe.” Tech chimed, and even his voice was heavy with the severity of the conversation. “He has confirmed what you’ve said.” I felt no relief from his words. It wasn’t a matter of if they believed me – all I cared about was if they could forgive me. He said nothing more for a long moment, but I could see his mind racing over everything I’d said. “I regret that you felt the need to hide this from us… but I understand your reasoning to do so.” He stated slowly, eyes carefully trained on mine. “I hope in the future, you won’t feel the need to keep such information secret.”

Like a string had been cut, the tension swept from my body in a sudden rush of shock, jaw going slack, eyes open wide as my shoulders slumped. I could feel my heart racing; felt the air staling in my lungs for fear that even the movement of releasing it might cause him to change his mind.

“Assuming you are comfortable remaining a part of this squad despite our now knowing this… secret.” He added, a sliver of doubt causing him to hesitate in the face of my response. My eyes darted first to Echo, then to Hunter and Wrecker. None of them offered any objection to his words. And I broke.

With a violent sob, I launched myself forward, arms darting around Tech’s neck as I finally let the epitome of my fear and guilt and desperate gratitude overwhelm me. He tensed, hands flaring open for the handful of seconds it took for him to understand what had happened, but I only hugged him harder and, touch hesitant at first, he let his hands just settle between my shoulder blades.

I didn’t need to look to know it was Hunter who moved next, reaching out to grasp my shoulder, then Echo’s hand swept gently up my neck. Emboldened slightly, Tech’s arms wrapped more firmly around me seconds before Wrecker lock us both in an embrace so tight, I felt the air rush from the pilot’s chest in a sharp huff and couldn’t help but find myself laughing silently amidst sobs of relief.

“Just give him some time – he’ll come back around.” I didn’t realize my gaze had wandered back toward the hall until Hunter’s gentle words murmured through the silence. Glancing briefly at him, I tried to let him see the breadth of my gratitude and love before turning back to hide myself against the reassurance of my squad’s embrace.

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[findroleplay]

Hello!!!

I’m a 21f looking for an OC x OC Star Wars RP set in the prequels/Clone Wars Era!! I have a 19-20 year old female shadow OC and im looking for a preferably MxF dynamic with any of the following plots:

- My OC x A Jedi Knight or Master

- My OC x A clone trooper

Essentially the plot would be our characters falling in love during the war and trying to keep their relationship a secret!! I love grumpy x sunshine, pining idiots and secret relationship dynamics and my plots/backstories tend to be quite dramatic and angst heavy so please let me know your triggers beforehand!!

I use primarily discord and tend to write really long and detailed paragraphs. I love creating whole universes with our characters like clone squads and moodboards and playlists and memes and I love ooc chat too!!

If you’re interested then send me a DM with information about your OC and I’ll get back to you!! Hope to hear from you soon!

-

[im-no-jedi]

a new year means more birthdays and more tsum tsums to make, so here's what I made for my bro this year! this is his Clone OC, Trigger. he's part of the Random Squad (the same as my Clone OCs Gunner and Mutt, @jam-n-ham's Chase, and @knight-tyme's Cutoff). he's a Shock Trooper (obviously), very aggressive, and owns a bazillion different weapons (although heavys are his go-to). we like to headcanon that he was one of the troopers on Kamino during Aftermath (I personally like thinking he was the one who shot AZI and took Omega away)

surprisingly, this was my first time making a Clone tsum tsum! guess I gotta start making some more now 😁