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imarvelatthestars · 8 months

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Wild, Uncharted Waters

Pairings: 99 x ex-Jedi f!Reader, ft. the Domino twins & Rex

Warnings: description of battle scenes and character deaths, bittersweet ending; I didn't rewatch the episode, so I'm sure the scenes from the Battle are a little off.

Notes: title taken from the song of the same name on 'The Little Mermaid' soundtrack

Beautiful things are not allowed on Kamino. The food is dull and bland and taste more like paste than anything remotely edible. The weather is gloomy and aggressive more often than it is pleasant. The bounty hunters and various Mandalorians that have come to train the other clones are stern and stony faced, few of them care for the lives beneath them and even the ones that do care care very little. 99 does not expect beauty in his life, but that doesn't keep him from searching for it.

He sees it in his brothers every day - they never stop fighting, never give up. They're strong in heart and mind, as well as body, stronger than he's ever been. They're brave and brilliant and deadly. He wonders what it would be like to be that beautiful.

He sees it in the Jedi that come to visit, especially in Shaak Ti. She is a magnificent woman. 99 sees a wisdom in her that goes beyond anything he's ever experienced, he sees compassion and grace and power that could outmatch even the best bounty hunter, even the best clone. He wonders if anything could ever be as beautiful as she is.

And then he sees you. It's completely by chance. Civilians aren't usually allowed on Kamino, but you are and that fascinates him. He wants to know why and no one ever notices him anyway, not even the other brothers, so it's not hard to follow after you and your party and, well, snoop.

The Jedi are concerned about morale, they worry about the mental health of their troops in the face of so much violence and death. The Kaminoans aren't keen on outsiders interfering with their projects, but you and the Jedi both refuse to budge - the men need support and you're here to give it to them.

The only other humans he's seen are his brothers, not even the human Mandalorians show him their faces. But you - you're different. Your stature, your voice, your clothes, everything is so unlike the things that have shaped his reality. The only thing he finds even remotely similar is your eyes because they burn as brilliantly and impassionedly as every other clone's does.

99 wonders if anything could ever be as beautiful as you.

It's a blessing and a curse that the clones like you.

They don’t trust easily, you’d been told. They don’t like outsiders. They’re not like us. Be careful.

The commandos are the ones that fit that mold more than the rest, although there are a few that offer glimpses of something soft and gentle beneath their helmets. Like Darman and Scorch. Even with Niner and Fixer, you pick up on moments where you see how brilliantly they’d shine if they were anywhere else, if they could find themselves beyond the confines of being a killing machine.

But the other clones are relatively friendly and eager to talk with your staff. Some open up right away – Waxer comes to mind, Tup, Fives, and Echo, too, as well as many of the cadets. Others are more difficult, like Commander Wolffe and the men that make up his higher ranking officers. They’d apparently been through hell early in the war and lost too many brothers to count. They would need time. But they also had Master Plo on their side, so in a way they were better off than many other troopers.

The blessings come in knowing that you’re helping these men through their trauma. The curse comes in the pain their trauma comes drenched in. It rolls off of them in waves, pulsates through the Force until it hits you so strongly that it threatens to knock your feet out from under you. Their pain becomes yours – the blaster bolts whizzing past their heads, the gut-wrenching loss of every brother on the battlefield, the cruel words their trainers spit at them and the careless manner in which the Kaminoans regard them. And the pain burns. It fills your lungs like molten lava, lights your every nerve on fire until you can no longer see anything but the spotting edges of your blackened vision and you’re forced to confine yourself to your quarters and meditate the rage away.

This is why you left the Order in the first place. This is why you never received a Master. Your anger has always terrified you, your natural rage in the light of injustice has always threatened to overwhelm you. Seeing the injustice on Kamino is no different. You feel as if you’ll drown in your emotions. And it triggers every other negative emotion you’ve ever felt.

Her emotions control her, she does not control them. You can still hear Master Windu’s voice. You’d always admired him, always wondered if you could be good enough to be his Padawan one day. Impassioned, she is. Dangerous, these feelings. The Dark Side, I sense in her. It still stings, even half a decade later, to remember Master Yoda’s decision. We can’t. It goes against the Code. The fellow youngling you’d fallen in love with all those years ago. The guilt and betrayal you’d felt in your gut after being turned down. The disgust you’d felt with yourself for wanting to give in to your basest desires, your most human desires. Difficult, it will be. Easy, your path is not. The last piece of advice the Jedi had ever given you before you left for the Service Corps.

It all added up to one awful conclusion: you are not good enough and you will never measure up.

Your mind threatens to drag you to a dark place, you can sense the oncoming panic attack through the Force. And you’re too tired to fight it. You open yourself up to it when a sudden clattering of sharp, metallic sounds pierces through your withdrawal and you come blinking back into the present moment.

Your room is unlit, but there’s someone else in there with you. Not a danger, that much you can tell. Whoever it is, they seem panicked and… embarrassed?

“-rry. I’m so sorry, ma’am.” The distinct voice of a clone comes from the general direction of the pile of cleaning equipment on the floor. Strewn about in the open doorway. “My apologies.”

You’re quick to offer the clone a hand and pull him out of the rubbish, although you can’t make out any distinguishing features with how dark it still is. The light from the hall shows you that he’s shaved his head, but nothing else.

“Are you alright?”

He nods and starts picking up his things almost immediately. “Y-Yes, ma’am. I’m so sorry t’ disturb you. You and your friends are usually gone this time of day and-“

“It’s alright, trooper. I’m not upset.” You swipe away the remainder of your tears under the guise of itching your undereye. “Just taking a bit of a break. I think I overworked myself today.”

You half expect him to laugh at you. Compared to his job, yours looks like a piece of cake. Sitting around and listening to other people’s problems? Try getting shot at, civvie. But he doesn’t. In fact, he smiles so intensely that you can feel it in the Force.

“I’ll get goin’, then,” he rumbles with a quick pat on your hand. “Leave you to it.”

“You don’t have to,” you say before you can even think better about it. You’re not sure where the sudden desire for company comes from, but this clone’s presence is soothing. He feels kind. “You can stay. If you have work you need to do? I won’t get in your way.”

He considers this for a moment and you can sense his apprehension, but whatever it is giving him pause must be trivial because then he nods and agrees to stay. He moves awkwardly to the light panel on the wall, like he's limping, and it strikes you that his silhouette is distorted in the dark. Almost as if-

It takes you by surprise at first and you know it's plain on your face, but once you get over your shock, you offer the clone a full smile. He's nearly half a head shorter than the rest of his brothers, his skin unusually pale and blotchy, and his shoulders and back are severely misshapen. But the kindness you had sensed in him shines through in its fullness on his face, in his eyes. It nearly bows you over, like all the pain and trauma you pick up on from the other clones, but this time it's bright and carefree like a wave on a summer shore.

You stick your hand out and give your name. It's an offering and an apology.

His palm is clammy in yours, but his hands are large and broad. "I'm 99."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, 99."

And just like that, a small part of the darkness lurking in the depths of your mind dispels in his light. He's not like any man you've ever met.

Things come easy with 99. He makes you smile until your cheeks hurt and laugh until you're lightheaded. He shares his thoughts on all kind of things, the war, the Jedi, his brothers, the destiny he feels he missed out on by being born different. And you open up easily with him, as if he were the one sent to Kamino to ease your despair and not the other way around. You tell him about your early years in the Temple, the trials you failed and the Knight you longed to become, the anger and the love that overflowed from within you, holding you back. You find a kindred spirit. You hope he has too.

He works hard. Too hard. The Kaminoans don't treat him as well as they should, but then again, they don't treat any of the clones how they should. He's an outcast even among his brothers and there are few who pay him any attention. It would normally send you into a rage and a lot of the times it does, but there are moments where it doesn't. Like now. When he steals you away from your very serious job and your very serious co-workers to a secret spot in Tipoca City. He's only able to do this because he's so overlooked, but he doesn't let either of you dwell on it.

"Nobody else knows about this," he explains as he coaxes you down the rusted old tunnel leading from the inner city to the exterior. "I found it while I was cleaning one day."

"What... is it?"

"It's an old service hatch, mostly for external repairs, but no one uses it anymore."

You squeeze his hand. "Except you?"

He grins, and it makes your heart feel fuzzy. "Well, only sometimes. It's just up here, c'mon."

The hatch opens up to a small platform near the top of one of the highest levels in the city, no bigger than the space needed for a couple of workers. The air is cool and crisp and salty, but it's drier than the planet's been since you arrived due to Kamino experiencing its one sunny day of the year. Normally you'd consider an excursion like this too dangerous with the rain pouring down on the durasteel. Today, though, it's warm and only a little damp in the corners.

"What do you think? It's beautiful, isn't it?"

You can see everything in all directions up here. Not that there's much to see, it's all water, but he's right. With the sunshine filtering through the cloud cover and the wind whipping the sea into waves of sea foam, and with 99's face turned toward the sky, his eyes alight and sparkling, it is beautiful.

"How many of your brothers know about this? I'm surprised they haven't left any graffiti behind."

99 looks confused. "I've never told them. You're the first." And you choose not to read into the sudden flush in his cheeks.

"That's..." That's incredibly sweet of him, to trust you enough to share his best kept secret. "Thank you."

"It's nothing," he shrugs.

"No." Your hand finds his. "Thank you, 99. For sharing this with me. I'm honored."

"Oh, no. No, I should be the one who's honored. I don't deserve a friend like you."

Is he crazy? Of course he does! He deserves more than you could ever give him. "Don't say that," you urge as you turn so you're facing him properly. "You're the best person I know. I love-." The sentence sticks in your throat for some reason, though you're not entirely sure why. Like the thing you want to say isn't what your heart wants to say. But that's silly. "I love being your friend. And I love this. It's beautiful."

You're beautiful, you think when the sun hits his eyes just right. But that's not usually a thing that friends say, so you hold it in your heart instead. You wonder if anyone else could ever be as beautiful as him.

Unfortunately for you, you hear 501st trooper Fives before you see him. "Hey, there's my favorite civvie!" His mess kit goes clattering on the table with a raucous, metallic sound that hurts your ears, and then he's dropping heavy into the seat beside you. "You haven't been trying t' avoid me, have you?"

"Can you blame her?" Echo sits across from his brother with a sigh and a sympathetic glance turned your way.

You stifle a snort. "Hello to you too, Fives. Please, make yourself comfortable."

"Yeah, yeah, hello, all that nice crap. I saw you."

You and Echo exchange a look. "I see you too. Glad we have that covered."

But he shakes his hands as he frowns. "No no no. Yesterday. With 99," he adds with a sly little grin and a wink. "You've been holding out on me. I didn't know you liked the quiet ones."

It's a wonder he can't hear your kriffing heartbeat with how flustered you suddenly feel. Just what is he implying? How could he even think that you and 99...?

"We're just friends."

"Right, and my name's General Skywalker."

Fives is an idiot. He's always stirring up trouble, getting into things he shouldn't, cracking jokes and playing pranks. It stands to reason that this is just another one of his pranks. He's just trying to get a rise out of you since you're usually so professional, just teasing you because he can. But then why would he pick on 99, of all his brothers? How could he know how you really feel?

And that's the thought that terrifies you the moment you think it. Because you hadn't realized you felt any way about 99, let alone in the sort of way Fives is implying. It had just never occurred to you. He never showed any interest and you just wanted a friend, and it's not like you were looking for romance- not that you're feeling romance of any kind! Because you're not. 99 is your friend. He makes you laugh. He shines his light into your darkest shadows. He's strong and kind and so, so gentle. And... and...

You shove your elbow into the trooper's ribcage, knowing it won't do any damage but hoping he'll get the point. "Shut up, Fives."

He's grinning like a loth cat that got the cream. "I'm right, aren't I?" he hums with wiggling eyebrows.

"I'm feeding you to a bantha first chance I get."

He kicks Echo under the table. "Yeah. I'm always right when it comes to these things, eh vod?"

Echo hides his grin behind his fork. "Oh, shut up, Fives."

Kamino is the same as it always is the day of the attack. You're looking through your schedule to double check the list of troopers on your roster (and perhaps to ensure that you can still sneak away to visit 99 around lunch) when the entire city shakes. Earthquake is your first thought - that is, until you look out your window and see the waves crashing into the base of the city and you remember where you are. Then come the ripples in the Force.

Something is coming, something dark.

The rest is a blur. You're aware of more ripples, Jedi this time and the clones under their command, but you're also aware of all the death. It's everywhere. It's in the skies above and in the entire city, rocking the very foundations until you're half convinced it's going to fall into the ocean.

For a moment, you forget yourself and reach for your lightsaber, only to remember that it lies in the Jedi vaults. No matter. You can still help. You grab a blaster and a med pack, even though you're only marginally trained to use both, and you run where your gut tells you to go.

It's chaos. Droids and blaster fire and rain in your eyes, men screaming as they die with holes in their chests, every now and then the flash of a saber. It's war. You've sensed it in the words and whispers of memories drifting to you in the Force, but now you're living it and it's awful. You're paralyzed by the horror. A trooper shouts something in your direction just before an explosion knocks you off your feet.

Everything is both muted and strikingly louder than before. There's a ringing in your ears and your teeth hurt. The ocean is above you and the sky is below, there is nothing but the wind on your face and shrapnel in your legs. And then there is everything. The war comes rushing back. You land on hard duracrete, air pushed from your lungs and head spinning, and you can feel the lives around you flickering in and out as they're shot down.

This isn't right. None of this is right. You should be in your office with one of the troopers, maybe the one right in front of you, the one with the smoking blaster hole in his visor. You should be looking at your chrono double, triple checking how many hours you have until 99 takes you to another secret place he's carved out of Tipoca City's unforgiving walls.

99. Your stomach drops. Where's 99?

They say that a human can do incredible things under the influence of an adrenaline rush. A mother can lift an entire speeder to save her child, a soldier can endure endless kliks of physical labor and exhaustion to reach his target. A never-was Jedi can pull herself to her feet, bleeding and bruised, and cover the length of a city in half the usual time without feeling any of the durasteel embedded in her shins.

The Force, on the other hand, can do things just as incredible. It can overwhelm and overload, it can bring peace and healing, it can trigger anger and fear. It can zero in on a single heartbeat, a single signature, and it can track that heartbeat through a battlefield. It can give strength to the one who wields it, however unknowingly, a clarity so often chased after but never achieved.

You find that clarity in 99. In his smile, his voice, the terrible jokes he cracks and the way he hums to himself when he thinks he's alone. In the hideaways and the secret moments, the trading of sweets in the janitorial closet and the latest news reports from Coruscant in the mess hall. In the way he says your name. In the way that he's so beautiful and he doesn't even realize it. His heart. His heart is so...

It's choking. The heartbeat you're tracking, it's wrong. Something's wrong.

No. No no no no no, not 99.

The clarity of finding your purpose is replaced with the fog of rage. You can hardly see. Battle droids shoot at you, only to be crushed into distorted balls of metal. The city rumbles under your feet, you push yourself to run even faster. Clones are dying all around you. You only care about one.

The room you find yourself in is full of blaster smoke and lit solely in shades of red. A handful of cadets are scattered throughout, shadowed by their older brothers in their full armor, defeated droids at their feet. All you see is the body on the floor. The gangly limbs, the twisted spine, the man you...

Someone is calling your name, but you don't hear it. You can only hear your heartbeat and the blood thundering through your veins. You're on the ground, ripping bacta patches out of your pack and tearing them open with your teeth.

"Stay with me, 99. Stay with me."

Maker, his back is all singed. Droids can't feel pain, but in this moment you wish more than anything that they could. You'd bring them back to life and kill them all over again. You see red, and you're not sure if it's the emergency lighting or your hatred.

His shirt rips apart under your fingers as you poke and prod at his skin. The bacta's on but it's not working, you can feel it not working. Why isn't it working? You reach out through the Force, desperate, blind, crying, hoping.

His body is still warm. That's a good sign, right? But there's no life inside it. It's just an empty shell. Like the thing that's been living within it went out for a walk, it'll be back soon. Just a quick walk to enjoy the sunshine. That's all.

His spinal cord is severed. The Force doesn't tell you in words so much as it transfers this information into understanding. He can hear you, but he can't speak and he can't move. His lungs aren't working right. He's already got one foot in his grave. He's almost gone.

"I'm here," you say, but the voice doesn't sound like you. "Hold on, 99. Please. Just hold on, I..."

I can't lose you.

He's fading.

I just got to know you.

He's gone already.

I don't want to live this life without you.

You bow your head so your forehead touches his ear and your tears drip onto his face. "I love you."

It can't end like this. How can it end like this? How could the gentlest man in the universe deserve a death like this?

He died with honor, says the nothingness in your head. He died how he lived - in service of his brothers. Let him go.

You shake your head. "No."

"Hey." This voice is real, as real as the hand that settles on your shoulder. "He's gone, civvie."

"We lost a true soldier," says another voice. "He really was one of us," says another, but it's all so wrong. They speak with his voice and yet they're not him. His lungs draw no breath. His body remains still. "I can't believe he's dead."

There is no death, there is the Force.

You can't remember the last time you recited the Code. It's been years by now, years of agonizing over mistakes made and could-have-beens, years of wishing for things you will never have and things you have lost. Years of mourning and bitterness and fond recollection.

There is no chaos, there is harmony.

He calmed the storm that raged inside your head the first night you met. He saved you from yourself without even knowing it.

There is no passion, there is serenity.

You remember the day on the top of the city, the day the sun shone and 99 smiled and you thought he was beautiful.

There is no ignorance, there is knowledge.

You love him. You've always loved him. And you were always meant to come here. This was the way all along.

Something stirs in your fingertips.

There is no death, there is the Force.

You aren't letting him go, not so easily, not like this.

There is no death, there is the Force.

What soul you have is broken and weary, but it is determined. It reaches out into the space beyond space, into the void between atoms, between you and 99, between you and the universe. It tangles its tendrils around the fragile body in your arms, binds you together, binds you to the Force.

There is no death, there is only the Force.

Come back to me, you plead. Come back, 99.

It's quiet in the Force. Peaceful.

There is no death.

You can almost feel him. Drifting in the ether, content, asleep. He's so close.

There is only the Force.

"99." There are no words in the Force, but the idea is the same. You speak and he hears you. "Take my hand."

There aren't hands in the Force, either. Same general idea.

"Where are we going?" he asks, but his 'eyes' are closed. He's 'smiling'. You sense it.

"Home."

"I like it here," he says after a minute. "It's quiet. Can we stay for a while?"

You're crying. "You'll die."

"That's alright. I did my duty, didn't I? The boys. How are the boys? Did they make it out alive?"

"They're alive, 99," you sob, "but you're dead. Please. Please, just come back with me. I love you!"

He touches your face and warmth blossoms in your cheek, spreading quickly throughout your body until you've been warmed from head to toe. "Oh," he sighs so happily. "I love you, too. I'm glad I get to say it."

"You're saying goodbye. Don't say goodbye."

"You're beautiful, you know. I always thought so. As beautiful as the sunrise."

"So are you."

99 doesn't come back with you. His body is cold when you return to yourself. Fives is there to hold you, frozen though you are with shock, while Echo puts it upon himself to care for the body. The red lights have switched off and the room is a cool blue again. Everything hurts.

"We'll take whatever help we can get," says Rex, "but are you sure?"

You nod once. "I'm sure."

"You don't have to do this for him, you know."

"I'm not. This is what's right, you and I both know it." A flicker of icy blue-white catches your eye as you smile. "But honoring his memory is a nice bonus."

Rex nods in understanding. His eyes are heavier now, wearier and they crease easier. The war has not been kind to him, not even now that it's officially over.

"I'll go tell Echo. Thank you."

He clasps a hand on your shoulder before leaving. You turn to the figure shimmering into view on your right and smile. The figure smiles back, all lopsided and toothy. It's your favorite smile in the galaxy.

"I told you I'd find him. You owe me 10 credits."

99 just laughs as he settles on one of the nearby crates, his feet dangling over the floor. "I don't have any money."

You tsk. "What sort of date are you? You planning on paying me back?"

He pretends to think about it. "One day. A long time from now."

Your heart twinges. It always does with him. The pain of his death has lessened with time and with his memory, but it still stings when you recall just how far you still have to go to be with him again. It'll be alright, though. You're fighting for his brothers, just like he did, fighting injustice in the galaxy like you always wanted to.

"I look forward to it."

It's a long wait, but it's worth it.

prompt: "i love you" 💙✔️

@clonexreaderbingo

taglist: @dystopicjumpsuit @clonemedickix @freesia-writes @deewithani @wings-and-beskar @wolffegirlsunite

#clone trooper 99 #99 #cfb2023 #99 x reader #clone trooper 99 x reader #star wars #clone trooper x reader #i accidentally snagged a couple doctor who lines for dialogue but what else is new #so :) how we feeling

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wantonlywindswept · 9 months

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CC Aurek Batch + 1

wanted to write some command batch shenanigans with a side of Just Slightly Weird. are they force-users? fae? eldritch creatures? i have no idea!

obligatory mandoa meanings, tho I use them as names so it doesn’t really matter, and it’s clarified who is who later on:

Mirdala: clever, smart

Edee: jaws, teeth

Kote: glory

Buirkan: responsibility

Gettse: courage, nerve

---

"Why is it," Alpha-17 sighed, "That whenever stupid shit happens, it's always you five?"

Every member of CC Batch Aurek blinked at him in unison, wearing the same identical expressions of innocence.

Creepy.

"Sorry, sir," Mirdala lied, like the little liar that he was.

"Didn't mean to cause problems, sir," Edee also lied.

Kote opened his mouth but Alpha held up a hand, stopping him from speaking. Kote was a terrible liar. It was embarrassing. Alpha had completely failed in teaching that one any kind of subtlety, and did not need a reminder of the reason for Fordo's constant mockery.

"Alright," he said, "Show me the poor cadet you kidnapped."

"I wasn't kidnapped," a young, mulish voice said from behind the perfectly-arrayed line of teenage CCs. "I came on purpose."

"Yes, I'm sure they gave you the option of refusing," Alpha drawled. He glanced pointedly toward Buirkan, who at least had the decency to look somewhat guilty about it. "Go on, move."

The quintet shuffled uncertainly, holding out just a little longer before finally parting to reveal the cadet tucked behind Kote and Gettse, gently pushing him forward. Alpha'd had his suspicions about why Aurek decided to openly lay claim on a CT, and the blond roots in the kid's hair certainly explained some of it.

"CT-7567, sir," the cadet said, snapping to attention. His salute was a little shaky, but Alpha didn't often interact with the CTs, and the rumors of him being an asshole were--well, true, but at least a little overblown.

When the cadet stopped there, offering nothing else, Alpha turned his attention to Aurek with a pointed, judgemental frown.

Kote stepped forward and wrapped an arm around the kid's shoulders.

"His name is Rex," Kote said proudly, with the smugness of someone who'd clearly won naming rights, going by the disgruntled looks from his batchers.

"He's one of Us," Edee added, belligerent, as if that was enough to excuse the five of them causing chaos and abducting a CT from the cadet barracks in broad fucking daylight. But Alpha heard the emphasis, and--

Well. That was enough.

The thing that not a lot of people knew--or if they did, they shut their damned mouths about it--was that the very first batch of CC-class clones decanted came out...odd.

'Unsettling,' had been the word Mij Gilamar used, said without rancor, unlike the reactions from some of the other trainers. 'Unnatural,' was what Walon Vau called them. Isabelle Reau said that they were 'horrible little abominations', and while Alpha cared exactly fuck-all about what Reau and Priest had to say, he still made sure that Aurek never ended up near their illicit battle circles.

Jango Fett had watched them for a single training session, face growing steadily darker as they demolished the shooting range, and then he'd turned heel and left without a word.

Alpha was pretty sure that was just because they were already close to beating his scores. Sucks to suck, Prime.

There was nothing psychologically, physically, or genetically wrong about Aurek--that the Kaminoans could prove, anyway--and all five were clearly on track to be high-ranked soldiers whenever the war finally started.

But they were, admittedly, really fucking weird sometimes.

"That true?" Alpha asked the cadet. "You're one of them?"

Now that he looked, he could see the similarities between Rex and the rest of Aurek: the little CT was already synced with them, breathing and blinking in time. His eyes bore the same unnatural intensity, and Alpha wondered if he would also be able to locate the others no matter how far away they were.

Rex nodded, a pleased smile breaking across his face. It didn't seem like he smiled that often.

"Yeah!" he said enthusiastically. "I'm one of them, and they're one of me, and we're all gonna be together now."

Rex looked up at Kote, who smiled besottedly down at him.

"This is Cody!" he said.

"And this is Gree," he said, patting Gettse's arm.

"That's Bly," he said, nodding toward Buirkan.

"And those're Fox and Wolffe," he said, pointing at Mirdala and Edee.

Alpha took in the newly-named Aurek batch with raised eyebrows. They couldn't quite mask their happiness at the new monikers, and Bly stepped forward, meeting Alpha's gaze.

"We will always treasure the names you gave us," he said earnestly, as if Alpha was some tubie in need of reassurance, "But we gave him his name, and he wanted to give us something back."

It wasn't as if the clones had possessions, after all, and names were one of the few things that the Kaminoans couldn't take away.

Alpha scoffed and cuffed Bly in the side of the head.

"I'm not offended, you little brat," he said, "And I'll still call you what I damn well want."

Bly just beamed at him, pleased, and Alpha rolled his eyes. He pushed Bly back into the circle of his batchers and their new plus-one, and if there was any kind of gentleness in his touch, he would deny it until he died.

"Meet up for training tomorrow at the usual time," he ordered, "And bring the kid with you."

Grins all around.

"Sir, yes sir!"

#tcw #tcw fanfiction #alpha-17 #commander cody #captain rex #commander fox #commander wolffe #commander bly #cc batch aurek #i don't actually hc them as being the first CC batch #but for this story they are #hey who's having emotions about names being gifts not meeeee

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snowywinterevenings · 24 days

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Oooo for the WIP game... "Invisible" has me very: 👀👀👀ヾ( ᗒ‿ᗕ )〴

please tell me MORE! *chin hands*

Invisible is a soulmate au where the clones have their marks burned off after they appear so that the Kaminoans can at least pretend their product is perfect. Codywan suspect pretty quickly after they meet that they’re soulmates, but there’s a lot of dancing around it for a multitude of reasons until the whole back to back horrors of Kadavo and the Hardeen arc.

Also I made up a clone OC named Danse with a whole cute soulmate story just to kill him off. I am a monster.

I swear I’ve posted a snippet from it before, but I can’t find it, and I’ve changed it like fifty times anyway so here is a little bit:

The mark remains a secret for a week, but there are apparently so many cropping up on their perfect soldiers that the Kaminoans take to doing inspections. Bly and Fox see the mark before the Kaminoans, and Cody watches sadness flicker across Bly’s face as Fox hisses at him not to do anything he might regret. Cody remains still when the scientists call him forward, wondering what exactly they will do if he refuses to follow them. Will they recondition him? Decommission him?

He hears footsteps behind him and whirls, coming face to face with two of their trainers. They order him to follow the scientist, but Cody gives a shake of his head and readies himself for a fight. He has never had anything that is his and his alone, and they aren’t going to take his mark away from him. The trainer on his left reaches for his blaster, and a heartbeat later Cody has him disarmed on the floor and clutching a bloody nose. The other is a bit more of a challenge, and Cody ends up with a mouthful of blood from his teeth cutting open the inside of his lip.

The scientist has already called for backup, but Cody is surprised when Alpha appears rather than other trainers. Alpha grabs him by the arm like he’s an unruly cadet rather than a commander, his hand like a vice, and Cody just barely bites his tongue to keep from accusing him of being a traitor. He shoves him toward the scientist, but he doesn’t let go once they’re out in the corridor, pushing Cody ahead of him.

Cody feels Alpha deliberately slow their steps so that the Kaminoan is too far ahead to hear them speak. Alpha keeps his voice low, and Cody nearly comes screeching to a halt, but the pressure on his shoulder intensifies as if Alpha knows he’ll round on him given the opportunity. “Better the mark burned off than your brain scrambled so badly you can’t even remember your name. And you definitely won’t meet your soulmate if you’re dead.”

“They have no right–”

“No, but it’s going to happen anyway.” The scientist glances back, eyes narrowing for the briefest of moments, but they continue on, apparently satisfied with their clones’ progress through the halls. “The mark will be gone, but the bond won’t be. You’ll know if you find them.”

#my WIPs #wip game #answered #invisible #codywan #soulmate au

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celestial-specter · 2 months

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So I finally got around to watching the first three episodes of the final season, and I’ve got to say, I’m very intrigued by the addition of the three clone cadets! Most of my interest comes from their names- and since I haven’t seen anyone else discuss them yet, I thought I’d throw my own thoughts out there.

As we have seen in many star wars projects over the years, character names seem to be overwhelming literal, either revealing elements of their background, or foreshadowing their future (think how in Rebels, Kanan means ‘little wolf’, while his true name, Caleb, means ‘dog’, foreshadowing his link to the Loth wolves.)

Of course, we know that the clones either name themselves or have the name bestowed on them by their brothers (think of Echo getting his name). The trio of clones that we meet in Paths Unknown are named Deke, Stak, and Mox. There hasn’t been much information released regarding at what age clones typically receive their names, however in the Clone Wars episode Clone Cadets, we see Cutup take his name from a trainer who criticizes him for his attitude. As that episode focuses on Domino squad’s final training simulation before graduation, and that they all appear to be fully grown adult clones, it can be assumed that they are all around ten years old, the same age of most clones sent to war. Given that we see Cutup choose his name during this episode, and that Echo is struggling with his nickname and remembering Fives’ name, it suggests that Domino squad had only recently begun thinking about what name they would choose for themselves.

While we haven’t been given a definitive age for Deke, Stak and Mox they are all still clearly children. I wouldn’t be surprised if they didn’t even have names by the time they were taken off Kamino, and had to create names for each other while trying to survive on the planet they were stranded on.

To begin with Mox, his is the name I could find the least amount of reference for. There seems to be three possible interpretations:

Mox is a type of fuel designed for use in nuclear reactors.

Mox is a shortened version of moxie, meaning ‘energy, courage, and determination.’

Mox is the Latin word for ‘soon.’

I’m not overly drawn to the first idea, but I can understand the second - as Mox is clearly the eldest and protective over his younger brothers, I can see him taking a name which shows that side of his personality. I also see Mox as a direct parallel of Hunter; both are the eldest brothers of their respective groups, and are both incredibly wary of outsiders due to their need to keep their brothers safe.

However, I much prefer the third choice. The idea that Mox’s name means ‘soon’ can have both good and bad implications. For starters, Mox is clearly the most emotionally conflicted throughout the episode, unsure of his place on the mission, and of his place once they leave the planet. Hunter assures him that he has time to consider being something other than a soldier, and Mox offers his hand to Hunter. This action could be foreshadowing that soon, Hunter himself will be able to retire from this lifestyle, by finding Omega and Crosshair. Alternatively, Mox’s name meaning soon could be a very bad omen for the batch, as it could foreshadow the clone cadets being used as leverage against them (I’m thinking this could come into play when the empire attacks Pabu if the cadets are there).

Moving on, the word Deke was originally coined by Hemingway as a shortened form of the word decoy. We do not see him act as a decoy in any way during this episode, so I believe it is solely to foreshadow future events. Considering the many parallels drawn between Deke and Tech during this episode (e.g. Stak dubbing Deke ‘the smart one’ and Deke almost falling to his death in the base) his name meaning decoy only makes me more convinced that Tech is still around in some capacity (even if that capacity is just his body being used for cloning experiments).

Finally, Stak is most commonly considered to be an old version of the word stick, which makes sense when you consider the basic stick-based weapons that the cadets carry, and Wrecker’s first words to Stak and Deke when he meets them: ‘Blaster beats stick, kid!’ Knowing that the Star Wars writers love foreshadowing, this comment has me thinking things might not end so well for Stak. Interestingly, another link I found while researching this is that Stak is a common phrase in the Rogue Trooper series, in which a war is fought between facist Norts and democratic Southers (you can already see the obvious parallels to Star Wars here). In the series, in an attempt to win the war, the Southers create genetically engineered soldiers, but only one, known as Rogue, survives. Even more links involve one of the main stories of this series being titled ‘The Marauders’, and each one of the genetically engineered soldiers having a bio-chip in their body. While not a direct link, these coincidences do make me think there is a direct link between the two medias, it is possible that there is a fan of the Rogue Trooper series within the team behind The Bad Batch.

Either way, I’m very happy to finally be getting some explanation into what happened to the young clones who never saw the battlefield during the clone wars - though I am a little concerned that their worth being tied to their unexplored identity as soldiers could lead to them taking risks in further episodes in the hopes of proving themselves.

#star wars tbb #star wars analysis #star wars spoilers #star wars the bad batch #star wars #sw tbb #sw:tbb #sw #the bad batch season 3 #the bad batch theories #the bad batch spoilers #the bad batch #tbb mox #tbb deke #tbb stak

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rare-clone-fic-exchange · 5 months

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Begin Again (Sergeant Soot x Reader)

Gifting to: Kassy aka @moonlightwarriorqueen <3

Summary: Reader is a youngling-care professional who cares very deeply about their little ones and isn’t afraid to protect them. Sgt. Soot makes a mistake, but he gets a chance to make it right.

Pairing: GN!reader x Sergeant Soot

Rating: G

Word Count: 1.7k

Warnings: n/a

Author’s Note: Sergeant Soot is a trooper stationed with Commander Grey’s Battalion, assigned to Jedi Generals Depa Billaba and Caleb Dume. He appears in the Kanan comic series! He has one or two lines, so I basically reverse-engineered him into an OC based on his sense of humour, matter-of-factness, and observational skills. Reader is based on a special friend who definitely shares some (protectiveness, fierceness, caring heart), but not all (lack of awareness about clone culture and lives) of the same qualities!

Read while listening to: Someone New by Hozier

~ Sergeant Soot's POV ~

A cacophony of sharp and squealing giggles pierced through the train as the doors slid open.

Through the HUD of his bucket, Soot — ever the alert sergeant — found himself assessing the source: four boisterous younglings of various species, with a humanoid chaperone in tow boarding the car.

“You’re a bantha bum!” taunted the Nautolan youngling to the humanoid youngling.

“Well, y-you’re a hairy bantha bum!” a small Twi’lek retorted.

“Oh yeah?! You’re all the hairiest bantha bums!” interjected the Rodian youngling.

“Shhh! Come, all of you, hush and sit!” Their chaperone insisted as they herded them into the car. They didn’t resemble the humanoid child, Soot thought. They also wore modest, but polished robes. Not their parent, but perhaps not a teacher either.

Breathless laughter and shrieks persisted as the group settled on seats across from where Soot and Big-Mouth stood. Both in full kit, fresh into their 48 hours of shore leave on Coruscant, Soot nudged a sharp elbow at his brother.

“Get a load of this,” Soot whispered.

Big-Mouth responded with an amused huff, “Aiwha-bait would never stand for it, eh?”

“Righto, vod.” The brothers chuckled softly amongst themselves.

Soot wondered at the tenacity of a person who could wrangle such a chaotic crew. He reminisced on exasperated trainers, watchful long-necks, and an “adolescence” (if you could call it that) as a very cautious cadet. As genetically-enhanced assets for the Republic, Soot knew there were different developmental expectations for him and his brothers, but it never seemed quite so clear until a moment like this.

The Nautolan whispered in the ear of the Rodian beside them, both giggling until their colourful cheeks flushed deeper with pigment. The two of them seemed to be conspiring, Soot estimated.

“Hey! Mister!” The Rodian hollered.

“Knapp…” The chaperone started.

“Where’s your blasters?!” The Nautolan piped up.

“Eysu!” The chaperone scolded, “Inside voice, please! And let’s all leave the soldiers alone.”

Soot chuckled, then rotated to expose the hip holster where his pistol rested. “You mean, this?”

“Wizard!” said Knapp and Eysu, simultaneously.

The chaperone’s worried brow deepened. “Sir, I would appreciate if you didn’t display weapons to my younglings. They are in my charge.”

Big-Mouth chimed in, “It’s a big and dangerous city. All the more reason to know how to protect yourself, I say.”

“I doubt my employers would agree with that sentiment.” The chaperone insisted.

“Sorry ’bout that,” Soot apologized. His remorse didn’t seem to appease them. The dull hum of the train only grew louder as the younglings quieted in response to the displeasure of their chaperone.

The chaperone dropped their glance, attending towards the younglings. Soot straightened up, turning the view of his helmet away. Undetectably, Soot continued to watch them from behind the tint of his visor.

Should I say something more?

“Alright everyone, this is where we get off.” The chaperone prepared the younglings to depart. With a curt nod to the two clones, they and the others exited the car.

Ah, kriff.

~ Reader's POV ~

“Come on, please!”

“Being around more clones is the last thing I need after the day I had.” you protested.

“Don’t be a scughole, they may look the same, but they do have different personalities y’know.”

After your unfortunate run-in earlier that day on the train, your younglings had continued to pester you with endless questions about soldiers, blasters, and what the second clone had meant by Coruscant being “dangerous.” It took every shred of your trained patience to maintain a pleasant demeanour until their parents or parents’ aides retrieved them. And now Ni’la was insistent on bringing you to the single most clone-populated establishment in the upper levels.

“I know that, Ni.” You rolled your eyes with disdain, “They’re different, sure, but I haven’t come across one yet who’s taken more interest in me than the size of their blaster or a retelling of their latest mission.”

“Maybeee you just haven’t met the right one yet!” Ni’la sassed. She was dressed in her best and had convinced you to get ready too — without telling you where she planned on heading tonight. Now, the two of you were a block away from the thumping, glaring, buzzy corner where 79’s lived.

“Oh, and you have?” you asked.

“No, but I’m ready to keep looking! C’mon, it’s looking so fun tonight!” She couldn’t contain her apparent excitement, as she sped ahead towards the entrance.

------

Ni’la had gotten her wish, a few times over, as you watched her enchant several clones on the dance floor. Her blue lekku move gracefully with the rest of her body as she swayed to the beat. Fatigued by the day, you had passed on her attempts to drag you with her, choosing instead to nurse your Pink Nebula in an adjacent booth.

You watched as a fourth clone approached Ni’la, evaluating for a second before he changed his trajectory and started heading towards you.

Oh great, you thought, here we go again.

Your trusted stone-faced “leave me the kriff alone” expression did little to deter the man. He was half-armoured like most of his brothers in the bar, but his dark hair was buzzed, short and much closer to the scalp than the typical cut many clones had.

With a beer in his hand, he strode up to the edge of your table.

Using his free hand to rub his buzzed head bashfully, he motioned with the beer towards Ni’la and his brothers on the dance floor. “Your friend’s got quite the fan club.”

“How’d you know she’s my friend?”

“You’re sitting alone, watching but not looking very interested in the pretty twi’lek or the guys she’s with, lookin’ less than interested in anyone and anything else here either.”

You gave a nod of approval for his skills of deduction.

“So why aren’t you up there with her?”

“Been a long day,” you started, taking another long sip.

“Care to enlighten me?” He motioned to the empty space in the booth beside you.

You did the math quickly: Ni’la would probably be occupied by one or more of his lucky brothers for the rest of the evening. Being alone was good and fine, but this was a rare occasion where your conversation partner seemed genuinely interested in you. So, why not?

“Just work. An extra… complicated day, I guess.”

He slid into the empty seat next to you. “What d’you do?”

You hesitated, considering that you didn’t need to revert to your usual level of discretion, seeing as he likely understood the value of informational sensitivity.

“I provide care for the younglings of Senate representatives.” You held your breath, never having revealed the true extent of your employment in such a casual setting before.

“Do you like it?”

You continued, both impressed and appreciative of his genuine curiosity: “Parts of it. I love my little ones; I love getting to help them learn and play and become who they want to be.”

“But…?” He held your gaze with his warm and assuring brown eyes.

“But being employed by the Galactic Senate has its complications. I’m sure you can relate.”

He nodded, pausing for a moment. This was usually about the time when soldiers you had met started revelling in their tales of glory. That he hadn’t taken the invitation to start talking about himself made him seem different; he was giving thought to your words, your life.

“How do you deal with that?”

“It’s been hard, and I’ve had to take my time. But when the frustrating bits of politics or real life trickles in, I try to keep my focus on the younglings and draw from how joyful and resilient they are. You know how they can be.” You gestured vaguely.

His face scrunched a bit at that.

“Honestly… We clones have a pretty minor frame of reference.”

“Oh?”

“As soldiers, we have an… interesting upbringing, to put it lightly.”

You’d never given much consideration to the intricacies of clones’ lives before their service.

“But you’ve never interacted with younglings in any capacity?” you asked.

“My battalion’s Jedi general is quite young, but he’s also probably not what you would consider a regular youngling,” he joked.

“No, I wouldn’t,” you huffed.

He smiled, pausing and fiddling with the bottle in his hand.

“So, youngling expert… What would you say to a real clueless dolt who shows off weapons to younglings?” he looked at you expectantly.

Your eyes widened as your brain processed the connection. Him. He was the same clone from the train. You gaped at him for just a moment more.

“… I would say that you’re very lucky that the younglings had such a short train journey. Their chaperone can get pretty nasty when they’re in protective mode.”

“Guess I’m also lucky a certain twi’lek decided to bring their chaperone to the clone bar tonight so I can properly apologize.” He rubbed his head again, “I’m sorry for that.”

“I appreciate it,” you replied, finding it hard to resist a small smile.

“Really, I am. Didn’t realize what a headache it would be for you.”

“It’s over now.” You shrugged, hands toying with your now-empty glass. “And now I know you really didn’t know better.”

“Well, alright then.” His brown eyes continued to hold contact with yours, his attention focused as if you were the single most important thing in the galaxy. You found yourself almost paralyzed by the tenderness promised by his gaze.

Ni’la’s musical giggles broke through the concentration of the moment. It had been a good night out for everyone, apparently. When she realized she had your attention again, she motioned to signal she’d be leaving with her chosen soldier. Her giggle climbed an octave, if possible, as the man swept her up bridal-style and headed out.

The pair of you at the booth scoffed in unison, humoured by your lively friends.

“Are you hungry at all?” he asked. “Wanna get out of here and grab something to eat?”

“As long as you keep that blaster holstered.” You flashed him a sly smile.

He chuckled, “Oh, I’ve definitely learned my lesson.”

#rare clone fic exchange #rare clone fic submission #reader insert #x reader #clone wars fanfiction #clone wars #sergeant soot x reader #clone sergeant soot #clone sergeant soot x reader

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lightsabersandblaster · 1 year

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ooo can I request a small headcanon about buir’s journey on being a parental figure? Like did it come to buir naturally or did buir figure things out along the way?

YOU MOST CERTAINLY CAN! Headcanons will be a fun way to get some stuff out while there's WIPs waiting 😂😂

I did not proof read this!!

Masterlist || Taglist Form

Becoming Buir (Clone Troopers x Parent!Reader)

I'll give Buir the credit of being awesome in the present, but OH GOD! It was a long journey to become that parent we all know and love.

The Kaminoans had dragged you into their world so you could pay off an old debt and just told you to look after them. 'Them' being a... bunch of kids?? You were pretty much this gif; "I'm not a baby person, I'm a bounty hunter!"

No matter what you said, the long-necks were adamant about your position as the 'caretaker' so you were stuck with the little tykes. They were unsure about you and you were unsure about them, especially since they were a sea of the same face.

A routine soon formed, you guided them to and from their training sessions and just watched, you were a constant presence to the boys. You believed if you could prove yourself useless, then they would let you free.

But... these cadets... these boys... The more time you spent with them, the more you began to care about their progress - about them! You hadn't realised it, but you started giving them in your head so you can pick who was who while watching them train.

You never intended to mention it to them, they still looked at you with suspicion. That was until the day one of the trainers became particularly angry with the cadets, and hit the boy that dared to stand up for himself

"OI!" You screamed, jumping down from your watchtower to rush over. You immediately shoved the trainer away while keeping the cadet behind you. "It's not his fault you suck at training!" and when the trainer tried to approach you again, you held your blaster to his head until he ran from the training room.

When you asked the blonde cadet if he was okay, you accidentally let slip the name you had given him, shocking the young man and embarrassing yourself to the point, you left without a word. But the encounter, also seen by the other cadets, changed the dynamic between you and the boys.

The boy you protected took on the name you gave him with pride. He had run up to you with a big grin on his face while he hugged your waist, proclaiming that Rex was now his name. He was no longer a number. Your heart grew three sizes that day and soon the other cadets came to you as well, announcing the name they gave themselves.

Then they came to you when they were injured or they dragged you to the med bay with them cause the droids scared them. It didn't take long for the name Buir to be thrown around when you entered the room. You realised the comfort you were becoming for them... it was something you never had growing up, so how could you provide it? You wondered to yourself.

The answer? Through a lot of trial and error. This... parental thing was all new for you and you'd often default to old 'Tough Mandalorian' habits when you were stressed. Every time you seemed to stumble in your role, you kept kicking yourself for it. Then kicking yourself even more as you realised how much you were caring for your role. Every time you tried to hide away and pick apart how horrible you were as a parent, a janitorial clone was always there to reassure you otherwise. The malformed clone found a different place in your heart as he became your comfort and kept you going.

So no, it wasn't easy, it took so much time to learn, but it was well worth it for the boys you raised. All these men love you and will fight for you because you fought to give them something you didn't have and they'll be forever grateful to you for it.

Taglist: @buddee @xjimneycricketx @ok-skyguy @snojii

#Clone troopers x reader #Aliit 99 #gender neutral reader #clone troopers x parent reader #star wars x reader #the clone wars x reader #Clone Troopers x Buir Reader #clone troopers x y/n #clone troopers x you #star wars x you #star wars x y/n #aliit 99 headcanons

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furious-blueberry0 · 6 months

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I have to say, I love the idea of the Clones slowly creating their own culture by interacting with their trainers on Kamino, with their Jedi Generals during the war and by just talking with the people they save from the Seppies, instead of just using the Mandalorian culture of Jango.

Don’t get me wrong, I really like when authors integrate Mando things in fanfictions or fanarts, I basically learned Mandalorian by how many fanfictions I read with it in it.

But at the same time the idea of a Clone unique culture is more appealing, and I really wish fancreators would toy with it more, it has so many possibilities!

Imagine:

A Twi’lek trainer is in charge of a class of cadets, he is an ex-bounty hunter who can’t stand his old job anymore, not after one of his failed assignments killed his son for revenge.

And now he is here, on a secret planet, being tasked to train little perfect child soldiers, who look at him with such wide and curious eyes just like his boy. But his mind is plagued by the sight of his son’s body, and the last conversation he had with him: the meaning of the Kalikori.

It always felt like a cruel destiny that the last thing he would talk to his son about was the Totem of his family history, where there were also his parents and his wife's deaths depicted on it.

And now his boy too.

It was on the day of his Death Anniversary that he had this conversation again, but with a different boy this time. A cadet had come to search for him, because he was late for the morning lesson, unaware that his trainer had drunk so much that he could barely stand on his feet, let alone teach.

And it was probably because of his drunken state that he decided to just talk to this boy, identical to all the others, with no real name, that possessed nothing but the clothes on his back, his brothers and the knowledge that was taught to him, knowledge about war and nothing else.

And so he talked to him, and gave him the last lesson he would ever teach on that planet, a lesson not about war but love:

He talked about the Kalikori, about its meaning, how it works and why it is made.

Every time he indicates a segment he talks about what it represents: his marriage, the birth of his son, his first job as a bounty hunter, the death of his parents, the death of his wife’s parents and so on… until his finger lands on the last one, his son's death.

“It’s a way to remember your loved ones” he says, looking into the dark and curious eyes of the cadet, so so similar to his eyes.

“so that even if you’re gone, if no one who knew them is still alive, whoever will see this, they’ll know that they must have been special to someone, and that they were loved, like nothing else in this universe. It’s a testament of your love for them, eyan bou. So that they may be remembered until the stars break.”

He was never seen again.

Some say that Jango himself threw him out of the planet after discovering his drinking tendencies, some say he just leaved on his own because he missed his home.

But there is a story of an older cadet who saw him on the platform outside, standing on the limit, looking at the waves below, and the moment the cadet looked away, and then turned back to the trainer… he was nowhere to be seen.

All his things were thrown away, including the Kalikori, and then a new trainer replaced him just a few days after, and everybody forgot about him.

But not the little cadet, he remembered his last lesson, and so he talked about it to his batchmates, and they talked about it to their friends, and by the time of the start of the war every single clone knew about it, about the testament of love, the one used to make the memory of your loved ones eternal.

After the start of the war this knowledge transformed itself into something new: in the little side pouch of every clone there was now a beaded cord, and on every bead there was a different drawing, sometimes a number, sometimes the initial of a name, or a symbol.

No cord was ever left behind, there were multiple clones who risked their life or lost it to retrieve it, to bring on the memory of their brothers. Some symbols were familiar to them, and some were not, some were for the soldiers who died by their side, and some were for those who never got out of Kamino, clones that no one cared about and were taught to forget they ever existed, but they just couldn’t.

It was not rare to have cords full of strangers, or to attach your own cord to that of a fallen Vod, or to have more than one bead dedicated to the same clone.

And it was not rare to die surrounded by droids while clutching the cord, and not the blaster, because the presence of those fallen brothers just made them feel safer and more invincible than any weapon they could ever have.

#I JUST THINK IT WOULD BE COOL OKAY!#AND THIS IS JUST ONE RANDOM IDEA GUYS!!! THINK ABOUT THE INFINITE POSSIBILITIES THIS HAS!!!#Also “eyan bou” means “young one” in Twi'leki #I thought it was sweet and decided to include it #I may add more new ideas if I get them #If you have some pls write them!!#I'm so so curious about what others think #star wars #clone wars #clone troopers #star wars clone wars

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mwolf0epsilon · 4 days

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Snips, Snails and Puppy Dogs' Tails

Summary: When first assigned to Flotsam Squad, CT-6922 is unusually shy for a clone. Quiet, evasive, anxious, and always wringing his hands together while looking at the rest of his new brothers as if expecting to be attacked. It's the loneliness and longing in his eyes in spite of the obvious fear, that makes '85 decide that this is his vod'ika now, and that he'll protect him no matter what.

[A prequel drabble that takes place in the Sugar, Spice and Nothing Nice Verse. Essentially, Dogma's reassignment to his and Tup's squad, after having been rejected and cast out of so many others due to his size-shifting ability.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

A tiny fleet of cleaning droids had been the only warning Flotsam Squad had gotten in regards to having yet another stray added to their already cobbled-together group. No formal announcement had been given during roll call. Not even a quick notification on their datapads during morning module-classes.

The droids had just waltzed into the barracks and started preparing their quarters for the new arrival.

It wasn't unusual of course, for the Kaminiise not to inform the youngest cadets of their hasty decisions. Especially in regards to when they were piecing together squads full of "difficult subjects". Good soldiers, even ones as inconveniently disagreeable as them, didn't need to be told anything beyond what to do, how to do it, and when to do it. It was a simple fact of life. Commanding officers got the debriefs. CT fodder got the meat shield work. Nothing more, nothing less.

And, honestly, it hadn't really bothered '85 all that much that he and his squad hadn't been told anything prior to the cleaning droids commandeering them away from the corner they'd claimed as their hangout spot. He was mostly just curious as to what the new vod (whoever he or she may be), would be like.

The questions he'd been rotating in his head had even been fairly simple ones. Because over-complicating this sort of thing hadn't ever really been that good of a way to spend the time. No point working themselves up over nothing, and all that...

Still, there had been a lot left to the imagination because they had no information whatsoever, and '85 hadn't felt all that put off by spending his rack time considering the many possibilities that awaited them.

Things like, whether or not Flotsam Squad would be getting someone who was as stubbornly loyal as '33. Or maybe a vod who was more nurturing and tactile like '37? Perhaps someone as resourceful and studious like '20. Or (and he had really hoped for the last option) someone who was just as energetically friendly and ambitious as '85 himself.

For the most part he'd spent his time daydreaming about it rather than actually sleeping (which had bitten him in the butt early in the morning when he'd woken up late and not been able to get first-meal). Thinking up someone that would fit in flawlessly with their band of misfits, while also wondering about what sort of circumstances might have led the unknown vod to their little corner of the 4th cycle barracks.

Flotsam Squad was known, after all, as the leftovers that no one really wanted to put up with...

In fact, it seemed like every trainer they worked with (including their squad coordinator) had something bad to say whenever Flotsam got brought up in conversation behind closed doors.

Conversations that boiled down to complaints of '33 and his infamously bad temper. A temper that got him into a lot of scraps with other vode from different squads. As well as frustrated grumbles about '37 and his inattentiveness, which often caused him to get hurt and jeopardize assignments. Or, more perplexingly, '20 and his unusual way of speaking with as little words as possible. Which apparently the trainers considered disrespectful, despite it being done for efficiency (and it wasn't like his acronyms were anything new or hard to understand...).

And, lest anyone forget, disparaging comments of '85 and his proclivity for both bouts of sudden crying and debilitating headaches. Headaches which got so bad that sometimes he ended up nearly throwing up during classes.

They were, in the eyes of many, bad batchers. The rotten apples that one ought to removed from the bottom of the barrel, in order to preserve the actual good ones that were fit for shipping and consumption from being equally spoiled.

It stood to reason that whoever was joining them soon, would be another "hard case" that the Kamiinise and trainers wanted out of sight and out of mind. That they'd need to help acclimate to the group, and show them the metaphorical ropes. That is to say, teach them on how the squad compensated for each other's inherent flaws and weaknesses.

Because, even though there were many valid complaints (and they were likely never going to stop coming), none of the trainers could actually say that Flotsam squad didn't pull their own weight. That Flotsam couldn't finish their daily assignments, even with the added obstacle they posed to each other.

Adaptability and loyalty to their kin were their strongest suites.

The cleanup and preparation of the bunk and locker had only taken a couple of hours max. The arrival of their new squad member, on the other hand, had taken another full day. Something which had honestly peaked their collective curiosity even more, and led to a full night of gossiping and speculation that had left them all giddy with excitement.

Especially when, during another unassuming morning roll call, they were suddenly presented with the scrawniest (skinnier even than '85 himself, who was often referred to as the runt of the litter by his ori'vode!) most tiniest 4th cycle cadet they ever did see.

The theories that had kept them up suddenly couldn't quite compare.

Were they getting a medical mishap of some kind? Had that been what had doomed the kih'vod to such an infamous squad? Some kind of health deficiency that the poor bugger hadn't been able to control? If anything, the hapless vod definitely looked the part. Quite sickly under the harsh white lights of the halls, and seemingly minuscule in comparison to the two long necks flanking their sides.

But it hadn't just been their new kih'vod's stunted height and gaunt physique that had made him look unusually small. His poorly posture, all hunched up with tired eyes cast downwards as if unable to meet theirs, hadn't been doing them any favors. Neither had the restlessness of their hands, which had been wringing each other like crazy, in a way that suggested both discomfort and uncertainty as to what to do with them.

He was, in both the nicest and meanest way possible, the definition of pitiful given human form. Like a mangy tooka kitten with a broken leg and sad wet eyes.

All at once '85 wanted to squish the little guy in a bear hug so tight it might snap bone.

"This is CT-6922." One of the long necks, the one wearing a medical officer's uniform, introduced brusquely. "Due to behavioral issue related disturbances, this is his 11th reassignment."

"It shall also be his last." The other, wearing a scientist's uniform, had grumbled in clear annoyance. Or as close to annoyance as the Kamiinise could get, since they all spoke with as much emotion as their faces could show. Which wasn't much. "No other squad will take this particular subject due to a series of unfortunate incidents. And if this one is also not an ideal fit, termination will be the only option left."

"As such, we are counting on your current track record with these more difficult allotments, to be able to reform CT-9622's poor cooperative marks into something of... Relative use."

Their squad coordinator (who had been present for the new arrival's introduction) had been the one who was being addressed. But, in the end, it had been the cadets of Flotsam Squad that had been the ones to truly take those words to heart.

The absolute seriousness of the kih'vod's situation.

It was thus decided by them right there and then, that the responsibility to take in and protect their new little brother was theirs and theirs alone. A life or death situation should, after all, outweigh whatever nonsense the long necks were on about, whenever they wrote off one of the vode as being utterly hopeless.

What did the Kamiinise know about brotherhood? About coming together to push each other to be and do better, when everyone else only saw the worst in you?

The answer was obvious: Absolutely nothing.

The long necks, as smart as they thought they were, could never really understand what it was like to be a clone or a vod. Neither could the trainers (who only saw them as their next paycheck). So yes, the Kamiinise might have been speaking to their haughty looking trainer, but it would be '33, '37, '20 and '85 who would make sure 6922 would thrive. That the little kih'vod would become the best of the best.

Even if the latter seemed to have had other plans...

The behavioral issues that had been alluded to were, ultimately, nothing quite like what they had expected in the end. With this being their new little brother's 11th reassignment, they'd sort of pictured that maybe he was the kind to get into fights and loud angry arguments (like '33 often did).

Instead what they'd immediately clocked in on after just a few hours of knowing the little fella, was the fact that '22 was just... Afraid...

Afraid and unwilling to be close to or open with any of them, to the point of remaining so quiet that they had almost thought he didn't need to breathe at all (except he did, in fact, need to breathe as the loud snores that came from his bunk pod were definitely not their imagination and the only sound they ever did hear him produce). It was almost as if he expected them to hurt him in some way if he did or said something they didn't like. And it was '85 who was the most concerned about this particular topic, since the idea of a clone being afraid of other clones was horrifying to him.

What could any of them do to help their new little brother feel welcomed into the squad, if he was too afraid to approach them? Too afraid of them to even accept that he needed their help? How did they reach out to him when he always stared at them as if they were going to bite his head off?

And what caused that fear to begin with?

Had '22 been attacked by other vode in the past? Had he been reassigned because he was a target for in-squad bullying? He was certainly not very strong looking. All skin and bones and shorter than he should be at their age group.

And it wasn't uncommon for the less agreeable trainers to make their squads of cadets fight amongst each other, if they thought one of the members was a bit of a weak link. '22 having been harmed by other vode wasn't too farfetched if it potentially involved outside influence, but it was still against the very nature of a clone to hurt another vod so much that he'd become so timid and skittish around others...

Unfortunately, only one person really knew the right answer. And said person wasn't really willing to share it with him. At least not at the moment. '85 had always been fairly patient for his age though. He could play the long game.

Especially after having decided that '22 was HIS vod'ika.

Sure, the little guy had promptly become Flotsam Squad's collective kih'vod (how could he not? he really did look like a bit of a pathetic sopping wet tooka that needed to be coddled), but he was '85's vod'ika in the same way that '33 and '37 had proclaimed that he was their vod'ika.

'22 was '85's and no one else's. It was a bit hard to explain to someone who wasn't aware of this particular clone sibling dynamic, but also not. An oxymoron of sorts. And, even if '85 was a bit too young to be anyone's big strong older brother that they could look up to with the utmost admiration (like the Alphas), something about those big sad eyes... It just seemed right for him to be '22's ori'vod.

Like it was meant to be.

Now if only his new vod'ika would understand this. That he could come to his brand new band of ori'vode and feel safe among them. Especially around '85 who had decided he would move mountains if it meant '22 would unclench his jaw just a little, and maybe even smile...

Breaking in the newbie (as '33 put it) was ultimately a lot of work. A lot of arduous heartbreaking work that revealed just how much of '22's fearfulness was truly ingrained in him. Even so, they did what they could to work around it.

'85 did what he could.

As days passed, a new sort of team dynamic formed. One where, as usual, Flotsam did what they could to help each other out during both practical activities, tests and module course work.

But now there was also '22 who, remarkably, seemed to be rather brilliant on his own. For all that he was smaller and weaker in constitution, '33, '37, '20 and '85 were astonished to discover that he was fantastic at getting assignments done without the need of any outside help.

What he wasn't particularly good at was acting as a part of the team.

Which was... A problem. Not because he was making it harder on any of them (far from it, he made himself rather scarce to them actually, but his methods were fairly easy to follow from just watching him and the group actually got their work done faster because of him), but because he would be expected to work with others once they all graduated and got put into a much larger battalion.

And if '22 couldn't be a part of a team, a member of a cohesive and cooperative battalion, he was as good as dead. Or worse...

So '85 redoubled his efforts to show him he could trust the rest of the squad just as much as they were trusting his methods. Spent days, and then weeks, and then a good part of '22's first month with Flotsam, making sure he was as approachable, friendly, generous and gentle as possible whenever '22 was around.

And in spite of the resistance he was initially met with, there had been a few promising results that proved he was on the right track with his flighty vod'ika.

Like how '22 began to gradually feel comfortable enough to sit down in the rest of the squad's presence without closing his bunk pod, just so he could catch up on some light reading. His frightened and frantic eyes darting less and less from the screen of his datapad to the group, as the minutes slowly ticked by. The tight knots of his tensed muscles slowly relaxing as he got into whatever it was he was reading.

Or how '22 started joining the group to eat, even if he still put as much distance between them and himself as it was physically possible while sitting at the same table. He'd even begun to set aside the things he did not like to eat (and he seemed to dislike a lot of food stuffs, which maybe explained why he was so small), only to then push his nearly empty food trey towards them, so that they could each have an extra serving of their own favorite treats. Treats that he seemed to have memorized them liking the most.

Or even how he'd cock his head in their direction, to listen in on their more outlandish ideas of how to solve some of the puzzles and problems they were given without a set of explicit rules to work with. Granted '22 never went with their bizarre ideas when he solved his own puzzles, but he seemed almost amused listening to some of the wilder takes. Even if he wouldn't do something quite like that himself.

Seeing him roll his eyes and his lips twitching ever so slightly upwards, had been the highlight of '85's day when he'd first seen it happening. It was hard work, but he really felt like he was getting somewhere.

Which, of course, made him really question why the other squads had found it so hard to work with his vod'ika... Surely being a little shy and independent shouldn't have lead to '22 being tossed out from 10 separate squads. Especially considering just how darn smart, attentive, considerate and resourceful he seemed to be.

It wasn't even that he didn't want to be a part of the team either

Seeing as '85 could tell just how much '22 wanted to engage. How his eyes followed them sometimes, not because he was scared, but because he wanted to join in on one of their free-time activities. He was just a little guarded! Guarded and unsure of how to meet them at the middle.

It made no sense... Until it did...

The true reason behind '22's reserved nature and difficulty integrating into other squads, had only come to light during an obstacle course of all things.

Now, obstacle courses weren't as difficult as combat, blaster and battle tactics training. There was not as much risk of injury, or room for arguments, when all you really had to do was get from point A to point B with only a few hurdles in between.

Except, as 4th cycle cadets, Flotsam squad was ready to be bumped up onto a new difficulty level that was outside of their comfort zone (the 3rd cycle courses were as easy as uj cake, for rambunctious and energetic boys like them).

And, with the hardness cranking up significantly, came something they were ultimately not prepared for: Practice fire to simulate their group getting shot at in the battlefield.

If you thought about, there was certainly a method to the madness. If clone cadets learned early on to be more attentive out in the field, then they would more likely survive their first deployment as fully fledged soldiers without losing their lives or limbs. But without any sort of warning or any real idea that they should be expecting more resistance than usual, Flotsam had ended up getting surprised in the worst way possible.

Which had less to do with learning a valuable lesson, and more to do with the trainer in charge of the exercise... They really didn't like trainer Bric.

Unsurprisingly, it had been '33 who had been the first to find out about the course's alteration. One moment he was rushing forward as he would any other round in the course, and then the next his startled yelp rang out so loudly that it had nearly drowned out the volley of stun shots suddenly zipping over their heads.

'37 had gotten hit trying to pull his twin to cover. His own cry of startled pain causing '85's heart to hammer in his chest, as '20 called out for him and '22 to stay put behind one of the obstacles they'd ducked behind of for safety.

There had then been a long break between the next shots actually hitting anyone. '20 had ducked and weaved expertly and as quickly as he could while running across the course to grab both '33 and '37, and he'd nearly made it all the way back with both of them if not for the fact he'd tripped and then gotten hit square on the leg.

And then '85 had made a mistake of his own. He'd gotten so worked up that he'd gone out of cover to try to help all three of his ori'vode, despite the entire exercise being more than a lost cause at this point...

In the end, he hadn't even seen '22 getting shot. He'd been too busy trying to rescue the rest of their team. But the pained whimper and the proceeding thud of a fallen body, were indication enough that his vod'ika had reluctantly followed him before getting hit himself.

And that should have honestly been the end of it... Until '22's whimpers turned into agonized panicked gasps.

The next few minutes had been... Perhaps chaotic was the better word for it. A cacophony of Bric yelling all kinds of expletives over the sound of tearing fabric, shredding flesh, breaking bones, grotesque gurgling, splattering fluids, and horrific wails.

If you were to ask him later about what he'd done when confronted with the situation, '85 wasn't quite sure how he'd initially reacted to the whole affair. This near-impossible gorefest of an event that he hadn't been able to fully comprehend at the time. All he knew was that he'd turned around to look at '22, and then suddenly he was at the far corner of the training room, squeezed between a trembling and wide-eyed '33 and '37, while '20 held his hand in a vice-grip.

Bearing witness to a vod who used to be smaller than average slowly become big enough to possibly hold their trainer in one hand, had been extremely traumatizing. For all of them.

All at once it had made too much sense. '22's resistance to showing any sort of vulnerability around them, aside from the obvious longing in his big sad eyes. Heck, '85 wasn't sure he himself would have been comfortable approaching anyone if he could... Do something like what '22 had just done in front of them...

It was cool. No doubt there! Like a superpower from those stories that some of the older vode illicitly acquired from sources unknown. But it was also...

It had sounded like it hurt. It had looked like it too.

Watching his giant-sized vod'ika slowly shake off the pain, only to then clumsily back away from their squad while looking at them with a horrified expression (clearly on the verge of crying, as well as becoming even more distressed every time either of his hands or feet crushed one of the obstacles on accident), everything really did click into place for '85. It wasn't really '22's behavior that had set him so apart. It was the fact that he was most definitely different from the other vode. Uniquely alone in his own personal plight.

And honestly that had made '85 burst into tears right there and then. Which of course seemed to set off '22's own waterworks...

Between just how much it had clearly hurt him to get so big, trainer Bric's continuous yelling, his new squad huddling away from him as if he were some kind of monster, and then the brother who'd tried so hard to include him starting to cry at the sight of him?

Yeah, '22 hadn't been having a good day at all...

So '85 had done the only thing he could think to do at the time. He'd shrugged off his ori'vode's grip on him and ran forward.

Now, '85 couldn't call himself the bravest of the bunch. He could be bold if he thought he had the advantage, no doubt there. But honestly he got spooked quite easily at times. He still slept in '20's pod when the storms got too loud sometimes!

Being so close to a literal giant was scary, incredibly so, especially one who was currently bawling his eyes out and sobbing so loudly that it made his ears hurt a little. But while '85 wasn't fearless he was still a softy.

And his vod'ika being so huge did not make him any less worthy of comfort. And stars knew he could have used some right then.

So he'd put his hand on one of '22's huge knees, and he'd started the most long-winded word vomit of a ramble he'd ever spat out in his entire short life. It wasn't the most eloquent speech, or even all that cohesive, but he'd hoped it was distracting enough to get '22 to stop crying. To his immense relief (and surprise) it had actually worked.

'22 had gone from curling in on himself crying his (not so) little heart out, to sniffling quietly while watching him with curious and slightly puffy eyes. Seeming almost unsure if he believed what was happening. Honestly '85 could hardly believe it himself, but he was at the very least happy to help his frightened vod'ika calm down.

"See? It's all good!" He'd grinned up in what he hoped was a confident manner, as he reached up to pat his brother's splotchy red nose, instantly trying not to grimace or shudder visibly in disgust when his hand came into contact with (a lot) of snot. "We're all ok! You're ok."

Or as ok as a giant nude cadet could be after wrecking an entire obstacle course. But really who could argue with him at the time? He was the one comforting said giant, acting brave when he was this close to peeing himself. And he was very thankful that he hadn't, in fact, peed his scrubs in the end. Mostly because 99 didn't deserve to have to deal with something so childishly pathetic... Speaking of which.

The janitorial clone had come through the door just as trainer Bric disappeared through it. He was steady-footed and self-assured, despite the rather astronomical nature of the situation.

Almost seeming unsurprising by '22's dilemma.

In fact, he seemed all too aware of what to do to deal with it. To both help them all relax and see that there was no danger to be found, as well as calm '22 enough that he could safely shrink back down. Which was equally as horrifying an event as him growing to giant size. Very gross too. It made a pair of soiled scrubs look like a walk in the park.

'85 really had not envied the mess that 99 had been left with to clean up, while Flotsam quietly ushered their shivering and naked kih'vod back to the barracks so he could get dressed. Nor did he envy the next group of cadets who would have to deal with whatever bullying tactics Bric might have in store for them (after being so suddenly humbled by the sight of a starship sized 4th cycle cadet).

They'd been told to help '22 dress, sneak him some food and water, and then wrap him up in all of their blankets so he could sleep a little better. 99 had been very explicit in his recommendations as to how to care for their little brother after he shrank back down. He'd even used his stern ori'vod voice, which was a very big deal!

And it hadn't been hard to see why he made sure they were well aware of how important it was to care for '22, after he'd gone through such an ordeal.

The poor kih'vod had barely been able to walk back on his own, and he'd practically been asleep with his eyes open as they pulled an extra set of undershorts and sleeping scrubs on his frail body. Had even proceeded to flop over like a boneless nuna once he'd had a quick bite and a few sips of water.

Growing and shrinking had drained him. Enough so that he'd not even remembered to be afraid of his squad. Instead curling up in the blanket cocoon while resting his head on '85's lap. Allowing him to run his fingers through his hair, like how he himself liked to have done when he had his headaches.

Soaking up the warmth of all four of his brothers curling around him protectively.

It had been both endearing and a little sad to actually have him seeking comfort in them. To show them so much vulnerability after something so traumatic. Especially when, after he'd waken up from his nap, he'd finally spoken to them just to ask when they'd be sending him away to be destroyed.

Even after they'd made sure he was comfortable, '22 expected to be kicked out. And that had made '85 seethe with anger at every other squad that had failed to be a good brother to his vod'ika. That had left him feeling so worthless and unwanted because of something he clearly couldn't control (and 99 had made sure they understand he couldn't control it).

Never again.

All four of them told him as much, and insisted on it once they were met with a look of disbelief. '22 hadn't believed them, but they would make sure to drill it into his head that he was stuck with Flotsam squad now. For better of for worse he was one of them now.

It was hard to ignore the spark of hope in his tired eyes.

In the end, size-shifting wasn't really all that big of a deal once they knew that's what they were dealing with. It'd taken a while to adapt and work around '22's lack of control of it, sure, but they'd compensated by making several contingency plans for it.

And a nice bonus that had come along with his unusual condition, was just how nice it was to have a bit of a trump card against the nastier trainers.

Nothing instilled the fear of the Manda in those natborn bullies, quite like being stared down by a cadet who could easily kick them all the way from Kamino to Rishi Maze. If they so much as got it in their heads to threaten any of Flotsam squad with violence, '22 only had to stare at them in a certain way to get them to back off. Bric had, after all, not remained quiet about what had happened with the obstacle course. And the fact the training room their little brother had accidentally wrecked had to be closed off for repairs for several weeks, had certainly left a lot of space for interpretation of just what exactly '22 was capable of.

The rumors that unfortunately rang loudest came from the vode who had actually repudiated '22. Those were also the ones that got 99 absolutely miffed whenever he caught wind of them (the ones from trainers got a twitch of the brow at best, but he never discouraged them because he too thought the natborns needed a healthy dose of fear to keep them in check around the younger cadets). And by proxy a miffed 99 usually meant a very pissed off Alpha-17 or Fordo on the prowl for snakes in the grass. Which ended with several disloyal small-minded brothers getting taught a lesson in brotherhood that was most definitely needed.

Aside from realizing just how many actually had their squad's back, it was genuinely also kind of nice to have a brother who was so very great to cuddle with after they were all done with course work, because he could very well serve as a heated bed. Even if '22 did kind of have a snoring problem.

Sure, the cuddling sessions were never really planned ahead of time. They sort of just happened anytime '85's vod'ika lost control of his ability. But who could say no to a vodpile after a long hard day of training? And if it got '22 a little more comfortable at his bigger size, that was a plus all on its own.

A win-win sort of deal.

If anything, it had just made it easier for the once skittish and very timid cadet to finally open up to their affections. Which was ultimately what '85 had hoped for since the very day he'd laid eyes on his baby brother. The future could only get brighter for them. Of that, 85 was sure.

Now if they could all just agree on a naming theme for all five of them, that'd be the icing on the cake... He really didn't fancy something corny like Teardrop or Softy, just as much as '22 would rather they not call him Bigman or Vodzilla (they were cool names too, but alas back to the drawing board it was!).

Maybe something about strength and perseverance? A true reflection of their positive attributes? Only time would tell.

#Eps Writes #star wars #the clone wars #clone trooper tup #clone trooper dogma #g/t #giant/tiny #size shifting #clone ocs

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driftwithme · 8 months

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Where is my not romantic fic where Chuck and Mako join the recruitment at the same time just to find out Raleigh fucking Becket is one of their trainers.

Maybe Yancy got hurt earlier but didn't die and Raleigh got stuck on ground until they both recovered enough to pilot again??? Idk. Or maybe things were pretty good at that point and given the Becket success rate they were invited to take a brake and help train the new cadets, to pass along the experience to the future Mark-5 pilots.

In my mind it happens around 2019. Striker construction got delayed and Scott is not a criminal (or an asshole), so he's still piloting Lucky Seven with Herc. Chuck doesn't have to join at freaking 16 years old and Mako is there to play the rival part, simply because I'd enjoy greatly seeing their competitive sides fire up each other while Raleigh tries and fails to figure out what's going on.

Yancy is 24 years old, Raleigh is 21yo, Mako and Chuck are both 16yo but they'd graduate almoat with 17yo. Thry are the youngest duo to graduate at the Academy, beating Raleigh old record.

Now, 'cause I love the drama: Raleigh is there working with the Jaeger Assault Specialist instructor. In this scenario let's believe that the instructor saw the way the Beckets used improvisation to surprise attack the kaijus and convinced Pentecost to teach that too to the cadets. Somehow it worked. Pentecost is not very happy (he's pretty sure he'll have to deal with way more insubordination in the near future), but he can't deny the stats and maybe MAYBE feeling the way of the cadets in their hands would help the Beckets grow up and get their shit together.

He is both regretting it with all his will and thankful those fuckers did their job right as he watches Raleigh and Mako fall down from the sky after killing Otachi, but we're 6 years too fast.

Back at Jaeger Assault classes.

The thing is that both Mako and Chuck are kinda geniuses at that. Even from their first simulation. They were the only two to kill the respective kaiju in their first simulation. This is because 1) at this point they the rivalry is intense, 2) they're both nerds that spend the previous week watching jaeger fight videos to study the kaijus, 3) they grew up around three of the best pilots in the program.

Raleigh doesn't know any of it, of course. He hasn't meet Herc yet (Manila happens later in 2020 in this fic) and he has no way to know about Stacker history with Mako. Buuuut our loved Raleigh is a bit too blunt at this point in time, so he congratulates them, not without warning them about how that first win meant nothing in real life. So what if they are a bit ahead of the rest? Things would even out in no time. With a real kaiju you have no footage to study, no way to predict the movements of an algorithm. Impressive, but it's just the first day.

He doesn't say it in a mean way, of course. The accident that hurt Yancy changed his perception. He doesn't want the kids to get cocky like him and commit his same mistake. The instructor is actually very happy to see him talk like that and reinforces what he just said. The problem with this? He accidentally humiliated Mako and Chuck in front of the other cadets. Mako is upset and determined to prove is not only theory, but real skill and great decision making from her part. Chuck is another story; Raleigh is his enemy and he must destroy him. Aka he wants to humiliate Raleigh back and prove he is superior than any past pilot.

Bonus points is Raleigh is hella charming and equally soft in his puppy way, not at all the bragging rockstar everyone was expecting. Like yes, there's a bit of that, but he also sits with the cadets and answers their questions and makes them laugh. He tells them some embarrassing stories of him and Yancy to show them how even the active rangers have to deal with normal stuff. When he talks 'bout other pilots, he is respectuful yet sincere. He is a terrible flirt but so endearing. And he is handsome handsome, okay?

It's not a romantic fic so it leads nowhere, but Mako and Chuck have a bit starstruck even if they hate the man a little. Actually they both like Yancy the better as a friend or co-worker because he is a bit more mature. Whenever he visits Chuck and Mako almost glow with mischief. They love when Yancy makes his brother look childish, when he corrects him or makes him blush of embarrassment too.

If only Raleigh wouldn't laugh like an angel afterwards so they could enjoy their victory in peace.

Raleigh is not there for their final simulation or their graduation because Manila happens. Yancy is healthy, G. Danger is repaired and Raleigh is excited to show off all he learned training with the cadets. Scott gets badly hurt, enough to end his career, but he's alive. The Beckets made it again, Herc is grateful to no ends and while Herc appears around the bar for a while to celebrate with the rest of the teams, they talk about the possibility of not repairing Lucky Seven and straight up going for Striker with Chuck as the co-pilot.

The Beckets don't return to Kodiak Island after that. They got back to Anchorage and after some months, face Knifehead. If Yancy dies, rhen well... The story could be almost the same except everyone has history now. Or maybe Mako convinces Raleigh to stay now that they are more like friends and he keeps teaching at the Academy as Mako leads the G. Danger restoration program.

If Yancy doesn't die but he can't pilot again, the. maybe Mako joins the fight sooner with Raleigh while Yancy teaches cadets. Now, if Yancy doesn't die and can pilot, and if we say Scott can pilot too, then maybe we can get Mako and Chuck co-pilots of Striker.

It all depends.

#pacific rim #pacrim #pacific rim 2013 #pacrim 2013 #raleigh becket #mako mori #chuck hansen #yancy becket

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creationsofthepenguin · 2 years

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Fox hc because i love him. (1010 is Fox, 3636 is Wolffe and 2224 is Cody)

So as much as I love the idea of Fox, Wolffe, Bly, Cody and Ponds being batchmates, imagine how much better it would be if it were Bacara instead of Fox.

One day, when they’re done with physical assessments, 3636 is late for some reason. The other boys start to worry that maybe some of the trainers had pulled him aside (they pray to Ka’ra it wasn’t Priest) but then he comes back, pulling along another clone.

“Who the hell is that?” Bacara asks, as rude as always.

“1010. He beat me in a spar, bit me, actually. I like him, he’s one of us.” 36 replies nonchalantly, and that’s how a batch of five becomes a batch of six.

The others get used to him surprisingly quickly and over the time spent together, learn a lot of new things about their newest batcher. For one, 10 was incredibly smart and quick witted. He’d do anything to achieve his goals, even fight dirty (as demonstrated in his spar with Wolffe, and many more after that.)

They also learnt that not everyone admired his intelligence and devotion. The topic of 10’s batch, his old batch at this point since he’s been with 36 and 24 and the others for a very long time. They learn about it the hard way, when 10 goes missing after classes one day. They find him in a storage closet cradling a broken arm and blood steadily seeping from his nose.

They help him up and hurry to the barracks, but what’s concerning is that 10 doesn’t utter a single word the whole trip. Usually he’s snappy and sarcastic, quick to throw a quip and let his brothers do the rest of the talking. Now, he’s completely silent, dull eyes staring far ahead.

He tells them later that his batchmates, ex-batchmates, didn’t appreciate his ambition. He doesn’t say anything else; he doesn’t need to.

For a month after that they don’t let him walk through the sterile halls of Kamino alone. Whenever a vod sneered at 10 across the hallway, 36 or 24 would bare their teeth right back at them. By the time they were cadets close to graduation, if anyone asked, 10 was a part of 36’s batch. Always had been and always will.

#commander fox #commander wolffe #cody #commander cody #commander bly #commander ponds #bacara #kamino #headcanon #clone wars #my writing

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wantonlywindswept · 10 months

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fox & rex ficbit

finally wrote some tcw! whoo.

tbh not entirely sure where this is headed (a lie: i know exactly where i want this to end up, and it is with alpha-17 storming coruscant in a fit of protective rage and also murder) and atm it’s just a lot of exposition ideas because...i still have no real solid feel for the characters?? so i’m kind of working through that.

it is exhausting. star wars fanon you are exhausting. why can my brain not just write with the tropes and be done with it

anyway basically rex and fox are alpha-17′s feral children/brothers/students/?? because all three of them are competent chaos gremlins. set vaguely after geonosis but before the GAR is actually properly structured, bc if star wars doesn’t know what its timeline is then why the hell should i

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Growing up on Kamino, Rex and Fox had three things in common: a taste for the popularly-loathed blue carbohydrate cubes, an unstoppable compulsion to always be the best at anything they did, and the extremely dubious honor of being Alpha-17's favorites.

Fox was one of the earlier Command Class clones decanted, the eldest of a batch that boasted Wolffe, Gree, Bly, and Cody: possibly the strongest CC batch that Kamino would ever produce. He came out with a massive chip on his shoulder and left his tact in his tube, and made a sport of talking back to every single trainer in the Cuy'val Dar--which was why he once spent two weeks in Medical with broken ribs, a punctured lung, and Dred Priest's bootprints on his chest.

On the other hand, Rex came from a CT batch that was nearly flushed for genetic deviation, and of the original five, only he and Crys made it past cadet training. He clawed to the top of all his training modules fueled by fear and spite, and did everything by the book to avoid any kind of attention that might further mark him as defective: he kept his head down and his mouth shut, no matter what he actually thought about things.

Alpha's ARC training was good for the both of them, in the end: it taught Rex how to speak his mind, and it taught Fox how to shut the fuck up.

"15 - 5," Alpha announced cheerfully, leaning on his training staff without even the slightest indication of being tired. Fox, flat on his back at Alpha's feet, wheezed something that might have been a curse.

"I'm starting to think that those 5 were a fluke," Rex said blandly.

Fox's next growl was definitely a curse, and he lifted trembling hands to sign something insulting and anatomically improbable in Rex's direction.

"Go on, stop whining into my mats," Alpha said, nudging Fox in the side with his foot. "It's time for me to beat the other little brat into the ground."

Rex watched, snickering, as Fox very clearly struggled to keep from offering Alpha a similar insult.

It was good that he was finally developing a sense of self-preservation.

It was just the three of them left in the gym, long after most sane troopers retreated to lick their wounds and get some kind of rest before they did the same thing all over again tomorrow. Even Fox's certifiably unhinged batch had abandoned them after a couple hours of extra training; most of the CCs had been tagged for the ARC classes, but some were taking to it with a little more enthusiasm than others.

Fox peeled himself off the floor, using his staff as a crutch as he staggered to the deceptive safety outside of the training ring. He passed Rex along the way; his encouraging pat on the shoulder turned into more of an uncoordinated smack to the side of the head, which Rex magnanimously decided to forgive on account of knowing he'd probably need Fox's help standing up later.

Alpha was brutal, and relentless, and more than a little bit of a dick, but he wasn't cruel. He pushed them hard, taught them everything he knew, and if sometimes Rex caught him looking at them like he was worried they'd vanish the moment they left his sight, well.

The campaign on Geonosis had been a hell of a debut. They'd lost thousands of brothers, and now they were all on edge waiting for their official postings. There was no telling where they'd end up next.

Fox would undoubtedly be deployed where the fighting was the heaviest; he came off Geonosis with a dossier of accolades and a near-spotless string of victories. The rest of his batch had done equally well--all save Cody, who'd been unwillingly left behind on Kamino with a grade three concussion and a broken orbital bone, courtesy of one of Isabet Reau's battle circles.

Rex was probably destined for something similar. He'd performed well enough that he was guaranteed an officer commission, and he'd been all but adopted into the Command class after taking control of a battalion that had lost their commanding officer. It would be an absolute waste to not send him to the front lines.

Once ARC training was over, once they got their assignments and shipped out, it was entirely possible this would be the last time that Alpha saw them both alive.

With that cheery thought in mind, Rex spun the staff in his hands, met Alpha's grim expression with a sharp nod, and launched himself into the ring.

(Later, after Alpha dumped them both in the showers and ordered them not to drown, Fox gave him so much shit for only managing to win three matches out of twenty. But he also hauled Rex into the closer barracks that he shared with his batch, shoved him into the empty bed, and immediately passed out on him, which was enough of a comfort that Rex figured he could put off his vengeance for later.

Maybe in the morning.

Maybe after they came back from the war, and they could prove to Alpha that he hadn't just sent them off to die.)

#tcw #tcw fanfiction #commander fox #captain rex #alpha-17 #i have the looming sense of dread #that this is one of those fandoms #where i'm going to have to change my mental characterizations from story to story #which drives me ABSOLUTELY crazy #but detangling canon and fanon and personal headcanon is goddamn exhausting #like do i want to write soft family feels?#or do i want fox and wolffe having competitive angry hatesex?#(i say)#(like i have the willpower to bother writing smut anymore)#maybe the characterizations will settle if i write them more idk #ANYWAY #also i have STILL not finished actually watching tcw #what is my life even #cunning and courage

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