Happy Fandom Friday Karrde 🥰! Thanks for running this event 💙!
This Friday I'd like to submit @frostycatblr-fandom-files angsty OC fic:
I have no mother, only a brother
Canvas is their clone OC who has lost the rest of his squad and it's SO good!
OOOOOH we love a good angsty OC fic around these parts (please know I'm resisting the urge to make the "Ah, another clone OC for my collection" joke... does that count as failing?). Love taking OCs and just putting them THROUGH IT, and by the looks of it, this one's gonna crush my soul (which I am signing up for haha). Thanks so much for the rec!
Participate in Fandom Friday to show your favorite creators from this week some love! :)
August 11th – Taking Care of Injuries (Captain Whisper and Lyra Dane)
A lot of people seem really interested in my OCs Captain Whisper and Lyra Dane, so I thought I’d write a snippet for them today. You should definitely check out Joey’s art blog @yoeyrt b/c he posts a lot of top notch art of my OCs and his if you’re interested. (Also pls feel free to send me asks about my OCS I love them).
OC Tag List: (Based on people who have seemed interested in my OCs in the past. If you want on this list/want off this list just shoot me a message!) @zygerrian-slut @overcaffeinated-creative @clonemutual @yoeyrt @jalapenoboyfriend @local-imp @commchatter @clonewarsreturns @alexiverse
General Dane stumbled onto the gunship, half dragging and half carrying an injured shiny over one shoulder. One of her Lieutenants – Omen, she suspected – swooped in to take the shiny from her, but her eyes were too crusted over with dried blood and mud to be sure.
“General, focus on me.” The calm, smooth voice of her medic, Canvas, echoed hollowly through her skull as gloved hands cupped her cheeks, a flash of light stinging both eyes as it was shined at her. “Can you hear me, sir?”
His voice was muffled, far away, and Lyra realized for a split second that one of her earpieces had been knocked loose in the battle. Kriff, she needed to see his mouth. Let me read your lips.
She reached a hand up to wipe away the grime covering her eyes, but a hand on her wrist stopped her. “Hang on, General. You’ve got a nasty gash on your forehead, let me clean that first.”
She felt another hand on her arm, and a finger rapidly tracing letters into her palm. I-A-M-H-E-R-E.
“Whisper.” She managed, her own voice sounding thick and dazed.
“The Captain’s right here, sir.” Canvas answered quietly, still working on her forehead. He said something in a clipped voice to somebody nearby, and Lyra felt a second set of hands against her shoulders, easing her slightly to the side. “We’re almost back to the fleet, General. Just hang in there a bit longer and we can get to the med-bay.”
She could feel her Captain tracing words into her palm again, but she was too out of it to recognize what the movements were. She blinked at the blurry shape she thought was Whisper, and was answered by a flurry of rapid Handspeak as her Captain tried signing to her.
“With all due respect, Captain, I think she has a concussion. She’s not going to be able to process anything when you’re signing that quickly.” Canvas spoke aloud to the Captain, and Lyra’s vision cleared just enough to catch a glimpse of Canvas shooting a sharp look at his Captain.
“Hang on, sir.” Canvas soothed again, and Lyra felt a cool, damp cloth swipe over her face, and her vision cleared a little further.
Captain Whisper had his helmet off, and was hovering slightly behind Canvas, his lips pressed into a tight line as he looked at his General. His helmet was tucked under one arm, but he let go of it and let it clatter to the floor so he could sign roughly to his General. “What were you thinking?”
“I don’t think that’s your place to say, Captain.” Lyra replied with a chuckle, holding still as Canvas spread bacta across the gash on her forehead. “I’m alright, Canvas.”
“With respect, sir, you aren’t.” Canvas answered shortly as Whisper signed “You aren’t.” over his shoulder. “We’re almost back to the fleet. Can you hear me?”
“Sort of.” Lyra replied. “Think I lost one of my earpieces.”
“We know. Blaze found it on the field. It’s broken, but at least we have the pieces, maybe we can-.” Canvas cut himself off, turning towards the front of the gunship. “We’re docking with the fleet now, sir.”
“Excellent. I’ll manage until you can take care of the rest of the men.”
“Sir-.”
“That’s an order, Canvas.” Lyra told him curtly, pushing herself to her feet as Whisper picked up his helmet off the floor, putting it back on roughly as he moved to stand beside Lyra. She stumbled slightly when she stood, her head spinning, and she called on the Force, waiting for the calm to wash over her before descending the gunship.
“General Dane?” A familiar voice called to her as a trooper skidded to a halt in front of her gunship. “Captain Whisper called for me. You need a hand?”
Lyra turned towards Whisper. “You called the 69th?”
“They were on board anyway.” Whisper signed back. “Rashe offered, and their Commander can help fix your earpiece.”
“Very well.” She sighed, turning back to Rashe. “Thank you, Rashe. I believe Canvas has his hands full in the med-bay, if you’d like to help him. We took a beating.”
“Your head, sir.” Rashe prompted quietly, offering Whisper a small tube of bacta and some bandages. “If you won’t come to the med-bay, at least let Captain Whisper help you patch it up?”
“My men are hurt far worse than I am. I’ll manage on my own, thank you.” Lyra insisted again, and she heard an audible sigh from Whisper.
She reluctantly allowed Whisper to lead her out of the hangar, the muffled voices and chatter from around her overwhelming, coupled with the strain on her body from injuries and the fatigue of battle.
Captain Whisper removed his helmet again once they’d made it into General Dane’s quarters, and he closed the door behind them, setting his helmet on the table and grabbing the bacta and bandages, beckoning Lyra to sit on the bed. The Jedi did as her Captain instructed, sitting quietly as Whisper sat across from her, tilting her chin up with one finger to apply a bit more bacta.
“I would’ve been fine, you know.” Lyra told him quietly. “I knew I had plenty of time to get out, and I could’ve deflected the blast if my hands weren’t full.”
Whisper didn’t have to sign for Lyra to know he was upset with her. His steely grey eyes said enough as he looked up at her, picking up the bandage and pressing it lightly against her forehead. When he pulled back, he began to move his hands again.
“It doesn’t matter if you thought you had time or not, sir.” He explained patiently. “My job – our job – is to keep you alive. How can we be expected to do that when you break your own formation to run directly into the line of fire?”
“As a Jedi, it is my duty to preserve all human life, including those of my men.” Lyra replied in a hard voice.
“And as your Captain,” Whisper’s eyes narrowed, his hands jerky and curt. “It is my duty to keep you from behaving like a bolt-brained shiny.”
“Watch your tone.” Lyra snapped back, rising to her feet. “You forget your place, Captain.”
She could feel the hurt in the Force, and Whisper narrowed his eyes at her. She sighed softly, taking one of his gloved hands in hers and squeezing lightly. “I apologize.” She murmured. “The day has been unkind to us, and to our men.”
Whisper squeezed her hands back. A small gesture, yet reassuring all the same. They stayed like that a moment, and Lyra dropped his hands, stepping back. “I’m going to check on the rest of our men.” She told him. “Will you contact Commander Doubles, see if there is anything that can be done for my earpiece?”
Whisper nodded, signing a quick “yes sir” before picking up his helmet and sliding it back on and ducking out the door.
“Whisper.” Lyra called suddenly, and her Captain stopped, looking at her over his shoulder. She hesitated, and he tilted his head to the side slightly in question. She shook her head. “Never mind. Carry on.”
Whisper lingered a beat longer, then extended his hand to her. Lyra took it, and Whisper squeezed it three times in succession. She smiled, repeating the movement back to him before finally letting him go.
@clonemutual HEY UHHHH THIS SUCKS SORRY IF I GOT SOME CHARACTERIZATION WRONG I TRIED MY BEST I PROMISE. (Also it sounds kind of gay but it’s platonic I swear Whisper is just super affectionate and shit i’m sorry)
“Show me again, slower.”
Captain Whisper smiled, patiently repeated the sign while Rashe watched intently, brow scrunched up in concentration.
“I’ve never seen Rashe this excited to talk to a brother he hasn’t met before.” Commander Fish commented lightly, glancing over at the General. “Your battalion’s reputation precedes you, my dear.”
Captain Whisper jerked his head in Fish’s direction at the tone of the word “Dear”, his eyes narrowing sharply. Lyra Dane looked up from the holomap at Fish’s comment, nodding absently before returning her attention to her work.
“I can’t take credit for it,” Lyra replied with a shrug. “It’s all Whisper. He’s the nice one.”
Commander Fish glanced back over at Whisper, who was scowling now as he signed something rapidly to Lyra, punctuating a few specific gestures with his eyebrows knitting and furrowing.
“What’d he say?” Fish asked, looking between the Captain and the General.
“Um… says hi.” Lyra answered offhandedly, waving him off. “Fish, look at this.”
Fish leaned over her shoulder, squinting at the spot on the map.
“What is that?” Fish asked, tilting his head to the side.
“A star. At least, that’s what it’s supposed to be.” Lyra muttered back. “It’s also supposed to be all the way over here.” She pointed to a blank spot on the map.
“Think it’s a ship?”
“Only one way to find out.” She turned back to Whisper and Rashe. “Whisper, Rashe, hold down the fort. Fish, come with me. We need to gather the rest of our men.”
The two Jedi exited the bridge, leaving Whisper and Rashe standing side by side, watching the hyperspace trails dance around them. Rashe had always liked hyperspace. He thought it was beautiful, the way the streaks of light passed by the ship, traveling through space and time, like a world between worlds.
A tap on his shoulder pulled him out of his reverie, and he turned back towards Whisper. The mute Captain signed something, a little too quickly for Rashe to catch, one eyebrow quirked up in question.
“Err, I’m sorry sir. Could you repeat that?” Rashe asked, focusing back on Whisper’s hands. The Captain tried again, slowing down his movements, a little more deliberately with the motions. Kriff, he should’ve practiced his Handspeak more. It was rare that General Dane and her men were assigned to work with Jedi other than her former master Plo Koon, or the General Chase, but this particular mission required Fish and his unique Mandalorian heritage, and Lyra’s Chiss descent was an added bonus for this diplomatic mission. Rashe had tried to learn a bit of Handspeak before the mission, wanting to familiarize himself with the language of Tiptoe Battalion’s men should one of them become injured and need his help. He’d taught himself the basics, enough to ascertain important information like “What hurts?” and “Where were you hit?” and the like.
Whisper, thankfully, had been incredibly patient with Rashe from the moment they’d met, had been kind when Rashe fumbled around a greeting in Handspeak, greeted him back with a brotherly clap to the shoulder and a dazzling grin. They’d spent most of the hyperspace journey so far with Whisper quietly listening to Rashe tell him stories about his own brothers, horror stories that only field medics could come up with, and learning Handspeak.
Rashe watched as Whisper slowly repeated the movement, ended them with a nod to Rashe’s face. “What happened there?”
“Oh,” Rashe mumbled, suddenly self-conscious. “Ah… there was a leak in my growth chamber.”
Whisper nodded his understanding, pointed to his bone-white hair and winked. Rashe chuckled, some of the tension already melting away.
“Yeah, I guess we both had leaks.” He chuckled. Whisper smiled, appraising him lightly before narrowing his eyes, noticing the discomfort in Rashe’s voice.
“You okay?” He signed, his brow knitting in concern. Rashe nodded, resisted the urge to fiddle with his gloves.
“Yes sir.” He replied automatically, turning back to the windows. “Just wish I wasn’t fucked up.”
Whisper tugged on his arm, humming worriedly in the back of his throat. Kriff. Rashe hadn’t meant to say that. He hadn’t even known the Captain long, he didn’t need to hear this.
Whisper tugged on his arm again, insistently, and Rashe relented, facing him again. He watched as Whisper took his hands, holding them up between the two of them pointedly before dropping them. He nodded once, circling his hand over his face, a serious look crossing over his features.
“Haven’t gotten that far in my lessons yet, sir.” Rashe tittered nervously. Whisper smirked, repeated the motion. Rashe frowned. “Spell it?”
Whisper’s smirk only grew, his hands firmly planted at his sides. He lifted his hand one last time to repeat the motion a third time before General Dane and Commander fish returned to the room.
“We’re about to come out of hyperspace.” Lyra reported. “Rashe, my lead medic, Canvas, would like to have a word with you, if you’ll come with me.”
Rashe shot one last look at Whisper before trailing off after General Dane.
“Um, sir?” He asked. “What’s this mean?”
Lyra turned towards him, watched as Rashe repeated the motion. The corner of her lips quirked up, and she brushed past him, continuing down the hall.
