Who Gave Him The Right To Be This Hot

Who gave him the right to be this hot

The closer i look at TM’s face, the more similarities I see between him and the clones. People discredit it a lot but to me his eyebrows lips and nose shape are the exact same as the clones but maybe I’m being stupid or smth 😭(ofc I’m not happy about the white washing when he’s clearly not white but yk)

You're gonna tell me the Clones look like THIS and not expect me to constantly trip and fall all over myself

PLEASE!!!! His abilities are BARELY shown and it’s so upsetting 😭

Okay so there has been a shockingly small amount of Echo in this last season and I'm a little bit pissed. Don't get me wrong I've been loving every minute of it, BUT!!! I miss my Echo. I miss him. And honestly we have to rectify the situation, so here you go!

And obviously we couldn't not include our boi Tech, who is still alive by the way. We know he looks a bit different in Leon's art style, but that comes with trying to meld Tem's looks with the clone wars style and our own personal headconans.

𝐌𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐜𝐮𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐬

Commander Fox x F!Reader Fox is a meticulous man. He doesn’t do things for ‘the sake of it’. So why couldn’t you tell the meaning of his words now? Word Count: 2,133 Warnings: Mild swearing, angst, mean to sad Fox. A/N: This came to me an hour ago and I needed to write it or else I'd be biting my pillow :( I hope whoever reads this will enjoy it <33

Fox is mean. Fox is rude. He’s rude, but in such a way that one can’t counter. Fox is a meticulous man. He doesn’t do things for ‘the sake of it’. No. Each word and action has meaning to it. Usually you prided yourself on being able to read his mind, understand his tactics. So why couldn’t you tell the meaning of his words now?

“It’s over. Don’t try to contact me again.” Were his words as he sipped on some whiskey neat. He looked so relaxed, so nonchalant as he destroyed a year-long relationship. But even as his words tore through you, he couldn’t look you in the eye. He didn’t respect you enough to even look at you as he ripped your love for him apart.

“But what about-“

“I’ll come by tomorrow to pick my things up,” He quickly interrupted, intent on silencing you, “It’s about time I did this. I don’t see this relationship working out… In the long-term. You’re fun, but you can’t give me what I need.” He continued, eyeing the golden liquid with a stern gaze and furrowed brows.

His words cut through like broken shards of glass. They dug into your skin, cutting and tearing with practised precision. He was aiming for where it hurt, straight for your heart.

“You’ve got nothing to say?” He asked, finally looking up from his glass. That meant something, but what? You couldn’t tell. Not anymore. “Good. I’ll see you there, two PM sharp.”

“Okay.” You uttered out, looking down at your lap as you reached for your handbag.

“Okay? That’s it?” He prodded with a raised brow. Your reaction set off sparks in his brain, his neurons working hard to convey the confusion from a mental level to a physical one. He expected you to cry, to beg him to stay, to question why he was doing this. He almost felt betrayed by your lack of response.

His body was rigid, shoulders stiff as he remained glued to his seat. The movement of his glass had stopped, his hand resting flat against the table in between the two of you.

It took you a moment to collect your thoughts, to swallow down the flickering, burning pain of your heart shattering.

“I’m… I’m sure you have a reason,” You spoke slowly, carefully, rising from your seat with wobbly legs, “I just don’t wanna hear it. See you later, Commander.” Your words were quiet, meek, as you walked away without sparing another glance at him.

Fox was the one who broke up with you. He was the one who tossed you aside like a used tissue. So why, as you walked further and further away, did his chest hurt and his fingers itch to reach out for you?

Three precise knocks on your door interrupted your holofilm. You were currently laying on your sofa, mindlessly watching your favourite romcom. The events of last night replayed like a broken tape, Fox’s voice replaying like a broken record, and your heart twisting and breaking like a broken toy.

You cried on your way home, you cried as you showered, you cried as you fell asleep. You were hoping it was all a dream, that your darling commander would reassure you, tell you it was ‘just a shitty nightmare’, but deep down you knew it wasn’t.

With a heavy sigh and a heavy heart, reluctantly, you abandoned the comfort of your sofa and made your way over to the front door.

The sooner you let him in, the sooner he would leave.

The soft ‘click’ of your door and the gentle breeze that pushed its way into your apartment had your heart racing and your gut twisting. Bile rose up into your throat as he came into view.

Your gaze remained trained just below his face, centred on his chest. He was wearing the hoodie you had gifted him with. What was the point? Was he doing this just to antagonise you? The sweet and caring Fox you knew was gone, replaced by this complete son of a bitch.

“Hi.” His voice came out sweetly, softly as you opened the door far enough to let him in. You were very eager to slam the wooden structure in his perfectly awful face.

But instead, you turned away, making your way back to your sofa and fuzzy blanket.

“Come in.” You threw over your shoulder, settling into your makeshift comfort.

You retrieved your TV remote, and turned to him one last time.

“Feel free to roam around and get anything of yours. If you need help, or can’t find something, just ask.” And with a soft click, the sound of your favourite holofilm filled the otherwise silent space of your apartment.

All Fox said in response was ‘Okay’ before he got to work, carrying two empty cardboard boxes inside.

He headed into your bedroom first, much to your relief. You really did not want to see him.

Tears crept at the edges of your waterline, tickling and teasing as you attempted to focus solely on the film. But you couldn’t help yourself, and soon after you tuned into the muffled shuffles of Fox moving around your room.

Just a mere day prior, you would have called it your shared bedroom. When not on duty, the Commander spent most of his days at your place. The only time he wouldn’t sleep over was when he was working overnight, which wasn’t often.

Tugging your blanket closer, you dabbed at your eyes, ridding them of any evidence of crying.

But you knew Fox, and Fox knew you. When you woke up, your eyes were red, puffy and swollen. You felt the way you looked; like shit. No amount of makeup or face cleanser could wipe away the evidence of your care for him.

Fox was an observant man. He knew when something was off, no matter how well you managed to mask it. And to know he was the cause of your pain, Fox couldn’t help but cruelly indulge himself in the pain in his heart.

It was a simple fact; you were in love with the Commander of the Coruscant Guard, Commander Fox.

Commander Fox, of the Coruscant Guard, was in love with you. Enough so for his brothers to know of you. He had told them many stories, and even showed them pictures of you.

He had crept into your heart like a preying fox, stealing from your farm until all you were left with was your heart. And that, he stole too.

The sudden noise of your bedroom door opening and closing snapped you from your thoughts. Fox was awfully good at that.

He stood there, holding one of the boxes. It was filled with a few pieces of clothing you had gifted him. Clearly he wanted to hang onto those, and you wouldn’t stop him from doing so. The Chancellor did not pay the clones, you had learned soon after the beginning of your relationship with Fox. The first time you had gifted him a hoodie and some matching socks, he went mute for a whole twenty minutes. He changed out of his blacks very quickly and soon after that before showering you with gentle kisses and words of appreciation.

And now he stood there, clinging onto those few belongings like a small child. He could keep them. You wanted him to have something that belonged to him and him only.

“I-“

“I think you left some things in the bathroom too, if you wanna grab those.” You spoke softly, not even bothering to pause your movie or even glance at him.

“T- Thank you.” He stuttered out, his arrogant, nonchalant façade having faded away the night prior.

With that, he shuffled into your bathroom next, the sound of him knocking a few things over reaching your ears. Followed by a loud ‘Kriff’ before the door clicked open and closed again. That was quick.

“I’ll get going now.” He said, lifting both boxes up. With his back turned to you, you allowed yourself one glance at him.

He was wearing his favourite hoodie and a pair of black joggers. You remembered how he said they were his favourite, they allowed him to breathe easier.

The two boxes looked too large, and even though you knew he was perfectly capable of opening the door himself, you still stood up and went to aid him.

Your hand reached the doorknob just as his did, and you quickly retracted it. Your body took a screenshot, completely flinching away from him. The last thing you needed was for him to touch you, to give you a glimpse of what you loved and cherished, to take it all away and leave you wanting more.

“Sorry.” He muttered, moving away from the door to let you open it.

A soft click and a shuffle later, he was making his way out. With his back turned once more, you allowed yourself one final glance. His curly, overgrown hair was your favourite. White streaks decorated the locks throughout, starting at his root and some ending at the tips.

You loved his hair.

Your fingers itched to reach out, to ruffle and tug at it one last time.

Slowly, he placed the boxes down and turned back around.

Unlike his appearance, his gaze pierced right through you. Fox was a meticulous man. He didn’t do anything without a plan.

“Still have nothing to say to me?” He asked, half expectant, half wary.

Your eyebrows furrowed, and your grip on the doorknob tightened. He sure had a lot of attitude for being the one that broke up with you.

“Excuse me?”

“I know you’ve got something to say,” He paused, his gaze flickering down to the floor, “You always do.” He whispered that last part, almost affectionately, as he looked back up at you.

He looked tired. His eyes were droopy, and his hand twitched at his side, fighting not to drag over his face tiredly. Did he get any sleep? Why did you care? He made sure that that couldn’t be a concern of yours any longer.

“Not really, no.” You said, looking to the door.

“Oh, okay.” He replied, pursing his lips.

The air between you had become cold, and yet somehow stuffy as the two of you stared at each other. “I guess I’ll be going then.. See you around.” He said, turning his back and bending over. You watched him, glued to your spot. There was one question nagging at the back of your head, threatening to spill over the tip of your tongue.

As he took a step away, you followed, until you could stand outside of your doorway.

“Wait.”

He turned around, one eyebrow raised.

“I have a question. Only one.”

“And it’s?” He prodded. His heartbeat was loud in his ears, adrenaline pumping through his veins as he waited. Only you could have him feeling so desperate, so eager, to hear your voice, to listen to your line of thought and questions.

“Was… Was it ever real? Us, I mean.” You asked, hugging yourself. You finally did what you couldn’t do since last night; look into his eyes.

His irises reminded you of warm honey. Soft and sweet, sticky and dense with secrets and cultivated thoughts.

He took a long pause, his eyes searching yours.

You couldn’t rip your eyes from his, and bile rose in your throat once more as he took longer to reply. Maybe he wasn’t even sure what to say. Maybe he wasn’t prepared to answer this question. Maybe he never thought he’d have to-

“Yes. I loved you from the very beginning, and I love you now. I’ll always love you,” He paused, his Adams apple bobbing up and down as he swallowed harshly, “But I can’t be with you.” Not if I want to keep you safe, he thought.

“I see.” You replied, and with a heavy heart, you half turned, propping your door open.

“Goodbye then, Commander.” You uttered, leaning your head against the doorframe.

“Goodbye, cyar’ika.”

With that, you turned on your heel and shut the door behind you.

Fox stood there for a moment, watching the wooden structure as he listened to the sound of you locking the door. Followed by a thump, as you leaned on it and slid down.

Tears pricked at his waterline, salty and unforgiving as he listened to your mellow sobs and hiccups.

Fox was a meticulous man. He never did anything simply for ‘the sake of it’. That’s why he had to do this, to keep you safe.

But he’d be back.

He would be back for you, he would keep you safe and earn your forgiveness, love and trust back.

He would be back for you, once this was all over.