Hello, for your prompt thingy I'd really like to see kisses #14 with the handsome Commander Wolffe.
🌙 MORE CUTENESS FOR THIS BAAAAABE
14. Kissing each other breathless
"Wolffeeeee!" You call out loudly as the Wolfpack LAAT nears the landing platform, your beloved Commander turned in your direction, ready to move to you upon landing.
As the aircraft touches down, he steps out along with his fellow troopers, taking his sweet time to get to you.
You almost bounce with anticipation as you wait for him, determined to stay where you are until he gets to you.
You throw yourself into his arms once he gets close enough, yours around his shoulders as his hands settle on your waist. You press yourself as close to his armour as possible, gripping his blacks at his neck, aching to see his face.
"Hello, sweetheart." Wolffe greets you with a tone so soft it's nearly a whisper.
"Hi!" You greet him back enthusiastically, but rushed as you hurry to yank his helmet off his head. Once you do, you dive forward to smash your lips against his, catching your beloved off guard.
His helmet remains in your grip while your other arm stays around his strong shoulders, pulling him to you even as he remains dumbstruck.
As he collects himself, Wolffe kisses you back even harder, if possible, breathing you in deeply as you do the same. Uncaring of the whistles and gags directed at the two of you. It's been too long.
You take a deep breath before you part from his lips, looking into his eyes with a bright, pleased, smile.
"I'm so glad you're back safe." Your chest moves against his as you breathe just a little harsher from the kiss, but taking Wolffe's breath away with your dazzling smile.
"So am I, my love."
Here's the prompt list!
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Hello and Goodnight
Fandom(s): Star Wars: The Clone Wars, Star Wars (Prequel Trilogy)
Summery: Ahsoka wanted to see the meteor shower, and unexpected visitor shows up at the docs but he's not an unwelcome one. || AU of an AU— Wolffepack against Child Abuse x MerMay AU
Pairing(s): PloKit, Micah/Plo (Past)
Part 2/3 of the May the 4th fics I have planned. Is this the cursed one? Probably not.
It's also my MerMay bit, though It might not be the only one I do for MerMay, we shall see
Children, Plo Koon knew, were precious. From the moment he had held his baby sister— he had been six years old then— to his career as a teacher, and then as part of the Child Protective Services, to when he held his niece for the first time, to when he first started acting alone outside of the Protective Services…
Yes, children were very precious.
The first children that he had adopted had been when his best friend and first partner had still been alive and with them. They were the same age, though one had been eight when she had been brought into the family, the other seven.
Lissarkh had been the eight-year-old, and had survived in back alleyways, eating scraps from the ground and dumpsters, and had bitten him when he had lifted her up out of the one behind his and Micah’s apartment building. Now she was just older than Wolffe, her hair dyed green and working with Mace to uncover smuggling rings with the Courscant Police.
Or she would be, had she not decided to go back to school. And Plo was fine with covering the costs for both her and her sister.
Bultar Swan had been Plo’s— and Micah’s— very first child. She had been taken in a year before Plo rather unceremoniously found Lissarkh behind their apartment building.
Taken from abusive parents in the city of Kuat, Plo hadn’t the heart to allow the child to enter the Forster System and appealed to Micah then for help.
Ah, but that had been such a long time ago.
Micah had been shot and killed close to fifteen years ago. Bultar and Lissarkh had been twelve, and Lissarkh had only managed to have four years' worth of rather fuzzy memories with him.
Still, in grief and death, he didn’t stop his care of other children. When Bultar and Lissarkh were twelve, he had found Wolffe and his brothers.
And life continued from there.
Plo loved all his children. It was as simple as that.
And as the night continued on, and the embers of the fire began to die, he knew that. Children were precious, and he loved his children.
Plo gazed over the sleeping forms of Boost and Sinker, tangled with Nex and Nox, and Comet. Warthog, Ghost, and Wildfire sprawled in the grass nearby, and Ahsoka wedged between Wolffe and Tracer, with Bultar and Lissarkh nearby and a number of their other brothers and sisters laying in the grass around the once blazing bonfire.
Ahsoka wanted to watch the meteor shower that was due overhead rather soon. Somehow that had translated into inviting as many of the ‘Plo's bros’ from across Coruscant as possible and everyone having a cookout and bonfire in the fields by the docs.
Plo didn’t mind.
It was lively and rather amusing to watch Ahsoka and Maul gang up on Anakin and Obi-Wan. To meet Bultar and Lissarkh’s friends again, to see Sha again— though she didn’t live too far from Dorin, just on the edge of the city and no more than a three-hour ride to her apartment building.
It had been a good evening.
But now the children were all settled down to rest until they woke back up due to the numerous alarms set on various phones.
A splash down at the docks made him perk up a bit, folding his glasses back into their case and setting them on the picnic table. He stood, picking his way through the sleeping bodies and walking down to the docks.
Data and Cable (And Plo would never question the boys on the names they wished to choose for themselves) had a small boat that was docked there for when Data needed silence from the noise of the house, but that wasn’t what had alerted him and that's not what had splashed down there.
It didn’t take long to get there, nor did it require much effort to find the switch that turned on the lone lantern at the end of the dock, and a familiar form was leaning on the planks.
Had the figure been a normal human, Plo might’ve been concerned about why they were on the end of his dock, but they weren’t— he wasn’t.
Not with green skin, large, dark eyes, and tentacle-like tresses instead of hair. No, this one was not human, though he did walk around in a human skin sometimes. He was a Mer, simple as that, though very different in appearance than the mermaids so commonly seen in movies and fiction. Most all of them were.
Nonetheless, Plo chuckled as he walked down the dock towards the figure.
“Hello, Kit,” he greeted, sitting down and crossing his legs upon reaching the end. A grin full of razor-sharp teeth was flashed his way before melting into a quizzical look.
“No glasses tonight?”
He chuckled. “No,” he told the other, “The light isn’t as bright at night, so my eyes aren’t bothered.”
Kit seemed to ponder on it for a moment before accepting it, something Plo assumed he would, considering how he knew a number of other Mer from the depths of the sea who were also sensitive to light.
Kit had been showing up at Dorin’s docks for a few months now, ever since Wolffe had accidentally fished him up, really. And then, of course, Plo had connected the dots a few weeks later and had met Kit Fisto the Mer-Rights activist, Kit’s human guise.
It had been a good few months of friendship, and, later, a rather interesting romantic partnership.
And Plo rather enjoyed the time spent talking with Kit.
“So what brings you by here?” he asked and the green Mer just flicked his tail, a few drops of water splashing onto his cheek where the medical mask wasn’t covering it.
“Heard some noise when I was on my way back from Aayla’s bar and decided to pop in,” Kit hummed loftily, before be paused. “Foul's still missing, by the way, so if you hear anything make sure to pass it on to her so she can get it to us.”
Plo nodded slowly at the mention of the other two— while Aayla herself wasn’t a Mer, nor was Foul, the two were still targets for the Creatures Trade. A faerie and a yeti, far from their homes, and now Foul was missing.
“I will,” he assured the green-skinned Mer, who just grinned again.
“So, why are all of you and yours out this late?” he asked, leaning on his elbows as his tresses curled, flicking drops of water.
Plo hummed, glancing back at his sleeping children. “Ahsoka wanted to watch the Meteor Shower,” he told him simply.
The Mer clicked softly, chuckling before nodding. “Yes, a rather wonderful sight, even for us. If the waters are clear enough out in the open ocean, many of us head to the surface to watch when astronomical events such as this happen.”
“I think humans and non-humans can agree on that at least,” Plo chuckled softly as well, “I studied space in school a long time ago, and once wished to go, but ended up on a different path.”
Kit hummed, tail and tresses flicking as he listened. “You humans are so interesting, thinking about duties you want to do for the future, even if they don’t come to pass.”
“While you Mer live in the moment.”
The said Mer just laughed, head tossed back. “Of course,” he agreed. “Why worry over something that is uncertain, and fret over what is not there yet? The future might not come, so live as you do now and enjoy it. If you look too far to the future, you lose sight of what’s around you.”
Plo couldn’t help but smile under his mask. “Perhaps,” he agreed before the sharp sound of phone alarms going off rang out in the night. Kit made a face, shaking his head as grumbles and groans came from Plo’s children, most still half asleep in the grass.
He glanced back at them, seeing Wolffe shake the sleep from his head before lightly punching Boost and Sinker so they woke up.
Kit whistled to get his attention again and Plo turned back around as the green-skinned Mer pointed upwards. He tilted his head back, smiling again under his mask as Ahsoka let out a whoop behind him. The first of many silver streaks crossed the sky, bright and beautiful and Plo reached over to the lantern, clicking it off without a word.
“Quite a sight, isn’t it?” Kit mused, “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one at the surface. I was down near Muunilinst last time, all the way across the ocean. It’s rather bleak there, so I’m glad I’m down over here for this one.”
Plo hummed, watching the sky still as he nodded. “It is rather beautiful. I missed the last one. Feral had been extremely ill and the Nightbrothers were staying with us until he got better.”
There was silence for a moment before another splash sounded and Plo let out a slightly disgruntled noise as he was splashed, Kit hauling himself onto the dock.
He turned to gaze at the Mer, raising a brow, and Kit just grinned before leaning forwards. A single, clawed finger hooked on the edge of his mask, pulling it down and before Plo could say anything, Kit closed the distance between them.
It wasn’t a deep kiss, not like the first time Kit had kissed him out of nowhere, but it also wasn’t playful like the quick and teasing pecks the Mer had peppered across his face while he had been slightly tipsy at Aayla’s bar.
It was nice, either way though, as Kit pulled back. “Cute.”
Plo reached up, touching his cheeks before huffing a bit and pulling his mask back up to hide his flush.
“Hush, you,” he huffed again, smacking the Mer on the arm as he laughed. That just made Kit laugh harder, tresses curling and moving in that happy way they did when he was delighted.
Plo rolled his eyes, turning his head back up to the sky as more and more meteors crossed the wide expanse. Behind him, he could hear his children talking, words of awe and wonder drifting down to the docks.
“It really is beautiful,” he murmured as Kit rested his chin on his shoulder, tresses curling and draping across the other one.
“Just like you,” the Mer teased, an equally teasing croon leaving him, and Plo bit back a laugh. The compliment was sincere, but nonetheless.
“I will push you off this dock, Kit.”
And Kit just laughed, wrapping his arms around him as the stars continued on their paths over head.
Dorin is the name that belongs to Plo's farmhouse, Data and Cable show up briefly in some of my other work and Nex and Nox showed up in the previous WPACA installment. Ghost shows up like all the time in my works hagjkfjghd. Anyways, was this the cursed one? That's for you to decide. Happy May the 4th!
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Can I request 35. Kisses bruises and scars for Commander Wolffe? Like he’s feeling insecure about his robotic eye and reader makes him feel better. Also thank you for taking requests for Commander Wolffe, as a fangirl I am literally starving for content of my husbando everyday 😭😭😭
🌙 i get and like your idea but you might've said the wrong number (or maybe i really am just that dumb🥴) so i changed the prompt, HOPE YOU STILL LIKE IT THO🥺
Also, it's a crime that Wolffe doesn't have more fans, i meant the first time I saw that man i was literally like 👀well hello there. Not my fav but i luv him lots too🥰
39. Kisses for comfort
"Wolffe? What're you doing?" You ask carefully after you tiptoed your way towards the bathroom, from where you could see light coming out.
"Just... Shaving." He answers, defeated, and not even attempting to cover up his troubled expression from you. It might be early, but that didn't matter to you when it came to your Wolffe.
He put his razor down on the sink. He had indeed been shaving, no lie there, albeit absentmindedly as his thoughts were occupied with something else.
His very peculiar eye, to be more specific.
It usually didn't bother him; it worked fine and got the job done as needed and he didn't see the scar often enough to have a strong opinion on it aesthetically, good or bad.
But as he got involved with you; as you began creeping your way into his guarded heart, he started noticing; he started caring.
This made him realize just how odd it looked, straight but with jagged edges, right over an eye that wasn't his. Still isn't.
Do you like it? You never commented on it, wether to praise it, or to look and sound disgusted by it. So he can't be sure.
And now, the doubt is eating away at his psyche, as you stare him down with those lovely eyes under the bathroom lights.
Safe to say, Commander Wolffe has never felt more exposed. Not even in a battlefield.
"Darling? Tell me what's wrong, please." You rest your hands on his cheeks, thumb oh so close to brushing his scar.
And then it did. Wolffe instantly regrets it the moment he grabs hold of your wrist.
Your brows furrow even deeper, "Is it-- What do you think of it?" He asks, so unusually shy.
Your expression relaxes as you realize what the problem is.
"The beard or...?" You chuckle teasingly at his half-shaven face. He doesn't laugh with you but you can feel his grip loosen slightly.
"Baby... I love it. Because it's you. It fits you, makes you look even more badass." Your fingers brush the hair at the back of his head, soothingly. "Plus, what other clone trooper has a cool eye like that?"
"Guess it makes me unique, huh?" Wolffe chuckles finally, shifting to hold your waist in his large, calloused hands.
You nod firmly before bringing his face closer to yours and laying a tender kiss over the scar in question and another on his eyelid.
"No one else in the world has the luck that I do, having a man like you."
Here's the prompt list!
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I had a headcanon (I don’t know if it already exists) that Plo Koon is really good at cooking. Like, he doesn’t even have to taste the food as he makes it, he just whips together the best meals. Also, when Ahsoka was little, he would make her dinner, and he would keep refilling her plate until she was too full (like grandmas do)
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Ventress: Why can’t you leave me alone, what did I ever do to you?
Wolfee: You tried to kill me and destroy this entire planet!
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Rough sketch of a wittle wolffe dressed as a wolf!!
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did someone say au where plo can’t stop adopting puppies because of his fatherly nature and now he has too many so he refers to them as a wolfpack? no? well have it anyway
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“You’ve got your Wolfpack back!”
“Yeah, they fight just like the boys :)”
I’m sorry let me just
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I am new on this page and love the Star Wars the Clone Wars series :D
Here I draw the helmet of one of my favorite clone commanders :3
Sorry, my English isn’t the best >_<
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Eldrich (?) Entity Jedi AU
Just in it’s conceptual stage but you know. The Force is Funky ™
5 + 1: Five Times the Council Snapped and One Time it Wasn’t Someone On the Council— or something like that
The Jedi Council is very peculiar about who they chose to be on the council, along with very, very attentive to how the Force manifests in younglings. The Jedi Listen to the Force, but it also listens to them and sometimes its... unique. Everyone on the Council had these manifestations dwelling within them, Jedi that were not only the strongest but also most controlled. Wise because they had to be.
When a Jedi snaps, they don't always fall. It was a little known secret among a handful of them.
There's a manifestation that can be sensed by those trained to sense them— a manifestation that some might even call a parasite or a demon that the Force creates. Hidden, waiting.
Emotions aren't dangerous, but they're something that needed to be controlled— that's why the Council always seemed to be these distant figures, beings who keep all their emotion controlled. Thats why there are masters around who seem to be "perfect to the code" that aren’t emotional, release everything into the force.
Until the war that is.
War wears down on everyone and it's not like the Council is off the frontlines— many are right there in the thick of it.
Surprisingly, though, the first to snap is Oppo Rancisis, one of the leaders of the 91st Corp.
Oppo Rancisis is old. He knows death, he knows pain, he's seen his friends pass on through age, sickness, and murder. But it’s different with the Clones— the Council knows, these Clones are just Children. They're just children. Adults physically and mentally, but they're just children, really.
And, see, the funny thing about the Force is that it's unique to each figure. When called upon, it reacts to every one of their abilities, to whatever suits them the best.
The Separatists who had been killing the Clones didn't expect for Rancisis' form to start writhing, for his jaw to unhinge fully for blood and poison and bone to be pulled from his jaws— seemingly endless as a swirl of power that twined and twisted upwards.
Oppo Rancisis is a Thisspiasian. And Thisspiasian culture was one of proud warriors, who kept their emotions well-concealed and their rages checked. Many outsiders saw only a Thisspiasian's outward facade of tranquility, and to most being it seemed as if Thisspiasians existed in a sea of calm. But that was just a facade.
Oppo Rancisis was a passionate Jedi under his calm exterior, and Thisspiasians were serpentine.
The Clones of the 91st, those of their small sub group with the Master who were all still living that is, watched in horror as this manifestation made from more blood, bone, and poison that the Jedi probably had wreck havoc on the Separatists on the plant. A monster made from blood and bone and poison that stretched for miles long, with jaws and fangs and more jaws and teeth lining the inside of its maw and far too many eyes all while Rancisis was still, but form distorted and there were still too many eyes, to many pointed lines, too many shadows— but the eyes were not golden and red, the eyes firmly remained brown. Brown and green.
The Clones, when the monster, the horror had been satiated and seemed to vanish into nothing, did not speak of it. They were wary, of course, but they did not speak of what they witnessed. Not as one of them was tempted to level his blaster at Master Rancisis' back as he led them back to the ship, not as the Thisspiasian locked himself in his quarters to report to the council— not when they heard through the door:
"I have lost control of my Manifestation briefly, it has returned but the damage is... more explosive than I recall it ever being. Be wary, my friends.”
On the other hand, it's rather unsurprising that Shaak Ti is the next to snap. After Hypori, she did not take many missions. The loss had been too great and perhaps thats where the first fissures started to form. It was a gradual break, she would later state when she cleaned the blood from her hands.
Instead of other missions, she was sent to Kamino. She watched, taught, and became a protector of the Cadets and Clones there. She wiped the blood and sweat from their brows, bared her teeth at the Bounty Hunters and the Kaminoans. She was theirs and they were hers.
So how dare the Kaminoans think that it was acceptable to terminate infants. Not even out of the tubes. Truly, she snarled and snapped at the Kaminoans when they tried it with the others, but these? These were Infants.
Colt and the Rancor Battalion have never spoken of what happened that day. Of how Shaak Ti's vocal chords seemed to create an unearthly wailing screech as she cradled a dead child, no larger than her forearm, in her arms, as they watched her body, her muscles and bones shift under her skin as the wailing continued before cutting off abruptly.
They don't talk about how she so gently set the child down, closed its eyes before everything around them seemed to explode. They dont talk about how Shaak Ti seemed to explode into pure energy, with too many teeth and too many claws and too many eyes and when they locked eyes with Rancisis' platoon on the way back they just somehow knew. There were always too many eyes.
Colt and the Rancor dont talk about how Shaak Ti moved, unearthly noises leaving her in the forms of wails and snarls, how she raked claws across metal and tore it like Flimsi, how she cracked and broke Kaminoan bones, how she crushed skulls under her feet or how she was soaked in blood when the consolidated energy receded and she returned to herself, cradling another child in her arms and sorrow in her eyes.
Colt and the Rancor don't talk about how they heard her warning the Council to have a tighter grip on their emotions. And how they'd need to compensate Kamino for the slaughter.
But if Shaak Ti's emotions raged like so, the Council individually braced themselves. After all, they all had a feeling who was next— even he did.
Plo Koon had always been strangely confusing for many Jedi who didn’t know him well. A man who was Calm, Silent, Collected— but also compassionate, loving, and gentle. Conflicting in ways that many Jedi did not understands, speaking of not getting attached yet he loved so fiercely.
(Eeth had only sighed and handed over the credits when the news of the Council's own miniature storm god finally made an appearance.)
The 104th knows they were lucky to have Plo Koon as their Jedi General. They knew it ever since they had been brought together. General Koon will listen, General Koon will help you, will let you be free from your "programing", will look the other way if you want to have a relationship with someone outside the GAR— or inside— and will give you material possessions and the care of a parent that you never knew you had ever wanted because they were normal to Nat Borns but not to the Clones but to him you were no different.
The 104th knows they're lucky. But there are more things they never knew about their Jedi General because for as much as he allowed them to come to him with their problems, Plo Koon never went to them.
To the Council, it was no surprise when the weight of endless battle, endless war, endless deaths he had witnessed finally came to fruition.
To the 104th, it was horror, it was fear, it was realizing that it was only because the Jedi were good that they managed to keep such destruction under their skin.
The 104th knows they're lucky when they first see lightning leap across the skin of their General.
A campaign to a planet to put a stop to some Separatists. Thats all it was. A simple task, but then it wasn't. Then suddenly it was pain, blindness and loosing so many brothers because it had been a trap.
When the 104th returns they know they're lucky but they don't tell. They don't talk about how Plo Koon suddenly went still in the face of an army, about how emerald lightning sparked and how the temperature plummeted. How the light seemed to go out and their General tilted his head back. They don't talk about how it suddenly became difficult to breathe without their helmets on, how they all scrambled to get the injured resuited and their helms on their heads. They don't talk about how they watched in horror as their General took his mask and googles off, so calm and deathly still.
They don't talk about the lightning and clouds that spiraled from his mouth into the sky above, or how that creature too had way too many eyes, too many claws, jaws, and teeth. They don't talk about the frost that spread from under Plo's feet, or how some of their lips turned blue under their helmets despite being several feet away.
They dont talk about how Plo's shadow seemed to distort, or how darkness and lightning seemed to envelop half of his form, how his talons seemed longer, and how many eyes there were.
The 104th isn't a battalion known for being afraid, but they shrink back, still and watching as the separatists are decimated by storm, by wind, ice and lightning.
They don't talk about the lightning that continued to spark from their General as they returned to Coruscant, nor do they talk about how Plo seals himself away until they return, or about how the ship seems to smell of ozone and rain.
They dont talk as they meet with their brothers about how their buir is a miniature storm god, wound in tight control who could level a planet if he wanted to.
Agen Kolar was... confusing to most. With no clones under his command and almost the complete opposite to his predecessor and brother, Eeth Koth, there were those who viewed him as nothing more than a violent attack dog that the Council had set in place because they felt as if they needed another Zabrak.
He was fierce, but calculating. Strong and unshakable. Always the better swordsman, always stronger, always getting back up on his feet— always so controlled in his emotions.
No one expected him to snap, just like how no one expected it from Oppo Rancisis.
To make it clear though, the Outer Rim sucked. Huttspace Sucked. Agen had always had a strong sense of Justice— as black and white as it seemed to be. Evil was to be condemned, good was to be preserved.
Agen had a strong sense of justice, but a violent way of going about it. Agen was the Council's attack dog, he had garnered that name— as unkind as it was— but even dogs had things they cared about.
Children were precious, he knew that first and foremost as a Jedi. Life was precious, those who took it without a care were to be dealt with.
Agen had a Padawan once. One who was bright and happy and so excited to be a Jedi. One who loved flowers, who was enthusiastic about learning, who laughed and thought that Agen's age-mates and friends were amazing— no matter the fact that they were a Shistavanen, a Trandoshan, a Kel Dor, another human, and a Twi'Lek.
Agen suspects that he began to reach a breaking point when he closed Tan's eyes for the last time on the dusty sands of the Petranaki Arena. He suspects that he knew the look that Plo Koon gave him when he hauled the Kel Dor Master up into the LAAT/i when they left.
Agen cherished children, they were bright and gentle.
Agen hated slavery.
He had refused the Clones because of it, though he knew he was cementing the other Masters and Councilors to taking battalions instead because of his choice. Agen hated slavery and ignored some orders in order to crush slave rings instead.
Agen's snap isn't an emotional tide like Plo's or Shaak's or Oppo's, it is sudden and quick to the point. Just like he often was.
The Child had looked like Tan. Dark hair and bright blue eyes. The Child had looked just like Tan with dark hair in the sun and bright blue eyes— filled with fear and scared because gods he was being sold to die.
Zabrak were felines, yes. But Agen was also a dog in name. But either way he was a predator, just like Shaak Ti was.
And unlike Shaak Ti there was no one around to really remember what he had become. No one to remember the cracking of bones, as his Manifestation lashed out and covered his body like another skin, this one with just as many teeth and claws as Shaak's but ten times more dangerous with horns and nothing like the cramped halls of Kamino's city to hold him back. Because even when he detached from it, it was still active, destroying speeders, moving as an extension of himself just like the rest did. With too many teeth and a body that was neither zebrak, feline, or canine. A demon in the sands of Tatooine.
Because even when he detached himself from inside of the creature he still moved like a man possessed, with nails sharp and teeth like razors, horns growing and spiraling upwards.
By the time Agen returns to himself, the time the creature had vanished into nothing, the entire building had been destroyed. Bodies of those interested in the Slave Trade lay in his wake, blood soaking his form, hair matted with blood and other things, and a gross taste of iron in his mouth because of course, a lightsaber isn't his only weapon. Not with his sole goal of destroy, protect, destroy in his mind.
Agen returns to coruscant after the Order sends healers out to take care of the implants the Slaves had and centers himself. He would not loose control like that again, not unless he could help it.
Kit Fisto, like others before him, was expected to snap as soon as word got to the Council of Oppo's snapping. Kit was an emotional person— that was well known among the Jedi. Though most Nautolans happened to be, perhaps in part of how their tresses functioned. They fed off of the positivity around them, and accepted the anger and rage they felt as well.
Kit was very much the same, a figure who loved and cared deeply for others— Who simply felt deeply for others.
Yoda had warned him of the dangers it had, showing him techniques to curb the instinctual reactions of the Force that swirled inside of him. Cin and Ki-Adi helped ground him when everything started to go awry, the very first time the being inside of him manifested.
Kit Fisto snapping was expected, even by him.
It happened like many of the others. The war was long, the war pushed them to their limit. The Jedi were tired, they were ground down, it was war. The Council had come to a grim realization after Shaak Ti’s snapping that if they did win the War the Jedi had already lost no matter the outcome. By taking up the mantles of Generals, they had lost. But still, they kept pressing, kept protecting, because what else were they supposed to do?
Commander Monnk had known something was up with Wolffe, with Colt, with the platoon that had been with General Rancisis that one time.
He didn't ask about it though. And maybe he should have.
Because Monnk doesn't expect to see absolute stillness from his General as he's trying to staunch the blood from another one of his brother's legs. He doesn't expect to feel the earth rumble as the Separatists approach, doesn't expect to watch as eyes open across his skin only to vanish when Monnk blinks. Monnk doesn't expect to watch his General to tip back off of the cliff into the ocean, doesn't expect the sudden stab of fear that they were being abandoned before the ground trembles again.
The Ocean moves in currents, Monnk knows. He's one of the best SCUBA Troops. He studied the seas across all sorts of planets when he learned he'd be working under a Nautolan.
And he knows the ocean isn't supposed to move like that. Moving that far back, knows that the ocean responds to the weather, not the other way around. Monnk doesn't expect a watery hand to crash down on the Separatists making their way to their cornered company. Doesn't expect to see eyes dark and empty opening up as if the water was just another surface. Because it was always eyes. Monnk thinks he should have asked Colt and Wolffe.
But he didn't because he doesn't expect for a creature made of water and ship wreckages, of bones and torn up plants, to appear when Kit vanished.
He wisely doesn't talk about it. About how when the water crashed back into the sea, taking all of the debris and the Separatists with it, their General had been standing still in front of them again, soaked and silent. He doesn't talk about how much sharper his teeth seemed, or how his nails had sharpened to claws.
The Council aren't the only ones with these manifestations. Not at all. There are a number of Jedi who have them, who are trained specifically not to let them loose. They know the consequences.
Only, it’s a tightly kept secret among those who do, because it’s dangerous, and those who didn’t have this Manifestation would look at those who did differently. Look at them as either Monsters, as Jedi destined to fall and become Sith, or as gods of sort.
And Anakin Skywalker didn't know.
But Cin Drallig did. He knew because he had it too. Kept under a tight lock and key, knowing full well what its true form was. A twisted ugly thing— in his mind at least.
And That's why he was training Bene. Because Bene had it too. She was smart and skilled and centered.
He feels the death of the Councilors in the Force before Skywalker arrives.
There was no water for Kit to fall back on, no focal point for Agen to enter his blood rage, not enough earth and stone for Saesee to become what he needed to. There was no time for Mace to center himself.
Cin felt it.
Cin had always had a strong grip on his center. He never expected to Snap, but in hindsight, he was glad he did.
Bene thinks that Master Drallig doesn't think she knows, but sometimes she catches him late at night prying thorns and stone from his arms as she's getting a glass of water from the 'fresher.
Master Drallig had told her stories of the others with Manifestations. How some Masters had destroyed entire planets full of evil because it had been their focal point. She had listened to him. He had told her that his was dangerous as well, unpredictable and he had learned all seven forms because of it, because practicing the forms had kept himself centered. He hadn't released it in a long time.
But she knew that one day, he would because it would appear across his skin, the evidence was carefully hidden in the wastebin, but she ended up finding it anyways.
She knew one day he would release it, and that she would follow.
And then she felt the Force scream, felt the deaths around her and it had shaken her.
Master Drallig had herded them all to the Room of a Thousand Fountains and told them "Don't look, don't listen" before Skywalker had burst in, full of rage, full of hate and Bene disobeyed her master as the others did as told.
She had watched as her Master dueled Skywalker, watched in horror as he was slashed across the chest, body falling, blood that shouldn’t have been there from a wound made by a Lightsaber arcing— but then she had seen as thorns and flowers grew from the wound, watched as Master's body changed, as sharp stone gathered into clawed feet and hands, as thorns and roses and other flowers bloomed around his body with eyes painted on the petals and lips pulled back impossibly wide in a snarl, but eyes replaced with a crown of flowers and thorns that dug into his skin, tangled into his hair and covered his eyes.
Watched as Skywalker's eyes widened in horror, as the clones faltered their attack, as claws made from thorns and stone plunged into Skywalker's body, tearing it apart.
But Bene knew the power that a manifestation had, and she felt her own force quiver as Master Drallig turned on the Clones, head tilted at an impossible angle before lunging. And she felt her own blood singing, the force pounding in her ears and she moved before her mind caught up, feeling an explosion of wood and bark thrumming just under her skin as she lunged to her Master’s side to protect.
hey idk ¯\_(ツ)_/¯
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Someone told me the other day there is a ship (non canon) between Wolffe and a female character. Does anyone know who it is? I was talking about Foxiyo and Arcmaiden when it was mentioned but for the life of me I can't remember who it was with
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so y’all can see EXACTLY how much of a wolffe simp I am
On my soon to be covered in Star Wars patches jacket
patches by NovaEmblems on Etsy
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a gift from the 104th for their dad general
... I made this mostly bc I wanted a Plo Koon sticker...
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139. "It's like you don't have a care or worry in the world."
I think I got what you were saying? But this might not be what you wanted.
Sith Artifacts were tricky at best. And at worst, they caused some sort of bodily harm, irreversible curse, bonded you to a malevolent and dark spirit, or something worse. The Order had specialized Jedi for the extraction of these artifacts, normally, that was.
The war had stretched everyone thin, for sure.
Still, despite that, it had been a welcome respite from the frontlines to join his former Padawan in hunting for an artifact in a Sith Temple that she had found. Things had, of course, been fine until the said artifact had been found. Despite handing it with care, something had still triggered the artifact and well...
Plo Koon wasn’t overly fond of being back to his young adult years physically. It was... uncomfortable. Bultar, at least, had managed to duck behind a Pillar in time with Sergeant Banks. The rest of the Swan Company and Wolffepack weren’t so lucky. But for now, they were idle in space, until Master Windu got back to them on a possible way to reverse the effects.
Plo sighed, a hissing noise coming from his respirator, as he walked through the halls of the Courageous, heading for the vode’s sleeping quarters. For now, the remainder of the 104th and Banks could handle the Flagship, but Plo was, admittedly, anxious to check up on the rest of Bultar and his men— the one’s who had been effected by the artifact.
Bultar was still with them, but as the highest ranking officer on board, he had to give the report.
Still, he pushed the worry away as he opened the door to the barracks, his mood lightening when he saw Bultar sitting among a pile of tiny Clone Cadets, most of them asleep, though a few were huddled around Bultar’s datapad, watching some sort of holofilm she had loaded up for them. The Kuati young woman looked up at him as he closed the door quietly.
“No change?” he asked, walking over and sitting next to her. She shook her head.
“No,” she sighed. “Did Master Windu say anything?”
He shook his head in return, blinking as the tiny cadet that was certainly Wolffe moved over to him and settled down. Boost and Sinker followed, large, tired eyes gazing at him in curiosity. He tilted his head, giving them a small smile before they decided to settle and go back to sleep. He let out a sigh, gently stroking their hair as they did.
“It’s amazing, isn’t it?” he murmured, “How different they all are when they’re this small.
Bultar just nodded and Plo leaned back a bit, gazing at the tiny clones.
“It's like you don't have a care or worry in the world."
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Wolffe: As my friend, you should either bring me along, or keep me company.
Wolffe: Well, “scowling escort” is a better description. Or “reluctant acquaintance,” if you prefer.
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[meeting Wolffe for the first time]
Voolvif: I don't think he likes me
Plo: In all fairness, my friend, the Commander doesn't like many people at first. He threatened to knock me out and throw me into a crypt one of the first times we talked
Voolvif, sighing: Charming...
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Alright, I’ve decided not to line this bc even I’m not sure where all the lines go
Whoever came up with Kel Dor lacework and embroidery I want you to know it hasn’t left my mind for months.
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Jag: Not to alarm anyone, but I seem to have misplaced my swarm of spiders
[Cue the 104th flipping out]
Wolffe, knowing full well that Jag doesn't own spiders: Why do you do this?
Jag: It brings me joy
Jag: Also Boost and Sinker fucking painted my ship bright fucking pink and I won't stand for this injustice
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Torrent Company, Ghost Company, The Bad Batch
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