#captain fordo

[renesassing]

he's fine, he's just seeing how much of a nap he can squeeze in before anyone notices.

[blackkatmagic]

Fordo13 -- anything shareable yet? 👀

Definitely not polished but...probably readable??

“17, get up!”

Alpha-17 jerks, rolls, is on his feet and rising before anything more than the vicious urgency of the tone registers, the familiar voice, the equally familiar grip of a hand on his shoulder. It all sends his adrenaline spiking, and he comes upright expecting blaster-fire, cannons, droids descending or bombers overhead—

Fordo grabs his arm, hauls, and at the same moment the pain registers. Hot pain, nerve pain, crackling all the way down Alpha-17’s spine, and he loses his breath on a cry that tears from between gritted teeth as his legs buckle. All his weight crashes down on Fordo, but if Fordo even registers it there’s no sign, no hesitation at all. He drags Alpha-17 forward in the darkness, and it’s only belatedly that it registers just how dark it is, the oppressive lightlessness of somewhere underground, somewhere that hasn’t seen the light in years if it ever has.

There's a feeling, too. A hunger, a crawling sense of eyes on them in the darkness, an oozing, creeping dread that bites just as sharp as the pain, and Alpha-17 digs his fingers into Fordo's armor and demands, “Where the hell are we?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Fordo says, which is exactly the response that would make Alpha-17 worry about it. He makes a disgusted sound, but Fordo isn't paying attention, all his focus on dragging Alpha-17 across an uneven stone floor that seems to want to catch Alpha-17’s feet with every step. He’s hustling, quicker than Alpha-17’s ever seen him move outside of an active war zone, and Alpha-17 puts more weight on him, tries to make his stupid, rebelling body actually cooperate—

He’s not wearing any armor.

The realization slams into him like a speeder at full tilt, and his steps falter. Not just not in armor, he’s not even in his blacks. He’s barefoot, dressed in loose cloth, but Fordo is in armor. Alpha-17 can feel it slide slick beneath his hand, battle-scarred and perfectly familiar.

And then, right on the heels of that, Alpha-17’s brain finally drags up his last memory before this place, this waking. A medical transport, suddenly commandeered, an alarm, the hiss of a lightsaber in the dark. Alpha-17 had dragged himself up out of a drugged sleep to the sight of emergency lights and the sound of footsteps, and then—

Ventress. Ventress in the doorway, not dead, not even inconvenienced. Staring at him like a tooka that finally caught a stubborn mouse, her expression twisting into a vicious smirk.

Alpha-17 hadn’t been able to move. He’d been paralyzed from the waist down, with no chance of ever walking again. The flight back to Kamino was just a chance to let the Kaminoans get the last few samples from him before they put him down. A smokescreen so that the Jedi didn’t have to see a clone be decommissioned right under their noses, because then they might have raised a fuss.

Ventress caught him helpless, unarmed, drugged. Alpha-17’s last memory of her is that lightsaber descending, and then—

“What the hell?” he demands, and his voice cracks in the darkness.

Fordo's grip around his waist tightens, but he doesn’t pause. “Later,” he says, a warning, and then, “Stairs.”

His legs are working, but not that well, and Alpha-17 curses, stumbles over the first step. They're old, cracked and worn stone under his bare feet, and steep. Every nerve up and down Alpha-17’s spine is protesting, and his legs feel clumsy, wobbly, like a newborn eopie. It’s maddening, but Alpha-17 grits his teeth and lurches up the steps as best he can, most of his weight on Fordo and those evil, covetous eyes on their backs.

“What the hell did you do,” he demands, breathless, because Fordo is crazier than kriffing Fox. There’s no way this isn't some sort of bad idea that started in Fordo's unhinged brain.

Fordo laughs, almost soundless, but it’s shaking. He digs his fingers into Alpha-17’s hip so hard that Alpha-17 is definitely going to have a full handprint of bruises, and in the darkness Alpha-17 can feel the way Fordo's helmet turns, presses into his throat for just a second before he drags Alpha-17 forward at an even faster clip.

“Of course you’d kriffing blame me,” he says. “Duck.”

Some kind of broken beam, slanting down across the staircase. Alpha-17 catches it, stumbles as he ducks under, and can't quite swallow his groan as his whole back spasms. His legs jerk again, almost folding, but Fordo hauls him up and keeps moving, carrying Alpha-17 more than guiding him.

Behind them in the darkness, there's a rustle, a slither. Something moves, something big, and Alpha-17 can feel the tremor in the stone beneath them as it shifts towards them.

[worm-strung-string]

Making some quick stickers for the geekfest today to hand out

[wyvernsrus]

Assorted Clone Doodles

[missycupcake223]

[suborbitalrailgun]

It's June 15th (in my timezone), so it's time to post my post my Summer Exchange gift (also funny, because it's solidly winter for me). Happy summer, @nightfall-1409 ! Hope you like this picture of A-17 and Fordo relaxing on shore leave.

[shadowlit-shows]

Star Wars pride pfps for the queers

I made the first one for myself but I was like "hey there's people who DO experience attraction" so here ya go

Use with or without credit idc just don't say you made them cause that's a lie

[worm-strung-string]

“The view a bit to close to Kamino captain?”

“Better View General”

Oh to have your General sopping wet and laying in your lap.