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In This House We Love All The Clones
🚫please No clonecest, no rexsoka, no master/padawan🚫 she/they pan aro Goth who will not hesitate to cry. Pls enjoy the memes,funny business,assorted bs and nonsense.
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Drew some clones while I desperately try to whack back the art block
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Last Line Challenge
Rules: in a new post, show the last line you wrote (or drew) and tag as many people as there are words (or as many as you like).
I got tagged by the skill-power-house @lothcatthree
Finally got that lineart done for LOUD. Cody! Since it’s cyberpunk, the battalion number is shown on a screen, as is the general status of the clone inside the armor. As there is “deployed”, “alive”, “critical”, “dead”, and, to Cody’s puzzlement, “activated”.
It’s Open Season Tags!
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LOUD.
a Jedi Shadow!Obi-Wan AU
“Each of us, every single clone, is a one-man army. And yes, I am… I’m so proud of them. We protect the Galaxy, we die fighting for the Galaxy and its peoples. We are not made for peace times, Obi-Wan.”
The cynical part of Obi-Wan wants to ask why Cody is so steadfast in his belief when everywhere the clones go they’re confronted with people dismissing them, equating them to the droids they’re fighting.
He understands, though. Jedi are only welcome where people know about the help they can provide. The Order is looked down upon, the Jedi just as easily dismissed, more often than not when it comes to it.
And still. And still. The call to protect people is too strong to ignore. He doesn’t want to ignore the call. He can help so he does.
So yes, he understands Cody and his need to fight.
He watches as Cody self-consciously rubs the back of his neck, fingers not halting over the port, so— so used to its presence, as the silence reigns. Cody doesn’t try to further his explanations. He said his piece and that’s that.
Obi-Wan settles down on the floor in front of the weightlifting bench. And Cody.
He crosses his legs automatically, the armor he has to don if he wants to engage in the battles blessedly absent, here. His fingers find Cody’s other hand in his lap, tapping it lightly, glancing by the embedded screen in the armored boot proclaiming Cody as belonging to the 212th.
Commander Cody got his own Attack Battalion. Mace remains the immediate superior but the brass saw Cody’s merit. No Jedi can easily fill the role as war general and Cody is… too brilliant to not be in charge. He and Mace have been flattening the CIS, the GAR is only too happy to spread out their heavy hitters.
“He’s always giving them a chance to surrender first,” Cody had commented on Mace, pride and admiration shining from his whole body. “How he’s able to walk with balls like that is a mystery to me.”
Obi-Wan had politely choked on nothing.
Once Cody is looking at him, apologies in his eyes for being made for war, of war, Obi-Wan signs a simple question. “How would you know?”
Temper makes the scarred eyebrow rise and Obi-Wan continues, undeterred now that Cody’s attention isn’t on misplaced guilt.
“You know nothing but war. You’ve learnt nothing but war. You’ve,” Obi-Wan pauses to swallow the grief, “experienced nothing but war in your life. How would you know you’re not made for peace times when you haven’t even had the chance to live in them?”
A smile, half there and fleeing, cracks, warm brown eyes watch Obi-Wan’s hands. “In my darkest moments I’m not sure I’ll even see them.”
Obi-Wan is against false promises but hope has never left his life’s side and he’d like to share. “We work together and we end this war. We see as many of you and us on the other side as possible.”
“Sounds like an easy first step,” Cody laughs ruefully, and leans down, captures Obi-Wan’s unmasked face, blurred by the unknown, and holds their foreheads together for a long self-indulgent moment.
Obi-Wan ducks his head, mask and scars in place once more. “Is that something you wish? To see me?”
Cody shakes his head, shoulders tight. “I’m sorry. I went too far.”
No, you didn’t, Obi-Wan wants to tell him, I want you to see me.
Soon. Probably. As soon as Obi-Wan has removed the screws from his heart and their doubting pressure.
“I think I can help you,” Obi-Wan signs, bullheading through the burgeoning silence. “But I need your help for that.”
“What do you need,” Cody asks, all Commander now that he’s got a mission objective.
“I want to know how you can communicate neurally and who has access to that channel.” He’s been looking into it for months, always ending in front of a Kaminoan wall. He’s at his wits end and now, now, with Bail confirming Palpatine is shuffling credits to the CIS and it’s still only heresy where a court is concerned…
Kamino confirmed only authorized personnel has access to the comm links in the clones’ heads. What if those include the CIS?
Cody blinks in surprise. “General Windu has access to that information.”
Does he? Obi-Wan is beginning to doubt that fact. “Humor me.”
Shoulders go wide, straight, loose. “Protocol dictates that, in case of emergency in an engagement situation, a High General is able to deploy orders directly to a CC-class clone via the Force after initiating with the correct identification.”
The clones are password-locked. Obi-Wan tries very, very hard to keep his expression neutral. “I assume every Commander knows the identification?”
Cody starts to smile, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes, ready to playfully lecture Obi-Wan about confidentiality. Obi-Wan can see that, can feel the intention of Cody to do so. Before his eyes sharpen like the back-up blade in the boot holster. “Is there a leak?”
“Not that I’m sure of,” Obi-Wan hurries to sign. “Cody, please, what is the initialization sequence?”
Cody watches him, tracks his every move and twitch and stillness with keen eyes. Obi-Wan lets him, not able to keep a lid on the worry he’s feeling, the Force hushed in absolute and anticipation. “Every Commander knows those words. No one else does. A High General can request it of his Commander. That is what General Windu knows. A Commander takes the words to their grave if they have to.” A built-in failsafe, based on the clones’ loyalty to the Republic. “And the Jedi,” Cody adds with a soft smile. “Maybe we have been trained to follow you but you have proven yourself over and over again. The initialization is—“ Cody’s face twists into confusion as the Force starts— starts to shriek in warning. “Is…”
Shards of glass hurtle towards Obi-Wan, high-pitched tone piercing his eardrums, hack into his thoughts—
“Who are you?”
Obi-Wan hurries, pulls a hand up and projects “Cody, wake”.
.
Cody wakes, blinks. Shakes the cloudy remnants of a dream gone wrong off, as stuck on him, burnt into him as some details of it are.
He looks up when he notices the presence by the training salle entry, smiles up at Obi-Wan, feels his eyes go soft, relaxed.
Obi-Wan stares back at him, mask in place which ups the distant, rumbling intensity of his gaze like an incoming storm. “Thank you,” he signs, and Cody can see the tremors in his fingertips. Blue eyes flick up to the surveillance camera in the ceiling, go back to him.
Cody… remembers. Obi-Wan pushing him behind a destroyed tank during battle, one hand covering the helmet camera while the other had signed “need to talk, no eyes” in battle signs.
He looks to the door again but Obi-Wan is suddenly right in front of him, cradling his face so gently Cody can feel tears prick at his eyes, forehead carefully, with no hesitation and too much meaning coming to rest against his.
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Obi-wan: You look good in that armour
Cody: You know where else I'd look good?
Obi-wan, zero hesitation: My bed
Cody, at the same time: By your side- what?
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Obi-Wan: My team is professional and mature. We-
Wooley: Is lunch ready yet? We´re hungry.
Obi-Wan: Yes, it´s in the breakroom. I bought juice boxes for everyone too.
Boil and Waxer in the background: Kriff yeah! Tooka Nuggets!
Obi-Wan: Be careful they´re still hot!
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Can you imagine what must have been like to be part of Krell's clone battalion, what it was like to have him as your general? We know how he's like. Krell doesn't care about the clones' lives. He wins. He's celebrated as a general. The senators and Jedi don't care about the casualties except the money that's going to waste. Krell brings results. They don't see what's behind those numbers.
Imagine a clone battalion that's stripped of all colors except the ones to indicate rank, blank white armor that's too battered to be a shiny's. A clone battalion where names start with CC and CT, where the men all have the same face, same hair. The only thing that differents them from each other are their scars. It's worse than Kamino. The men have learned to keep silent. They know the consequences of speaking up, have executed the ones who do with their own blasters. Who doesn't get court martialled gets reconditioned or decommissioned. Their lives are hard and miserable.
Krell doesn't care about his men except when he can make their lives worse. They don't only have the highest causality count, Krell's battalion is also the one with the most injuries, with the most troopers considered defect (because surely men like Rex or Fives would be declared defect by Krell) and most clones going AWOL. Imagine their pain. They are alone, they are mistreated. Nobody cares about them, they only care about the battles they win, about the cost of the constant replacement of troopers, but nobody cares about them or their pain or who they are. Many aren't even anybody. They believed the Kaminoans, they believe Krell. They are meat droids and everyone they are around thinks the same or gets reconditioned and excluded.
Krell doesn't care about them but he cares about making them believe that they are without worth. Imagine the only reason Krell gets assigned the 501st on Umbara is because his battalion is so decimated that they need to regroup the whole battalion. We also know that the troopers get sent out younger and younger as the war goes on.
Most of Krell's battalion must be nine or eight years old by the time Umbara happens. There is constant replacement through death and decommissioning. The senior troopers are few and become less. The younger clones die earlier because they are surrounded by other inexperienced troopers, because the men didn't have the time to get to know each other, because Krell enjoys to watch the shines die first.
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A clone getting a bad haircut and having an identity crisis
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Why is it always the Jedi who are the repressed person when up against the clone characters?
Why isn't it the CLONES who struggle with admitting to their own emotions, who can't even IDENTIFY what they feel and will deny it even if they can? Why isn't it the CLONES who struggle with appropriately taking care of themselves with things like medical care and sleeping and eating more often? Why isn't it the CLONES who have the self preservation instincts of a particularly creative lemming?
And the JEDI who have to slowly teach them how to take care of themselves? The JEDI who make sure they remember to eat and sleep better and go to medical when it's serious? The JEDI who are constantly having to remind the clones not to waste their lives blindly because they're NOT actually expendable or replaceable? The JEDI who help them understand what they're feeling when the clones don't understand it themselves, who show them what these emotions are and how to regulate them so that they don't feel so out of control of themselves all the time?
Why is it always the Jedi, who are educated in things like mental health since childhood and raised in a supportive and loving community that takes care of each other, who are treated like children all the time, while the clones, who were sheltered in an isolated community that taught them nothing beyond what they'd need to fight a war and raised by people who consider them no better than machines made of flesh, are treated like they somehow spontaneously learned how to be mentally healthy adults from the air and need to teach this to the poor repressed Jedi who can't figure out anything for themselves.
Just doesn't seem to make a lot of sense in context to me.
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does Dooku still count as a Jedi for color attack zone? perhaps... in my wife fucking left me?
Glamnanor Jan "My Wife Fucking Left Me" Dooku
I can't decide if I spent more time on the colors or on fixing his eyebrows.
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You know what would have fixed anakin:tm:
If padme got him involved in naboo's goth scene it's a win-win-win
Anakin gets to wear as much eyeliner and black tunics as he wants.
Padme gets to watch her husband in a variety of, unfortunately still all black, but different outfits
And palps once the scene takes over naboo due to anakin unintentionally force suggesting it to everyone can wear his favorite evil cloaks in public.
Win-win-win!
omg perfect fix-it au idea, your mind
(donation doodles! // tip jar)
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Sorry it’s a 1am doodle .. i forgot casual cowboy friday again so here’s Failgirl Rotting Era Rex in a hat
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Never-before seen footage of an adult CC-2224 (pictured) fleeing the field of battle (that he started and escalated) due to an exponential increase in enemy threat (Alpha-17 getting out of his chair)
#rip-roaring past General Kenobi in a furious chase #focused and serious #the mother of all tactical pursuits through sofas and under beds #post-war shenanigans with Alpha-17 and Cody all look life threatening and serious until you notice Cody is using a sock (inefficient, tut tut) to strangle Seventeen and grinning like a fool #im reading back through our notes can u tell
As an ex Marshal Commander, Cody has grown quite attuned to his environment and what might constitute a threat.
With everything he has lived, he knows one thing for certain. The moment that ass detaches from the surface of that chair you run.
Cause what's coming is a Class A threat and there's no getting around it.
The General just doesn't get it, tsk tsk tsk. He can't hope to comprehend Cody's unmatched survival instincts (grabbing a sock and throwing himself at the threat when it turns the corner)
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Imagine...
being curled up on Alpha's lap while you crochet/knit/whatever while watching a movie
like biggest hugs 👀
but... 👀👀👀
then man falls asleep like that 😫💜💜💜💜💜
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Hi sweetheart; I've been feeling really down and stressed today and I was wondering if I could please have a female reader x Jango Fett scenario where he knows whenever she's stressed and depressed by how much chocolate she has throughout the day I.e. Chocolate Caff, or hot coco and triple choc chip cookies, and several pieces of her favorite chocolate block etc and he tries to ask her about it, but she brushes him off and doesn't want to talk about it, so he just hugs her until she responds and feels better? If you can't make it work with Jango Fett, feel free to go with whichever clone inspires you most for this. Thank you either way. 💖
An Observant Man
Summary: Jango knows his riduur better than anyone, so when she has a bad day, he knows just what to do.
Pairing: Jango Fett x F!Reader
Word Count: 936
Warnings: None
Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni @imabeautifulbutterfly
A/N: I'm sorry you're going through a hard time right now! I hope this helps, at least a little bit. I decided to write it solely from Jango's POV. I hope you feel a little better soon.
Jango has always been an observant man.
As a bounty hunter, he has to be observant. Able to recognize the ins and outs of every place that he visits, able to determine if something is unusual or not.
It’s a talent that’s kept him alive on more than one occasion.
And it’s one of the more useful skills he’s learned over the years. Though, it’s also one of the skills that he has the hardest time turning off, even when he’s safe in the arms of his riduur.
So, when he comes home after a long hunt that turned even longer, he can’t help but take note of the things that have changed in the home he shares with his beautiful riduur.
He takes note that she rearranged the front hallway and added a bench for him to sit on when he removes his armor. He notes that there’s a new painting on the wall near the front door, likely a gift from their nephew, based on the…unique color choice.
The front hallway smells like a mix of flowers and chemicals, which suggests that she invested in some of the carpet powder to use when he’s away. So long as she doesn’t use it when he’s here, he doesn’t mind.
He quickly removes his armor and moves through the house, taking in several of the other small changes. Several items have been moved to better locations, some pieces of furniture have new coats of paint, or stain-
There’s a new blanket tossed over the arm of the couch, one made by her own hands, if he had to guess based on the color of the yarn used. Jango releases a fond laugh as he picks up the blanket and trails his fingers over the soft material.
Maybe he can talk his riduur into letting him bring this back to his ship.
He just…has to find her first.
Jango folds the blanket and sets it on the couch, before allowing his feet to lead him through the halls until he reaches the kitchen. The kitchen looks the same as ever; the same pale yellow paint, the same kitchen table and chairs, the same scent of cinnamon and apples that always fills the room-
And there, absently stirring a mug, is his riduur. Her hair pulls off her neck with a ribbon, clad in one of his older shirts, her feet bare.
She truly is the most stunning woman in the galaxy.
He leans against the door frame and watches her for a moment, a small smile on his lips. Though, slowly, the smile fades as his gaze slides across the kitchen counter.
Hot chocolate mix. A handful of chocolate truffles. The block of rich dark chocolate he brought her from Alderaan the last time he had to visit that planet. The box of chocolate brownie mix sitting, forgotten, on the kitchen table.
A bad day then.
Hopefully not longer. The idea of her suffering without him here to support her breaks his heart.
“I’m home, riduur.” He finally says quietly, and he knows that she knows that he’s there, because she doesn’t jump or start. Instead, her hand pauses from where she’s stirring her drink.
Tellingly, she doesn’t turn to look at him for almost half a minute, and when she does, her smile is painfully fake. “Welcome home, Jango.” Her smile might be fake, but the relief in her voice isn’t.
“Have you had a bad day, love?”
“I’m fine.” Her answer is absent, automatic.
“Ah, cyar’ika,” he pushes off the wall and walks over to her, slowly encouraging her to slide into his arms, where she fits against him like two pieces of the same puzzle, “I know that’s not true.” Jango folds his arms tightly around her, “Will you tell me about it?”
“There’s nothing to tell,” She replies as her hands curl into the material of his flight suit, “I’m fine.”
“Hm.” Jango’s arms tighten around her, “I’m not sure if you actually believe that, beautiful, or if you’re just trying to keep me from worrying about you.”
She shrugs and presses her face against his shoulder, “Can’t it be both?”
“I’m sure it can.” Slowly he starts rubbing her back, offering silent comfort and support. “Come on, riduur. Talk to me.”
She sighs softly, “I don’t know, Jango.” She finally says softly, “I’m just…feeling off.”
“That’s okay, everyone has off days.”
“But this has been going on for days now-”
Jango’s heart clenches painfully, “I’m sorry, cyar’ika. I should have been here to support you.”
“S’not your job.”
“It is my job,” Jango corrects, “It became my job the moment you said yes to dinner with me.” He lightly kisses the top of her head, “How about, we go and cuddle on the bed. And tonight I’ll handle everything.”
“That…doesn’t seem fair to you.”
“You’ve been carrying this burden alone for days, cyar’ika. Let me carry it for you for at least one night.”
And she sighs, and pulls back to look up at him, “I love you, you know that.”
Jango smiles softly, “Not half as much as I love you, riduur.”
Finally, a small, but genuine, smile lifts her lips and tension drains from Jango’s shoulders. Quickly, he ducks his head and drops a light kiss on her lips, tasting chocolate as he kisses her, and then he pulls back and lightly urges her towards the bedroom.
It won’t help immediately, it’s going to take time for his perfect riduur to recover, but he’s going to be there every step of the way. After all, that’s his job as riduur.
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𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 : 1,202
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : mentions of sex work.
𝐜𝐡𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 : alpha 17, fordo, and brioola(oc).
𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞 : this is when rio / bunny met alpha for the first time. it’s fairly innocent with only mentions of sex work and brief conversation of such work but nothing else nsfw. that being said all my content is 18+
!! 18+ READ AT YOUR OWN RISK !!
It had been a long mission. Several rotations with only ration bars and minimal supplies. But he’s gotten it down. Destroyed and exploded the entire separatist base. And he, and his team, had finally made it back to kamino.
He was relieved to know that he’d be assigned to training cadet’s again. He missed it, and truthfully would rather train little rascals than be out in the field. That was more Crow and Fordo’s forte. And he’d been gone for what feel like an entire month. He was tired, wanted a shower and some fucking food. But, shower first. Longing to be pelted on by steaming hot water, boiling his skin if he had to.
He probably smelled like wet dog by the time he got into the hallways down towards the barracks. He become a bit wet from the storm raging outside, which is why he insisted to himself he needed to shower first.
With his helmet in his right hand he bellows down the hallways as cadets and shines alike walk down, some even greeting him. By the time he’d reached the barracks and made it to his room, he hadn’t originally noticed the figure sitting in a chair in the main room. Doing a double take. This space was reserved for the Alpha Arcs and the Bounty hunters who were hired to help train cadets and turn them into soldiers.
But a short mirialan girl with her legs crossed over, sitting in a lounge chair was not something he’d expected to see. He stopped, only about twenty feet away from his own room, staring at the green skinned girl as she scrolled through a datapad.
“ You a new medic or something ? “ He asked, taking a few steps towards her. He was less curious and more worried about her safety. There aren’t many women on kamino besides doctors, kaminoans and the few bounty hunters. Perhaps he judged her gray sweater and black shorts for being too casual, too soon, and she was instead a bounty hunter.
As her eyes peeled away from her screen, she looked up at the clone, eyes blinking a couple of times as if processing what he’d just asked. “ Um, no ? “ She says back.
“ Bounty hunter, then ? “ He asked, his helmet resting between his side and his arm. The girl smiles and shakes her head once again. “ No, not a bounty hunter either. “ She replies back as she puts her datapad in her lap.
“ What are you doing here then ? You do know this area is for authorized personnel only, do you not ? “ Alpha asks, his curiosity is more founded in the fact that she isn’t a bounty hunter nor a medic and thus should not be here.
“ I do, i’m allowed to be here. “ She says calmly. The smile on her face never leaving. Kinda, and welcoming to him. But his brows furrow in frustration. “ Who are you then ? “ He asks out of frustration, his tone a bit hostile. But she only blinks a couple of times and opens her mouth to speak.
“ Alpha ! “ They both hear as the captain in his usual plastoid of white of red shouts, doing a light jog over to them. “ Fordo, “ Alpha replies to his brother as he walks up to the two.
“ Hi Fordo, “ The girl says, a sly smile, a look is shared between the two of them for a small moment, only confusing the poor alpha arc further. She gets up from her chair, standing slightly between the two men. Datapad held by the edges of her fingers in front of her.
“ Just meeting Bunny, huh ? “ Fordo asks, looking at Alpha with the question. “ . . . Bunny ? “ He asks back to his brother.
Fordo rests a hand on the girls shoulder and gestures to her, “ Brioola, or Rio. But most of us have just been calling her Bunny. “ Fordo explains with a small laugh as the girl gives a wave to Alpha.
“ Okay, and what exactly is she doing here ? “ Alpha asks, his tone more annoyed, and Fordo can tell. Before Fordo can speak for her however she speaks up.
“ Alpha, was it ? “ She asks, earning a look from the man but he nods. “ I’ve been employed by the republic to be a part of keeping soldiers happy. I’ve been specifically assigned to your operatives. But i am required to service any soldier who asks me. “ Brioola explains. She’s calm, in her way of explaining things. Keeping soldiers, happy ? Does she mean happy or complacent ?
“ Could you be more specific ? “ Alpha asks, and the woman gives a small laugh. “ Sorry, i suppose ‘services’ is vague. “ She says with a small laugh looking over at Fordo and then back to Alpha.
“ I’m a sex worker. But i can also keep you company if i’m not needed elsewhere. “ She explains. There’s no shame in her purple eyes, far from it. But her answer surprises Alpha, and it takes him a moment to truly process her words.
“ Your a barrack bunny ? “ He asks, almost judgmental as he looks at the woman. This time Fordo gives a laugh, “ That’s why we call her Bunny. “ Fordo comments looking down at her.
That explains his brothers look at her and he supposes the mutual understanding that he needed to be serviced without being directly asked. Making Alpha feel all the more, awkward being there.
“ . . . Right. “ Alpha says with not much enthusiasm. “ I’ll be going then. “ He sighs and turns towards where his room is.
“ You’re more than welcome to join us, brother. “ Fordo says causing the alpha arc to stop. He feels his face heat up slightly at the thought. Though he isn’t shy about it, the proposition is, dirtier than what he’d signed up for in this conversation.
“ No, i need to shower and rest. But . . . thank you for the offer. “ He says shooting an annoyed look at Fordo. Fordo only shrugs, and holds out his hand to Bunny.
“ Your lose, “ He muses, causing bunny to giggle.
“ Feel free to find me if you need me Alpha. “ She says with a smile Alphaacan only explain as mischievous before she turns and walks off with Fordo.
Alpha only hums slightly before he heads to his room once more. He’s heard of some battalions having barrack bunny’s, but the republic hired her to service them ? He couldn’t get the thought out of his head, and by the time he’d gotten out of his armor and into the shower it became clear to him that he would not be forgetting her offer.
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