#Jenots

[eclec-tech]

Innocence on the left, devilish rogue on the right, and (for us) an already lit fuse that we know is going to replace both of these boys with a third trooper. You love to hurt me, don't you?

jenot

i'm hurting myself here

[ayliaan]

My addition to the animal!au would be Ninth as a jenot(raccoon dog?) and Mastiff as that big fucking crazy hare

[therisingdarkness]

Fortunate Son

So this is a Ghoul fic in his pre-Ghoul days, written for @cloned-eyes. It's very dark, deals with war trauma, gore, and medical trauma, death, etc. I wouldn't call it Dead Dove, but it comes close I suppose. There is nothing happy about it tbh. But I LOVE writing this stuff and I love disintegrating my friends by tormenting their OCs. This is pure, indulgent Ghoul Whump, and also the introduction of three of our shared babies.

If you read, I hope you enjoy!

~~~ ~~~ ~~~

 The world was black.

That was fine though. Jenot didn’t want to open his eyes. He was so tired of the blinding white lights of the medbay, so tired of the way the longnecks and medical droids swarmed him the instant they knew he was awake, poking him and prodding him with needles and scanners, asking him questions he didn’t have answers for—How does your prosthetic feel? Is it too heavy? How is the movement? Can you see? Look at this chart. Look over here. Open your mouth. Wider. Wider. 

It had been easier when he couldn’t hear. Deafness had been a blessing at the time, but long fingers had pulled at the ragged remains of his ears, measuring and sticking things in the canal until they wedged something hard and foreign inside each one. There was a ringing noise, a piercing buzz that felt like it lived inside his brain, and then he could hear the low murmur of voices all around him, followed by the incessant beep and hum of medical machinery. More stimulation that he had been better off without, but how was he supposed to follow orders when he couldn't hear? 

The crook of his arm ached from the thick needle feeding fluids into his veins. It was the only thing he could feel, the only thing he had to remind him he was still alive. They had only spared him so many painkillers before deciding it'd be more efficient to simply fry his nerve endings. Back-to-back surgeries, countless hours spent edging in and out of consciousness, sometimes aware of a tube fed down the remains of his throat as they pieced him back together, and other times so disoriented he thought he was back on the battlefield. 

He didn't have the strength to fight. Those first nights were filled with pain, with blood, with darkness and the dying screams of the few unlucky brothers pulled from the muck and the mire. It had almost given him hope to know he wasn't the only one who had been saved…but that hope had lasted only so long as he was blind. 

They did something to him, scraped out the ruined, gelatinous mess of his eyes and replaced them with cybernetic implants that allowed him to see better than he ever had before…and the first thing he saw, after opening his eyes and turning his head to the berths next to his were the other survivors of his unit. 

The sight of them made him want to tear his implants back out.

His brothers laid there, pale and still, eyes open and glassy, their bodies wrapped in a network of thin hoses. Jenot didn't have to crane his neck too far to see that those hoses were also hooked up to him. 

Blood.

They were using his brothers…as living blood transfusions, killing them slowly by bleeding them dry. He watched the life drain out of one of them—he couldn’t remember his name, couldn’t even remember his CT number—listened to his last rattling gasps of breath and saw the tears leaking out of his eyes as the light in them dimmed. Jenot wished there was something he could have said to them, something that would have let them know that he was there, he saw them and was with them. They weren’t alone…he wasn’t going to let them die alone….

But it didn’t matter.

They still died.

They died for him—a choice they hadn’t been allowed to make, but a fate decided for them by the longnecks. He couldn’t stop it from happening, couldn’t protect them or offer them any words of comfort in their last moments. All he could do was just…lie there, hooked up to a dozen machines, and watch his brothers fade away.

“No point in trying to save these units,” he overheard one of the longnecks whisper to their colleague. “They’re too far gone as it is. Salvage what you can from them to ensure the commander pulls through, then dispose of the remains. They’re expendable.”

“The commander is worse off than the other ones we managed to retrieve…why is priority given to him?”

“Orders came through from higher up. I don’t intend to question them. Besides, it gives us the opportunity to…experiment.”

“True. I’ve been meaning to run a few tests. It’ll be easier to use these units as subjects. Less paperwork.”

Resistance was futile. Jenot wasn’t even sure he had it in him to struggle, not when his limbs felt like they were filled with lead. He couldn't even speak to tell them 'no'...the prosthetic jaw and tongue felt too strange. He couldn't get it to work the way he wanted, couldn't feel anything to indicate things moved the way they were supposed to. The few words he had been able to grate out on their demand to make an attempt didn't sound anything like the usual smooth cadence of his voice. 

It was all too much.

It was too much.

He couldn't cry, couldn't scream or shout the way he wanted to. His chest felt tight, filled with some emotion that buried itself beneath his ribs, taking hold like thorny vines, choking his lungs until he felt like he couldn't breathe, ensnaring his heart until everything went numb, until the only thing he could feel was the slow crawl of time ticking by, driving him crazy. 

He didn't want to die…but was this any better?

What existence he had been forced into…it was a mistake. He wasn't meant to be there, alive, broken and scarred but on the mend, tended to like he was somehow more worthy of being saved than his brethren just because of his rank—the same rank he had been so proud to receive alongside Wolffe and Fox, the same rank he had celebrated at 79's, partying like the world was ending the next day and getting so drunk it was a miracle they had made it back to base unscathed…now the same rank he cursed for drawing an arbitrary line between himself and his men, marking him as somehow better than them.

He couldn't unsee their eyes, unblinking and tear-filled as they exhaled their last, the subtle movements of their pale, chapped lips as they begged not to die, for someone to save them. 

“Hurts,” one of them had whispered. “It hurts, Commander.”

Jenot closed his eyes, trying to forget.

“They got us good, didn’t they,” the trooper had kept on, delirious, his voice raspy. “I wish…I wish we coulda died out there…on the battlefield. Bombs on our heads an’ kark…better than…than wasting away here. I don’t…I don’t feel any better.”

Because they hadn’t been trying to make him better…not that Jenot could have told him. The prosthetic jaw and tongue had been too new, and he had been so weak, so tired—all he could have done was lie there, listening to his brother’s voice grow fainter and fainter.

“Commander…I don’t feel good. Th–they gave me somethin’, didn’t they. M’ skin’s burnin’.... Feels hot. I don’t…I don’t think….”

He never got to finish his sentence. His next exhale was his last, his breath tapering off into a thin whine as his lungs deflated for the last time. Jenot couldn’t turn his head, but he had felt tears in his eyes, slipping down the sides of his head as he squeezed them tight, wishing he could have blocked out the sound—and what a shameful wish it was. The least he could do for them was bear witness to their last moments. 

That was his duty, as Commander. They had looked up to him, followed him with the trust and loyalty that was baked into them from birth. Every decision he made they had followed, blindly, because he had never steered them wrong before and they had no reason to believe this time would be any different. 

…and they had been wrong.

Jenot forced his eyes open again, gasping like he had been punched in the gut. There was no escaping what he had done…what had been done to them.

Even with his eyes closed he could see them, their bright faces and their roguish, familiar smiles. He hadn’t deserved them…he couldn’t save them, not a single karkin’ one of them. 

Outside, a storm raged and waves hundreds of meters high crashed against the massive pillars supporting Tipoca City. The structures were secure, the noise muted through many layers of durasteel…but he knew the sound of the storm. It brought a strange sort of comfort amidst everything. The wind, rain, even the waves…all were constant, steady. His earliest memories as a cadet were filled with warmth, packed into a room with the rest of his batchmates, curled up in his bunk and listening to the roar of the sea outside.

He wished he could go back to that time, when his future was still undecided. Maybe…maybe there was something he could have done differently, some choice he could have made that would have changed things. Maybe if he hadn’t been a commander…maybe if he had been anyone else this wouldn’t have happened. Maybe his unit would still be alive and he wouldn’t be left reeling with guilt over being the only man to survive the Massacre of Toydaria.

With a groan, Jenot pushed himself into a sitting position. The aches and pains he expected were so dull they may as well have not been there. What should have been a blessing was only another annoyance; he didn’t like not being able to feel. With some effort, he managed to swing his legs over the side of the medical bed and felt around until he felt the solid floor beneath his feet. Pins and needles slid under his soles and toes, but the sensation was as fleeting as it was sharp. He didn’t even have time to cling to it.

He sat on the edge of the bed for a moment, gathering his wits and summoning the strength to stand. His body felt so heavy; the weight of his new prosthetic arm dragged his shoulder down until he felt lopsided. It wasn’t hooked up all the way—the longnecks had mentioned something about needing more time to integrate all the nerve endings. His other hand, swathed in thick bandages, was missing fingers, but at least the prosthetics they had grafted onto his hand actually worked; he couldn’t remember how it happened, couldn’t feel anything anyway. They moved when he wanted them to and that was the only bit of silver lining.

Don’t think about it. Don’t think about it. They’ll keep putting you back together. 

Inhaling deeply, he forced himself to stand, swaying in place before grabbing hold of the IV stand he was still hooked up to. He thought about finding a way to rip the needles out of his arm, but…maybe it was better not to push his luck.

The medical wing was fully dark; a chronometer on the wall put the time at a little bit past 2am. Right between the shift change, if he remembered correctly. He only had a small window of time to escape before he’d be missed. They’d find him eventually, drag him back, threaten to strap him down…but it was worth the risk.

The halls were longer than he remembered as he dragged himself and the stand along, its wheels squeaking in protest as he leaned on it for support. Even if he couldn’t feel anything, his body knew that he was injured, knew that he needed rest. Labored breathing escaped through his mouth, hot breath moistening the tongue that he was still trying to figure out how to use. He knew he shouldn't push himself, but the medbay was too quiet and its ghosts too loud. He needed relief that drugs couldn't give him.

Step by step Jenot followed the familiar corridors and passageways until he reached one of the observation decks, where the windows, made of the same thick glass as ship cockpits, stretched from floor to ceiling. Hurricane strength winds lashed against them, hurling rain and waves over and over, but the glass held firm. Jenot stood in the entryway, watching tiredly before shuffling over to one of the windows; he leaned against it almost immediately, hoping to feel the chill from outside…but there was nothing.

Just the sound.

The noise.

His new hearing aids crackled with the low rumble of thunder and he winced as a loud whine shot through his skull. He could scarcely feel anything else, but he sure as hell felt that. With some effort, he managed to sit down, putting his back against the steel wall and sliding until he felt the floor beneath his ass. The hoses attached to the needle in his arm pulled taut, bidding him to tug the IV stand close. It was a relief to be off his feet; the walk, while not far from the medbay, had taken its toll on him. He wanted nothing more than to lean his head against the glass, close his eyes and let the familiar sounds of the storm lull him to sleep.

“Go talk to him.”

“No, you go talk to him, you’re th’ one who wanted to!”

“Then why’d you two follow, huh?”

“‘Cause you’re gonna get in trouble!”

“Don’t be dumb, everyone’s asleep.”

“So? Go talk to him.”

Jenot cracked open an eye and moved slowly, turning his head toward the sound of barely disguised whispering emanating from the entryway. He knew the sound of disobedient cadets when he heard them, having snuck out of his bunk with Wolffe and Fox enough times to understand the allure of defying curfew. There were three of them, he realized as his cybernetic eyes automatically compensated for the low light, enhancing his sight until he could see just as clearly as if it were fully lit.

Three sets of brown eyes stared back at him, continuously shuffling to push one cadet to the forefront of their trio. Shock registered on their faces, still rounded with baby fat they wouldn’t outgrow for another two years or so, before they slowly filtered into the room, hands tucked behind their backs and eyes cast down to the floor like they expected to be reprimanded. 

Why should I? 

In another time and place…yeah, he might’ve given them a good scolding and sent them back to their bunks on the wings of a light-hearted threat…but why bother? What good did it do him? 

I shouldn’t be responsible for anyone else…look where it got me.

Guilt stabbed into his chest, but he was tired—too tired to pull himself off the ground to deal with the cadets, who now stood close enough to reach out and touch, if he had wanted to. One of them, missing one of his front teeth and sporting a little stain on the front of his sleepwear, took a step forward and kept his head bowed.

“Sorry,” he mumbled to his socked feet. “We didn’t mean t’ disturb you or nothin’...we couldn’t sleep.”

“That’s your fault,” one of the other cadets said. “You always keep us up!”

“Shhhh!” hissed the third, shoving at his batchmates. “Not so loud!”

Jenot watched them with waning disinterest. They were trying not to stare at him and failing miserably. Their big brown eyes kept darting up and down, fixating on his face before shifting elsewhere. They weren't subtle about it either, but cadets didn't know any better. Not this young, at any rate.

He knew why they were looking.

The edges of his neck and jaw stretched tight against the prosthetic, skin red and raw where blood crusted against the seam. It would be slow to heal, slow to integrate, they had told him. He was lucky, they said, that he had been brought back to the facility. Who knows what would have become of him had a battlefield medic gotten his hands on him.

The black carbon metal stood in stark relief against his skin, ugly and frightening. Unnatural. He didn't like catching his reflection anymore. It was surreal, to see the metal and silicone in place of where he once proudly wore a mustache and beard (because he looked good with it, and because it set him apart from his brothers, most of whom chose to remain 

clean shaven).

So yeah, he knew why they stared…and though he didn't blame them, it rankled something inside of him, inspiring a special brand of annoyance that curdled into something deeper, darker. It hit him, suddenly, the striking desire to reach out and tap the three of them against the top of their heads, flick their noses, hurt them in a way that would make them stop.

Make them leave.

It faded as soon as it came, leaving him with more guilt—he would never hurt his brothers, not on purpose.

But…they wouldn't stop staring.

"Th' hell d'you want?" Jenot rasped, finally focusing enough to force the prosthetics to work. He couldn't feel them, but the medical droids had coached him to just…move by instinct. Just don't think about it. Talk like you were whole.

Good advice…but easier said than done.

The three cadets flinched as though he had snapped at them, even though his voice amounted to little more than an aggressive whisper. For some reason their fear registered as cowardice—ugly and pathetic, what were they fuckin’ teaching the cadets these days, where was their fuckin’ spine—and Jenot sneered to himself. He would have given anything for a pack of smokes, anything to quell the irritation quickly rising inside of him.

On some level he knew it wasn't normal, feeling the way he did; he had never snapped at cadets before, had never given himself over to the minor annoyances they caused. It was just bad timing…he had wanted to be left alone, just for a moment, just long enough to gather his thoughts and wrestle his emotions back under control. He had just wanted some peace and quiet…and he couldn't even get that.

It wasn't their fault, though. 

They were…fuck, they were just kids. 

They won't be kids for long, a mean little voice whispered inside his head, distinct from the other tumultuous thoughts running rampant. A few more years and they'll be grown, kitted up and on their way to die on some backwater planet for a cause they don't really believe in. 

Jenot closed his eyes, but in the darkness he saw the mutilated faces of his brothers, bloodied and broken, eyes wide and pale as they stared back at him, waiting for him to give their next orders.

“Are you okay?” one of the cadets asked. There was a slight pressure on his shoulder, barely perceptible, and when he looked the cadet gasped and yanked back his hand, his eyes just as wide as those of Jenot's dead troops. Bile rose to the back of his throat and he forced himself to swallow it back down, forced himself to look away, back out at the storm raging just outside the window.

His translucent reflection stared back at him, his new cybernetic eyes glowing faintly. They had shaved his head to attach electrodes to monitor his brain activity while he had been in a medically induced coma prior to and following the extensive surgery required to clean up his jaw and throat and attach the prosthetic. Sticky residue clung to his skin where some of the patches had been.

He felt…different.

He looked different.

He…he wasn't okay. 

He wasn’t okay and he was never gonna be okay ever again.

“Either tell me what you want,” Jenot growled, “or get lost.”

The cadets huddled together closer, two of them clinging to the brassy one Jenot mentally labeled as the ringleader of their little trio. He gulped, throat working hard to swallow past the ball of nerves stopping his words, before stammering out a small apology.

“We just w-wanted t’ know what it's like….out there….”

Jenot made a noise that wasn't a laugh, but wasn't really anything else. 

“Out there?” he asked, nodding toward the window. “Or you mean th’ war.”

Silence, but three pairs of big eyes watching him closely gave him the answer he was looking for.

“Eager t’ get out there and’ show th’ world what you're made of?”

“Y-yessir. We wanna do our part.”

Do our part.

It struck him, suddenly and with a clarity that bordered on blinding, that there was a madness to this war that he had overlooked until now.

Or maybe…maybe that was just the way he had been brought up, trained—conditioned—the way all of them were taught not to question things. Regardless, the idea that they had any ‘part’ in the war beyond the fact that they were, quite literally, made for it, was laughable. 

The Republic he and so many others were so proud to serve remained just out of reach. As clones they had no birth certificates, no citizenship, nothing beyond their CT numbers cataloging their decanter dates. What identities they forged among themselves held tenuous, at the mercy of sympathetic Jedi and the odd senator who referred to them by chosen name rather than number; there was always the sense, deep down, that despite the courtesy they were sometimes shown, they were still just tools of war.

Their ‘part’ was in their existence. Their ‘part’ was the armor on their backs and the blasters in their hands, their blood on the ground as they pushed back against the Separatist armies, fighting a war for a government they had no part in, fighting for worlds they'd never belong to.

“Careful what you wish for,” Jenot said, looking back out the window. “It's not th’ honor you think it is.”

“But…the Republic needs us,” the biggest cadet spoke up. His hair was a little wild and his teeth looked a little too big for his mouth. Despite his size he stood firmly behind the ringleader, hand fisted up in the other’s tunic. Jenot stared at him and watched as the kid dropped his eyes to the floor, unable to meet his intense gaze. 

“You think they need you?” Jenot asked, unable to stop himself from sneering. “Like it just won’t end without you? Like you’re special?”

Uncertainty crossed his face, because why wouldn’t it? They were taught to respect their superiors, both those who came before them and outranked them. Jenot knew their natural instinct would be to believe every word he said, regardless of how treasonous it sounded. Funny…not even a month ago he had always made sure to watch what came out of his mouth. The longnecks had impressed upon him and others that they had a responsibility to the cadets, to set good examples for the kind of soldiers they were meant to be. 

Now though…he just couldn’t think of a good reason why he should bother.

What was he supposed to do while sitting there, looking like a freak? 

“You’re not special,” he said before the cadets could protest. “Not a single one of you. You’re nothing more than numbers t’ them. All th’ kark they feed you during’ training sessions doesn’t mean a thing. Not a damn thing.”

“You’re a liar,” the third cadet finally spoke up, his eyebrows drawing together angrily as he bravely scowled. “Suda Mo says we’ve all got potential. We could become Arc Troopers if we train hard!”

“‘Course they want you t’ train—th’ harder you work th’ better you make them look. You die out there in th’ field they gotta start all over from scratch. But they don’t care, that’s why…that’s….”

They’ll just make more of us, Commander. 

Jenot shook his head, trying to rid himself of the ghostly whispers of his dead comrades. His stomach twisted with every word he said, like something inside of him was still decent and unspoiled by all he had seen…all that had happened. That part of him that kept fighting was the part he wished would just give up and die. He didn’t want to owe the Republic for saving him. Hell, he hadn’t asked to be saved and still didn’t know why, out of all his brothers, he was the one they thought worth the effort with half his body blown away.

You know why.

You know exactly why.

No…stop…don’t think about it.

“I used t’ think th’ same,” he growled, forcing to speak in the hope it would drown out his thoughts. “I used t’ be like you, daydreaming how I’d make a difference if only I could get out there sooner. You see what that kinda thinking got me?”

He gestured roughly to his jaw with his bandaged hand. The cadets flinched, but couldn’t stop themselves from staring in the face of an open invitation.

“What…what happened?” the ringleader asked, taking a step closer. He tilted his head to the side and wrinkled his nose, unable to hide what had to be…it was disgust, wasn’t it?

“Bad orders,” Jenot said. “Intel was wrong. You’ll be surprised how often it is. But we were arrogant. We had Jedi with us an’ thought nothing could go so wrong that we couldn’t make it out alive. We were wrong.”

“You were ambushed?”

“Slaughtered. Like animals. It wasn’t even a fair fight. Not even th’ fuckin’ Jedi could save us.”

“That’s…that’s kark.”

The other two cadets gasped as their fearless little leader cursed back, clinging harder to him like they had half a mind to drag him off. He stood there, anger radiating off of him with his hands balled up into fists as he stared at Jenot, his expression openly defiant.

It was a good look. Maybe he should have just let the kid impress him a little and been the bigger person. He could have just let it go because at the end of the day, they were still snot-nosed cadets who knew nothing about anything and especially not about the world beyond the safety of Tipoca City. All they had to go on was rumor and simulations.

“Say that again?” Jenot hissed, leaning close. He didn’t care about being the bigger person. His heart was pounding, blood rushing through his ears at the thrill of going against everything he had ever been taught. The longnecks would send him straight to reconditioning if they could hear the way he was talking, and he didn’t give a damn. He wasn’t going to keep their precious secrets. He wasn’t going to protect their ‘investments’ any longer. He owed them nothing. He never asked to be born and he didn’t ask to be saved. They had gone and made a monster out of him so that was how he was going to act—monstrous, until someone came to shut him up for good.

“I said you’re full of k-kark!”

“2020, shut up!”

“Man, you’re gonna get us in trouble!”

“Yeah, Cadet 2020,” Jenot jeered, “you should listen t’ your friends. Would hate for your precious caretakers t’ find you wanderin’ out of bed so late.”

“Y-You’re out of bed too!” the one called 2020 shot back. “You won’t say nothin’ ‘cause you’ll get in trouble!”

He had guts to talk back like that. His peers weren’t cowering either, though they weren’t exactly backing him up. At least they had the good sense to keep their traps shut. As much as he wished he could rip them a new one and send them back to their bunks, he didn’t want to run the risk of attracting attention himself; not only would he have to listen to their inane lectures, they’d probably sedate him again. He was so tired of the drugs.

Jenot reached out and snagged the front of 2020’s tunic, dragging him close; the others, hanging on for dear life, stumbled forward as well.

“You got a lotta nerve telling me I don’t know what I’m talking about,” he said, his voice eerily soft and calm. “You think th’ Republic’s so great? You think th’ Jedi are so powerful? Look at me. They wouldn’t let me die.”

2020 blinked hard and fast, leaning away but not quite resisting, still trapped in his training that forbade him from disobeying a direct order, or fighting back against his superiors, who’d only ever try to better him. Stupid, naive little fools, all three of them.

“Y-You should be grateful they s-saved you! They’re only tryin’ to help!”

Something inside Jenot went numb with that—whatever had been burning inside him, keeping him from diving too deeply into territory he’d come to regret, was suddenly snuffed out. 

“Grateful?” he seethed, ignoring the burning numbness in his hand as he dragged 2020 closer, til they were almost nose to nose. “You think I should be grateful? For making me look like a monster? I can’t feel anything anymore! I had t’ lay there an’ listen…listen t’ them kill my brothers!”

“Th-they wouldn’t do that!” 2020 insisted, pushing back finally. “They wouldn’t! The Jedi wouldn’t allow it!”

“SHE’S TH’ ONE WHO GAVE TH’ FUCKIN’ ORDER!!”

He hadn’t meant to yell—rather, he hadn’t been able to control himself. His voice echoed off the arched ceiling of the observation room and back down the hallway leading back to the medbay. The cadets were practically cowering, but he didn’t have it in him to care, not when they had the gall to act so condescending to him. 

Jenot had spent days slipping in and out of consciousness. Before they had fitted him with hearing aids his world had been dark. Sleep was the only escape he had, yet he could only pretend for so long before the murmur of voices woke him.

He couldn’t unhear the things whispered between the doctors and aides. Had they known he was listening in, perhaps they would have taken their gossip elsewhere, but what better place to trade secrets than a ward of death? It was there he heard them admit the only reason he was alive was because the Jedi who had accompanied his unit—even the thought of her name made him want to retch; what good were they if they couldn’t keep his men safe—the one who had kept him alive through the mystical powers of ‘the Force’ or whatever, had ordered the longnecks to do everything in their power to make sure he pulled through. 

She was the reason he was still alive, but she was also the reason he had to lie on a bed surrounded by his dying brethren, listening to their tearful pleas for the pain to stop, listening as they slowly lost their minds to the agony wracking their bodies after being denied painkillers, or the drugs pumped into them when the ‘doctors’ decided they were no longer worth keeping alive even as experiments. The moment they lost their worth was the moment they became nothing more than faulty products.

Jenot stood up, ignoring the protest his body made. 

He couldn’t stand it, couldn’t fucking stand the way these brats thought they knew better, because they couldn’t comprehend a world in which the shiny reputations of the Jedi were so tarnished. They were still too young to fully understand what they were, that the Kaminoans didn’t regard them with fondness or affection. They sat in their bunks, warm and dry and well-fed, complaining about the minor aches and pains of training, with no idea of the horrors they would face on the outside.

“You wanna know th’ truth?” he asked, releasing 2020 to grab hold of his IV stand. “Follow me. I’ll show you…since you think I’m a liar.”

“2020, no,” the small one whispered fiercely. “We hafta get back to the bunks! Suda Mo is gonna do his rounds soon….”

“Yeah, forget about ‘im, he’s just a mean ol’ clone mad ‘cause he lost a fight!”

“No,” 2020 said firmly, “I wanna see for myself. I don’t believe anything he says, so I hafta go. If he’s wrong, then I’ll know.”

“And if he’s right?”

“...then I guess I’ll know that too.”

To their credit, the other two refused to leave their batchmate’s side. They kept close, creeping along the wall in complete silence as Jenot dragged himself back to the medbay. He kept imagining he heard footsteps behind them, the gentle swish of fabric and the slow breathing of their ‘keepers’. He knew shouting would bring security down on their heads sooner rather than later, but rage filled the void left behind by propriety and he didn’t give a flying kark who had heard. They were bound to get caught eventually, but he wasn’t gonna let those brats go without teaching them a lesson the only way he knew how.

The corridor grew darker the closer they got; staff turned the lights off in order to make the patients more ‘comfortable’, but he was beginning to think it was probably to conserve energy. It’s not like they actually cared. Jenot paused to listen, but the only sound was his own labored breathing and the sniffing from one of the cadets—just a little further, however, he picked up the faint beeping of medical equipment.

“We’re not supposed to be here,” the smallest cadet whispered, squeezed as tight as he could possibly be to the larger one, who was shivering in place. 2020 swallowed nervously and Jenot noticed the way he glanced up, but said nothing.

“No one’s gonna know,” he said raspily, just as the doors slid open.

He stepped inside, dread washing over him as the unfortunate familiarity of the room caught up to him. Behind him, the trio hesitated. They couldn’t see inside from where they were standing…which, if he was still the kind of man who wanted to protect the younger clones from the harsh realities of the world for a while longer, he might have stopped them there, told them he was only kidding and they should head back to their room now.

But he was angry, and they had hurt him with their accusations, sharpened their words into little blades and stuck them deep, into the soft parts of him that were still vulnerable and fragile. The parts of himself he’d have to kill before he ever let anyone else use them against him in this way.

“What’s th’ matter?” he asked. “Too scared?”

“I-I don’t wanna go in,” the big one stammered. “I’m good.”

“Y-yeah, me neither. I-I’ll believe anything he says.”

One of the machines kicked off, buzzing as an EKG monitor spat out a printout of one of its patients’ heart rate from the past hour. The cadets gasped as a single unit and jumped in place, looking for all the world like they were ready to bolt back down the hall. The only thing keeping them there was 2020, who stared with wide eyes at Jenot, his face pale and drawn and his expression one of pure, childish regret.

“Coward,” Jenot hissed. “And you think th’ Republic needs a big hero like you?”

His taunting did the trick.

2020 took a deep breath and took hold of his brothers by each of their hands.

“C’mon, I’ll protect you,” he whispered, meant only for their ears; Jenot heard everything though, heard the smaller one’s little whimper and the way the big one swallowed. He grinned, though it didn’t feel like the right kind of smile. The prosthetic was still too stiff, didn’t let his lips move the way he wanted them to. He watched, waiting patiently as the kids took their first few tentative steps past the threshold of the medbay and into the dimly lit room.

“Over here,” he said, gesturing as he released his IV stand to let it trail after him, holding fast by the hoses still attached to his arm. They pulled again but he didn’t feel it and so didn’t care. The berth he led the cadets to was still occupied, one of his men clinging to life with the help of machines.

Fetch, Jenot remembered, so named because of how eager he was to help, so willing to run and fetch anything anyone asked for. 

“Hu-who’s that?” 2020 asked as he crept closer. 

“One of mine,” Jenot said. “One of th’ ones who wasn’t so far gone he couldn’t be of use.”

“What d’you mean?”

He should have just let Fetch die with dignity. He should never have brought the kids into the medbay, and maybe later he’d regret his actions…but in the moment, Jenot pulled back the thin sheet covering his squad mate, revealing the extent of the carnage underneath. 

The ‘wound’, if it could be called that, had been cauterized and sterilized in the field—ropes of intestine laid across the bottom half of the berth, resting over the remains of his hips and legs. Melted armor fused with blackened skin and bone, skeletonizing his lower half and the only sign of life was the shallow rise and fall of Fetch’s chest; just inside the cavity of of his torso his lungs inflated and deflated with the help of the surgically attached ventilator. They hadn’t bothered closing him up, declaring he was too far gone upon arrival…but that hadn’t stopped them from bringing him back anyway at the first sign of life. He still had something to give after all.

The cadets screamed and scrambled back, or tried until Jenot snatched 2020 by his arm and shoved him closer, forcing him against the edge of the bed.

“Take a good long look,” Jenot snarled. “This is what they do t’ you when they’re not ready for you to die. Th’ only thing keeping him alive right now is that machine, an’ it’s doing’ all th’ work. Th’ second they take him off th’ oxygen, he’ll die.”

2020 thrashed in his hold, but even injured Jenot was bigger and stronger, and filled with so much righteous fury that he didn’t think there was any way any of the kids could have stopped him. He had a point to prove after all.

“Let me go!” 2020 yelled, digging his fingers into the bandages wrapped around Jenot’s forearm. “What’s wrong with you?! Let me go!”

“You wanted proof,” Jenot snapped, shoving him against the bed even further, his hand on the back of 2020’s neck, practically rubbing his face into the bare skin of Fetch’s chest. “Here’s your karkin’ proof. They won’t let him die ‘til they’re done with him. They won’t stop ‘til they’ve bled him dry of every resource they can scavenge. How else do you think they keep th’ rest of us alive when we fuck up?”

2020 screamed again—it would have been a little funny if Jenot hadn’t been so furious. He didn’t notice how the other cadets fled, abandoning 2020 to his fate. He didn’t notice anything at all until he looked up at Fetch’s face and saw the skin around his eyes, wet from something—tears? Was it possible for a man to be aware when he was so far gone? Was he scared of dying? Did it hurt? 

He looked down at 2020, still struggling against his hold and crying hysterically, begging now to be released.

“I’m sorryI’msorry’msorryplease–pleaseplease lemme go I’m sorry,” the boy sobbed, twisting and squirming. 

In that moment he looked…he looked so young. So vulnerable. He was…he was just a child.

What am I doing?

The lights came on and Jenot looked up, blinking as two of the medical droids floated over, followed by the on-duty aide. She looked him up and down, making him feel so very small and worthless, before reaching for 2020. He released the cadet immediately, and watched as the kid flew into aide’s legs, hugging her tightly and wailing into her skirt.

“What…is going on here?” she asked calmly, resting a long fingered hand on top of 2020’s head.

Jenot opened his mouth, but his words had dried up. Anything he could have said in his defense would have only incriminated him more. He never should have left the medbay, never should have engaged with the cadets, and he certainly shouldn’t have allowed his petty rage to take over in bringing them back. He stood there, silent, blood pounding through his head and in his ears in a way he didn’t need his hearing aids to be able to hear. It was an ache that transcended pain, but at least it was something he could feel.

“He brought us here!” one of the other cadets yelled from the medbay entrance, peeking around the corner with tears running down his cheeks. “He said he had somethin’ ta show us!”

“Is this true, CC-1313?”

His number hit him like a sledgehammer to the gut. What wind he had left in his sails was stripped away, leaving him feeling weak. Blindly he reached back for the railing on his bed, set up next to Fetch’s, and sat down heavily on the edge of the thin mattress.

“Y…yes,” he said, staring at the floor. 

“I see. There is no excuse for this behavior. You are expected to set an example for the cadets. I will be speaking with the prime minister about this ghoulish incident.”

“I understand,” Jenot said robotically. 

The medical droids fussed, one of them carefully rearranging the sheets to cover Fetch back up while the other hovered around the electrodes still attached to Jenot’s chest and head, taking measurements with its instruments. He sat there and let it happen, wishing there was a way he could have just…ended it, out there in the field. He…he didn’t want this life, didn’t want to share a room with Fetch, watching him die slowly. He didn’t want to face his reflection in the mirror everyday, knowing he looked like…like that. He didn’t want to face her again, knowing she had survived Toydaria as well.

But he would.

He didn’t have a choice. 

They’d make him.

[ladyzirkonia]

Shattered Minds - Part 1 - The note

Doc, an idealistic GAR doctor, becomes obsessed with helping Jenot - known as Commander Ghoul - a severely traumatised clone trooper suffering from severe survivor's guilt after losing his entire battalion. As Doc tries to mend the broken pieces of Jenot's mind, she struggles with her growing feelings for him, believing he hates her for forcing him into this life.

Tags and warnings for the whole work: This story is written for an adult audience so MINORS DNI, violence, death, medical procedures, mental disorder, mention of prosthetics, drug abuse

Commander Ghoul belongs to @cloned-eyes (here and here), Doc belongs to me. (here and here)

note: First part is a little short because it was never intended to be a longer story. I don't know how regularly I will post a chapter, but the first three are already written so have fun. tags: @staycalmandhugaclone

Part 2

Part 1 - The note

word count: 870

A woman, dressed in a GAR medical uniform and wearing goggles, hurried down a long corridor, visibly agitated. She glanced intently around the corner, apparently trying to go unnoticed. When she came to a certain door, she seemed to hesitate for a moment, then readjusted her goggles and quickly and somewhat frantically slipped a message under the door, cursing softly to herself. After that, she moved on quickly, as if she regretted what she had done, but was also relieved to have done it, and then hurried away as fast as she had come.

***

Can you tell me where you've been this time? You know very well that these check ups have to be done. Do you think it's fun for me to wait for you to turn up each time and worry about it? I swear, next time I'll report you to your general. I'm sick ot this!

It was at this point that she seemed to pause. The writing suddenly changed, her handwriting became very neat, as if every word had been chosen very carefully, as if she had briefly regained her emotions and her analytical side had resurfaced. And no one was better at getting her to break out of her analytical safety net than Jenot.

I know you're hiding, and I know you don't want any of this. Be angry. Be mad at me if you want. I know you're blocking my datapad messages. I don't care, but I can't let you harm yourself, not like this.

She stopped writing again. What the hell was that all about? She wasn't good with words; she was good at her job, with her hands, but definitely not a psychologist. But she would never forget the day she saw him for the first time. It had not been easy for her; the first time in the GAR was hard. At first she had been over-motivated and full of idealism, thinking she could do something, help off the battlefield, but that had changed quickly after the first badly injured clones had been brought in. She had come to expect a lot from her job, but the experience had traumatised her, as she had been unable to help most of the men beyond holding their hands for a moment. And when she could, many of them were so traumatised that they were eliminated after a short time. Dealing with the clones and seeing how they were treated had been a shock to her, and the fact that there was little she could do about it still tortured her, as it went against everything she had sworn an oath to.

The day CT-1313 was brought in was particularly bad. Nearly the entire 331st Battalion had been wiped out, and those who had managed to get there had either died at her hands or been banned from taking further action. Jenot had been doubly lucky, firstly because the Jedi General Uros Ka had saved him instead of leaving him to die, and secondly because he had known where to take him. The sight that awaited her had been horrible, but the months before had made her so numb that it hardly shocked her anymore. He was missing a forearm, but the bigger problem was clearly his face, which looked terrible. It was not uncommon for her to have to replace injured eyes, a technique she had mastered to perfection and was very proud of. Amongst others, she had fitted Commander Wolffe with a new eye, which had been one of her first operations of this kind. That was the reason why she was still very fond of the clone commander, who was otherwise rather known for his rough and grumpy manner. Jenot's face, however, was barely there; she had to reconstruct both eyes and almost the entire lower jaw.

But she had known immediately that she could save HIM, it was possible, even if she had to bypass GAR protocols. But ambition had gotten the better of her; she could finally do something. It had taken long and difficult procedures to save his life, and when the work was done, she had been so proud of her achievement that she had almost forgotten the cost.

Jenot had been so traumatised and filled with such hatred that she feared she would never be able to allow him to return to duty. His guilt tore him apart, and every day since she had wondered if she had done the right thing, if it had been right to save him and force this life on him. There hadn't been a day since when she hadn't tried everything to make him better, to find his old self again. She became attached to him in a way she had never allowed any of the clones before, and she took his hostility and anger towards her without any resistance because she felt responsible for his fate. For that very reason, she could not allow him to give up after the long and hard road they had already been down.

Please, just a quick check-up, it doesn't have to be in the medbay. I would never report you, I hope you know that. I was just so angry. That should sound familiar. Doc

[mutant-distraction]

Pascal Jenot

Luciano Solaini Photography

[kats-chaotic-wonderland]

Midnight snacks

This story sits between chapter 3 and 4 of Clone adoption agency. It's written for @cloned-eyes, for her lovely boy Ghoul. This is 1 of 7 oneshots I've written in pace with the main CAA story. The rest will be released as I get to them in the main story.

Thank you for letting me write for him @Cloned-eyes, he's an absolute delight and I love him.

One of many nights on Kamino, Kaviir once again found herself roaming the halls after lights out. Behind her were the barracks, a blanket fort taking up its usual space, cuddled inside of it Torch, Tech, and Jurir were already passed out. Kad however was still wandering about. And as usual Kaviir was having trouble finding him.

Unlike their last sleepover, she was avoiding the outer ledges. She wasn't interested in seeing Vau or five-five-seven again. Making things worse was never what she wanted, and it felt like that was all she was doing with him. Instead she was tiptoeing around the halls, skirting around any kaminoans and older clones. There weren't many out in this sector at this hour. That's why when she headed towards the mess and heard something clank in the kitchen. She grinned, Kad has finally slipped up.

As silently as she could manage she slipped into the mess. Taking her time she moved towards the kitchen, ducking under tables and keeping out of sight. The closer she got to the kitchen, she noticed voices. More than just Kad.

"Hurry up," one hissed

"we're gonna get caught!" Another whined

Kaviir paused, the voices were similar, but that was not Kad. Inching closer she peeked around the door. There she spotted a boy peeking out the window, the one used for serving food. He was a reg, one she wasn't familiar with. He didn't notice her as he turned back to join the other two in the kitchen. She could hear them rummaging for something.

"where do they keep them?"

"Dunno, he didn't say."

"Come on we gotta hurry, I don't wanna get caught."

Kaviir moved to peek around some equipment. In the back poking around some storage containers she saw three cadets. One, the one she'd seen peeking out the window, looking rather irritable. Behind him, was one looking a little nervous, while the third was rummaging for something.

"Hurry up Jenot…" the nervous one grumbled

"I'm looking," Jenot whispered back,"Relax Fox. We're fine."

Kaviir giggled, catching the attention of the boys. All of their heads snapped to her as she quickly ducked back behind the stove with an,"Eep!"

Tiny footsteps sounded before she looked up to see three heads poke around to see her. They all stared at her, eyes wide and curious. Hesitantly she waved,"Uh….hi…."

"Who are you?" Fox blurted out.

She blinked, then smiled,"I'm kaviir."

"Are you a girl clone?" Jenot asked

"Girls aren't a thing," the other one scoffed

"I'm commander Rusaan's daughter." Kaviir giggled,"I'm not a clone. Though I do train with a commando unit."

"You do?!" They all asked in unison.

She nodded and hopped up moving closer. They all backed up and looked at her completely flabbergasted. Kaviir tilted her head and rocked back on her feet,"You guys okay?"

"What are the commandos like?" Fox asked randomly

"They're nice." She smiled,"Fox right?"

He nodded, then pointed to the others,"This is Jenot, and Wolffe."

"Nice to meet you all." She grinned,"what are you doing in here?"

Fox went to speak but Wolffe covered his mouth,"Don't tell her." He hissed,"she'll tell."

"I absolutely will not." Kaviir said, almost offended.

Wolffe narrowed his eyes at her,"Why should we trust you."

"Well I'm not in bed now am I?" She shrugged

"fair point." Jenot shrugged,"we wanted to try the commandos rations. We heard they have sweetener in them."

"they're not bad," she nodded, then offered,"Want me to get you some?"

They all paused looking at her surprised. Fox was the next to speak up as he moved Wolffe's hand out of the way,"would you?"

She nodded,"Sure, I'll just tell them I got some if anyone asks. The worst I'll get is a lecture."

All three shared a look, like they were unsure. Kaviir just shrugged and stepped around them. Hopping on a few cabinets she popped out a drawer and dug out a few rations before tossing them to the boys. Closing it she hopped back down and grinned,"Enjoy."

They each caught one and shared another look. Fox looked nervous, but Jenot grinned and tore into his. His eyes widened as the sweet taste hit his tongue. The look of excitement in his eyes made Wolffe huff as he bit into his own, only to end up with the same wide look in his eyes. Kaviir giggled watching as Fox joined them, nervousness melting as he ate.

"You boys are sweet." She grinned and ruffled Jenot's hair,"next time you boys want to sneak out come and find me. I usually eat with my squad here in the mess. I have all sorts of fun stuff we can do."

"We don't need help." Wolffe grumbled.

"Actually it would be helpful," Fox mumbled through another bite.

Jenot batted her hand away,"Yeah we'll come find you. Maybe."

"anytime." She smiled, then she jumped as she remembered why she was out,"Oh kriff….I gotta find Kad." Then she waved as she went past them, skipping backwards a few steps looking at them,"You boys should head back to bed though. Don't want to be tired for morning drills." Then she dipped back out through the mess.

As she left Jenot looked at the other two,"well…she's weird."

"I like her." Fox shrugged

"Of course you do." Wolffe rolled his eyes,"Come on let's get back to bed."

Next one shot

Clone adoption agency

Fic masterlist

[444names]

Names generated from Judeo-Anglo-Normal forenames

For @meowstic-seer-of-the-future

Abbeliun Abelia Abiah Abikina Adeuda Akell Alesset Aleunetta Aleus Alian Alicora Alina Almona Alota Amietta Amilka Amina Amionnotta Amira Amire Ances Andegodone Andin Anente Anneta Asenta Assalle Assezre Assielina Aunassard Auncel Avara Avelin Avesiah Avesin Avettathie Avigar Avignetta Avina Avinah Avivota Avivus Avygodona Avygota Baccessee Bacel Baree Basarionta Basevard Bassaacce Bassarina Basser Bassevell Bassez Bassie Bechie Becon Becondin Becopina Becota Beleon Beliassina Belicalin Belin Beliuna Beliunta Bellacce Bellakel Bellakele Bellas Bellaya Belleva Belyasely Bence Bendah Benet Benettera Beneyte Benglora Benot Benta Bikin Blamosalin Blassela Bondeun Bondin Bonetcota Bonna Bonnottera Brica Brina Briote Brudah Brunciana Calasseina Channetta Charcona Chaya Chelavel Chele Chelin Chema Chenfaun Chenterana Cheria Chira Chire Chiret Cianna Cielia Cieng Cipore Cippa Cippora Clacer Colurezre Comancera Comilina Conenote Corea Cotas Cotta Cotte Crecoe Credite Degalewa Deona Deuleu Deurneta Deusenta Driona...

Eliciez Ellemanet Enleudah Entessel Entevaguna Essareta Esselotta Eudeonta Fleon Floie Flomatiel Flomill Flora Floranet Florin Flormia Flornet Flumbiket Flumbill Flure Flurea Flurecota Flurnette Flurse Foria Forin Galina Gariosar Garvha Gaydin Gaydit Genamira Genamy Gencessere Genfaun Genfaund Gentera Gentilca Gerfdeurin Gloiet Glore Gotta Handria Hanetta Haydia Haydina Hemarie Henaher Henda Hercipora Heria Herieulell Hosarrella Hosein Hoselin Hoseyt Hosua Istercia Isteria Ivagnursia Iveggente Ively Jagun Jagunte Jechen Jechitosua Jecotera Jehanah Jehargenta Jehosa Jehose Jehosee Jehoselle Jehude Jekuthia Jekutien Jekutildeu Jekutilin Jekutilit Jenota Jenote Jocelia Jocera Jocermia Jocesian Jocevelya Joiassa Joiratilka Joiria Jopya Jorey Joreyt Jorina Joriot Jorna Josey Joshan Jouria Joursa Joyasser Joyekut Judetcota Judon Judona Jueta Jurelin Juresiote Jurie Juriel Jurinami Jurna Kella Lecioneyte Lemana Lemard Lemarina Lemira Levigaleod Liunt Mandeun Mandia Manet Manne Manse Mante Manter Marabill Marel Margaill Margarcon Marge Maria Marica Marie Marina Marota Marre Marsargera Marvhansez Megall Megaya Megota Mehanna Mehosenot Mehosevina Mehudondit Mellamy Menta Mentikina Mercon Merfdegaye Meria Merias Merichit Merina Meriota Meriotta Meusey Mielica Miely Milde Mileudah Milin Milite Milliuncer Mirabild Mirecore Mirelka Mirena Miressin Mireste Miriand Miricipora Mirin Monetcote Morechina Moselia Mulemina Mulemiriez Mulewa Mulit Mundite Munta Muntel Muntie Muret Murielia Murina Murinah Murneta Murnis Namil Obechera Obellaye Osalie Osere Oshana Oshaydiah Pelin Peyte Pinassevet Poree Porel Porez Porietta Pormosera Porne Porney Prelina Pressa Pretta Prette Preyn Prudell Prunette Pucelia Puceloie Pucer Pucera Pucerte Puces Pucesaira Pyassa Rancersel Recia Recolumbia Recormiran Renecopya Restession Rezredin Riannota Richipopin Rieloretes Riket Riota Rykare Saacce Sabia Sabiassa Sabiketta Sabilica Sahent Saild Saleconte Salemaydit Salfild Salia Salin Salina Saloia Samansel Samie Samondeus Saphiez Saphippa Saphiria Saphit Sarciana Saret Sargalom Sargaya Sargein Sarger Sarica Sarikel Sarreciet Sautikina Seina Selitonina Seyna Sietta Simenassel Simeus Simulemara Siosez Siota Siote Sleas Slesarin Solur Swete Swetta Swette Teria Termilin Termona Thipressa Thite Tricher Uriase Ursin Vigailka Vigalina Vigan Vignuricie Vivegaria Vivellelka Vivente Vivesseta Vivet Vivota Vivote Yekut Ysaphira Yvelegaliz Yvell Yvelya Yvesamira Yveta Zeulemand Zeuliz Ziporel Zipre

[growling]

fuck it. jenot blast

[andrejsartclub]

2024.10.12. Lūriķis Jenots Raccoon voyeur acrylic/canvas, 50x40 cm

[cloned-eyes]

Big info drop under the cut

Ghoul

CC-1313 I Formerly Commander Jenot of Battalion 331st (destroyed)

Currently leading Special Cloneforce Hellhounds

Backstory

Upbringing

CC-1313 was raised and trained to eventually become a Clone Comander for the GAR. The majority of his childhood years were spend with his batch brothers and fellow soon to be Commanders Fox and Wolffe to which he remained a close bond of brotherhood even after the tragedy of Toydaria and his fall into absolute disloyalty of the GAR and the Republic. During this time he still used the name Jenot.

Tragedy of Toydaria

Jenot and the 331st served under Pong Krell for the first few months of the war. Even though the 331st was a very skilled and sturdy battillion it suffered great loses under the reckless and uncaring lead of the Jedi General. Shrinking it down to half it's size in the span of only three months.

While still unshaken in his loyality to the GAR and the Republic Jenot couldn't help to develop doubts and distrust in his supiriours. Struggeling a lot to keep his ranks together and his men motivated.

Eventually the separatist launched a grand attack on Toydaria and even though Pong Krell was well aware that he hadn't the capacity to stand against it he still gave the order to engage - although not leading his men himself but calling in the Jedi Knight Uros Io who at this point just recently rejoined the Jedi Order and lacked any practical expirience on the battlefield. Even though General Io was an extremly skilled Jedi, she was of no use as a General in a dire situation like this. And even though she realised her short comings and let Jenot take charge it was apparent that with lacking men and gear this battle was one that couldn't be won.

They managed to hold the line for three weeks before the overpowering seperatist forces started to push them back. Jenot watched his men die like flies and was aware that it would be a shared fate. Being pushed back to the capital the last remaining men of the 331st were killed by an airstrike. A fate Jenot almost shared but escaped due to General Io keeping him alive long enough for the arriving reinforcements to evacuate them.

Recovery on Kamino

For his recovery Ghoul and a handful severly damaged other clones of his battilion were shipped to Kamino while General Io - who suffered from great injuries herself - was treated back at the Jedi Temple. Due to a missunderstanding only Jenot was actually treated on Kamino. His recovery the only one prioritised while the rest of his men were utilised as test subjects for kaminoan expiriments - all of them lethal.

Unable to move or talk or respond in any way Jenot had to wittness the rest of his loyal battilion perish and listening to the staff in charge festered an untamable rage and hatred for the GAR, the Jedi and the Republic. His trust and loyalty shattering for ever, turning him into the man he soon would become. Even though his life was spared due to General Io, he began to nurse a life long hatred of her. Blaming her orders for the inhumane deaths of his men.

During his time in recovery Jenot developed a habit of sneaking out of the medical wing in which he was treated. Seeking silent corners for himself where he could watch the see outside rage. It was in one of those fateful nights he found himself in the company of three clone cadets who had caught rumor about "dead clone walking" - a ghoul risen from the battlefield.

Jenot, unable to overcome his anger and pain- decided to show those unsuspecting kids the reality of war and the reality of what it meant to be a clone: being property and being exploited.

Little did he know that those three exact cadets would become his new squad only two years later.

Embracing the crude name whisperd behind his back, he decided to let Jenot die and embraced the man he had been beaten into - Ghoul.

A Dead Clone Walking

Even with the loss of his arm, fingers, hearing and lower face Ghoul recoverd exeptionally swift. Making no secret out of his newfound hatred for the GAR supiriors in charge intended to get him decommissioned. Plans that fell short due to General Io convincing the Jedi Order to extent protection over the clone commander.

And while Ghoul proved himself to be difficult to work with he was also exceptionally skilled. The decision was made that he would operate solo, taking on special tasks that where considered suicide missions. Whether he failed or not was relativley not important. If he succeeded the Republic had intel, if not they had one pesky clone less to worry about. While getting accostumed to his new prosthetics and regaining back his former strength Ghoul was shortly tasked with overseeing the training of Cloneforce 99. His battlefield expirience deemed highly valuable and wanted to be taught to the expirimental unit to better their chances of success later.

After Kamino

Ghoul spend his time with achiving the impossible. Retrieving whatever was asked off him. He was well aware that the missions picked out for him were exclusively lethal ones. Yet he returned every single time to spite the GAR. To make a point. He was avidence of what the war was actually. The ugly shadow of the Republic. And he wasn't to be silenced. During this time his mind spiraled deeper and deeper into rage. His opinions became borderline traiterous and he walked a very fine line of getting caught for them. It was also the time he dettached himself from the idea of clone brotherhood. Getting rejected in the truth he had lived by fellow soldiers and shuned out, being nothing but a ghost story for them Ghoul grew resentful. Usual loyalty and empathy clones reserved for eachothers died out in Ghoul. Isolating himself even further from others, going as far as questioning if the men he called his actual brothers saw him still as an equal - Saw Ghoul as an equal - or if they only tolerated him because of what they once had.

Becoming Human again

Being pressured by Wolffe to join him for a drink at the 79's Ghoul met Odessa, a Twilek bartender and refugee from Ryloth. Having no interest in making "friends" Ghoul didn't spare Odessa much mind, just as everybody else. But fate brought both of them back together over and over again, causing a presumed dead side of Ghoul to seek out connection again. Slowly falling in love with the gentle, bubbly Twilek back on Coruscant. Giving him an actual reason to come back. A newfound motivation to keep fighting. Not for the GAR, not for the Republic but for her. Falling helplessly in love with her.

Asking her for her hand only a year after only to almost die on a mission and going mission for months afterwards. Leaving a pregnat Odessa behind, unbeknown to him. Though luckily being offered the chance to return due to the unyielding loyalty of his new unit. His Hellhounds - Wizard, 2020 and Fang - who had accompinied him during the mission and kept searching for him after being seperated and eventually succeeding in tracking him down and bringing him back. Greatly injured but alive.

Order 66 and the aftermath

During Order 66 Ghoul was still recovering from his injuries. Allowing himself to spend some time with his wife and newborn child. It didn't take him long that with the fall of the Republic the time of clones was also limted. While during the Republic he had imunity granted due to the Jedi he was defenseless under this new Imperium. Determined to keep his family save Ghoul deserted and escaped the Imperiums graps just in time.

Settling on a small, unimportant planet in the outer rim where he and Odessa build a live for themselves. Around two years after the fall of the Republic, awaiting a second a child Ghoul was visited by Rex, Echo and an old friend Howzer. The three seeked support in their cause to save clones. Ghoul, while initially unwilling to help feeling resentful over the treatment he had reviced over telling the truth even before Order 66 still, eventually agreed to help after Howzer explained that his Hellhounds had fallen victim to the Imperium aswell and were held captive.

Though never fully part of Rex's and Echos clone rebellion, Ghoul often found himself helping out.

With the years passing Ghoul and Odessa had another two kids - teh youngest seemingly sensitive to the Force. Doing what he was best at, Ghoul spend his time building a Guild for Bounty Hunters. Most of them other clones but also his oldest son and daughter. Though the latter eventual leaving the family business to travel the universe alone.

Trivia

Jenot is the polish word for Raccon dog.

Ghoul is deaf and requires hearing aids. Odessa taught him Ryl sign language. He's fluent in basic sign language and Ryl sign language

Ghoul due to his lack of a real tongue can't taste regular food. Odessa makes him super spicy protein bars that he can take onto mission with him.

The tattoo on his right arm is Odessas Lekku pattern. He got it before he asked her to marry him.

Ghoul killed a stalker of Odessa without ever telling her. It also sparked his friendship with Halo - who was an accidental wittness and helped him dispose of the body.

Ghoul is the middle brother of the Vulpus Trio- Fox, Ghoul, Wolffe

His favorite colour is azure blue. It reminds him of Odessas eyes

The order of his children is Vahan, Tarkona, Reyk and Rha

Ghoul can understand Ryl but is very rocky when it comes to speaking it. His kids love to tease him with it.

His favorite drink is Oryxxian Catsblood. An alcoholic beverage that leaves a nice warm burn in his throat despite his prostethics

Ghoul was very proud of his beard and its one of the things he misses dearly since his injury.

Vahan and Tarkona are characterwise carbon copies of Ghoul, while Reyk and Rha resemble Odessa

Odessa is @therisingdarkness character. Their kids as well as the Hellhounds are our shared effort

If you want to know more about Ghoul and Odessa check out these amazing fic of her

Five times (Ghoul x Odessa story)

[cloned-eyes]

Thank you for the tag wren <33

I guess I explain Ghoul because it explains two other ocs names too.

Originally he was supposed to hang around/ be the love interest of my Jedi oc Uros who in her first iteration was my self insert when i was 7 or 8 (I was still in elementary school when clone wars came out). They both got a redesign in 2018, where Uros became Uros (to my knowledge it doesn't mean anything but I wanted a kind of spacey, planet-ish sound to the name, hyperfocused on our beloved Uranus and somehow came up with it) but Ghoul was still named Red. My brain just liked the sound of the word. Fast forward to when the Bad Batch aired and I got into this fandom.

i redesigned Ghoul a 3rd time after deciding I wanted a war broken clone. Someone that should have died on the battlefield but didn't. A mythos in within the GAR so to speak. An undead creature - a Ghoul.

Ghoul being much more what people started calling him and forgetting the man he was before just as much as he himself did. His actual canon name Jenot is the polish word for Racoon Dog. I have polish friend whom I also gush with about star wars and she inspired me a lot overall so it felt somewhat natural to go down that route. Second is that Ghoul, Wolffe and Fox are a trio and I needed him to match with the theme but with the extra twist.

For Red also became a second character who remained Uros commander and semi love interest. And fitting for his same i have him red hair and a more fiery temper to match.

Tagging my dear @therisingdarkness @wenalena

OC Tag Game: Name Lore!!

Rules:

1.) Gush about your OC(s)’ name(s). How did you choose it? Why did you choose it? Does it have a special meaning? Did you have other names for the OC during the brainstorming stage, before you settled on the chosen one? Tell us anything else you want about your OC’s name!

2.) Tag your friends!!

[ladyzirkonia]

Shattered minds - Part 2 - You came.

Doc, an idealistic GAR doctor, becomes obsessed with helping Jenot - known as Commander Ghoul - a severely traumatised clone trooper suffering from severe survivor's guilt after losing his entire battalion. As Doc tries to mend the broken pieces of Jenot's mind, she struggles with her growing feelings for him, believing he hates her for forcing him into this life.

Tags and warnings for the whole work:This story is written for an adult audience so MINORS DNI, violence, death, medical procedures, mental disorder, mention of prosthetics, drug abuse

Commander Ghoul belongs to @cloned-eyes (here and here), Doc belongs to me. (here and here)

note: I wrote this part in complete obsession and it's one of my favorites I wrote until today. Have fun with the first appearence of commander Ghoul. And I'm still not normal about this piece of art. tags: @staycalmandhugaclone @passionofthesith

PART 1

Part 2 - You came.

word count: 1.270

It was relatively quiet in the medbay that day. She didn't have much to do, so she sat with her back to the entrance, hunched over her datapad. The only sounds were the rush of a bacta tank and the faint beeping of a nearby monitor. These sounds were somehow soothing, at least to her. She was buried in a medical paper discussing cybernetic prosthetics when she was suddenly torn from her little bubble. Someone had entered the station quietly, and most people probably wouldn't have noticed. But she knew who was standing behind her back, she didn't even have to turn around. How did she know? She couldn't say for sure. But she didn't turn around; she seemed to freeze for a moment while there was silence, only the familiar sounds around her. She slowly looked up from her datapad but did not move and said in a calm, almost stoic tone,

"You came."

She couldn't help the fact that her voice almost cracked at the end, that she sounded somehow relieved when she spoke. If she was honest, she had not believed that he would come, but here he was, and she was both relieved and nervous at the same time. After waiting for another moment, she slowly turned around, adjusted her goggles, and looked into Jenot's face. He just stared at her for what seemed like an eternity and then just growled at her in a slightly provocative tone,

"You called."

When she heard his voice, she almost immediately realized how tight his grip was on her. Damn that idiot. She didn't want to admit it, but she had missed him, worrying every day about his emotional state and fearing that he might do something stupid and be decommissioned. Without waiting for an answer, Jenot had stripped off his clothes and was staring at her with a defiant expression in his eyes.

"Let's get this over with, Doc", he said in a rather impatient manner.

She cleared her throat and nodded, her eyes lingering a little too long on his tattoos. It wasn't that she didn't know his body like the back of her hand, she had worked on him and examined him so many times, so why did it feel different today? "Get a grip on yourself," she told herself as she stepped up to him and began the examination.

***

Some time later, she sat smoking in her favorite spot, knowing that no one would disturb her here. She'd always been an occasional smoker, but after her usually brief but intense encounters with Jenot, she'd always been unable to resist. His latently aggressive and dismissive nature had never really bothered her, at least that's what she'd told herself. She never stopped feeling guilty about his condition, for she had made him what he was, and what he despised so much, he had always made that more than clear to her. But something had changed in the last few weeks and months; she couldn't even be sure when it had started. Was it because of her that it had become harder and harder to keep a professional distance, or had it started because instead of being angry and hostile towards her, he was trying to avoid her and in the end didn't show up for his examinations?

The rarer he made himself and the more he avoided her, the more she became attached to him. She refused to allow him to jeopardize his health. She could be as stubborn as a falumpaset about it, and she was sure it drove him crazy. It had eventually led to him blocking the channel to her datapad. This action had left her with such anger and disappointment that it had taken her some time to come to terms with the emotions she was dealing with. She knew that her behavior was wrong, that she should not feel that she was losing control. It was not appropriate, it was not characteristic of her. It was this state of extreme crisis that had finally led her to leave him that note. And now she was sitting here. Did she feel better? A little, she was relieved that he was all right, considering the circumstances. But why was she still so upset? So upset that she had started smoking again, while a restlessness was spreading through her body and her mind seemed to be dazed, making it impossible to concentrate.

***

The examination had gone without incident, or so she told herself. Physically, at least, everything seemed to be in order, as far as one could tell from his condition. But she had found it harder to keep her composure today, only touching him when absolutely necessary and avoiding his penetrating gaze as much as she could.

"You look scared, Doc," he said in a mildly amused tone. "Not so pretty to look at, huh?" he continued to tease her.

At first, she didn't respond to his mocking words and tried to stare at her datapad with as much interest as possible.

"You can get dressed again," she had replied to avoid his words. Because he could not have been more wrong. His appearance did not bother her, not in the least, and she was not afraid of him, but of what he might unleash in her. She briefly reached for her goggles, something she had been doing quite a lot that day, an unconscious gesture to hide her insecurity. After a while, she had decided to look up from her datapad and give him a hard look instead.

"Why should I be afraid of you, Jenot?", she could almost feel his whole body tensing when she said that. But that didn't stop her from calling him with that name over and over again.

"I refuse to call you by that horrible name they gave you. You are not a monster." He had said nothing in response to her words, his gaze had become indefinable to her, and she had decided to drop the subject.

After the examination he had, of course, asked for his cigarettes. Of course she had lectured him on how bad it was for his health, and of course he had told her, mockingly, that she should stick to her own rules first. She had no idea how he knew about her bad habit. Maybe he had noticed that every now and then some of his cigarettes disappeared. And in the end she had given them to him - as she always did. Kriff those cigarettes! He had come and they had other problems to work on, Force knows.

After he had dressed, she asked him if he would come next time without an angry message from her, or if he would still insist on blocking her messages.

''That depends.'' , Jenot just replied smugly to her words.

''Depends on what?!'' It had slipped out a little more emotionally than she had intended.

''That depends on you stopping stealing my cigarettes and having one with me instead.''

She couldn't help the fact that her features were now slipping completely off her face, causing her to adjust her goggles even more aggressively this time.

''Until next time, Doc.'' , he saluted in a mocking manner that showed the anger he still felt towards the GAR, then turned on his heel and left the station. She had stared after him motionlessly for quite a while before finally going to her little secret place to smoke.

And now she was sitting outside, completely flustered. Smoking nervously and wondering how deep she would go down into that bogling whole.

Little did she know.

[mutant-distraction]

Pascal Jenot

Photographer, Alba

[dreaminginthedeepsouth]

Pascal Jenot Reflections Blues Gregg Bartley

* * * * *

Grief Is Like a Stream 

Grief is like a stream running through our life, and it’s important to understand that it doesn’t go away. Our grief lasts a lifetime, but our relationship to it changes. Moving on is the period in which the knot of your grief is untied. It’s the time of renewal.

—Martha Beck, “Elegy for Everything”

[spideyjimin]

⏤ tag list, part 1:

@coquettebooknerd @fairy-jaykay @cxcotin @exactlygreatcoffee  @shameless-army @moonjar @eleganttravelercloud @rheee-exe @blushblossomsblog @lanalanexpjm @telepathytae @alettearesius @endlesslyadriftt @jungkooksseuphoria @hyunjiminie @kekekat504 @blairscott @rapmonie2047 @aretha170 @softiegukk @changestae @berryonasummerevening @yoonjisgirl @btxteezdotexe @solemnreads @zzztaegizz @bloopkook @littlelandalp @lanabanananutbuster @alexnicolaidisss @dimguin @drownforryou @undevotedfangirl @kokokookie @bananamochidaisy @hollyweird0 @nesreen96 @lookformyvoice @jjkrinvgs @jalexad @loomipee @sheidadbg @mauveliz @namjooncrabs @jjk1iscoming @jinkajous @gab96-lov3 @sm134340  @cursedlivewithoutjk @aseahorselover @avetehanna @hoseokleftdimple @activebliss @rintarhoes00 @massiekurrb @monijeon @heebear @chl8e @bobakkoo @rubs52 @snookerbooker @tae21xoxo @iindigo-heart @xoxoysl @thvunaise @jenotation @fragmentof-indifference @kootiekook @cherrriesss

Right time (preview)

⤷ part of the timing series 

⏤ pairing: jungkook x female reader 

⏤ genre: parent au, exes to lovers, ceo au, angst, fluff, and smut 

⏤ rating: 18+

⏤ words: 1,055

⏤ summary: following your reunion with jungkook, getting back together seems to be the right thing to do however everything is different. jungkook is a father, running the company you’re working for, and there are still things to be solved. nonetheless, it can’t erase the tremendous physical attraction between you. is it now the right or wrong time?  

⏤ author’s note: thanks all for waiting for this little preview & thanks as well for voting! here you have it & hopefully, very very soon right time will be all yours. as you can notice, the banner changed & I also hope you like it ☺️ don't hesitate to let me know what you think of this little preview, thanks for reading 💞

To say that Jungkook was nervous was an understatement. He’s going out on a date with you. He’s literally screaming on the inside like a 5-year-old that finally got the candy they were asking for. He’s been waiting for this for years and also, he hasn’t been on a proper date in a while. But he’s very much excited. 

“Hi,” you say as you step outside of the apartment complex. 

A bright smile appears on both of your faces when you see each other. Honestly, having had sex a couple of days ago brought some happiness to your lives. You’ve been feeling more alive than ever, and nothing can erase that feeling. Well, at least, that’s what you thought. 

There are still things left to discuss but right now, you’re both on cloud 9 so you don’t feel the necessity to talk. You simply want to stay in your little cloud a little longer which means that you’ll do everything to stay there. 

“Hi, yn,” Jungkook offers you the bouquet he’s holding in his hands. 

“Thanks for the flowers,” you reply as you take the bouquet. 

Your eyes move from Jungkook to the flower arrangement, it’s a very pretty one. This kind of surprises you since Jungkook never bought you flowers when you dated before but you have to forget about the past. Things are different now as you both are very different people today. 

“Arya helped me choose them,” the smile on his face grows bigger while remembering being in the flower shop with her. 

At first, he was planning to go alone to buy you flowers but then, he was spending the day with his daughter so he brought her up to have her little opinion. Now, she’s staying at her mama’s place for the 3 upcoming days. Jungkook hasn’t mentioned anything about you to Eunji yet but for sure, Arya will mention the bouquet to her mother so he’s very much aware that he’ll have to at least explain something to Eunji. 

“Well, you both have good taste in flowers,” you quickly smell the beautiful bouquet. 

“She’s my daughter so she definitely has good tastes,” he instantaneously answers. 

A little laugh leaves your lips at his words. That’s easy to say when it’s your own daughter, you think but his words also warm your heart. It’s so sweet that he let his daughter assist him in choosing a bouquet of flowers for you. And it’s also extremely sweet how he speaks about her. 

“Your tastes can be very much questionable,” you tease him. 

With surprise, he raises an eyebrow. He definitely wasn’t expecting to hear you say those words but he’s undeniably liking being teased by the woman he loves deeply. 

“If mines are questionable, then yours are dubious,” he doesn’t hesitate to reply, “especially your taste in men,” he adds. 

“For sure, it is because I’m still wondering how on earth I could have fallen for you,” you end up laughing. 

But the truth is how you could have not fallen for him. It’s easy to love him, and it feels even easier to be loved by this man. There are for sure many things to say about your love for him but it’d take you probably days or weeks or even more to list all the reasons you fell hard for him. 

“That’s exactly what I was referring to,” he adds. “Not sure how you fell for me, especially back then.” 

Hearing him saying that inevitably breaks your heart, even if he’s joking. For sure, back then, he wasn’t the best person on earth, he was a fuckboy after all. He was very much known on the campus for being the guy who fucks every girl he meets, and for being a heartbreaker. But he was perfect for you. Beyond that image of fuckboy, he was the sweetest guy you had ever met.  

“Don’t say that,” you gently slap him on the arm. 

“I’m serious, I don’t know what you saw in me when we started dating,” his stare becomes quite sincere.  

Now, your heart is very much broken by his words. This man doesn’t even see how pretty and amazing he is. But beyond that, he’s without any doubt the most brilliant person you’ve ever met. Even back then, what charmed you was his mind and heart. It was never about his looks because if it was for that, you wouldn’t have approached him at all. He was a fuckboy, the kind of guy that you hated. 

“I saw your heart underneath all those walls,” you say before placing your hand on his chest, right above his heart. 

Jungkook places his hand on top of yours. He can’t even express what he’s feeling right now but he’s absolutely sure of one thing, he feels lucky to be with you here and now. His hand caresses yours, both of you with a little smile on your faces. This moment is undeniably heartwarming for the two of you. 

“But you were the only person that I let in,” he whispers. “You’re the only one that got to see who I truly was.” 

At his words, you inevitably squeeze him in your arms for a tight hug, your head pressed against his chest. It surprises him but he holds you back. While hugging you, it reminds him just how much he missed it. When you were together, you used to hug each other a lot. It brought a lot of peace to the two of you, it was a moment where everything would disappear for an instant. It was a moment of pure happiness. 

Just as it is right now.

None of you want this moment to end. This feels extremely good. You hold him even tighter in your arms, you don’t desire to let go of him. You close your eyes to enjoy this moment even more. This is something you also missed deeply. Well, to be honest, you deeply missed Jungkook. Maybe more than you’ll ever admit. 

“I love this,” you whisper very low. Jungkook hears it and can’t help but smile even more. He doesn’t say anything, he’s simply enjoying this moment with you. Hopefully, this won’t be a one-time thing. He’s hopeful that you’ll get to do this more often. Because a hug always heals a heart.

[edavaardi]

Reizēm es pasaku lietas, kas liek man pašam aizdomāties. Foto: @elvislacis #adidas #fresh #likaaizdomāties #rīga #īstasacis #vissirsarežģīti #galvaskauss #esesmušeit #izlaušanās #ietsmagikrāsā #vienmērsev #sirdsswager #jenots (at Europe/Riga)