#Plo Koon (By mention)

[itstimeforstarwars]

Love the idea of collective Jedi parenting. Like technically I only have one padawan but my friends' padawans are also coincidentally my padawans. My padawan’s friends are also my padawans. This padawan who got separated from their master? My padawan today. This other padawan who needs to learn to pilot but their master is afraid of flying? Now my padawan twice a week.

#chit chat #kit fisto: hello i am master fisto this is my padawan bant and this is obi wan who is also kind of my padawan #plo koon: hello i am master koon this is my best friend qui gon and this is our kid obi wan #not to mention obi wan to anakin: OUR padawan #count dooku still probably has a spare anti-ox mask on his person just in case something happens to his extra padawan #and quinlan prides himself on being 'the cool master' to anakin and barriss

[swbumblebee]

They were having a lovely cosy night. Some nonsense holodrama was on, the heater was blasting and Jedi Master and Time Traveller Plo Koon was idly scrolling through a pad contemplating a second glass of wine. From his own comfortable spot on the sofa next to him, his partner in time travel and Master of the Order Mace Windu sighed and shifted his feet of the caff table next to Plo’s own, not a moment before an alarm on his chrono went off.

Plo grunted questioningly at him, feeling uncharacteristically lazy and sleepy. The other man stretched as he stood up.

“Meeting with Cin about The Tournament” he mumbled back, gathering himself.

“Oh!”

Plo loved The Tournament. He’d missed it so much during the war, that first time round. The annual Coruscant Temple Sabre Tournament was something so special. Seeing aged Masters grumbling good naturedly trying to catch their breath, energetic young Knights teasing each other and Padawans gleefully egging each other on brought a sense of camaraderie and family that was lost forever once the war began.

“I’ll come with you” he decided, ignoring Mace’s surprised expression as he sat up with renewed vigour.

---

Plo tuned out as Mace and Cin Drallig, Battle Master extraordinaire, gestured at charts and catering costs on one of the benches in the corner of the main dojo. Neither seemed to mind his presence, Cin seemed unsurprised when they came as a pair.

While he left the boring logistics to the two senior Jedi he scrolled through the contenders list, comforted by the familiar names and intrigued by some interesting matches. It would be a lively affair.

He frowned, noticing something as he got to the Knights section.

Kab…

Kedib…

Kirin…

Krag…

He frowned further, checking the Senior Padawan section just in case.

Nope, not what he was looking for.

“Has Knight Kenobi not signed up for the tournament?” he asked loudly, interrupting the other two and not caring one bit. He got a pulse of mild irritation from Mace but interestingly, Cin simply let out a breath.

It wasn’t compulsory for every Jedi to take part in the tournament but there was certainly an obligation, particularly for Knights, to act as an example for their peers. To learn from each other and to inspire the next generation. It was just the Done Thing.

The Battle Master for the temple looked uncharacteristically perturbed.  

“Kenobi…” he sat back and folded his thick arms, pausing, and Plo saw Mace’s face sharpen in stern worry.

“He’s been here… a lot, in the past few months. At funny times.” The scarred said, clearly picking his words carefully. “I’ve been helping him along, but most of the time I’m not here. I only see his name on the sign in sheet at all hours of the night.” He explained slowly.

Plo and Mace exchanged glances. That wasn’t good.

“Hmm. He didn’t sign up last year I assume, for obvious reasons” Mace asked with raised eyebrows.

Cin nodded.

“He’s changed his form since then, I’ve tried to ask him about it a couple of times but you know how he is.” He had a familiar look of exasperation on his face. Plo knew it well. When he didn’t want to, there wasn’t a force in the Galaxy that could make Obi-Wan Kenobi talk. Plo remembered it only got worse with age, to the infuriation of Sith across the galaxy that first time around.

Mace sighed and leaned back.

---

The Master of the Jedi Order cursed to himself under his breath and barely resisted the urge to grumble at nothing. He knew Obi-Wan somehow managed to function on dangerously little sleep (at all ages, apparently) but he himself had never managed to master the skill and his mood was as dark as the Courscant sky outside, at 3rd hour. Plo had offered to go, but Mace had a worrying suspicion it would end in a cuddle and a nap rather than what was necessary.

He was trying not to dwell on how suspicious he looked, loitering outside the main Dojo at this time of night, when his quarry came quietly and around the corner apparently deep in thought.

23-year-old Jedi Knight Obi-Wan Kenobi came to an abrupt and (rather comical) startled stop.

“Master!”

“Good evening, or should I say, good morning, Obi-Wan” Mace made no move to step away from the door to the dojo, but neither towards the young man in front of him.

“I…Hello there, Master. What…” the young man faltered, clearly still trying to find his footing. “What…are you doing here?” he asked cautiously.

Mace noted he definitely wasn’t at his best. Obviously not as well put together as he was in the daylight hours, there was none of the usual perceptive glint behind his eyes, his hair had obviously been pushed hurriedly into place and his robe was nowhere to be seen.

Mace shrugged.

“Shall we?” he gestured to the door behind him, entering the dojo.

Obi-Wan looked at the door dubiously before following.

“So.”

They stood in the vast hall, facing each other. Mace was very conscious they had both taken up sparring positions. So be it.

“So” he repeated calmly. “Do you want to tell me why you are practicing at this force-forsaken hour or shall I beat it out of you?” he asked politely with a smile, shifting his stance a little.

The young mans eyes narrowed.

“I don’t know what you mean Master, the Dojos are open all hours, surely encouraging practice at all hours” came the similarly polite answer.

Mace rolled his eyes.

“Fine.” He ignited his purple blade and assumed the opening stance of his favoured form, Vaapad.

“Come on then” he instructed the Knight. Obi-Wan’s eyes widened a little in surprise upon realising his mentor was serious, but then were filled with resolve as he too changed his stance.

And then immediately Mace Windu had the breath knocked out of his chest when, instead of the classic Ataru that he’d come to associate with the young Obi-Wan (indeed, the form he had become known for after using it to defeat Darth Maul) he was instead faced with the dramatic stance of Soresu.

He cursed himself, Cin had mentioned it but seeing it was something he had not been prepared for.

Lightsabre parallel to the floor and left arm extended with fingers pointing towards him, for a split second it wasn’t vulnerable, unsure Knight Kenobi Mace was seeing, it was the fearsome Master Kenobi. The Master of Soresu, and his comrade in arms. He’d seen that stance in the very worst of situations and every time it meant hope and determination.

“...Master?”

He was snapped back to the present by the slightly awkward prompt from the young man in front of him.

He grunted, trying to find his mental footing again.

“Not all of us are at our best at third hour young Obi-Wan” he grumbled, gratified when he got the ghost of a smile in response.

“Now then, let’s begin. And we will be speaking when I win” Mace warned, very clearly the Master of the Order.

Obi-Wan said nothing, his lips thinning as the match began.

---

The Master was gratified to see the young knight was panting a little as he yielded the match. Mace hadn’t won against Master Kenobi very often, in that first time around. It was good to know he still had some years left to enjoy it.

But not long, he noted. The young Knight was not there yet of course, but it he was good. Incredibly good for a Jedi of his level, using a difficult form. Mace was impressed.

“That was impressive. Very impressive Obi-Wan” he said, clapping him on the back as they both made to sit on the benches around the side of the dojo, Obi-Wan seemingly having lost the energy that fuelled his usual stubbornness, he allowed himself to be led by Mace.

“You’ve changed form.” the elder Jedi pointed out, cutting straight to the point. It was too early for beating around the munjabush.

“I have.” The young man beside him was looking at the floor as he answered. Mace felt the atmosphere in the room dip, the force tingling in his ears.

“Why?”

There was a pause. Obi-Wan kept looking at the floor.

Mace sighed.

“I hope you know, Obi-Wan, that you can tell me anything.” He said gently, projecting trust and safety at him through the force.

His young companion looked up at him with a watery smile. He took a breath.

“After Qui-Gon, after Naboo” he started slowly, seemingly choosing his words carefully “I kept trying…” he faltered, a faraway quality to his voice.

“Every time I started Ataru, I was back there behind the ray shields.” he said softly, looking down at the floor again. “After a bit of trial-and-error, it appeared to be a trigger for me, so I decided to change forms. Soresu seemed like a natural choice, I have a Padawan to defend now after all.”

Mace starred at him, finding himself once again at a loss. He knew Obi-Wan had changed forms at some point, but he’d never really given it much thought first. Lots of Knights experimented with new forms as soon as they were out of their Master’s shadow. But they generally didn’t do it incognito.

“Is that why you’ve been pushing yourself so hard? Coming here at all hours on top of everything else?” he asked, keeping his voice gentle.

His companion cleared his throat.

“It was difficult, at first. I didn’t…didn’t want anyone to know in case…” He trailed off.

Understanding dawned for Mace.

“In case you couldn’t do it.” He clarified, dismayed when he got a silent nod in return.

“Obi-Wan” Mace didn’t quite know what to say, working very hard to release his complicated emotions into the Force before the suddenly fragile man next to him picked up on them. Not least his slightly irrational anger.

“Please, please tell me you didn’t think we’d reject you or punish you because you couldn’t pick up a lightsabre.” He asked with a groan. The young man looked up at him in shock at the judgement in Mace’s tone. Giving him his answer.

“Er…”

Mace turned to him and shook his head in disbelief.

“Obi-Wan Kenobi, you are a talented, intelligent person who is an asset to the Order in more ways than I can list at this time in the morning. You are worth far more than your warrior skill” he took a breath, taking in the bewildered and slightly alarmed face next to him. “And I am sorry that that hasn’t been made clear to you.” He finished with a gentler tone, shame swelling slightly within him.

He felt a slight tug on his bond with Plo, the other Master picking up on the maelstrom he was feeling. They’d have to meditate later.

Obi-Wan obviously didn’t know what to say, and Mace was satisfied to let the words sink in for a moment.

“Do you think, perhaps, that it might be prudent for you to speak to someone about all this?” he suggested lightly. “We have an entire wing of Mind healers for a reason, my friend.”

Obi-Wan chewed his bottom lip, looking achingly young.

“I don’t know” he said slowly. “Qui-Gon never really liked…” he trailed off again, looking at the floor.

Mace rolled his eyes.

“Yes well, Force love him he was a good friend but Qui-Gon was a complicated man and let’s be honest, could be a bit of an idiot at times” he said, making sure his fondness for his old friend was obvious, pleased when it brought another watery smile out of his young friend.

“Maybe.” He admitted.

Mace decided to take what he could get.

“Please think about it. If you like, Plo or I could go with you” he offered. This time he did get a full smile and a slight eye roll in response.

“I’m sure I can handle it Master, I’m perfectly capable-“

“I know I know!” Mace held up his hands in defence “Just the offer is there.”

He stood up.

“Now then, time for bed I think” he activated his Senior Master mode, suddenly all business. “Please stop practicing at stupid hours of the morning, you’re making Master Drallig nervous. Sign yourself up for some proper tutoring” he instructed.

“Yes Master” Obi-Wan stood with a bow of acquiescence before they moved together towards the doors.

“Oh and Obi-Wan” Mace caught him as they closed the doors and stood in the silent corridor. “Do think about signing up for the tournament. You have a lot to offer.” He suggested.

The other Jedi hesitated.

“I…I will Master” he promised with a dip of his head.

“That’s all I ask” Mace reassured.

After they separated with one final bow of goodbye, Mace leant against the cool wall in relief, letting his emotions wash over him and into the Force, with the Force equivalent of a grunt from Plo down their bond.

He’d never known about Obi-Wan’s seemingly classic case of PTSD. And the obvious fear of rejection made his unrelenting quest for perfection and independence, that first time around, make sense.

But not this time. Mace smiled. They had a long way to go, but acknowledgement and mind healers were good, and Mace and Plo would be there every step of the way. This time.

#Space Dads Go Time Travelling #Mace Windu #Plo Koon #Obi-Wan Kenobi #Knight Kenobi #Family #Fluff #careful #Mentions of #PTSD #woops sorry this one got a bit long!

[wanderingmirror]

The 501st was having a meeting with a few members of the Guard, Senators Amidala and Organa, and some members of the Jedi Council. Anakin was currently going on a tangent about the Guard's laziness and stupidity. Or what he assumed was so. One of the Guards on duty was getting agitated. Those who were truly paying attention could see his armor shaking as his rage began to bubble past the point he could hide. Commander Fox was aware of Fenrir's rising anger.

Said Commander was kind enough to warn the council and Senate members prior to the meeting that he would be prone to lash out. Especially when Skywalker was around and in one of his rants. Despite his somewhat cordial behavior during the events of Five's disappearance and later the incident with Ritz, the Jedi Knight was still prone to rants against the Guard. It had gotten to the point that no Guardsman was willing to deal with him alone or at all. Hence the meeting. And once the male got into a new rant about how lazy the men on guard duty were Fenrir finally snapped.

The riot trooper hit the Knight with the butt of his blaster, knocking him to the floor and startling everyone in the room but the Guards. The clone raised his foot and stomped onto the weakest point in the man's leg and a crack was heard. Anakin wailed in pain and Fenrir held up his blaster to point at Jesse in warning. The other members of the 501st froze. The second oldest member of the Coruscanti Wolfpack growled and reached down to pull the wounded Jedi to his feet. Albeit unsteadily.

"Stand the fuck up. You stand back up. The rest of you sit down, or else."

Fenrir growled and most of the ones standing did so but Jesse. Fenrir looked at him and motioned for him to sit too. The blue clad clone did so with hesitation. The red clad riot trooper kept Anakin from sitting down and made him fall into a shaky parade rest. Back straight, legs shoulder length, arms behind the back crossed, and chin held high. Every time a noise of pain would leave the Jedi's mouth, Fenrir would scoff.

"What is it? Your leg? Shut the fuck up and be quiet. You have no right to complain."

He snarled and waved at Senator Amidala to begin her own talking. The brunette woman nodded, slightly disturbed by the events taking place, but used to Fenrir's type of teaching. He knew no better way to teach than experience. After an hour, Anakin started to flag and slump over. Only to get smacked on the back by Fenrir.

"Oi! Did I say you could be at ease?! Straighten up, you shithead! You ain't allowed to relax until I say so. You're a Jedi! Fucking act like it!"

Fenrir snapped and the brunette Jedi fixed his posture despite the pain. Obi-wan was looking mildly distressed by his old Padawan's treatment. Plo Koon was wincing with every growl Fenrir rumbled out. Despite the months having gone by, the Guard was still icy towards those outside of their unit. The only ones willing to be somewhat cordial were the Commanders, CMO Stitches, and very rarely Chemi. Due to the fact that the Healing Halls had been helping heal the Trooper turned Scientist's air ways.

They were never out right mean or cruel, but they never dropped their guard. They never allowed visitors. And they didn't try to make nice. They were all business and professional politeness. Except for a very small group of shinies who hadn't been abandoned yet. And they had been warned about said abandonment happening at any point. So they were enjoying their time while it seemingly lasted. When it was nearing the end of the meeting, Fenrir was still pacing behind Anakin with the gaze of a predator.

He never let the Knight relax, always barking for him to straighten up or fix his posture. The Jedi's broken leg was shaking, yet Fenrir didn't seem to care. He snapped when Anakin would go to ask to sit. Claiming that he had no right. That he wasn't allowed to sit with their "Noble Guests". At first those not in the know didn't really like the way the Guardsman was treating him. Until it finally clicked that he was treating Anakin the same way they were treated.

"Fix your fucking posture, Jedi! I didn't fucking say you could relax!"

Anakin was nearing his physical limit. Yet no one was interfering with what the crazy trooper was doing. He didn't understand why his master or Padme weren't doing anything! His leg hurt! Yet whenever he began to slip, the trooper would snap at him.

"And this is the end of the meeting. Trooper Fenrir, would you kindly allow the Knight to relax?"

Senator Organa asked with a wary smile. Fenrir growled softly but nodded. Hitting Anakin on the back and stepping around to face him.

"Did you learn your lesson, Jedi? Or am I gonna have to start paying a visit to the temple to teach you fucking discipline?"

He asked and the Jedi paled. He did in fact realize that this had been used as an example of what the Guard did daily. What they were forced to do every hour of every day. Before the Sith Lord was killed, before CMO Stitches had the supplies to treat them all. Before they could take time off and didn't have to support the entire Coruscanti police and security system. When they were under constant threat of death and recon.

"You can relax now. But if I hear anything about you talking shit again, I'll break more than just your fucking leg. I'll make you wear armor, go patrolling with me, and spend the whole day with no help for those injuries. And let me tell you, it isn't a walk in the fucking park. Not on this "Cushy Posting"."

Fenrir snarled and Anakin fell to the floor to sit. Whining with pain as Obi-wan walked over to check on him. Stitches didn't help, deciding that his old protege could deal with it. He should have learned that much with him. Kix just sighed as the Guards all walked out of the room. Fenrir more at a stalk than a walk with the intent of finding either his Soka or his Ori'vod, Chemi. Or even his own ad, Pup.

If Anakin had anything else to say, he kept it firmly to himself. Coruscant had Guard eyes and ears everywhere, after all.

#random #star wars the clone wars #clone ocs #no order 66 #starwars #original oc #commander fox #plo koon #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #padme amidala #bail organa #injury #mentions of anger issuses

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Poets and Painters (Golden Dawn Part 2) - Wolffe x Reader [Mature Fic]

Warnings and Information: In desperate need of just one day to take his and his men's mind off the war, Plo Koon orders that everyone make a stop on a relatively uninhabited planet in a peaceful sector of the galaxy to… have a picnic? Just what does he have in mind? A certain flint-gray Commander is finding it hard to believe that they're just on the planet for a day of R&R in the middle of a war, so he isn't letting his guard down. Perhaps someone will help Commander Wolffe find some way to help him relax before the day is over… 2nd person POV. Reader is undescribed save for minor details like personal touches to a uniform, and has a gender-neutral alias. Allusions to canon-typical violence, mention of injury and loss. Plo just being a dad to the 104th Battalion in the background. Swearing. Scheming brothers. Brief miscommunications. Mutual pining? 👀 Discussion of more adult themes and some lewd jokes (this is not an Explicit fic but it is Mature; Minors please DNI). Takes place on a fictional planet.

Word-count: 6,743

It did not take little Mir long to find several samples of art and poetry to share with the cluster of curious on-lookers that have grown around her sister while she prepares bundles of incense and dried flowers. Petals and dried leaves are taken in clusters of twenty-seven before being tied tightly with twine, and carefully passed over the fire to the individual by name. Among the first bundles she gives, one is offered to Plo Koon, who has joined you since Mir had to ask for Solladara’s help in finding a particular piece of poetry and it interrupted their discussion. 

“This is for you, Plo Koon.” 

“That is kind of you. Thank you, young Gi.” the Jedi professes his thanks once he’s able to extract one of his occupied hands, more of the Chossi children than before sitting around him or in his lap, now. He has nowhere to put it, for the time being, so while you’re busy reading some of the poetry Mir found, Commander Wolffe takes his general’s bundle of incense and finds a place for it in one of the many compartments in his utility belt. 

The Basic that’s carved into thin sheets of bark may be slightly broken and disjointed, but the verbal painting performed here is no less incredible. So… is it really the doing of the Dinocaeruleus anthos that everyone’s been so… inspired? The mere pollen in the air, where that pleasant and faintly familiar smell has followed you all day long, is responsible for all this?

All the sketches, the thoughtful conversations you’ve had today, even the thoughts you’ve been having about the commander, that could all be the influence of the pollen? You’re not sure how you feel about that. Stars above, you live in such a strange galaxy…

“It will only be effective for those who reach maturity.” Mir’s older sister explains to her curious onlookers and those fielding questions, like Tack, preparing a new incense bundle that will be given to you to take back to the Jedi cruiser. “To those who have not reached maturity, like Mir, the pollen and petal incense will only smell sweet.”

Beside you, you hear Tack now quietly mourning that it will only ever smell nice for poor Orchid under his breath. Orchid snarls back at him to shut up, saying that that was a cheap shot. He can be plenty mature! He is so fuckin' mature, thank you! 

“If you're talking about your language and your choice of reading material, sure… Now pipe down, both of you. Don't be rude to Gi!” Suds mutters, wagging his head disapprovingly of both brothers’ behaviors. “Sorry about them…” 

Gi offers only an impish smile, finding humor in the brothers’ bickering. “It won't work for Mir. But, it would work for you, Arcadia, and Wolffe.” she adds with a nod, offering him his own bundle of anthos incense. “I will make some for your brothers, too. If they are interested.”

“That’s very kind of you, Gi.” Wolffe answers as he pockets his own bundle beside General Plo’s, nodding to show his gratitude for the generosity of your hosts here. The members of their community that were once cold and standoffish before to the battalion have since thawed out some more, making further offers to show elements of their culture, their homeland here with you as off-worlders. 

We’re all just the universe trying to make sense of itself. Shouldn’t that be enough to unify us? Wouldn’t it be nice if that was all it took? 

No. Unfortunately the galaxy was just far too vast for that optimism, that sweet naivete. It would never be enough to settle the differences in Republic or Separatist opinion. 

It would never be enough to bring back Wolffe’s lost brothers, either.

Brothers he forever carries in his heart no matter if he knew them in maroon or gray. Five hundred seventy-four brothers were lost in the Battle of Abregado. As was the original Triumphant: the new flagship is unofficially filed as the Triumphant II, for the time being. If only you had the appropriate leverage to do it (or maybe you talked to enough of his brothers to rally them around the idea) you would propose Resiliency for the Star Destroyer’s new name to honor Commander Wolffe’s inspiring refusal to be deterred from his service, his duty, his creed of brotherhood and loyalty. 

It’s a lovely thought anyway.

One for another time. There’s still so much to do tonight. Gi’s still making bundles of incense for members of the Wolfpack, but there’s been offerings from the Chossi to show more of their homeland, and what they accomplish under the light of the moon as a nocturnal culture. Children Mir’s age are willing to share star stories, naming various constellations you can see when you look in the gaps of the leafy canopy of their community homes. (They’re calling it star-sowing, which sounds adorable.) Children Gi’s age have simple chores to do, and several of Wolffe’s men offer their hands in aid. 

Already, a few have assembled themselves in groups, rather like the squads they’re familiar with, and are ready to “report” to the youth of the Chossi. One rookie admits he doesn’t know what ground-squash looks like, but he’s willing to help with harvesting the ripe ones. They’ve spent all day relaxing. And though they spend more days than not getting their hands dirty, it’s from things like droid oil, and soot, oftentimes blood. Getting a bit of dirt on their hands while digging through a communal vegetable patch? Yes, that’s technically work on a day their General took them here to relax, but it’s relaxing compared to what they normally do.

“Might be the only time we get to dig holes we don’t have to fill back up.” another soldier says with a shrug, deciding he’ll join in after taking anthos incense from Gi. “Wait up, guys!”

“What did he mean by that?” you ask, half turning to Wolffe after noticing his eyes becoming half-lidded in thought. 

“Graves, most likely.” A stiff shrug is offered, showing he’s not sure himself. “Don’t trouble yourself with it.”

Tack, having eaten his hash-sah fruit while you’d been distracted, butts into the conversation between you and the commander before it grows any more grim. “You really got to try the fruit, Commander; it’s delicious. Arcadia’s should be big enough to share.” He can show you how to eat it, too, since it’s best to hold it by the soft rind, otherwise you’ll end up a bit of a mess like Orchid. 

“Ah shit, got my gloves and damn vambraces all fuckin’ sticky.”

Soapsuds hisses for him to be better. “Cool it, fresher-mouth!” he’s displeased that his brother’s not minding his tongue with so many little ones around. The little girl from earlier he’s given his chocolate to still hasn’t let go, for the most part; he’d rather not have one of his brothers prove a bad influence in her galactic vocabulary. 

You agree to get the large hash-sah fruit from amongst the things in your bag, gingerly extracting it when the flint-gray commander takes note of the time and suggests you need something to eat. If you’d returned to the Jedi cruiser with the rest of the crew, you’d probably have gotten dinner long before now. “Can’t have you going hungry, Arcadia.” Wolffe says, another instance of it being more than a suggestion. 

It’s a veiled request.

Afterwards, perhaps together, you can find something more to do. This time it is a suggestion. 

You figure anything will work, so long as it means he’s not about to start patrolling the perimeter of this community like he had in the clearing. You’ll count it as relaxing if you could get him to at least sit while he frets about his brothers. Especially if the brother within his sight is a shiny, thinking back to how he had asked if you could tell who among them were freshest out of the tube while working on his own sketch. 

Teeth and claws.

You really have to apply a firm grip on the soft rind of the hash-sah fruit in order to keep it from slipping out of your fingers once Tack’s gotten it divided equally between you and the commander, nails biting into the outer shell and leaving deep ruts as the juice runs between your fingers. 

“Stars above, scarcely started and I’m already wet…” you say as it drips into the lap of your uniform, catching the lewd innuendo far too late. “Orchid, don’t even.” 

He gives you a smile, but nothing more. 

“I mean it.” you warn him.

Laughing, Orchid now holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Can I at least ask if you think the fruit’s good?”

The commander's opinion of the local produce comes quietly before you answer his brother. ”It’s not rations.” Neither negative or positive, merely neutral. If he finds it bitter, or sweet, or savory, he doesn’t share. It’s simply not rations. 

“‘Anything’s better than rations’, I know. But is it good, Commander?”

Wolffe gives it a moment of thought. “It’s… like eating sweetened rainwater.” 

It doesn’t make much sense, but no one can figure out a way to argue against his description either. The matter gets chalked up to sitting near the fire for too long where Gi had been hard at work wrapping clusters of twenty-seven petals and leaves of a plant responsible for encouraging a person’s creativity and inspiration. 

It’s the pollen talking, you all reason amongst yourselves.

You and Commander Wolffe part ways for a short time, Plo Koon begging for your forgiveness as he explained (a little vaguely) that Wolffe was needed for something Dara had remembered, something they had forgotten to do around the ceremonial welcoming fire. After you had finished your portion of the hash-sah and cleaned your hands best you’d been able of the juices, someone had been by with more trinkets for the battalion to take with them if they wished. Leather bracelets of sorts with three beads of hammered copper, meant to be worn on the dominant arm. 

That’s when Dara remembered there was something special that was meant to be offered. It’s nothing Wolffe or the Jedi have to take, but as a culture that values their generosity, she and the rest of the elders feel it’s important to at least show it. Best guess anyone has is it’s likely some kind of clothing unique to the planet. Maybe art. 

“It would be impolite to refuse without seeing it first, General.” Wolffe agrees with the Kel Dor after briefly conferring with Kwill for the best course of action. He promises to come find you later. If it’s permitted by the elders, he’ll have Kwill take images of the offering in the event it’s something they feel they can’t (or won’t) take, so you can see it. 

“Don’t worry about me.” you promise, feeling safe between his DeeCee in your belt, and the familiarity in the company of his brothers. Though you are a lamb among so many wolves as a civilian, you couldn’t be safer. “I’ll find something to pass the time, General.”

“Thank you for your understanding, Arcadia.” Plo Koon replies kindly, dipping his head into a respectful bow of thanks. 

You’re not sure if it’s a Jedi thing, or a him thing, but you find yourself mirroring the motion this time. Respect earned, respect returned. 

He and Commander Wolffe shouldn’t be gone terribly long with the elders, so you decide to stay relatively close to where he’d departed from you just for now. Your head feels a little clearer than before, distanced from the incense where those stirring feelings had distracted you before. 

Twilight troubles, named for the harm they can do, could be simultaneously helpful. Funny how there’s so many things like that in this galaxy: good things, even good people, with intimidating names.

You’ve met a few troopers with hard, edgy names, their hearts softer than tooka fur. There’d been no bristle or frigid shoulders from men named Bane or Dukes or even a Bonesaw like your co-workers had warned you to steer clear of, what feels very long ago now, when you were very new to the job. They’d been the ones to help you navigate the durasteel halls while you learned where to go, what your duties were, your first few days. There’d been a Scuffle, too, who helped you, even at great inconvenience to himself. (Curiously, his armor bore some paint in sap green. Had he been transferred from a different unit?) Each had called you a rookie, but it was more of a casual, almost affectionate sort of thing, when they offered you their help. 

Here, sir, helped your lost rookie find their way. Got a little turned around in the halls. (Hey. Don’t worry, Arcadia, you’ll learn your way around in no time.)

Clones look so similar at first glance, a sea of sameness and uniformity. But you know better. These brave men are not wholly made of justs and sameness - a Clone who’s been invited to try his hand at throwing at a foot-pedal pottery wheel may have the same fingerprints as a million other brothers, just another Clone made in the after-image of a dead warrior, but his mark in this galaxy is unique because he is the one who put it there as the iron-rich clay squishes between his fingers in his first attempt. He laughs it off as the Chossi woman showing him how to throw encourages him to try again. 

“Well that’s certainly one way to get a feel for the clay!”

“Yes, I suppose that’s true.” she chuckles while she helps him start again. 

Trying again, he makes a concentrated effort not to immediately squish and squelch the red earth-matter, experimentally scooping into the mound she’s made to try pulling it outwards, like she showed him. Clones are remarkably fast learners, no matter if the result is a bit messy. Specks of clay plip against his stark white armor after he adds a bit too much water, distracted by Sergeant Boost joining the crowd of on-lookers. 

“Waiting here for the Commander, Arcadia?”

Answering somewhat to the affirmative, you tell him you’re mostly just looking around. “Just watching Lasher at the wheel for now, really.” Lasher’s having a good time, and watching the veteran ceramics at work is kinda mesmerizing. 

While you’re distracted, Sinker sweeps up Orchid, Tack and Soapsuds behind you, urging them to be silent. You’re none the wiser.

“Thinking you might add pottery to your list of talents?” Boost asks, teasing lightly. 

You roll your eyes, a sarcastic lilt in your voice. “Yeah sure, if I can find somewhere to squeeze it in between all the poetry and painting and woodworking and a thousand other things I’ve ever wanted to try my hands at with my precious free time since I’m just swimming in credits.”

“Hah,” Boost laughs, bobbing his head both knowingly and sympathetically, “Probably a good thing Clones don’t exactly come by much in the way of credits. There’d be too many half-used hobby kits lying around the cruiser.” 

While you’re asking him where Clones do get the credits for things like the popular Clone bar on Coruscant, Sinker is trying to persuade one of his brothers to do something for him to little success. “Please? It can’t be me or Boost.” It needs to be one of the younger brothers of the battalion who does this. He’ll sweeten the pot if need be, if it convinces them. “A dirty holomag. Round of drinks at 79’s. We won’t make you clean the gunships. Something.” 

“You had me at dirty holomag.” Orchid answers, grinning as he gleefully rubs his hands together. “What do you need me to do?”

Sithspit he didn’t actually have one on hand back at the cruiser, but he knows how to get one. That's a problem for later. “Listen carefully, when the Commander gets back-” Sinker begins, casting a careful look over his shoulder to make sure Boost still had you properly distracted. The two of you are making idle chatter, still. Sounds like Boost has you talking about potentially going back to the gathering fire with him later, where the inviting blaze would keep you warm in spite of the night’s chill. Just in case Commander Wolffe ends up being a while. 

You’re hemming and hawing about it, admitting you’re not sure just yet, but it’s kind of him to offer in the spirit of the oft-shared sentiment from the inhabitants of Little Archossi the Jedi, Clones and you are the humble guests of tonight. 

More friends the merrier. All are welcome under our shared skies. 

“Sure, no problem Arcadia,” Sergeant Boost says agreeably, “Night looks promising to have a lot of excitement still, so I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to - oh, I dunno - step back for a bit and find somewhere quiet. It is pretty late.”

Or, early, rather. It had been well past 1:00 when last you looked at a chronometer, putting you an hour into a new day. It’s probably 2 or even 3:00 am by now. It could be another three hours before dawn, give or take. You’re definitely not getting any sleep tonight, but you may at least need to rest. (You may need a lot of caf to get through the day when you get back to the cruiser.)

There’s a tree not far from here that seems a little more isolated at the edge of the settlement, Boost pointing it out to you when you say you think it might be a good idea, so it may be a good place to rest and work on another of your sketches if you want. 

“Thanks Boost. I think I might.”

From here, the activity and chatter of the settlement has fallen away into a comfortable lull of background noise, punctuated with hearty laughter and dramatic sound effects used by the troopers to spice up their storytelling. In the cold glow of the moon, you could once more study the artwork Wolffe had made of you while you twirled one of the coloring pencils in your hand absentmindedly. 

Color it however you like. 

Trouble is, you keep changing your mind, or run into complications. First you thought about choosing your favorite color, but the end of the pencil was too dull and you couldn’t find a sharpener among your things to remedy that. (How did you not have a sharpener?) Then you thought about coloring yourself in maroon too, the end still plenty sharp, but putting yourself in such a significant color to the history of the battalion felt… strange. Like maybe you felt you weren’t worthy of it. You’ve gone through a few more colors in your bag, putting away one and pulling out another, but you can never seem to bring yourself to put the pencil to paper. 

A rhythmic sound coming from the community, like the beating of a heart, pauses your skylane of thought for a moment. Growing louder, closer, you realize its two sets of boots tromping down the path, one heavy and deliberate to combat the other’s backpedaling. 

“Orchid, what is the meaning of this?!” Commander Wolffe demands at last, realizing his brother isn’t going to stop for anything, not even the threat of refresher and gunship duty. His brother only marches him further and further through the dark pathway where the crowns of the trees keep all the light for themselves. A datapad clipped to his hip rapidly knocks against the plastoid at the pace they’re going. “Let me go, or tell me what’s going on!” 

“Respectfully, Commander,” Orchid begins in a voice that leaves no room for interruption, “it’s time for you to stop circling the gunships and get to the hangar already!” He gives Commander Wolffe a firm shove from behind, sending the man a half-step forward into your small circle of light with a mischievous cackle. “Don’t worry about the rest of the battalion for the night, we’ve got it covered with the General!”

It’s now coming together for Wolffe, piece by piece. “... Boost and Sinker put you up to this, didn’t they?”

“Not quite, Commander. But they know I’ve got just enough younger brother privileges to still get away with this.” Orchid replies with a shit-eating grin, pleased with himself. 

“I’m putting all three of you-”

“Yeah, we’ve got it covered Commander! Have fun!” Orchid calls back over his shoulder as he retreats into the boundaries of the Chossi community. “Elder Row says don’t go any farther than the fifth cairn stack!”

Have fun? Fifth cairn stack?

Gulping back some nervousness, you apologize to the commander. “I’m so sorry that they’re… Well, I don’t even know what. I’m just as much in the dark as you, actually.” You’re not sure what Sinker or Boost had planned, or how exactly Orchid got involved in it, but you’re positive it’s giving Wolffe a headache. “I… might have a theory though.”

“... what?” Wolffe dares to ask, hesitant. 

“Sergeant Sinker told me earlier that I… s-seem to be having better luck than them when it comes to encouraging you to relax, so it’s… part of the reason I keep offering to keep you company.”

He stares at you in silence, contemplating perhaps, but it’s more likely that he’s working up something to say. 

Instead he sighs. “Hmm.” 

Putting your things to the side, you climb to your feet and dust off the seat of your pants, unsure if you should approach him when he’s currently clenching and unclenching his fists at his side. It doesn’t seem to be a completely conscious action as he finally drops his gaze and sighs once more. 

“Damn him.” comes the bitter grumble, a regretful expression cracking the commander’s stoic shell. “I shouldn’t have… I shouldn’t have started to lose my temper with-” Swallowing back the rest of the sentence with some difficulty, Wolffe looks at his feet instead, registering just how far he is from the settlement now, too. Sometimes, he finds himself forgetting just how strong the youngest troopers are. 

He’s been in this war for so long now, it feels, that trying to remember his own days fresh off Kamino proves a struggle. He used to be one of the four marshal commanders of the Grand Army, but the man you’ve gotten to know today is just a commander now. 

Wolffe notices something below his left boot just as you find your voice. 

“Wolffe? Are you okay?”

Your concern is touching. “I’m fine now, Arcadia.” he promises, pulling back his foot as he stoops to see what it is. Ah. Must have stepped on one of the Dinocaeruleus anthos after Orchid pushed him. (Anger and annoyance has been replaced with pride for that little pain in the ass.) He plucks the terrible blue flower with smashed petals from its home in the soil, looking regretful. Sorry little thing. He hadn't meant to trod over it. 

“What did Gi say these were called again?” he asks you, thinking to tuck the ruined blossom in his utility belt until he can find Tack. (Maybe even a ruined specimen can serve the researcher, in some way, he hopes.)

“Twilight troubles.” you answer, your voice softer than the gentle breeze. 

His head dips with a thoughtful nod as he plucks the neighboring, uncrushed flower too, “... come here.” Commander Wolffe requests in that golden tone that sends shivers down your spine. Close enough for his liking, Wolffe finds some buttonhole in your uniform to thread the stem through, adorning you with further tokens. “A little more color to catch the moonlight.” 

The stitched, gray wolf head with thread in your favorite color for the eyes was the only addition that graced your uniform just this morning. Now, there was the long leather cord of three copper beads wrapped around your wrist, and the Dinocaeruleus anthos - a delicate and beautiful galaxy when kissed by the rays of the moon - in the buttonhole to your breast pocket. 

“There,” Wolffe says decidedly, “think suits you rather well, Arcadia.” There’s a glimmer of moonlight reflected in the surface of his cybernetic eye, the cold and delicate beauty of it serves for a lure. You’re staring, and he can tell. 

He turns his face from you, eyes growing half-lidded. “Looks strange in the moonlight, doesn’t it?” The murmur is bashful, or perhaps more accurately, more self-conscious. Funny, you’ve never believed Commander Wolffe to be in any way conscious of his appearance like this in all the time you’ve been aboard the Triumphant. Never for a moment would you have pegged him to harbor insecurities, until today and all the many opportunities he has left himself vulnerable under your sight. 

Been permitted to know him better.

He’s allowed himself to be pulled apart, scrutinized and examined all so you can continually paint him with your praises, making your promises that you see him for the whole of the man he is. Beyond the flint. Beyond the designation number. Beyond his status as a commander, or simply just yet another rain-soaked son of Kamino. To you he is not Kaminoan or even Republic property, a mere product ten years in the making, a culmination of what a good, dutiful soldier was imagined to be and nothing further. No. You’ve witnessed too much today to pretend otherwise. 

He’s so much more.

“No. Strange isn’t the word I’d use.” you reply with a somber edge in your voice, “It’s… brighter in the moonlight. Like… like it becomes a beacon of light. Or a moon of its own.”

Instance after instance, you continue to impress Wolffe. Stump him repeatedly. Just when he thinks you can’t possibly offer yet more worshiping words, you conjure more. You’ve never seen him painted in the aching pains of rage that come in the heat of battle, but your tongue lifts only in reverence when you speak of his once-maroon paint and the phase one helmet. You’ve witnessed the hands that comforted and guided his brothers today, the very same hands that show a readiness in drawing his weapon today or any other day; never once did you shy away from such displays. You looked on in awe, instead. Or fear, not for yourself, but for him. 

He hums low in his throat. “Sounds like pollen-talk.”

“Maybe. Maybe it’s not. But would you believe me no less if it was, Wolffe?”

“‘Sounds like’ is not the same thing as ‘that is’, Arcadia.” the commander informs you, clarifying his meaning with a soft voice like hissing cinders. “But I never meant to imply I did not believe you…” Of course he believes you. You’ve proven your respect for him today, instance after repeated instance. 

It’s time he showed you more of the same respect in kind. You’ve been… so selfless, and kind, in giving him your time today. You could have told him to fuck off when he got in the way of the tree you’d been drawing, and you didn’t. You didn’t have to keep him company when Plo Koon had gone scouting, but you had. And you chose to remain behind when the rest of the crew left. How better can he repay all of that than to be honest with you?

Hoping he comes across in earnest, he meets your eye. “I would still believe you, even if it was from the flowers, because it’s you talking.” Wolffe promises. 

Now alone, fully isolated from his brothers rather than surrounded on all sides like so much of today, both you and the commander grow bolder, speaking freer than when you find yourself in the midst of the wolves. “Earlier: what was it that Waves said?” you ask, setting your things down now that you’re out of visual range of the battalion. 

Steeling himself with a long draught of his canteen first, Wolffe does not immediately meet your eye. He had taken you a little further away from the edge of the settlement, fearing his brothers would repeatedly come to gawk at the pair of you. What he says next, paired with the location, should be cautious. He’s aware of what it looks like. 

“Orchid seemed - seems…? - to think you'll have my privates standing at attention before morning, as a way to get me to relax, the next time we were alone.” 

It's exactly as you suspected, a sexual innuendo.

Both you and the commander break eye contact with the other at the same time. Yeah. You know exactly what the 104th will think when they learn that you two snuck off alone, staying within the boundaries of the third and fourth cairns - rock formations a whole head taller than Wolffe - in order to get a little alone time. 

“Permission to turn him into flower food, sir?” you request half-sarcastically with a deep groan, face in your hands. Did Orchid get that idea from his choice of reading material? Was the clever if crude play on words involving military rank and one's genitalia something he found on the Holonet? You and the commander… you barely know each other, let alone-! “Fucking hell… I think I’m gonna kill him.”

“He’ll wish you had after a week of fresher duty,” Wolffe says with a mild laugh, now offering you the canteen. “But I’m afraid the general and I need that little pain in the ass in one piece.” 

You chuckle. “Spoil-sport…” With not much in the canteen, you take a small drink with the intention of conserving some for later. The rest of the water was for you, he had said. You thank him after setting the canteen beside your bag, where you once more pull out your sketchbook as well as the second datapad you had offered to carry. When Orchid had shoved the flint-gray commander, the force combined with the weight of the datapad had compromised the clip holding it to Wolffe’s belt. At least that was going to be an easy part to replace. 

“So before I forget… what did Solladara want to show you and General Plo?”

Finding the pictures, Wolffe shows you the items, “Artwork of the clearing, where they found us. And… this.” It looks like it’s supposed to be some kind of shirt, but the material is surprisingly transparent. “You can understand why we accepted only the artwork, I’m sure.” Wolffe adds, shaking his head with a soft laugh as your eyes roam the image, trying to picture him in it while he mentions he’s going to try to get a small fire going to stave off the chill of the night. There’s a shallow pit, kindling and firewood that you can use here already, to your good fortune.

“I’m almost tempted to draw you again, wearing that Chossi attire that was offered to you this time.” you admit with a splitting smile, twirling the 2-besh pencil in your hand teasingly as you continue to study the image.  

You’re not really going to draw him in it, knowing that it’d leave very little to the imagination with a body type like the commander’s. He’s not slender in the same way the peoples of Little Archossi are, certainly much broader, and with well-defined muscle… Well. 

There was no way such a thing would be appropriate to wear anywhere other than the privacy of his own quarters. You’ll end up making the man look like a pin-up model in a state of semi-undress.

Wolffe clears his throat meaningfully. “You really should rest your wrist. I think you’ve drawn enough for the night, Arcadia.” Stretching out his hand, he silently beckons for the sketchbook to be turned over to him once he’s gotten the fire going. 

“Seriously?” You’re less than impressed with him for the moment, and it shows. You want to be touched that he’s concerned about your comfort, but him acting like a parent or other figure of guardianship in your life taking something away because you’ll misbehave with it in your possession is not the way to go about it. “I think I’m capable of showing some restraint on my own, thanks.”

Wolffe gives an unpleasant twitch when he realizes how this looks. How he believes he’s offended you. “I didn’t mean to imply that- Yes of course you are, Arcadia, you’ve proven that. I only wanted to ask to see it for a moment. I’m sorry.”

Oh. 

Oh Maker. Talk about a total overreaction when you don’t have all the facts. 

You hand him the spiral bound, eyes turned away. “I’m sorry. For assuming, and overreacting like that. I shouldn’t have.” The apology comes out in a strained voice, far more choked than you’d like. There are a million half-formed thoughts racing over your tongue right now that will never make it past your lips. You do not trust any single one will be coherent when it’s clarity you feel he deserves. “I think… I think after being around all this creativity-boosting pollen today it kind of just left me… wondering where all the thoughts begin and end.”

“Do you think you need a minute?”

“Yes…” you admit slowly. Wolffe starts to climb to his feet and panic begins to bubble up in your chest. “B-but I’d like you to stay! I’m not asking you to leave.” You don’t want him to leave, because you don’t know when he’ll come back, or if you feel this is worth potentially troubling a medic over. 

He listens, and he stays. The distance between you however, has changed. Wolffe’s put himself much closer to you now. Previously at arm’s length, he’s now close enough to lean against. He has the sketchbook in his hands, flipped open to that page of you in uncolored armor, but it’s you that he studies. In his quiet observance, Wolffe’s expression changes several times in the fluttering firelight, each change gradual and small. Softening brow. Pursing lips. Eyes full and fixed. 

“You’re a hard man to read sometimes, Commander Wolffe.” You’re not sure why you feel the need to say it, or how he’ll take it after what just happened, but maybe he’ll appreciate knowing what’s on your mind. “I think it makes me nervous. Sometimes.”

You know he doesn’t mean to. But you can’t help the way you feel either.

“I don’t doubt that, Arcadia.” 

He’s sorry that he makes you nervous, as well, Wolffe adds. Of course it isn’t his intention. Of course he understands that feeling this way can’t be helped sometimes either. He’s familiar with that feeling and its cousins. Nervousness and dread. You’ve seen enough proof of it today. The pacing. Safety drills. Lecturing Suds. Arguing with his sergeants. Throwing himself over you to keep you safe. 

Without hesitation. Like you were one of his own brothers… 

“Hey, um-” you start, glancing over at your sketchbook, “H-how’d you draw me so quickly? Can’t just have been ‘inspiration’.” It’s not the question you want to ask first when you disturb the curtain of silence, but it’ll serve as a good starting block.

Commander Wolffe gives you a small, guarded smile. “The idea is to be quick when you’re drawing outdoors, is it not? That’s what you said to me this morning.”

Oh the utter cheek in that reply - whether it was intended or coincidental - could drive someone wild were there not so many questions on your mind. And there’s just so much. 

“Force, I… I almost forgot I’d said that, in all honesty.” you admit a bit numbly, staring ahead into the dark sea of foliage. “You- Well no, you remembering that would make sense. I guess I should be more surprised by how much detail you captured in so short a time.” 

Muttering something to himself in thought, he repeats the word detail several times before coming to an important decision. 

Commander Wolffe's hand darts into the low fire pit, snatching out a charred hunk of wood. As you're wondering what the hell's gotten into him, if he's burned his hand through the gloves, he takes the art book in his opposite hand and flips it to his sketch of you. Sort of tickling the page with one end of the charred wood, Wolffe is carefully smearing the appropriate areas of the armor with ashes, blowing away the excess once he's done. 

“That takes care of gray missing from all of the coloring pencils.” He nods once, stiffly, satisfied with his ingenuity. “Now you truly look the part.” 

Look the part? But you're just drawn in Clone armor and colored in gray, just like the 104th battalion. What's so special about-?

Oh, Force. Oh galaxy and all her stars…

Commander Wolffe means you look like the rest of the one-oh-fourth, that you fit in. 

“Are you saying that…?” 

Osk-nern-esk

The eyebrow above his cybernetic eye lifts just so, nearly missed in the flickering firelight. “Use your words, Arcadia.” he teases. 

Osk-forn

“A-are you saying that I’m… b-but I'm just part of the crew!” you insist, certain that he's not serious about this. He can't truly mean what he's been writing, word by word beneath the first mantra. 

Trill-hesh-esk

“But you are, Arcadia. You're one of us.” Wolffe promises, voice low and reverent. “The 104th would not be the same without you. Not after what I've seen… felt today.” 

Wesk-osk-leth-vev-esk-senth

ONE OF THE WOLVES.

Whether they were still the magnificent maroons of the past, or the grizzled grays of today, you have been added among the names - the number perhaps thousands or more - of his brothers that he will forever carry in his beating heart, forevermore his wolves. This is a silent oath that when he fights for the glory of the Republic and the downfall of the Separatists, he’s doing so for his general, for his brothers, and for you.

For good measure, Wolffe scribbles down his rank and name, bringing the end to the work on his magnum opus with a signature. It's only fitting. Here, at this private fireside, he lays his heart and intentions bare to you. “I’m probably about as poetic as a gargled mouthful of Aurebesh soup, but Arcadia… while I know you well enough to consider you one of the Wolfpack, I'd… I'd like to ask if you'd be opposed to getting to know you better. As new friends do, first, perhaps, or…”

You blink once, maybe five times before finding your voice. Friends. In his own way, he confirmed you were friends. “I wouldn't be opposed at all… I-I’d be happy to, even.” 

You're nearly breathless, heart racing a thousand kilometers an hour, just short of warp speed. 

Does the slight stress to “or” mean he's grappling with other feelings about you on his mind, like you do for him? The love versus limerence? 

“As friends is a… good place to start.” you offer additionally, matching that tender, relieved smile he shows you. 

“Have to start somewhere, Arcadia,” the Commander replies plainly, trying to appeal to his and your own sense of logic perhaps. “Just to make certain of any… feelings.” 

Taking you under his arm, against his side, Wolffe is content with waiting out the remainder of the night under the curtain of stars for the sky to lighten and give way to another glorious, golden dawn. The 104th will depart for the Triumphant at daybreak, and the war efforts will resume as normal. You just hope Plo Koon cooks up a satisfactory excuse in the event someone asks him what happened today. (Or, technically yesterday. (What time is it?)) For all you know, nobody will ever ask or care to know, or it'll be decided what happened on Little Archossi is by-and-large an unspoken secret. 

Which would kind of be a shame. 

It'd be terrible to keep the day you became friends with the flint-gray Commander under wraps, never get to explain the truth behind him coated in maroon while you're in gray in the pages of your sketchbook. Never be able to explain the full context of meeting the Chossi, or what they've taught everyone. 

Or how, murmured under his breath into the shell of your ear after the stars begin melting into the backdrop at long last, Commander Wolffe admits that perhaps for once, he's never been more relaxed since the start of the war.

That's a wrap! Thank you so much to everyone who read this series; I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed writing this.🩷If you would like to be join my taglist for future fics, the form can be found here.

Tag list: @msmeredithrose @lonely-day3636 @dukeoftheblackstar

[Masterlist]

[Early Morning] [Midday] [Late Afternoon] [Evening] [Deep Night]

[Golden Dawn part 1] [Finished!]

#frostfics #Poets and Painters #star wars #star wars fanfiction #the clone wars fanfiction #star wars the clone wars #swtcw #tcw #commander wolffe x reader #commander wolffe x you #wolffe x reader #wolffe x you #gender neutral reader #tcw wolffe #commander wolffe #clone trooper wolffe #cc 3636 #cameos of #plo koon #104th battalion #tcw sinker #tcw boost #tcw warthog #tcw comet #clone oc: tack #clone oc: orchid #clone oc: soapsuds #mentions of #jedi oc: caelen #clone oc: scuffle

[dukeoftheblackstar]

Plo Koon is both Jedi Master and Baran Do Sage. That said, so many wizardy things happening in that god-tier, space dad-built daddy of perfection that he is. That said, body be a temple.

Some culture consider tattoos be taboo as a form of disrespecting your body while some pay tribute to their beliefs by engraving tats on their bodies.

Things to consider:

Kel Dors outside Dorin are pretty much covered up for safety reasons. If there is a hidden tat, that be hella spicy. But of all the canon Kel Dors in Legends and games, there's no indication of tattoos being part of their culture.

Part of says Plo takes pride in battlescars more than tats.

Idk if they Baran Do Sages do chants like the Night Sisters so there may not be a need for prayers/chants that I was hoping to be a possible tat or forms of tables and insignia.

Masks are clan based. So what if a specific Kel Dor Clan that also has been a part of the Baran Do Sage has tats, do they get the mask decor on their body? (I don't think so but I need visuals)

So I need this for my sanity please and thank you.

Be as descriptive as you can because I feel like I'll get an art done for this so I can sleep and not think about this too much.

#♝ #plo koon #plokoon #plo koon headcanon #possibly #baran do sage #night sisters #mention #tattoo #jedi master plo koon #space dad #essentially my husband #Be as descrip

[cjorgens2022]

Bad Batch Season 3

I was asleep for a good moment. Then I saw visions of Hunter and Wrecker being the ones to die at the end of the season while Omega, Crosshair and Echo are too survive.

another thing is that in another part of my bad batch dreams is that Tech, as CX-2 had Hunter in binds whole guiding him to the shuttle silently before holding a deep conversation with Hunter.

then, Wrecker would seize Tech aka CX-2 much to the latter’s displeasure while, an unusually alive Plo Koon watched!

#Plo Koon #Bad Batch Season 3 #CX-2 #Tech is CX-2 #Imperial Tech #Imperial!Tech #Clone X reconditioning does not change Tech’s mind #Galactic Empire #major deaths #Original characters #angst #mentions of Order 66 #Wilhuff Tarkin #Edmon Rampart #Royce Hemlock #Emerie Karr #TK stormtroopers #Project War Mantle

[bibannana]

Wolfpack

Sinker *grinning*: Hey Commander!! We came up with an idea we want to run past you.

Wolffe *stoic*: Yes? What is it?

Boost *trying not to bounce on the spot, very excited*: Well, we think that we should call ourself the wolfpack sir.

Sinker *very proud of their idea*: Y'know? Because we're like a pack and your name is Wolffe.

Wolffe *almost in tears*: That's disgusting. I hate it.

Boost *dejected*: O-oh okay we can think of som-

Wolffe *hastily cutting Boost off, shoving on his helmet to hide his tears*: But there is nothing we can do about it now. We just need to put up with the name.

Sinker *smirking*: Sure thing Commander

#plo koon came up with the idea #he was mentioning to his sons how they are like a pack #wolffe loved the name #very heart felt #he went to his room and cried a little #sinker knows he did #boost is a little oblivious #what do you mean this isnt what happened? #wolfpack #commander wolffe #wolffe #sergeant sinker #sinker #clone trooper boost #boost #104th #plo koon #star wars #the clones wars #tcw #clone wars #incorrect star wars quotes #incorrect clone wars quotes

[martianbugsbunny]

One of my very favorite PloKit artists @uiro-mgmg1 reblogged/complimented my PloKit fic (my first for that pairing, but also some of my best work overall!) and I am so happy!! Their art is incredibly beautiful, and one of the reasons I got into PloKit in the first place, so I’m just really pleased that they enjoyed the fic 😊 If you want to see some really lovely PloKit art, go hop over there and you won’t be disappointed

#idk if it's proper protocol to post about a reblog? #I need like a Tumblr rulebook or smthn lol #but it was super exciting so I couldn't resist! #plus it gave me a chance to mention that this person is one of my fave plokit artists #and I love shouting out people who have brought me into a fandom even if we don't know each other #bc it's important to me even if it's not to them #idk sort of rambling now :| #anyway #plokit #plo koon #kit fisto #clone wars #star wars #btw if this does go against some kinda etiquette please let me know and I'll take it down if it's not proper

[mrfandomwars]

Chad Palpatine

(Picrew found here, was made by @deerinspotlight on Twitter)

A few days ago, I joked about making someone who was contemporary with Tarre that was:

A Jedi as well

An Ancestor of Palpatine

And I finally did it

Chad Palpatine, Jedi who was sent undercover to the Sith and almost Fell FOR REAL and had to have Tarre come break him out to do it

As in, Tarre broke into a Sith compound with a bunch of Jedi and Mandalorians, threw Chad over his shoulders and got out of there as soon as possible

He was also a High Council Member and was clan mates with Tarre, he was also possibly a mix of Jedi Consular/Shadow

Animals loved him enough to try and break into where he was sleeping to seek cuddles

His Master (a female Twi'lek) was the Padawan sister to Tarre's Master

(there was also another Padawan sibling of a long lived species that would later on train Fay and Yoda.

Yes, Fay is older and Yoda's Padawan Sister.)

He is naturally a frat boy that everyone expects to be dumb but he is Actually Really Smart, as in, he is regularly begged to go to Top Universities of the Galaxy to teach classes

Palpatine, at the time, was a name used in orphanages for a bit. He was adopted from an Orphanage by the Jedi.

(It would stop being used by Orphanages, and by the Clone Wars there were very few Palpatine's left beyond Sheev Palpatine, most had a name before Palpatine to distinguish them.

Like Officer Vanjish-Palpatine of the Grand Republic Armour, a really good friend with the Clones)

Although he had a shoto, his main weapon was a kyber-powered energy bow

He had a set of twins (a girl and a boy) that he gained from a one-night stand (they were left in the front steps of the Temple with a note) and he raised them in the Jedi Temple alongside other Jedi Younglings.

The son later left the Jedi (acknowledged that it wasn't for him, even if it was for his sister and father) and moved to Naboo, later on he would marry and have kids that would lead down to Sheev Palpatine that we know.

The girl went to become a first council member of the Council of Reconciliation and then of the Jedi High Council. She lived to an old age, she is part of Plo Koon's lineage.

(Tarre was the godparent Jedi/Star Wars equivalent to Chad's twins)

Vizsla 🤝 Palpatine

Families that turned Evil/Sith even though they have ancestry on the Lightside/Jedi

Also that collar that you see in the picrew? Was taken by the son when Chad died and now belongs to Sheev. It used to belong to Chad's first Master before they died.

(the daughter got Chad's favourite Bracelet, it now belongs to Bultar Swan)

#star wars #sw #mr talks #chad palpatine #mr ocs #tarre vizsla (mentioned) #Sheev Palpatine (mentioned) #image with no id #no description #image warning #Jedi Master Fay (mentioned) #Yoda (mentioned) #picrew #bultar swan (mentioned) #plo koon (mentioned)

[coconuts-are-mammals]

Tyvokka: Treat spiders the way you want to be treated.

Koon: Killed without hesitation.

Tyvokka: No-

#Tyvokka #Uncle Koon #I think his name should be Pav #or Pra #and also I imagine he went a bit crazy towards the end of his life #hence the reason why we don't see him mentioned very often #but anyway #Plo's Gay Dads #Incorrect Quotes

[cienie-isengardu]

#star wars #mace windu #plo koon #master tyvokka #qui gon jinn #the stark hyperspace war #for context master tyvooka thought jinn is too stubborn and difficult but plo asked his to take jinn and his new apprentice #and now plo in subtely way reminds his master to mention jinn #what a good friend :D

[swbumblebee]

Plo smiled to himself as he tread the familiar route towards his favourite place in the temple, clutching his alternate mask that allowed him to drink with his partner-in-time-travel, he was headed to Mace’s flat and his usual spot on the other man’s sofa that was calling his name.

It had been A Day, and he was looking forward to one of their, now rather frequent, evenings chatting and drinking together on the sofa.

Giving off a strong “Notice me not” in the force he was running the gauntlet trying to not to be waylaid by requests, well wishers or complaints that often followed council members around. Nearly there, he faltered when he felt the welcome presence of one Obi-Wan Kenobi, coming his way.

He was about to let down his own shields when he paused, taking note of Obi-Wan’s companion and remaining where he was.

“So you’re sure you’re not coming? It’ll be fuun” The voice was not one Plo was terribly familiar with, slightly coy in tone and raising at the end to a singsong, clearly trying to wheedle Plo’s boy into something.

“Oh I’m sure it will, but I can’t I’m afraid…I have Anakin now you know, and I just need to get a few things done”.

Obi-Wan’s polite reply was laced with the tiniest of tiny amounts of irritation, and Plo decided to make himself known.

Rounding the corner he was surprised to see Knight Amran was the speaker. The tall, built Zabrak was standing close to Obi-Wan, one arm leaning against the wall of the corridor over the young Jedi’s slightly shorter frame.

“ Aww really?”

“Yes I’m quite sure.” Came the short, firm reply as Obi-Wan straightened up and began walking again, forcing the other being to catch up. Plo smiled.

Nice try Amran.

“Master Plo!” he was startled out of his rather smug thoughts by the cheerful greeting of his young friend. Knight Amran took a few startled paces away from him, to Plo’s intense amusement.

“Good afternoon Obi-Wan, Knight Amran” he greeted with a smile and a bow.

“Master”

“Obi-Wan, I believe Master Drallig is waiting for you for latemeal” he informed the pair. No harm in reminding the bold Zabrak who Obi-Wan’s friends were.

“Er…thank you Master, I had better get moving”. The young knight’s response was accompanied by a archly amused and knowing sense in the force as he bowed to his companions in goodbye. “Give my regards to Master Windu” he finished with a small knowing smirk.  

Cheeky brat.

 ---

Plo set his second glass down.

“You’ll never guess who I saw Obi-Wan with earlier.” He asked, without waiting for a response “Knight Amran, who was very keen to spend some time with him.”

Mace looked at him flatly.

“You really do need to stop eavesdropping.”

“I wasn’t! I was just walking!”

Plo received a dubious look from his partner, who took a thoughtful sip of his wine.

“Hmm yes I have noticed Amran sniffing around” the Korrun Master replied with a sniff of distain. “They're far too old for Obi-Wan. They should know better.”

Plo snorted at his friend’s overprotectiveness.

“Obi-Wan's only a few years younger. There’s no harm in it” he said, bemused. The other man simply frowned.

“Besides, we both know Obi-Wan can more than take care of himself in…that sort of department.” Plo finished, trying to find the words without scarring himself or his companion.

“Yes thank you I’d rather not think about that” Mace grumbled, taking a very large gulp of his wine whilst Plo laughed.

Padawan Kenobi had been ‘a bit of a go-er’ in his late teens. Much to his Master’s distress. Plo knew Qui-Gon endured many sleepless nights worrying about his precious Padawan’s evening companions.

“But it’s matters of the heart I worry about. You know what he’s like!” Mace continued, rubbing his hand over his bald head.

Plo could give him that. Their soft-hearted friend did tend to fall in love with his entire being. They both remembered the shattered pieces of Master Kenobi after the Mandalore Incident, that first time around.

“Yes well Padawan Tachi and the Duchess are well behind him now, that’ll of course be different this time as soon as we get rid of that damned Maul, and in a few years he’ll meet his Commander and that’ll be that.” Plo said confidently.

“Oh ‘that’ll be that’ will it?” Mace teased “Alright, they did make a nice couple” he conceded after a whack from his confidant.  

“You just liked Cody because he bullied Obi-Wan about staying safe” Plo retorted.

“I did” Mace admitted into his wine. “He was good for him. Much better than Vos, or Force forbid Amran, anyway.”

“I like Vos” Plo defended the cheerful Kiffar.

“He’s a troublemaker” Mace groused.

Plo privately thought there were very few people Mace deemed good enough for Obi-Wan, certainly nobody who could compare to the diligent, professional, practical standards of Commander Cody.

But then, they were both a bit biased towards the clones.

“Hopefully this time they’ll be able to settle down. It’ll be nice to have Cody and the vode in the family.”

“That would be nice” Mace murmured, cradling his glass. “But perhaps as far as romance goes, we’d better make sure Anakin pays more attention in his Health and Hygiene lectures this time around. At least emphasise the importance of basic pre-natal care!”

Plo groaned. To think that last time so much of the galaxy imploding was down to a naïve young couple who never thought to get reassurance from a trained healer, was incredibly frustrating.

“Young people are so stupid!” he sighed.

Mace laughed and raised his glass in a toast.

“Agreed.”

#Space Dads Go Time Travelling #obi-wan kenobi #mace windu #plo koon #obi-wan fanfic #knight kenobi #codywan #obitine #obi-wan/siri #obi-wan/quinlan vos #all ships are mentions only though!

[coffeeandbatboys]

Battle Scars (Wolffe x Reader)

Summary: Wolffe comes home to you, but when you learn about his injury, he’s afraid you’ll leave.

Warnings: mention of Ventress and the injury, angst angst angst. Hurt/comfort. Also Plo Koon calls reader little one, but in a father in law kind of way.

A/N these keep getting shorter and shorter.

You waited off to the side of the hangar, making your presence known but not too obvious. Master Plo Koon crossed it and stood before you. One of the few Jedi who cared about the Clone’s personal lives, he allowed the relationship between you and Wolffe to thrive in the shadows.

“He had an…incident. Physically, he will be alright. But he is emotionally unwell.”

Your breath hitched as you saw Wolffe coming out of the ship. Half of his face was bandaged, while the other was twisted in pain.

“Thank you, General, for taking care of him.”

“He is a good man, little one. He deserves it.”

As the general walked away, you noticed that Wolffe had not come any closer, staying on the other side of the hangar. So you made a move, crossing towards him.

“Hello, Cyare.” He sighed, turning the bandaged side of his face away from you.

You reached up to caress his jaw “Oh, Wolffe. What happened?”

A slight shake of his head told you something serious had happened. So you lead him away to the barracks, hoping that maybe he’d be more comfortable speaking in private.

“Wolffe you need to talk to me. I’ve been waiting all this time to see you.”

He mumbled something incoherent. You hummed in question.

“I’m surprised you even want to see me.”

Your heart sank. Did he think you wouldn’t want him because he was injured? You carefully placed your hand on the bandages.

“Is this what this is all about?”

He nodded. You leaned forward and placed a feather light kiss to the medical cloth. You were ready to pull back when his arms locked around your waist and he held you like he’d never see you again.

“I love you Cyar’ika. I can’t…I can’t loose you.”

You chuckled a little bit. “I signed up for your bullshit, Wolffe. You’re stuck with me.”

“Promise?” He mumbled into your shoulder.

“I promise, love. Now want to tell me what happened?”

“Ventress. She…cut through my helmet.”

You thought for a moment.

“That’s something to be proud of. Not being killed by a Sith.”

He laughed dryly, holding you a little tighter.

“Yeah. I suppose so.”

#Star Wars #commander wolffe #commander wolffe x reader #wolffe x reader #tcw wolffe #wolffe x you #clone trooper wolffe #star wars wolffe #clone wars wolffe #clones x reader

[dukeoftheblackstar]

I love your Plo Koon and 104th - related posts because (1) they're hilarious, (2) wholesome but also not? (3) you include all of them. I didn't know about Warhtog or Tracer (?) I know Wolffe, Sinker, Boost, Comet, but who is Warthog? Is he in comics?

;////////; Please join the Kel Dor Cronch Squad because we're so few and heavily obsessed. You may also follow more Kel Dor goodness at @plokoonsdisapprovingeyebrows @saengak @exosorcery and @uiro-mgmg1 and specially @veny-many.

Yes, I have THOUGHTS and THOTS about everything, thank you very much ♥

And you're actually asking ME about Warthog? Baby, sweetheart, honey bear, come let me love you? Let me show you with so much affection you'll kjkljdklajd from my constant lovebombing ;////////;

But here is a wonderful peace made by very, very, bless bebbi @omaano

And me going off about my unsung, slept on king ♥

#♝ #dukeoftheblackstar answers #♝-answers #warthog #move over wolffe #well maybe not #hahha #104th battalion #plo koon #mentions #tracer #boost #sinker #comet #all of my boys #we stan 104th here babies #tysm for asking about my baby

[awkward-tension-art]

Clones as expectant fathers

I am an actual nero-cancer researcher. I have a job and a degree. And my ADHD brain saw sad military men and went “I want that one”

Clones: Rex, Wolffe, Fox, Cody and Fives

CW: pregnancy, the clones all have a ‘secret’ SO, They are expecting a baby, A little angsty with Fox, there's slight mentions of smut with Fives (if you squint), swearing, this is just supposed to be a good time, its not reader insert

Minors do not interact!

Rex

Terrified. Also overjoyed. But mostly terrified. 

He’s a soldier. Captain of the 501st, the most….adventurous of the GAR. His chances of dying on the battlefield and leaving his SO behind are higher than the average clone

And now he may leave behind his child? His kid may grow up without a father

He gets nervous. Anxious and antsy, and it's very VERY easy for Anakin to figure out Rex isn’t entire OK

Rex doesn’t even need to tell Anakin.

Skywalker takes one look at him and just KNOWS.

“Congrats, Rex.” “...on what, sir?” “If it's a boy, name him after me.” “WHAT!?”

Ahsoka needs to be told and she’s more excited than Rex when she finds out. 

“Come on Rex! Name them after me! The republic needs an Ahsoka jr!” “And if the baby is a boy?” “Don’t name them after skyguy, please!”

Most of the 501st don't know. Too many people knowing raises the chance of less accepting individuals knowing. And if that happens, Rex, his SO and his baby may be in danger.

It’s forbidden for the clones to have SO’s, not to mention babies. It could end with Rex being decommissioned or reconditioned if it was found out he had both

Rex will visit and help as much as he can every chance he gets. He feels terrible for leaving his SO for long stretches of time during the pregnancy. 

He WANTS to be there…he just can’t. Not while the war was going on

Despite his terror, Rex is…overjoyed

He didn’t think children were possible for him. He knew it could happen, but he didn’t think HE would ever know this happiness

The first time he feels his baby move in his SO, he’d get this sweetest smile on his face. He’ll kiss the baby bump and just murmur words of love in mando’a

He falls head-over-heels in love all over again

As the due date approaches, Anakin asks an important question

“Captain, I need to know when your baby might be born.” “...why, sir?” “Because I need to know when to take extended leave.”

Anakin tells Padme, and she is beyond sweet. Even visits Rex’s SO and the two have a wonderful friendship

All in all, Rex is both excited and anxious. But having so much support from Anakin, Ahsoka and Padme (and his other brothers who find out much later) helps him a lot

Wolffe

More relaxed. And by relaxed I mean he hides his anxiety better. And it doesn’t exactly hit him as hard

Partly because Plo Koon and the entire Wolfpack knows about his relationship already. 

So you bet your ass the pack celebrates when Wolffe tells them he's going to be a father

Plo Koon especially is excited

“How wonderful, new life being born during times of war” “I’m not naming my child after you, general Plo.” “Nonsense! The child will be a girl.”

During battle, Wolffe finds himself being protected by his brothers and General a tad more

At first he writes it off as a coincidence, but then Boost lets slip during a battle “You gotta get back to your little one!”

He gives his men a bit of a lecture. He’s not incapable of fighting or defending himself. He thinks the message gets across but Plo chimes in with, “Ah yes, the stern words of a father already!”

Wolffe would probably see his SO more frequently than Rex. Just because Plo would more than likely spend more time on Coruscant.

He’s definitely protective. As in, waking up in the middle of the night to check all the windows, protective. Keeping an arm around his SO, protective. Every symptom or sign of discomfort he calls a medical droid, protective.

He’s not stupid, he is well aware that by having an SO and a child on the way he's in violation of several rules. All of which, when broken, would have him decommissioned

But dammit, he's not letting that happen. Wolffe will be there for his SO and his baby, no matter what

Since he’s able to spend more time with his SO, he’s there to feel the first movements of his baby.

It sort of causes him to short-circuit for a second. It hits him that yes, this is a life that he and his SO both created. Out of love.

Wolffe makes a swear that he’s going to protect his baby at all costs

Grandpa Plo does as well, but the Wolfpack doesn’t know that

Fox (kinda angst)

First of all congratulations to the SO for actually managing to be Fox’s SO

They got to be something special for the head of Palpatine’s personal guard to break rules and regulations and find himself an SO

Speaking of Palpatine, congratulations to Fox! Your SO is now in even more danger!

No, seriously. Palpatine knows before Fox. No one knows how, but he knows.

And he absolutely will use Fox’s SO as leverage to keep him under control

And Fox knows this, so he behaves. More so than usual.

He’s not blind. Hes fiercely loyal to the republic, but one step out of line and the (very few) things he cares about will be killed

Which…is why Fox may come across as cold or uninterested when his SO informs him of their pregnancy

A part of him is terrified, he just won’t show it

He’s not going to be more affectionate or anything. He actually acts pretty normal. Which is standoffish.

Despite his…demeanor, he actually manages to be present for the entirety of the pregnancy. It helps being a Coruscant guard, which means he’s more present than all the other clones.

He’s not moving mountains or anything, but he’ll get snacks in the middle of the night in case of cravings

No one else knows about Fox and his SO. not even his own men. He refuses to tell anyone. 

Its for his SO’s protection

But Palpatine, the sick fuck, slips some words to get Fox’s nerves into overdrive

“This war is taking such a toll. So many dead children…so many grief stricken parents” “Sir?” “Oh nothing. Just stating the fact that the loss of an innocent life, such as…a baby, is always a tragedy. Wouldn’t you agree, commander?”

He found himself walking home a bit faster that day and hugs his SO a little tighter that night

Fox cares, in his own way. He’s just beyond stressed and anxious. But you wouldn’t know. He hides it behind a mask. 

It's actually Padme that finds out. And she feels somewhat bad for Fox. She thinks his anxiety comes from the fact that clones aren't allowed SO’s or children

Which, it is, but theres the added threat of fucking Palpatine.

She ends up getting him to tell her the truth and she swears to secrecy. Even offers to hire his SO as some sort of assistant, if only so Fox can be closer to his SO

Hear me out, he actually breaks down when he feels the baby move. He can’t fully handle it anymore and shuts down. 

This is a baby. His baby. They're alive and already so loved.

Something in him clicks and he accepts Padme’s help. 

His terror gets easier, ever so slightly. But he keeps his collected and calm front.

Cody

“General Kenobi-” “Ah! Commander Cody! Congratulations!”

goddamnit.exe

Cody is a tad more relaxed than Rex, but more tense than Wolffe

He knows Kenobi isn’t going to punish him or force him back to Kamino for decommissioning, he’s still a little on guard.

But, since Kenobi knows, Anakin does. So does Ahsoka. Which means Rex knows.

goddamnit2.exe

More people in the 501st know than in the 212th which gives him the biggest headache

Waxer knows though. Cody had to tell someone that wasn’t a sarcastic general

He does a good job hiding his worry though

Cody is able to spend about the same amount of time as Rex with his SO

He doesn’t feel as bad as Rex when it comes to the lack of presence he has during the pregnancy

It's war. It sucks and he’d prefer to be there for his SO, but he’d also prefer SO and child have freedom from the separatists

I will say, he is pretty attentive when he isn’t off in space.

Foot rubs, shoulders massages, helping with cravings

One thing Cody does is that he’ll wrap his arms under his SO’s baby bump and lift it slightly, giving his SO’s back some relief

He really loves to do this because his SO just melts

Hear me out, Cody gets giggly when he feels the baby move/kick the first time

His palm is on the bump and he feels that first little flutter against his hand

404 Commander Cody has his amygdala broken from joy. Reboot?

He’ll actually tell Kenobi about it because he’s so happy.

“That's wonderful Cody, but I still question one thing.” “What is it, sir?” “How you managed to get laid to begin with.”

Goddamnit3.exe

Fives

“Hey everyone! I’m gonna be a dad!”

Ecstatic is not a strong enough word

Also not subtle at all

There is a solid 3 hours until everyone in the 501st knows

He’s told Echo before the first hour. Rex knew within 2 hours.

Fives is BEYOND over the moon

He gets this small smile on his face that just doesn’t go away

Whenever he’s not with his SO, he definitely calls them every day. He wants updates on the little one

Also, seeing his SO with a baby bump? Unlocks something inside his brain.

Fives is incredibly horny when he’s with his SO. He’ll be rubbing their middle and getting a puppy dog look in his eye.

Only if his SO is in the mood of course! He’d never try and be forceful

He’s probably the clone that takes the distance the hardest. He debates taking a ship and making a run for Coruscant on more than one occasion.

In the end he settles to ask Anakin for extended leave.

Anakin is also extremely happy for Fives. Like with Rex, he makes a “name the baby after me” joke

Fives brings that up to his SO and nearly gets smacked. He also makes a “Fives jr.” joke and actually does get smacked.

When Fives feels the baby kick, he gets high on happiness. Actual mumbling incoherent words of love and affection in Mando’a

Lots and lots of “Ni kar'tayl gar darasuum”

He also gets very VERY affectionate with his SO

Kisses his SO’s face a lot. Even as a greeting, he’ll just start peppering their cheeks with pecks

Also probably the only one ballsy enough to ASK his general for extended leave

“Excuse me, general Skywalker? I’ll need to take leave at this date.” “Oh, yea sure. You know what? That seems like a good time for all the men to take a break. Thanks, Fives.”

He’s also probably the only one ballsy enough to actually take his new born baby onto a fucking battleship to introduce everyone.

“This is your uncle Rex. This is your uncle Echo and your uncle Tup. That's your auntie Ahsoka!” “Fives what the FUCK are you doing?!” “Introducing the family, captain.”

#the clone wars x reader #captain rex x reader #commander wolffe #Commander Wolffe x reader #captain rex #commander fox #commander fox x reader #commander cody #commander cody x reader #arc trooper fives #fives x reader #star wars the clone wars #star wars headcanons #tw pregnancy #fluff #headcanons #tcw x reader

[gffa]

STAR WARS CHARACTER ENCYCLOPEDIA (2021) + Fun Facts:

Adi Gallia is respect for her powers of intuition.

Adi Gallia is a valuable intelligence source to Senate leaders, indicating some kind of diplomat to the Senate kind of relation.

Agen Kolar is known to strike first and ask questions later, he is also a valuable member of the Jedi High Council.

Agen is a master swordsmith, not just a highly skilled sword wielder, indicating there’s probably an entire Jedi discipline of sword-making?

"Anakin's bond with his teacher, Obi-Wan Kenobi, is strong. They make a dynamic team in the Clone Wars."

Barriss specialized in tandem fighting and used the Force to keep her actions perfectly in synch with her partner Luminara.

Coleman Trebor is the only known Vurk (from an ocean world) to have joined the Jedi Order.

Depa offers an ordered perspective to the wind-ranging minds of her fellow Jedi.

Jedi Master Mace Windu rescued Depa Billaba from space pirates who destroyed her parents. Eventually, Windu took Billaba as his Padawan. Over the years, they have developed a close bond.

"Kenobi has a healthy independent streak and truly formidable lightsaber skills."

"The bond between Obi-Wan Kenobi and Anakin Skywalker is strong as they fight through the Clone Wars."

Plo Koon, Saesee Tiin, and Obi-Wan Kenobi are considered great pilots of the Jedi.

Plo Koon is an awesome fighter and has strong telekinetic powers.

Saesee Tiin has more telepathic powers than most Jedi (who are closer to empathic than anything).

Torgruta Shaak Ti is one of the best Jedi fighters in group combat. Her hollow head montrals sense space ultrasonically, sharping her spacial awareness.

Stass Allie is a formidable warrior, but her talent for battlefield medicine is also impressive. These first-aid skills have saved the lives of troops under her command during the Clone Wars.

Stass Allie and Adi Gallia are cousins.

Yaddle trained Oppo Rancisis.

Yaddle has devoted a lot of time to scholarly interests, and spends much time in the Jedi Archives.

Yarael Poof has a mischievous side and enjoys playing mind tricks on colleagues.

Note: While this book was put out very recently, indicating an intention for these mentions to be canon, I would be careful of taking these as Hard Fact until they’ve appeared in an actual story somewhere (and sometimes they’re already wrong, 2019′s Master and Apprentice shows Qui-Gon was offered a seat on the Council, while this book says he wasn’t).  But they are SUPER FUN details to help expand the world in the meantime!

#jedi order #obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #ahsoka tano #mace windu #adi gallia #aayla secura #barriss offee #count dooku #agen kolar #coleman trebor #depa billaba #eeth koth #even piell #ki adi mundi #luminara unduli #kit fisto #plo koon #qui gon jinn #saesee tiin #shaak ti #stass allie #yaddle #yarael poof #yoda #reference #long post #rosario dawson