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clonecumber · 2 years

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Levet for the character ask! Love him so much.

I’d like to hear your thoughts on him too, actually. Levet could use so much love. He’s a good one.

First impression :I don’t actually think I had much of an impression about Levet? I remembered him, sort of, but it was more in the sense of being aware he at least existed.

Impression now : The only actual adultier adult in this joint. Still waters run very, very deep with this guy, and he’s interesting because you’d have absolutely no way to know how much is going on in his head if he didn’t sometimes open his mouth and drop absolute game-changers. (RIP Ordo, slaughtered where he stood. He was so young.) Sees everything, says nothing, but has a well of intense emotions deep in the center of himself that’s absolutely fascinating to consider.

Calm, mild, reserved, and terrifyingly sharp, but he also has a strict “not my business” policy that I can respect, especially since he seems to adopt it primarily out of respect for the people whose business it actually is. It’s not that he doesn’t care or doesn’t want to care, he just respects boundaries. It’s not his fault you’re all careless with your dirty laundry that he can’t help but notice it when it’s getting blown all over his yard where he’s over here just trying to mind his own business (ignoring that he’s so naturally observant that ‘obvious’ means different things for him than for most people), but he’s still going to go through the trouble to neatly pack it up and give it back to you in a discreet little box and pretend he never saw a thing. We need a thousand more like him. Seems like the kind of guy who you wouldn’t notice was starting to warm up to you, because his default setting is “quietly polite” and “refuses to talk about himself without significant motivation” with absolutely everyone, right up until you hit Max Friendship and you end up with him fussing with your hair while he complains about dirt at you because all he’s got to work with is his little farming book and a lot of passion and that’s fine but being so hyper-competent all the time is hard. I feel like Yayax has figured this out about him, which is why they’re all together all the time. They’re friends.

Favorite moment : When Ordo turns up on Qiilura in full hush hush Secret Squirrel mode, face-to-face with Levet all set to lie, misdirect, and dazzle, and Levet’s just like, “Oh, there you are. Yeah, she’s right up those stairs. Still super pregnant.” in the secret language. And Ordo just like...grinds to a halt. The wind is just gone from his sails.

“...Ah,” he says. And that’s it. That is literally all he can say.

“Yep,” Levet says, and, Ordo - literally in the narrative it says this - Ordo is bracing (bracing!) in case Levet decides to drop any more bombshells, but, nah. The birds tweet a bit and Levet, apparently satisfied that he’s already rocked the Captain’s world enough, just pops his helmet on, politely gestures good-bye, and goes on about his day. I’m sure the 50,000 other major secrets Levet’s carrying around inside his cuirass aren’t any of Ordo’s business, and it would be rude to share.

Idea for a story : ...So up in the Impression Now section I nearly wrote something like, “If, in a surprise soap opera twist, Levet turned out to actually be one of the “dead” Nulls I wouldn’t be surprised”, and...uh...

UH.

(N-8 didn’t fail to gestate. Examination of the genome showed flaws that indicated a high chance of failure to express certain key features, and it was put on freeze instead for future examination. Eventually the motion of put forth that perhaps the key features N-8 lacked could make for a more controllable specimen, if also developed under the new, proven indoctrination program. It could give them a better understanding of exactly where the Null genome failed, and improve any future attempts at enhancement to the product. So CC-3388/0021 was born. dun dun DUN.)

Unpopular opinion : This section doesn’t fit so INSTEAD I’m going to take the opportunity to say that I am extremely curious how Levet - an infantry commander - fell in with a Commando squad to the point where they all tumbled onto Mandalore at the same time and proceeded to live forevermore attached at the hip. What a noodle incident.

Consider: Cov and Levet both convinced they’re the one who adopted the other.

Favorite relationship : The general one he was with Yayax squad, honestly. They didn’t get too much characterization so I can’t go in deep, but whatever they have going on over there seems great for them, and that’s nice.

Favorite headcanon : To this day, Ordo regards Levet going about his “I’m just humble farmer” routine with vague wariness and every time Levet says anything there’s a tiny little part of Ordo braced for a heart attack. Never forget. (Little known fact that Levet has a terrible sense of humor and finds this very funny.)

#purgetroopercody #levet #ask games #thank you!#repcomm

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pencilscratchins · 3 years

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The way you draw clone faces and how the armor fits on their bodies is definitely among my favorite styles that I've seen! 💚

thank youu! honestly, temuera morrison is just incredibly handsome and fun to draw so he makes it easy to be inspired lmAO and i love. drawing. armor. so. much.

#purgetroopercody #one thing i wasnt expecting when i started this star wars phase #was how much my YEARS of drawing magneto would help with helmets SKSK #and armor i knew i loved because i drew the figures for my medieval studies thesis so i knew i was competent at that #i think armor seems more intimidating than it really is!#once you get your had used to it its so fun to draw #ask #anon #not art

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clonecest-bin-account · 3 years

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Wolffe and Rex, where Wolffe is getting used to his new cybernetic eye and having to learn to 'see again' maybe? Or frustrated with some aspect of it?

(Hell yeah hurt/comfort)

When Wolffe stomps inside Rex’s quarters - he didn’t even tell him that he was going to visit - the Captain acts quite nonchalantly, not seeming so surprised by the intrusion, and all he says is “Bad day, huh?”

Wolffe doesn’t even reply, walking instead to Rex’s fresher. Soon the sound of the shower getting turned on can be heard.

Rex sighs, shaking his head. This isn’t the first time something like this happens, and although he appreciates that Wolffe thinks of him as his safe haven enough to come to him when he feels down, instead of keeping everything inside, he would still prefer to know what exactly went wrong that day before he lets Wolffe do as he pleases, but oh well, what is done is done. He’ll surely tell him once he’s cooled down.

He gets up from his bunk, walking to where he keeps his clothes in order to get a fresh pair of blacks for Wolffe. The least he can do is to give him something clean to wear.

When he knocks on the fresher’s door, though, he hears no reply. “Wolffe? You there?” he calls out, as worry begins to creep inside his mind. Did he pass out or something?

Since no reply comes this time either, he opens the door, expecting the worst, only to be met by the image of Wolffe, forehead pressed against one of the shower walls, gritting his teeth and… Is he…

He leaves the blacks over the sink, carefully moving towards the shower and sliding the door open, uncaring that he’s going to get the floor - and himself - wet.

“Hey…” he mutters, reaching for him with one hand, but still not touching it, afraid that if he’ll do it without warning, his flight or fight instinct will take over, and, knowing what Wolffe will choose, Rex would avoid having to fight him in the fresher while he’s all wet and naked.

Wolffe still doesn’t respond, but Rex notices that his eyes move slightly towards him, only to move back towards the wall, so at least he knows that he’s aware of his presence.

He knows this feeling very well, that last line before breaking apart, where all you can do is to try your hardest to keep it together, not to succumb to desperation, so he’s not surprised that, as soon as he touches Wolffe’s shoulder, he crumbles. What he wasn’t expecting was him throwing himself in his arms, getting him all wet, but that’s the last of Rex’s problem, not when he has Wolffe sobbing in his arms.

“I can’t, Rex… I can’t!” he cries, frustration evident in his voice.

“You can’t what? I don’t understand,” Rex replies, but there’s nothing he can do to get Wolffe to talk. Alright, he sees how it is; it’s ok, they can talk later. “Did you actually clean yourself?” he asks.

Wolffe shakes his head, which prompts Rex to get the lead. He steps inside the shower, still dressed, in order to help Wolffe; he’s particularly gentle when he scrubs his hair, which makes Wolffe relax and lean into the touch. He seems to have calmed down from the outburst from a few minutes ago, but now he looks drained of any energy.

Once he’s done, he guides Wolffe to stepping outside, and only then he removes his now soaked blacks. Should’ve thought about it earlier, but it hadn’t crossed his mind; oh well, a simple towel can do to cover him up.

He helps Wolffe dry up and get dressed, then he does the same to himself. After securing a towel to his waist, he ushers Wolffe out of the fresher and to his bunk, where they lay down, Wolffe almost entirely sprawled over Rex, head resting against his chest, though he soon assumes a fetal position.

Rex wants to ask him if he’s ready to talk, but he doesn’t think pushing him would make things any better, so he holds his tongue. Besides, he doesn’t have to wait too long to understand what got Wolffe like this.

“I’m not any good like this,” he says, tone bitter and full of self-loathing. Rex hates hearing him talk about himself this way.

“Did something happen during practice?” he asks, then, referring to all the shooting practice Wolffe’s undergoing to test his new cybernetic eye before he can be deployed again.

“I still can’t hit shit!” Wolffe snaps, body tensing again. Rex begins caressing his back in an attempt to calm him down. “They said the eye would help with perception problems, and yet I’d still be useless in battle!”

“Wolffe, this stuff takes time,” Rex replies, “you can’t expect to be immediately good at it. It’s still something you’re getting used to.” He caresses his hair, leaning to plant a kiss on his forehead. “I’m sure you’ll get the hang of it.”

“But I can’t waste so much time like this! They need me out there!” Wolffe exclaims, then he lowers his gaze. “Maybe they should’ve just--”

“Don’t say that,” Rex interrupts him, knowing what he was going to say. “Besides, I doubt General Koon would’ve allowed that.”

“You’re right, he wouldn’t…” Wolffe replies, though there’s clearly something else he wants to say, even though he stays quiet.

Some other time passes before he speaks again. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t bring this stuff to you. It’s my problem and I should deal with it.”

Rex closes his arms around him in a hug. “You don’t have to be sorry. I’m glad that you’re venting, rather than keeping everything inside.”

That manages to bring a small smile to Wolffe’s face, as he can’t help but to counter with a “Just like you do, huh?”

For once, Rex ignores the clear jab towards him, not wanting to get sidetracked. “Listen, I get that you’re frustrated. I’m not saying that this doesn’t suck right now, but it’ll get better. You just need to give it time. Your men will be happy to have you back, but only after you’ve completely recovered; they’re not going to resent you for needing more than just a couple of days.”

It takes a while for Wolffe to respond. When he does, his voice is soft. “… I suppose you’re right. Thank you, Rex, for putting up with me.”

“Nonsense. I’m happy to do it,” Rex replies, punctuating the last word with a kiss on the top of Wolffe’s head, only to add, “Things will get better. I promise you.”

“I know, I know,” Wolffe replies, way calmer than before. “It’s just… so frustrating,” he says then, and after a moment of hesitation, he adds, “But I guess it would be worse… without you.”

He pronounces that last part so softly that Rex is barely able to hear him, but he understands what he’s saying. “I’m glad I’m helping you,” he says then, meaning each and every word of it.

He was distraught when he found out about the accident, just like everyone else, though he was also glad that Wolffe had just lost his eye and not his life.

Still, it’s been hard watching him struggle, which is why he intends to stay with him for every step of the recovery process, offering him his support and everything he needs.

As long as it helps Wolffe he’d do anything, and if it’s something like cuddling on his bunk, helping Wolffe fall asleep after a tiring training session, well, he’ll do that even more happily.

Tag list: @maulusque @snap-p @menac-ika @captainrexwouldnever @anameofanykind If you want to be added feel free to let me know! Just know that if you are a minor you’ll be tagged only for the sfw fics.

#assorted clonecest fics #clonecest #cloneshipping #wolfferex #commander wolffe #captain rex #my fics #purgetroopercody

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cacodaemonia · 3 years

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I know a lot of people imagine Dogma being transferred to the Coruscant Guard after Umbara, but if he were to go to a Jedi-led unit, how do you think he'd do under Mace? (I haven't thought about this at all because the idea *just* occurred to me, but I wanted to ask you about it because I know you've done some favorable thinking and writing about him!)

Ohh, interesting! I’ve only dealt with him somewhat indirectly in the RCAU, so I’m probably not the best person to ask, but I think working alongside Mace would probably be most clones’ dreams, haha. XD He’s so smart and logical, and he spends half his screen time in TCW wars saving his men, so I can only assume troopers in the 91st are the subjects of a lot of envy from a good chunk of the GAR.

As for Dogma, specifically... I mean, there are a number of ways to interpret his personality traits, but I can imagine Mace’s calm demeanor being helpful for him?

#dogma #mace windu #purgetroopercody #asks

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firewoodwander · 2 years

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Hi! For the prompt "that is not what the instructions say," could you do Maze/Levet please?

Yes!! Thank you so much :D

From the prompt list

“We’re going to have to spend a few days building coops,” says Levet, tapping his stylus beside one of the sections of his plan. Maze hums, his mouth pressed to the back of Levet’s shoulder. “And the hedgerows are important, for wildlife and all sorts, but they’ll take a while to grow in fully.”

“Are you sure those grains should be planted next month?”

“What? Of course I’m sure.”

Maze shifts his arms around Levet’s waist. They’re in his favourite armchair, chest to back while Levet sits between Maze’s thighs, and Maze would think he’s tired of trawling through datawork since the War, but, it seems, farming is a new and invigorating kind of work.

The place they have now is small, but it’s more than suitable for just the two of them. It’s quiet, and it’s set apart without being forced into complete solitude; Zey lives with them in the other side of the house and Bardan visits frequently enough with Jaing and Mird, who take advantage of the sprawling fields out west to hunt and hike.

It’s nice.

Levet huffs after a short pause and swipes his screen to bring up his notes on the instructional series he has.

“Look,” Maze tells him. “That’s just not what your instructions have there. That’s the corn.”

“No it isn’t. Who watched those videos? Was it you? I don’t think so.”

“No—look.”

Maze lifts one hand to tap the line in question, highlighting it. Levet leans forward. Then he rubs his eyes.

“You’re tired,” Maze sighs. “And you’re doing too much at once.”

“I’m fine,” Levet insists, but he falls back into Maze’s chest all the same. “We haven’t even gotten to the apiaries yet.”

Maze lifts the pad out of Levet’s hands and holds it well out of reach. “No,” he says, “and we’re going to take a break before we do.”

Levet gives token protest reaching up with grabbing hands for his precious work. He doesn’t actually climb to his feet in Maze’s lap, though it’s a near thing, so Maze sets the pad down on the side table and grabs him back around the waist again to cuddle.

“Just rest with me,” he asks. “Just stay here.”

Sighing gently, Levet twists until he’s sideways in Maze’s lap, with his head resting against his shoulder. He curls one arm around Maze’s side in return and settles fully into the plush give of the chair.

“I just want it to go well,” he murmurs.

Maze kisses the top of his head drowsily. “It will,” he promises. “You’re leading it—it’ll be perfect.”

#maze/levet #star wars #cloneshipping #writing tag #purgetroopercody

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djarrex · 3 years

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Inspired by the Ask you just got, but I also love that you picked 'Priya' both for what it means and because of other Sanskrit-inspired names in Star Wars! Like Padme (lotus) and Shaak Ti (from shakti, like an energy of creation that pervades the universe.) The lyrics to Padme's funeral music are also in Sanskrit and I m a y have teared up once or twice while listening to it, so I'm just a big fan of this stuff and like seeing other people use these influences even if unintentionally!

💙💙💙💙💙

It's fun as a writer of a series when you can just give people and kids names that have a certain meaning, one that you may not reveal until a later time, or maybe one that you don't even realize it as having a certain meaning until someone points it out. As for Priya, hers is a name I fancied before writing her character in. More recently I had done some research on some ✨other things✨ that you all will see in the future of the series! ☺

#inbox #purgetroopercody #the gayiyla family #post-order 66 Rex

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nottonyharrison · 3 years

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Premise: Eleni Syndulla/Admiral Rampart where Cham is dead and they're both trying to get close to one another to gain influence over Ryloth in a manipulative, screwed-up political game.

Oh my! I successfully managed to make this an actual drabble, which I would like you to know is my first ever in around 20 years of writing fic 🙌

It’s two cycles after Empire day before Eleni feels the light of the system’s star on her skin again. The day is overcast, a rarity for the remote semi-desert landscape the prison sits on, the grey and grim duracrete discordant against the rich rusty soil.

Rampart stares at her, his unsettling gaze burning her skin in place of the normally harsh sun.

“So, do we have an agreement?” he asks, eyebrows raised and lip turned up in a smirk that says game over.

Eleni squints into the watery light creeping through the clouds, takes his hand in hers, and nods.

Send me a headcanon (or premise) and I’ll write a 5 sentence ficlet about it

#hera/rampart #tbb spoilers #sort of #eleni syndulla #admiral rampart #the bad batch fanfic #star wars fanfic #purgetroopercody

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codex-week · 2 years

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Hello! What does "hyperreality" mean in the context of the prompt? (I've never heard the word before.) Thank you!

Hello!

Mod T here; for "DREAMS, MEMORIES AND (HYPER)REALITY", I'd say hyperreality refers to Jean Baudrillard's postmodernist concept thereof. Baudrillard was a French philosopher who postulated that our society is no longer based on reality—that the signified and signifier don't correlate anymore, involving then a problematic separation between the concept and the object. A rough example would be buying an iPhone: people buy a brand (Apple) and base their purchase on concepts (luxury, high quality, popularity) rather than on a communication device (a phone to make phone calls.)

In the context of the prompt, hyperreality could mean several things: dreams being distortions of reality, reality growing insufficient, memories losing their hold on what was real... Rex looking at a hologram could be an example (the hologram isn't Cody, and Rex isn't in love with an object but what it represents, and Cody's hologram is what Rex loves to watch at the moment.)

Since (hyper) is between parentheses, you can ignore it and simply focus on "dreams, memories and reality" if it doesn't inspire you—or even choose only one concept even! The themes are broad and very open to interpretation: do what you makes you happy and we will be very, very excited to see your contribution :)

#hope this answered your question!#*asks #*2022 #*2022 prompts #*mod t #purgetroopercody

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kungfuslipper · 2 years

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Time to Target has potential as a title for a Sev/Fi fic where somebody's *really* going after it, but I'm not gonna use it so I just want this to be a suggestion.

I appreciate that, thank you :))

It also has serious potential as a title for my long fic. 👀🍩

#asks #purgetroopercody #time to target

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kaasknot · 3 years

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So what's something you've wanting to talk at length about for your longfic but haven't gotten the excuse to wax about yet? 👀 *sips drink to savor that sweet 80% milwank by volume you talked about*

i had to sit on this for a while, because there's so many to choose from.

but here's one: i fleshed out jai’s chain of command. back when i was trying to establish the size of the GAR so i could narrow down the size of jai's unit, i realized two things: 1) the formation i wanted him to have, a corps, totaled around 2 million clones, and 2) that was way too big for the story i wanted to write. i wanted to write him zipping around the galaxy doing fun missions, because that's fun, rather than sitting behind a desk on coruscant planning those missions like a staff officer SHOULD (i am not immune to fun-over-logic).

so i invented a jedi general who would stay home on coruscant and do all the nitpicky high-level command decisions. his name is senior jedi general bentassie ombo. above him ranks obi-wan as general of the 3rd systems army, and above him obviously ranks yoda.

below the cut is the scene where jai and master ombo meet.

He stopped by a door that read, written in marker on a strip of spacer’s tape, “3rd Systems Army Engineering—General Ombo.”

“Did the credits run out when it came time to make signs?” Jaicente asked no one in particular.

Looper paused, a hand on the control panel, and it was the change in his scent—shifting cautiously to playfulness—that drew Jaicente’s attention. “Engineers have to make their own, sir,” he said with a tentative smile.

Jaicente looked to him in surprise, feeling a smile of his own take shape. “Do they, now.”

“That’s what I’ve heard.” Looper opened the door, cutting off anymore conversation, and ushered him in.

Jaicente hadn’t been sure what to expect, never having been in a general’s office before. It was disappointingly like any other office in the midst of a move: unfinished shelves stood against one wall, a massive flimsy map of the galaxy in realtime covered another, and tucked in the corner was a secretary’s desk, occupied by a clone in gray who was surrounded by a tangle of cords and haphazard office supplies.

“I’ll be with you in a minute,” he said, putting a hand over his headset mic to address them.

Looper made a silent gesture in reply, and the secretary went back to his holocall.

“I get what you’re saying, sir, but the fact is no one on this wing has any extra chairs,” he said to a portly gran, whose hologram stood, slightly askew, atop a stack of datapads.

The gran’s reply was inaudible, the sound pickups routed through the headset. “No—no, that’s not what I said. I said extra chairs, as in, chairs for people to sit in when they’re waiting to meet someone, or chairs to sit in while meeting someone. Not everyone in this building will be sitting behind a desk.”

Jaicente looked around, and indeed, there weren’t any chairs to be seen, save for the one the secretary was sitting in.

“I have the requisition forms in front of me right now, I can send them as soon as you’re ready.”

There was another door just beyond his desk, marked “private.” Two other voices rose and fell behind it, not loud enough to parse the words, but neither sounding pleased. Jaicente scented clone, twi’lek, and overbrewed caf.

“Thank you,” the secretary said. “You said by Taungsday? Great, we’ll be expecting them. You have a good one.” He signed off and gave them a polite smile. “How can I help you?”

Jaicente stepped forward. “My name is Jaicente Alhurayrah, I’m here to see Master Ombo.”

The secretary’s polite curiosity vanished in understanding. “Oh, you’re the new junior gen!”

“I—yes?”

“Let me just—” He hit a comms panel. “General, we’ve got Knight Alhurayrah here to see you.”

A gruff male voice answered. “Tell him I’ll be a few more minutes.” “Yes, sir.” He turned to Jaicente. “Did you catch that?”

Jaicente nodded. “I did, yes.”

“Awesome. Yeah, he’s in a meeting with a couple ARCs, they came screaming in from the Druess Sector in some kind of rush.” His expression gave frank indication of the severity and juiciness of the gossip. “Not good news, they’ve been at it for almost two hours.”

It was barely 0600; Jaicente couldn’t imagine the schedule Master Ombo kept. Over the secretary’s shoulder, someone had slapped a poster on the wall of a man—a clone?—in uniform, his face half obscured, with a gloved finger to his lips. It read: “Loose lips sink ships.”

“I’d offer a chair, but as you’ve probably gathered, we don’t have any.”

“That’s quite alright,” Jaicente replied. “I don’t mind standing.”

“Then you’ve come to the right place,” the secretary said with a wry grin, before turning his attention to Looper. “Are you Signal? You look Signal.”

Looper tapped out a rhythm on his breastplate in lieu of words.

“Ha!” The secretary tapped out a rhythm on the desk in reply. “I’m Chase.”

“Looper.”

“They’re exiling you to Engineering too, huh?”

“Wherever the GAR has need.” The words weren’t so different from what he’d said to Jaicente only a handful of minutes earlier, in the speeder; his tone, however, was far more dry.

“I feel that in my bones. It’s not so bad here, though—most commsjockeys I’ve talked to say Engineering is where it’s at. A good combat-to-chatter ratio.”

“You don’t see it direct?”

“Nah, I spend most of my time riding a desk, these days. We just moved in last week, you can probably tell.” He gestured to the chaos surrounding his desk. “We were split between Navy HQ and the Old Senate building, but the War Office finally decided enough was enough and that construction was done whether it was or not. The J-boys and stripers, those poor bastards, they’re still stuck squatting in an active construction zone. No idea why that is. None. Really a shame. Someone must have karked up the floor assignments.”

Looper snorted. “Criminal.”

“That’s what I thought! Good thing they're right there to investigate.”

Jaicente watched the byplay in a state of bemusement. Despite never having met each other before, the two clones had established a rapport in an eyeblink that Jaicente could only envy. Relegating it to “a clone thing” seemed unfair, but their scents mingled like old friends, and it seemed very much a clone thing.

The office door opened with an angry hiss, and a pair of clones trooped out, their armor noticeably different from Looper’s. Their faceplates were different: the visor shaped into more of an eye-shape than Looper’s T, and the smell of the plastoid composite was different. More noticeably, however, they had pauldrons over each shoulder and heavy, blastweave half-kilts hooked to their belts. Their faces were hidden behind their helmets, but Jaicente felt their eyes on him.

He felt naked in comparison. All of his usual methods of identifying others—the Force, scent, even sight—were stripped from him.

“Alhurayrah,” a third voice barked, and Jaicente jerked away to see who had addressed him.

A massive blue twi’lek stood in the door. His lekku were looped over his shoulders, and they were tattooed with intricate geometric designs. He wore the robes of a Jedi. “Master Ombo?” Jaicente asked.

“That’s right.” He pointed to the strange clones. “I’ll see you two at back here at 0900 hours.”

“Yes, sir,” one of them said, then they both saluted and trooped out of the office. Jaicente caught the tail-end of Chase’s eyeroll as he turned back to Master Ombo.

“Chase, do you have his paperwork?”

“Yes, sir, it’s right here.” He patted a datapad sat on the edge of his desk.

“Hold on to it for just a little longer. And tell anyone who asks that I’m out of the office, but that I’ll be back by 0830 at the latest.”

“Taking him out to the pit for a confab?”

Ombo slammed a meaty hand down on Chase’s desk, but only Jaicente jumped. “One day I’ll figure out how you learn my secrets, Commander, and that’ll be a dark day for you.”

Chase just grinned. “Yes, sir. Have fun.”

“Alhurayrah, follow me.” He paused, looking at Looper. “You’re the Signal major we seconded at the last minute, right?”

“Yes, sir. Looper, 114th Signal.”

“That’s Looper, 83rd Engineering, now. You think you can handle a regimental admin department?”

Looper didn’t even look phased. “My little brothers can handle an admin department, sir.”

Ombo barked a laugh. “I suppose they could. You come with me, too.”

He led them out into the hall, and as he passed through the general’s wake, Jaicente smelled caf, the strong, piney scent of resin gum, and very faintly, clinging to the general’s clothes, cigarra smoke.

“So, Alhurayrah,” Ombo said as he started down the hall, trailing them behind like [ducklings]. “You’re Consular?”

“Yes, sir. I’m in training to be an ambassador.”

“Good. We need that. I’m a Guardian myself; all this make-nice has been a hard lesson to learn.” “Did you choose Engineering?” Jaicente asked, lengthening his stride to match pace.

“No, it was assigned to me, same as you.” He pointed down a side corridor. “This way.”

He brought them down clearly disused corridors, the glowpanels spaced farther and farther apart until they spent more time walking in shadow than light. Stray mouse droids were the only occupants to be seen. Chase’s choice of words: “take them to the pit,” echoed in Jaicente’s mind’s ear.

“This wing is supposedly going to be for Kyala and the 8th System Engineers, but they’re in the middle of a campaign gone south, so they haven’t been able to clear out of RNHQ,” Ombo said. “I’ll take advantage of their absence while I can.”

Suddenly, the walls fell away. An atrium stood in the empty space beyond, an oasis of green in the midst of heavy permacrete.

“Looper, wait here, please. Me and the new general have Jedi shop talk to go over.”

“Yes, sir.” Looper took up a watchful stance by the mouth of the corridor, his eyes roaming over the plants.

Jaicente followed Master Ombo into the heart of the atrium, where a waterfall poured down a bare ferrocrete wall into a pool surrounded by ferns and palms. Early morning sunlight streamed against the transparisteel ceiling, shining warm and golden over the high corners of the far wall, but Jaicente and Master Ombo stood in shadow.

“I don’t know what possessed the architects to build something like this in this sterile shithole of a box, but I’m glad they did,” Ombo said, looking up and letting out a deep sigh. Jaicente sensed him release his stress and worry into the Force, and he followed suit, taking the opportunity to vent his nerves.

Ombo reached into one of his belt pouches, pulled out a lump of aharb gum, and chewed on it contemplatively. “So,” he said, looking Jaicente up and down. “Why Consular?”

Jaicente took a breath and composed himself. “I like people,” he said simply. “And I don’t care for violent methods of reconciliation.”

“Hm. You didn’t take the Right of Denial?”

“I… considered it.” “Why didn’t you go through with it?”

Jaicente clasped his hands behind his back. “The climate in the Temple is becoming increasingly hostile to those who publicly question the Council.” He chose his words carefully. “Not through any action of the Council’s, but there are those in support of the war that… do not take kindly to those who question its rightness.”

Ombo grunted. “That’s not good to hear.”

Jaicente wondered how long it had been, since Master Ombo had last been to the Temple. “The war is leaving its marks,” he said as neutrally as he could.

“Spoken like a politician. So, Knight Alhurayrah, the Council has seen fit to give you, a borderline conscientious objector, a command. Why should I let you?”

Jaicente blinked at him, set on his back foot. “Well—you shouldn’t.”

Ombo’s gaze sharpened. “Why not?”

“I’m… not a soldier.” Jaicente spread his hands apologetically. “I don’t know the first thing about leading an army, unless it’s an army of aides. And even then it’s still only the first thing, not the second, or third, or… or twenty-ninth. And to be perfectly honest, I’d much rather go back to the Temple than anywhere near a front.”

Ombo snorted. “A fair point. But these things can be learned.”

“With respect, General, but on-the-job training in the middle of a war sounds like a recipe for bloodshed.”

“Eh, your clones will look out for themselves, they’re a capable lot. And the benefits of having a Jedi in the field outweigh the risks.” He waved aside Jaicente’s alarm with a meaty hand. “I understand where you’re coming from, and if they’d tried to assign you to an infantry battalion, I’d have agreed. But you, Knight Alhurayrah, are not going to lead a humdrum infantry battalion.”

Jaicente did his best to release his budding terror into the Force. “A ‘special operations unit’?”

“I didn’t name it. But yeah. Your job will be to play nice with local leaders to get what the GAR wants from them. You build them a dam, they give us money. You build them a school, they give us loyalty to the Republic.”

“I repair their canal system, they give us orbital rights to build a medcenter.”

“Good, you read your brief. Not all newly-minted generals do.”

Jaicente left that frankly horrifying thought to the side. “Master Ombo, I don’t want to seem ungracious, but why do you need me for this? The 83rd already has a commander.”

“Yes. Commander Maia.” A muscle flexed in Ombo’s jaw. “He’s a brilliant engineer and a superlative commander, and that’s why I haven’t transferred him.” Ombo gave Jaicente a look out of the corner of his eye. “But he’s a right pain in the ass to work with. Passive-aggressive, arrogant—he’s better at pissing off planetary leaders than making them happy. It’s becoming a problem.”

Jaicente had thought his heart had already sunk to its lowest ebb, but it seemed determined to prove him wrong. “I... see.”

“Not to put too fine a point on it, the 83rd is important enough to the war effort that it’s worth putting a Jedi down on the ground to keep Maia in line. I’ve been doing my best, but I have a whole planetary army to run; I don’t have time to hold one CC’s hand.”

“So I’m to be a glorified babysitter.”

“That’s what all officers are, when it comes down to it,” Ombo said with a snort. “Should be old hat for you, anyway; I guarantee clones are easier to work with than politicians, even the squirrelly ones.”

Jaicente tried not to feel like a vulptex caught in a trap. “Thank you, Master. I’ll do my best.” He took a deep breath and released his disquiet into the Force. “What else should I know?”

Ombo shifted his weight. Jaicente was reminded once again just how large a man he was; he wasn’t accustomed to people who could look him in the eye. “In the interest of being absolutely square with you,” Ombo began, “because it <i>is</i> going to affect your work.” He took a solid half dozen chomps of his gum before resuming. “You’re getting the command, that’s already been decided, but I do not believe it’s one of the Council’s better decisions.”

The galaxy stilled around Jaicente. “Sir?”

Ombo sighed, looking suddenly tired. “There’s no easy way to say this, so I’ll lay it out plain. In the war of public opinion, appearance is all. There is no room for hurt feelings. I would have preferred anyone other than yourself for this position, because wherever you go, the locals will see a Zygerrian leading an army of genegineered soldiers, and they’ll think what they’ll think.”

The fur raised down Jaicente’s spine. It took him a heartbeat to muster the words through his shock. “I’m not a slaver.”

“Then you’ll have to make them believe it. Treat your men with the utmost respect, and be an exemplary Jedi. Do that, and we’ll have no problems.”

Jaicente took a step back, his whole body prickling, but decorum won out. He ended up beside the pool, staring into his reflection and breathing deeply, willing his emotions into the Force.

“I understand what it is, to be judged on appearance alone,” Ombo said. Perhaps he did; nothing kind was ever said about twi’lek men.

Jaicente restrained his biting first reply. Then his second. Then he waited until he could trust his voice not to waver. He caught sight of Looper out of the corner of his eye, a pale ghost in the half-light of the corridor, and his throat constricted once more. He swallowed through it. “I would never risk the lives of the men under my command.”

“It’s a war, Knight Alhurayrah,” Ombo said, his voice sad. “You’ll have to.”

Jaicente spun on him, unbecoming anger boiling in his veins, but Ombo just looked tired. He couldn’t have been more than forty standard, but in that moment he looked all of sixty. “Every argument you have about the injustice of it, believe me, I’ve already heard.”

All at once, Jaicente’s anger waned, and he could master it. It left him cold and tired, as well. “Alright,” he said, even though it very much wasn't. “It's nothing more than I expected, so let's just… carry on.”

General Ombo nodded, his lekku shifting. “Nuts and bolts, then.” He pulled out a handheld holoproj, and a blue ghost of a capital ship materialized over his palm. “This is your flagship, the Unconquered. It's an Acclamator-class assault ship, crew of 700, mostly non-clones, and a payload of [amount] megatons—not including the engineering dets you'll also be carrying. Sixteen thousand clones at peak operating numbers, which breaks down to twenty battalions across various specialties; more than enough to get done whatever you need.” He pushed a button and the view zoomed out to include three other ships. “Your counterpart in the Navy is Admiral Suzah Ngo; she’ll ride with you, and you’ll need to work closely with her for fleet ops. You do not go anywhere without armed Naval escort, clear? You’re considered a high-value target, with lots of intel on GAR special operations.”

“Alright,” Jaicente said, trying to find serenity. “What’s my budget?”

Ombo gave him a sharp look.

Jaicente refused to waver. “If I am to lead a diplomatic mission, then I’m afraid I must have a budget. Local dignitaries will not wine and dine themselves.”

Ombo snorted. “No, I suppose not. You’ll be funded directly by the Temple, not the GAR. Officially, you don’t have a budget at all, so don’t go making a scene with it.”

“That sounds… suspect.”

“It’s not wholly above-board, no. But It’s easier to get Temple funds than GAR funds, so you’ll thank us in the long run. Any other questions?”

Jaicente breathed out slowly. “When do we ship out?”

“Today, at 1000 hours. Chase has all the paperwork you’ll need to sign, your code cylinder, credit chip, and a copy of your orders. And one more thing.”

Jaicente looked up at the dire tone General Ombo had taken. “Yes?”

“I want you to scan for life. Tell me if there’s anyone nearby who can hear us.”

Frowning, Jaicente did as he bid. He spread his senses as wide as he could reach, but the closest sapient minds he brushed against were Ombo’s and Looper’s, and Looper was too far to hear. “There’s no one.”

Wordlessly, Ombo reached into his tunic and pulled out a tiny device, no larger than one of his fingers. He pressed a button on it, and Jaicente’s voice came back to him, barely audible through the white noise of the waterfall: “There’s no one.”

Jaicente stared at the recorder, blood rushing in his ears.

“Never forget that the enemy plays into our greatest weakness as Jedi,” Ombo said, handing it over. “Never assume that just because there’s nothing organic to hear you, there aren’t any ears to hear. Oh, and if Looper had been wearing his helmet, he’d absolutely be in hearing range. Their helmet baffles can amplify sound.”

Shame was unproductive. Embarrassment spoke of pride. Jedi did not have pride. Jaicente looked up at General Ombo. “You chose this atrium because the waterfall obscures listening devices.”

“Yes. And because it’s restorative. There’s no reason not to multitask.”

“I understand, Master.”

“Good. Now if you don’t mind, I have twenty more minutes of peace, and I intend to enjoy them. Looper will help you find the way back if you can’t remember it.”

Jaicente bowed and made his escape.

#askbox #purgetroopercody #my fic #seven pillared house

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gffa · 3 years

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Hope you had a wonderful birthday!!! 💚💛 I love your meta discussions (especially on the Jedi) and gifssss

THANK YOU ♥ I had a very nice birthday indeed! And I’m glad you’re enjoying the meta and discussions, like, just imagine me writing them like

HELL YEAH I’M GONNA ROCK THIS (niche corner of) FANDOM LIKE IT’S MY BIRTHDAY CAUSE IT IS!!!

#lumi's birthday #purgetroopercody

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clonecumber · 2 years

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For Kyrimorut's eventual discovery in the unwritten ImpComm book, what I'd like to see is that it actually doesn't have much to do with the Jedi, but is the culmination of small mistakes and threads coming together into something big enough to finally trip the alarm. Something bigger could get Imperial attention, they open an investigation, and it's only then that they begin to piece together reports that had been ignored, things that didn't add up, financial anomalies, and cases that were closed without appropriate closure. The Nulls' financial 'adventures' have seemed relatively convenient and without consequence so far, so I'm wondering if KT had planned for that to go somewhere (or for some character flaws to crop up) to make some of the Nulls seem less...invulnerable I suppose? I think it could be an interesting contributing factor to Kyrimorut being discovered, along with whatever Darman is planning, the presence of the Imperial garrison on Mandalore, ~ JeDi ~, logistical breadcrumbs for some alphabet soup agency to follow, and ignorance of/failure to understand something crucial in the civilian world (as if that's not a massively complicated and diverse thing in itself, lol.)

I have no idea what KT was planning of course, but I think by having multiple things contribute to Kyrimorut's discovery, you have the opportunity to sort of portray how even if you have one person who is officially responsible in a buck-stops-here kind of way, there are still things that a lot of people with different responsibilities could've done differently to help the situation, so there's room for improvement and learning across the board and you're not just pointing at *one person* and saying "yeah you're the one who fucked this whole thing, get out." It sounds boring when I describe it like that but I think if you execute it properly, it can be a compelling look at something going wrong and how various characters react to that and understand their role in what's happening-- more compelling than, like, one person being plucked from the frozen section of CoruFresh by the ISB and induced to divulge the location of Kyrimorut via force magic.

Sorry this is super long but I wanted to know what you were thinking for why Kyrimorut is eventually discovered in the unfinished book, and how that can fit in with established themes in the other books or evolve them to portray new ones!

I find it funny when people apologize to me for long anything. Friend, you are perfectly fine, I promise :) I really like your ask.

I also don't think it sounds boring at all! I agree, actually. Small missteps made along the way leading to a complete collapse sounds like a perfect sort of low point in the story, where the survivors all have to individually come to terms with their own failures, go on their own mini-journeys to heal and overcome and shift their perspectives, regroup and re-solidify their bonds, and come back better if not exactly stronger? Especially in a multi-POV series like RepComm, that sort of thing would be perfect, normally. Classic heroine's journey, refracted in a thousand ways across a cracked mirror. I love it.

...more compelling than, like, one person being plucked from the frozen section of CoruFresh by the ISB and induced to divulge the location of Kyrimorut via force magic.

Well-worded, lol. I also agree with you!

The thing is, is I think there's a difference between what I think KT was going to do, what I personally think would have made the most sense for the story and the characters, and what I think would just be the most cathartic thing and the thing I most want to see happen. It's difficult to talk about them in the same breath, but since you asked, I'll try!

...this is very kal skirata critical guys be warned

Ideally, if the book hadn't included Kal Skirata in the way it did, your presentation here would have been just about perfect. I also think it makes the most sense! A thousand small flaws in the wall that bring it all toppling down, and it offers significant room for growth and the spotlight to just about everyone. It's wonderful. There is definitely plenty there that could be used to assign everyone a whole crack of their own, from what’s been mentioned previously about supply lines, to the fact they have two ex-government employees hanging around who are probably listed as kidnapped/jail-broken, the fact Jilka never actually volunteered to be there, the fact Kyrimorut is just going to keep getting bigger and bigger and the garrison is right there, Kom’rk and Jaing’s unease with being locked out leading to them making a few mistakes when they try to get back in, someone on Mandalore rats them out because Kal trusted the wrong person just because they wore the same kind of helmet he did, Isabet Reau comes back with a Vengeance, one of the deserters isn’t actually (and they are pissed everyone here took off and left all their brothers behind), Rede’s whole...deal.

There’s plenty to work with!

Since Kal Skirata as he is does exist, however, I'm sorry to say that what you said here - you're not just pointing at *one person* and saying "yeah you're the one who fucked this whole thing, get out." - is actually kind of what I do want XD and also the thing that would absolutely have never happened.

The thing is, is that we know the other characters are already aware of their own flaws, willing to work to overcome them, and willing to own up when they fuck up. This is established in the story, with one glaring exception that changes the whole game. The only one who doesn't have to eat their own shit in the whole series in a way that could actually get them called out on their nonsense in a not-fun way is Kal.

And, I mean, sure, the whole thing with Darman, right? Except I refuse to actually accept that as a scenario where Kal "owned up to his mistakes". To me, it was a more extreme example of that thing he does where he "owns up" by blurting out shit like "it's because I'm such a terrible father" which is NOT an apology, or even a sincere admission of fault. It has never been.

Okay, hear me out.

The only one who left that confrontation feeling better was Kal. Kal got what he wanted, which was catharsis for his guilty feelings, and all without even having to admit to every aspect of his sins (what a bargain!). He walked out of there satisfied and vindicated that he was Doing Better By His Boys, even as he left Darman - the one he harmed, the one he was supposedly apologizing to, the one whose benefit this conversation was supposedly for - rattled and horrified and so guilty he immediately tried to bury all the misgivings he still had rather than deal with them. Darman got nothing from that conversation. It gave him zero closure, because Kal didn't actually answer him.

And the beating Kal was so determined to let Darman have? Who was that actually for? Who left that interaction with some degree of closure? Because it sure as hell wasn’t Darman. Kal decided letting Darman hurt him was a good way to pay his dues (which is tremendously fucked up in its own ways, but we already know Kal doesn’t have the healthiest way of conceptulatizing his relationships), and he barred intervention from onlookers deliberately so he could go about paying them with no regard for how it was going to impact Darman.

Look, he basically used Darman as a tool to salve his own guilty conscience at the same time he was supposedly meant to be doing better by him. As much as I like seeing Kal finally get punched in the face, Kal wanted it too much, and it hurt Darman too much, because Darman's not the kind of man who would ever be satisfied or okay with harming the people he loves out of anger for any reason. He knows it’s unacceptable, and he spends the rest of the series twisting himself up in knots every time he thinks of it, and too guilty to ever hold Kal accountable for anything again, even for things Kal deserves. That’s not healthy.

So that wasn't Kal owning up to his mistakes. That was Kal wanting to get on with paying his ticket so he could go right back to reckless driving.

Anyway.

So what I would really like to see if I have a choice, is a scenario where Kal actually has to pay up for real, when it's not easy for him, when it’s not on his terms, when it doesn't make him feel better. Where things are fucked up so spectacularly that there is no wiggling out of accepting his fair share of the blame, and he's not going to get pats on the head to make it all better afterward.

And since Kal in the story is so big on hobbling everyone around him by limiting their information and running everything through himself and hoarding secrets and refusing to clearly relay his intentions so people can get on with things without his direct input, so insecure that he has to make himself the indispensable lynch-pin to the family and coincidentally the single point of failure...

Let him.

Let him be that.

And then when that single point of failure that is himself, does, in fact fail, when everything falls apart around his ears, when he's gotten his own people killed in a way that can't be handwaved away, when they're scattered and hurting and when he has fucked up, have him have to eat that. Have his mistake be so awful no one's willing to cut him slack anymore. Have it be so awful there's no way he can make it so the people he harmed have to be the ones reassuring him. Strand him with Vau in the aftermath, maybe, and just him, and cut off from everyone he's got in an emotional stranglehold who might feel obligated to soothe him. Have him have to live with his faults dripping out of Vau's mouth and no way to hide.

Strand the clan in bits and pieces but primarily and most importantly without Kal, and have it be a long time before they're able to re-establish communication with him. Give them long enough to realize exactly what Kal did, not just the mistakes that broke their home, but the damage across a lifetime. Give them time to really feel it.

In this case, you can have characters wounded, or cut off from their usual support systems. Let the Nulls be shaken and scattered, have their usual frequencies, their unusual frequencies, be unreliable, tapped, have them not know how deeply they've been had, and have it take a hell of a lot of time before they can get their feet back under them and regroup. Let them be scattered, but Laseema know how to survive losing everything, how to live with nothing, dragging Kom'rk along behind her. Jilka snapping at a destroyed Fi because she's stressed, okay, and not a soft person by nature, and Fi almost feels like he's home. (Let Fi still have Atin, though, and Corr - don't leave him alone again.) Prudii hurt and alone with a wounded brother Null - A'den maybe, or Jaing, and they have never been hurt this badly before - who won't wake up, sick with terror and fear, getting them somewhere safe but not trusting the hospitals, not knowing who to call, who to trust, for the first time in his life not knowing what to do. But Ny is there too, or Parja, or both, and she has an idea. On and on like that. Ordo alone, maybe, and how that wrecks him - and then how he figures out how to keep going anyway. Solve the problem. Get his clan back. Piece by piece.

Have them have to rely on each other. Trust themselves. Solve each others' problems. Have them build those bonds together and be stronger for it. And when Kal's brought back into the fold in what feels like a lifetime later for all of them, have them not need him.

And if he's forgiven, if he stays, if he gets to rebuild his relationship with his children, that's all dependent on how he handles no longer being their everything.

#purgetroopercody #kal skirata critical #MIND. THE TAG.#in my defense...you asked #no but seriously I REALLY like your idea #I just...ramble #the theme I want to see handled in the book is 'emotional abuse is BAD and we are going to TAKE THE ABUSER TO TASK FOR IT'#but that's not going to happen lol #so I have feelings instead #other star wars meta I guess #repcomm

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clonecyare · 3 years

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How do you think up the scenarios that you want to write about and decide which character would go best in each scenario?

So most of my ideas come to me randomly, honestly. They're either from one of the many extended plot lines I have in my head at any one time, or sometimes based on a vibe I get from a song etc

In terms of choosing the character, most of the time I work out a loose plot before I pick a character (unless it's something I came up with especially for them)

But generally speaking some characters just associate better with me for different types of story

Eg, if I need a no nonsense, no fuckery character, I'll tend to lean towards Cody or Wolffe, but if I want a fuckboy/playful type I'll tend to favour Fives or Jesse etc

#purgetroopercody #answered

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clonecest-bin-account · 3 years

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Request: Toast (the sandwich/toast clone) and Dogma, SFW, where Dogma is new to the Coruscant Guard after being transferred there post-Umbara.

(This turned unexpectedly serious hdsjhfh anyway I hope you enjoy!)

When he’s been told that he had been reassigned to the Guard, Dogma had been confused. So what? No reconditioning? It turns out, reassigning clones left and right has been a strategy that has been going around for a while, now; the Jedi know about it, but they always turn a blind eye when they find a trooper in their ranks that wasn’t there before.

So hooray, he’s not going to get reconditioned, but now he has to navigate through the Guard; needless to say, he’s not that confident in his interpersonal skills, but he’ll manage, he’ll have to. He doubts he’d get a third shot at this, so he can’t screw this up.

Things turn out to be not that bad, especially considering that everybody minds their own business, which he appreciates. There’s also a certain structure and security that he appreciates, something that, in the heat of the battle, it was impossible to maintain for the battalions that are more involved in the war efforts.

After he’s had enough time to get used to how things are on Coruscant, he’s been sent to prison duty; more specifically, he needs to supervise the correct cremation of the prisoners’ dead bodies, which is quite morbid, thinking about it, but at least isn’t that hard for a rookie to do. Besides, Dogma has already lived through the battlefield, he knows about death, so this doesn’t faze him too much.

There’s only one thing: he doesn’t know what to do about his co-worker. Not that he causes any problems to him - he’s quite jovial actually - but still, Dogma doesn’t know how to address him, or if he should address him at all. He’s not exactly a huge fan of “making friends”, though the more time the two of them spend together, the more he wonders if he should at least try to strike a conversation with him that isn’t work related.

What if he sounds unlikable? What if they don’t get along? Wouldn’t that disrupt the working space’s peace? The last thing Dogma wants to do is to cause trouble, not when he’s got a second chance that he doesn’t even think he deserves.

Still, one day, the curiosity becomes too much to handle, and…

“Toast?”

The other clone startles before turning towards him. He probably wasn’t expecting to be addressed like this, out of the blue, and by Dogma of all people. “Yeah? Something’s wrong?”

“No, I was just wondering… Your name…”

There, he finally said it: it’s since they’ve met that he’s wondered about his name. Not that it’s such a weird name - at least Dogma thinks so, though he doesn’t believe clone standards are that universal when it comes to this stuff - but… Let’s just say that he has a hunch, and he wants it confirmed so that he can begin focusing on something else. Yes, he’s thought about it a lot; don’t ask him why, because he doesn’t know the answer himself.

“Ah…” Toast utters. Dogma isn’t able to read the expression on his face. “Well, I think we’ve been in each other’s company for you to understand why I’m named like that…”

Oh yes, Dogma is aware of Toast’s eating habits, but that’s not what he’s wondering about. “I just meant…” C’mon, Dogma, you can do it. “Did they give you this name, or did you choose it?”

“Huh?” Toast cocks his head to the side, looking at Dogma like he doesn’t understand what he means. Then he goes back to look at the control panel. “Well, if you really want to know, I didn’t pick the name. People began calling me like that and it kind of stuck.”

Oh, so it is like Dogma suspected. Interesting…

“How about you?”

“Sorry?”

“What? You asked me about my name, but I can’t ask you about yours?” Toast chuckles. At least he doesn’t look offended or upset.

“Oh, that…” Dogma mutters. “Well, it’s not that different from your name. I always followed orders to a fault, and thus ‘Dogma’ was born.”

“I see…”

For a moment, neither of them speaks again, thinking about this odd similarity they share.

Then, Dogma opens his mouth, and everything he’s been holding inside comes overflowing in his words.

“It didn’t bother me, or at least it didn’t use to, but now… You know, I’ve been wondering. If I was so much like that to earn myself a name specific for how I acted, can I ever become something more? How much of me is me, and how much is ‘Dogma’?”

He doesn’t even know why he’s telling this to Toast of all people, especially considering that they’ve barely interacted, but he couldn’t help himself. Maybe it’s because, deep down, he hopes he can understand.

“You know, I think I get what you’re trying to say…” is all Toast says on the matter, but to Dogma it means the world, because it means that he’s not alone in this.

And to think that there was a time in which he didn’t even care about it. For him, being called Dogma was a source of pride, because following orders is what they’ve been born to do, but after Umbara… He’s not so sure about that anymore.

Maybe one day, he’ll figure it out…

“Hey.”

O-Oh… Did he space out? Yes, he absolutely did. “Y-Yes?”

“I was wondering…” Toast begins, eyes still on the control panel, almost shy about looking at Dogma in the eyes. “You’re free this evening, right?”

“Yeah,” Dogma replies. Toast should know; they have the same shifts after all.

“Then… Would you like to… I don’t know, go to 79’s or something?”

Is Toast asking him out? Or maybe it’s just a friendly outing. Jeez, Dogma, don’t jump to conclusions immediately.

Is this because of the discussion they’ve just had? Or would’ve Toast invited him anyways? It’s hard to tell, though if he has to be completely honest, Dogma doesn’t really care about it.

Whatever the reasons may have been, he still feels flattered that someone would want to spend time with him, especially considering how little they know each other - and maybe that’s the reason, a mean voice suggests. Still, he believes that the two of them understand each other a little bit.

Besides… He never went to 79’s, and he’d lie if he said that he’s not curious about it, thus Dogma can only turn to look at Toast, waiting for him to do the same, and smile.

“I’d love to.”

Tag list: @maulusque @snap-p @menac-ika @captainrexwouldnever If you want to be added feel free to let me know! Just know that if you are a minor you’ll be tagged only for the sfw fics.

#assorted clonecest fics #clonecest #cloneshipping #toastdogma #sandwich clone #idk how to tag him #clone trooper dogma #purgetroopercody #my fics #dogma and toast adventures

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