#clone trooper saccharine

[circadianaa]

This was my piece for the @cloneoczine from around a year ago! Unfortunately the zine failed to come to fruition so we were given permission to post our pieces. Regardless of the outcome, everyone worked very hard on this and it was a delight to participate in!

closeups below!

#my art #art #circadraws #star wars #tcw #the clone wars #swtcw #star wars the clone wars #arc trooper wishbone #isadora #clone trooper knucklehead #clone trooper saccharine #clone trooper knifepoint #clone trooper cherub #clone trooper oc

[tcwmatchmakingau]

Take a Chance (Part 1)

Pairing: Crosshair x f!reader

Rating: General (but MDNI)

Summary: Crosshair finally caves and sets up an appointment with Right to Love. He doesn’t expect much out of it, but what he gets is softer and brighter than even he could ask for. 

Warnings: Crosshair angst (because that’s a warning I guess); peep my matchmaker OC Tal, love them dearly; brotherly teasing

A/N: @wolffegirlsunite submitted a prompt about Crosshair at carnivals and I just kinda…ran with it. In this AU, the Citadel never happened, so Echo is not with the Batch.

WC: 3.2k

Crosshair had mastered the art of patience a long time ago. He had to; it was a requirement of his specialization as a sniper. Sitting for long, boring hours in a secured hideout, there had been times on missions where he didn’t move for hours, at minimum. One learned how to be patient when all one had was time to pass. He thrived in those situations. After all, it was what he was made for. 

What he hadn’t yet mastered was the art of civilian life. He’d rather perch in the branches of some scraggly pine on some far-off Mid-Rim world, teeth chattering in his bucket from the cold, than sit here in this waiting room. Despite the facade this damned service had so clearly cultivated to be comforting, he felt on edge, nerves screaming at him. Soft music chimed pleasantly from the speakers hanging from the ceiling corners. Vanilla, warm and inviting, cloyed in his nose. Adorning the walls, right, cheerful posters touted sickeningly saccharine slogans. We’ll help you find your path! and At Right to Love, we’ll make sure your love is right for you!

His upper lip curled in the barest hint of a scowl. Karking hell, why had he let Wrecker talk him into this? 

With a slight shake of his head, Crosshair refocused on the datapad resting in his lap. He was supposed to fill out this questionnaire to let the matchmakers do their job, but all he could think about was the vulnerability of it all. He had to just…give away personal information? Just like that? Kriff, even his brothers had given up getting him to talk about his feelings before he was ready.

Leading him to another worry, one he’d never admit out loud, and certainly wasn’t about to admit to himself. Was he ready for this? 

His first impulse was, yes of course. He’s Crosshair, member of one of the most elite squadrons of clone troopers in the entire existence of the Grand Army of the Republic. Clone Force 99 didn’t back down from challenges, and had a 100% mission success rate. 

Or at least, they did. When the GAR still existed. When the war still raged and when clones’ lives were valued less than dirt. 

He’d answered exactly three of the twenty-five questions so far. The fourth question, “How would you best describe your personality?” presented options that felt so…restrictive. Was he a) shy and reserved, b) expressive and open, c) humorous but private, d) uncomplicated and easy-going, or e) other? 

Crosshair had been labeled as “other” his entire life. Frustration simmered in his chest, hot and annoying. 

Just as he was about to stand, chuck the datapad back at the receptionist, and storm out, the receptionist in question cleared her throat.

“You don’t have to answer every single question, darlin’,” she said, smacking her gum. “That’s just to help us get started.” 

He felt the knot of anxiety in his chest loosen in spite of himself. “Anyone ever turn in a blank form?”

Her dark eyes met his, narrowed behind square spectacles, before she shook her head with a reluctant grin. “There’s a first time for everythin’. We’re all about firsts here.” 

“Yeah.” He huffed, looking back down at the datapad. The rest of the questions were similarly vague and aggravating as the personality one, but by the time he reached the last one, he was surprised to find that he’d filled in nearly half of the responses. 

Sweeping his gaze across the waiting room once more, he couldn’t help but pick out the imperfections, the way that that one paint stroke lifted some of the first coat underneath there by the corner, or the way that the ceiling tile above him only appeared symmetrical but every third one was slightly shorter, or the way that the receptionist’s eyeliner had one, tiny, nearly imperceptible gap where it had snagged over her skin. He found that the skin around his nail beds was dry and cracked, red and angry—a nervous habit he’d picked up shortly after the war ended. 

Quit stalling, he snarled to himself. 

The receptionist gave him a fleeting smile as he crossed the room to deposit the datapad on her desk. He wished she wouldn’t. 

“One of our case workers will be with you shortly, dear,” she said. 

He returned to his seat, silent, apprehensive. 

  He didn’t have to wait long; at least the receptionist was right about that. Not even fifteen minutes later, a short, kindly individual with a buzzcut and piercings pushed open the faux-wooden door leading to the back. Crosshair appraised their appearance quickly, an old habit. Black eyeliner on their bottom waterline, round, unframed glasses, a black T-shirt with some indie band Cross had never heard of: he hated to admit it, but the sight of someone dressed so casually put him at ease. Whatever he’d been expecting, it certainly wasn’t this. 

“Crosshair?” they asked, as if there was anyone else in this damned waiting room. 

Still, Crosshair rose, toothpick clenched between his teeth. Quiet as a wraith, he followed who he assumed would be his case worker down a labyrinth of hallways. Behind a few of the closed doors, the familiar tones of regs’ voices drifted to him, counterpointed by the unfamiliar strains of other case workers. 

At last, his adorned case worker pushed open a door and gestured for Crosshair to enter first.

Slinking past, Crosshair took in every detail at once. Above the corner desk were at least a dozen framed holoscans, most of them featuring his mystery case worker and two others, a beaming brunette woman and a laid-back, dark-skinned man. Crystals of various colors, cuts, and properties sat scattered across the side table nearest the futon; a tapestry arched across the ceiling. One lone plant, a healthy looking thing with glossy castleton green leaves, breathed life into the room from one corner.

“I’m Tal,” the case worker said as they closed the door behind them. “Make yourself comfy. Or don’t. Everything here is under your control.” 

Crosshair shot a glance at Tal, head tilting just slightly, so minutely that Tal probably missed it. He hesitated for just a moment before sinking into the futon, the silky black fabric cushioning him as he tucked his feet up. 

“Tea?” Tal asked. 

Poison, came the immediate, instinctive thought.

“No, thanks,” he said. 

Tal shrugged. “Suit yourself.” As they poured steaming water into a waiting mug, they glanced at him. “So, Crosshair, here’s how this works. I’ll ask you a few questions, you can ask me some, and after our meeting, I’ll get to work matching you to some of our clients, yeah?”

“Fine.” Cross shifted the toothpick between his teeth, the poky bit softened and no longer quite so poky. He’d need to grab a fresh one soon. 

For a moment, Cross simply watched as Tal scooped honey into their tea mug, spoon clinking softly as they stirred the drink. The faint scent of…was that chamomile? drifted to him, and he nearly wished he’d accepted the offer.

Nearly. 

“Let’s start with the basics.” Tal set the mug down on a cork coaster. “Why are you here?”

Crosshair quirked an eyebrow, leveling his best unimpressed stare at Tal—who, to his surprise, matched Crosshair’s energy.

“That’s starting with the basics?”

Tal shrugged. “Would you rather I coerce answers on these blank questions?” They waggled a datapad in one hand. 

Sucking on his teeth, all Crosshair could do was shake his head. 

“Great, because I’m sure you hate having teeth pulled as much as I hate pulling them,” Tal said. “What brings you in?” 

“My brother,” Crosshair said flatly. Not technically a lie.

“And is that Tech, Hunter, or Wrecker?”

He clamped down on the toothpick, the fragile wood snapping. “Wrecker.”

Tal typed on the datapad for a moment. “Got it. So, no other reason, nothing more self-motivated?”

“No.”

With a hum, Tal typed some more on the ’pad before setting it to the side. They took a tentative sip of their tea, a smile of satisfaction curling over their lips. 

“Tell me if I get any of this wrong, m’kay?” Tal said. “The war ends last year. You and your brothers get to live a normal life, and you each try dating. Maybe it works for them, maybe it doesn’t, but it certainly doesn’t work for you. None of the people you go out with can get past the fact that you’re a sniper, or a science experiment, or just an ass. So you stop going out. 

“But your brothers don’t. In fact, one by one, they make their way here, to this very office in fact, find themselves partners, and settle into the cushy civilian life you just can’t wrap your head around. You’re happy for them, because they’re your brothers. But you’re also annoyed by them, because they have what you just can’t seem to find.”

Crosshair bristled at the nonchalance with which this individual, this…observer, read him for filth. Removing the now-shattered toothpick from his mouth, Crosshair forced himself to go through the ritual of discarding the broken one, selecting a fresh one from the pouch at his belt, and slipping the dry wood into the pocket of his cheek.

He avoided Tal’s gaze the entire time. In their calculating gaze, Crosshair saw himself reflected. 

“You got part of it wrong,” he eventually said. “I never tried in the first place.”

And it was true. He’d been…arrogant, more than usual, refusing to even entertain the idea of finding a fulfilling relationship outside of his vode. He’d seen the way people looked at him on the streets, even here in the capital, where no one should stand out. He couldn’t stomach the thought of having to put himself on parade just to find happiness. 

“Well,” Tal said, “I can’t be right all of the time.”

A wry smile twisted Crosshair’s mouth. Maybe this wouldn’t be such a bad experience after all.

  By the time that Crosshair left the RTL building, his stomach crawled with ants. He couldn’t tell if it was from nerves or excitement or some combination of both, but he couldn’t remember feeling so hopeful in a long, long time. Tal had given him their comm frequency and promised to answer any questions if Cross thought of them; and swore that as soon as they found him a match, they’d let him know. In return, Crosshair had given his word that he would think of an answer to the last question Tal had posed before their time was up. “What kind of date do you want to go on?”

Given that he’d never been on any, and certainly didn’t ingest media that portrayed such things, he hadn’t been able to give an answer. He hadn’t even wanted to lie, instead defaulting to his training, the instilled need to have the entire picture before making a decision. Kark, this meant he had to do research. 

Climbing the stairs to the apartment he shared with his brothers, he took the time to school his expression into its usual blank mask. The last thing he needed was for any of them to catch a whiff of where he’d been. He hadn’t even told Wrecker he would go to the matchmaking service; he’d just…left in the middle of the morning after they had all gone their separate ways. 

He lingered in the hall just long enough to determine who was already home. Judging by the raucous laughter, snide remarks, and grumbling complaints, it seemed all three of them were. 

Great. 

The door slid open and whooshed shut behind him as he stepped over the threshold. From the living room, Wrecker’s head peeked around the corner, a broad grin on his scarred face. 

"Was wonderin’ where you went,” he called. 

Cross ambled to the living room, pushed Wrecker back out of the way with one thin hand on his brother’s face. Laughing, Wrecker over-sold the push and landed squarely on his ass on the tile floor. 

Plopping into the beige, worn-out recliner, Cross sighed, running a hand through his short silver hair. He’d need a haircut soon. 

“Out,” he finally answered.

Hunter fixed him with a look, eyebrows scrunched. “‘Out’?”

Crosshair nodded once. Kriff, he should have just gone to his room, avoided this whole mess, but he knew his brothers; once they got on the trail of something, they couldn’t let it go. 

Wrecker lightly kicked the recliner—thought a light kick from him meant that the chair still slid a few inches across the floor with an uncomfortable screech. Hunter winced from his spot on the couch. 

“Did you go you-know-where?” Wrecker asked, voice in a stage-whisper, as if Hunter and Tech weren’t right kriffin’ there. 

Cross rolled his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“I believe Wrecker is referring to the matchmaking service known as Right to Love, which has helped clones find life partners,” Tech interjected with a glance up from his datapad. “A service to which you have been incredibly averse.”

“Hey, I thought I was convincing!” Wrecker’s voice dripped with indignation. “Wasn’t I, Cross?” 

Crosshair cut a glance at his older brother. “No.”

“Aww, Cross, you’re no fun,” Wrecker whined. He stood and lumbered to the kitchen. 

Crosshair met Hunter’s gaze. Knowing his brother could probably smell the karking vanilla candle and chamomile tea on his clothes, he had tried walking through exhaust vents to douse the scent. But the way that Hunter’s eyes narrowed, nostrils flaring, set Crosshair’s heart sinking.

“Well,” Hunter said with a knowing look, “wherever you went, hope you had a good time.”

The rest of the evening passed quietly, the four of them settling into their usual routines. Dinner ate, holoseries watched, old stories swapped, the clock ticked by with an aching slowness. Even as his brothers recounted the latest triple-date ideas they’d had, he couldn’t help but fixate on the building anticipation in his limbs, a jittery, twitchy feeling that had him on edge. All he wanted to do was shut himself in his room and research. 

As soon as the clock showed 10 PM he bid his brothers goodnight and forced himself to walk normally to his room. The second the door slid shut, he rushed to his desk and booted up his datapad, one of Tech’s old ones. 

While the device blipped to life, he lowered himself into his desk chair and gazed at his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling window, cast in ghostly blue from the ’pad homescreen. Eyes wide with apprehension, Crosshair almost didn’t recognize himself. He forced himself to look beyond the mirror image and focus on the scintillating lights of the ecumenopolis. Skyscrapers reached for the stars, lights dotting every floor in a mockery of the galaxy that laid beyond the polluted skies. Speeders whirred past, traffic lanes cruising steadily. Somewhere out there, came the unbidden thought, somewhere out there was the person for him. 

He snapped the datapad shut. 

Someone being right for him meant he was right for somebody, and that thought alone was too much to bear.

He went to bed trying to ignore the heated worm of jealousy burrowing into his spine at the sounds of his brothers’ laughter.

  The next morning, he awoke to the insistent blip-blip-blip of his comlink. Peering with bleary eyes at the tiny screen, it took his sleep-addled brain a moment to parse together why an unsaved frequency was contacting him this early. A glance to the time revealed that it was, in fact, mid-morning. Still. Early for him.

A few possible matches, the message read. Would you like to come in and chat about them, have me send you their profiles, or just pick for you? 

His eyes shot open, suddenly wide awake, as the message sunk in. Sitting upright in bed, he hesitated over his reply, thumbs dancing aimlessly over the keypad. This was sooner than he expected. The fact that there was more than one match made his stomach lurch—there was no way that was right.

A few? was what he ended up writing back. 

Correct, came the reply. Then three bouncing dots appeared, Tal typing another message. There’s no rush. You’re in control here. 

The reminder did little to calm Crosshair’s racing thoughts. Looking over at his reflection in the window, he grimaced at himself. He’d gone to sleep with his clothes on, his short hair spiked up on one side of his head from the awkward sleeping position he’d been in, and blanket marks criss-crossed his face. He at least needed a solid fifteen minutes to look put together, and then hopefully he would feel awake enough to compose a reasonable reply.

And so, fifteen minutes later, he perched on the edge of the living room recliner, comlink in hand as he stared down at the blinking cursor. He’d been given choices. So few people gave him choices, at least before the war ended. He decided he liked having options. 

So absorbed in wracking his brain for a coherent response, he completely missed the tell-tale sounds of Wrecker sneaking up behind him until it was too late. His brother snatched the comlink out of his grasp. Cross reached for his brother, but Wrecker was faster than he looked and darted to the other side of the couch, nimble as a Nexu. 

“Wrecker!” Crosshair growled. “Give. It. Back.”

Wrecker’s belly laugh echoed off the walls. “You’ve been actin’ weird since you got home. I wanna see why.” He glanced down at the comlink, lips moving as he silently read the messages to himself, then his mismatched eyes widened. 

“You did go you-know-where!”

Crosshair sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “If I say that I did, can I have my comlink back?”

“Maybe.”

“Kark, fine. Yes, I went. Now, give it back.” This time, as Cross strode forward to nick the comlink back, Wrecker let him, a ear-splitting grin breaking over his face. 

Cross squinted, unease seeping into his veins at the mirthful glint in his brother’s eyes. “What did you do?”

He whipped the comlink up to his face and glared at the screen. There, in his latest sent messages: Pick for me! 

Chuckling, but already backing away, Wrecker flashed him one final smirk before tearing down the hallway to his room. Crosshair sighed, shoulders deflating. Kark it all to hell, now he’d never hear the end of it. 

The comlink bli-bli-b-b-blipped in his grasp as several messages came through at once. Groaning, he collapsed into the couch, head in his hands, determined to ignore the damned device, but as the notifications continued, he ground his teeth and peeked. 

A torrent of messages from the group chat with his vode. 

Crosshair’s going on a date!!! 

I could have told you that. -Tech 

Proud of you, vod’ika. 

Does this mean we can go on QUADRUPLE dates!?!?!?!?

Calm down, Wrecker, let the man actually meet the person he’s being set up with before you start planning. 

We’re gonna have so much fun!!!! 

I can see why Crosshair chose not to reveal this to us. -Tech 

And at the bottom of the notifications, one lone message from Tal: Great. I’ll send you information about your match as soon as it’s confirmed. Thank you for trusting me with this, Crosshair. 

#tcw matchmaking au #clone matchmaking au #The Bad Batch #prompt response

[kimageddon]

Star Wars Fics

I was challenged by @ashotofspotchka . So I did it.

The Prompt

Made this a Tech x Reader fic. I got inspired. And became a bit longer that intended.

I heard y'like Tech?? @eyecandyeoz @fallenrepublick (tag a fan!)

The Wedding

Well this was a right mess to be in. How had you even gotten into this situation? Oh of course… Cid. As much as you admired her, she was a tricky one. If not for her you would have never been invited to her salon, nor would you have met the most frustrating band of men you’d encountered. And their adorable little sister of course.

Had you not taken that job with them a few months ago, you would not have gotten to know them so well. Not been put in so many ridiculous situations and nearly losing your head. You wouldn’t have that new scar across your thigh… and you wouldn’t have grown to like them so much.

Damn it. Your mentor always told you not to get too attached to people, one never knew when they would find each other on opposite sides of the field so to speak. Casual acquaintances were one thing. Friendship was not a good idea. Anything more was downright dangerous. You told yourself it was alright to have a little affection for them. That it was alright to laugh and make jokes, to share a meal with them, to make them smile. That was alright… wasn’t it?

You let out a sigh wishing the ceremony would soon be over. Not that it wasn’t lovely. Of course it was. The venue was beautifully decorated, from the flowers to the guests, everything was stunning. A perfect picture of romance and love and devotion.

You usually detested weddings. There was one incident when you were young and… well it spoiled the idea of them to you. Though this was… actually rather nice. The group, you included, were tasked with providing security for the wedding as a favour to one of Cid’s associates. It was one of the more ridiculous missions… though even you had to admit, you cleaned up alright in a silken dress and heels. It had been a while since you’d had to go undercover and this was… well it was rather fun.

The downside of course had been seeing the boys in their suits. It wasn’t good for your heart. If they looked a picture of badass intimidation in full armour, then the five of them in suits were just perfect.

Hunter even had his hair swept back, though it took you a second to recognise him without the bandana. Wrecker had been a little grumbly about feeling unprotected but was very pleased when you told him he was very handsome. Crosshair had rolled his eyes at first, but gotten very offended when you snatched his toothpick from his lips. Echo had a moment when he was finally dressed. You’d been tying his bowtie when he’d let out a little huff and gave a small smile, saying he “felt human again.” Your heart broke at these words because even with his brothers he still felt… lesser. You had been quick to assure him that he was more human than anyone you knew and that the prosthetics meant nothing on that. Seeing him puff up with pride again was worth nearly getting shot last week.

Even Omega had a pretty dress on and flats tied to her ankles with ribbons. You and she had picked a dress to match Hunter’s suit specifically, she looked up to her big brother so very much, you often thought he was more like a father really, but kept these thoughts to yourself for now.

The last one to join you was the one that affected you the most of course. Tech stepped out onto the landing platform looking like a million credits and like he should have a hot woman on each arm. Like he could make any woman swoon with just a wink.

Hot damn.

Of course he would not do such a thing, and was just looking around, observing the surroundings for possible points of attack, vulnerability and in general taking in the surroundings. As you were also meant be doing. Internally you swore and after drinking in his obliviously gorgeous self, you’d returned to praising the way Omega had pinned her hair without needing your help.

Tech had of course been one of the members of the self-proclaimed ‘Bad Batch’ that you had found the most interesting. He always knew at least five facts about the planet or target or mission that the others didn’t. Always reading, always observing. His eyes behind his goggles were never still. One could think him cold if they didn’t look close enough. But he had a deep passion for knowledge, for technology… its no wonder he had chosen such a name. Practical. To the point. You liked that about him. You like quite a bit about him as you recently discovered. The way he could fix anything. The way his eyes lit up when he talked about learning new things. The way he was so damn efficient at his job, he knew the Havoc Marauder inside and out. The little smile when the two of you shared an inside joke. Or the way he rolled his eyes whenever one of his brothers exasperated him. The way he was always right there to help Omega over large stones or down the stairs of the ship. He was so thoughtful like that, despite not really talking about it.

Actually no. No, you didn't like that. It was just positive observations. That’s all. He was a colleague… maybe a friend. Maybe. There was nothing more to it, you told yourself. There wasn’t anything meant in the little brushes of your fingers when you two passed items between each other. Or passed in the hold of the ship. Or when you were squashed together when hiding from Imps. He didn’t think like that. Right?

Currently, you were standing on one side of the large room, waiting for the bride to arrive. On one side were you, Hunter and Crosshair, standing alongside the pews. On the other, was Omega, Echo, Wrecker and Tech. You wished Tech was on your side of the room, then he wouldn’t be in your vision at least. Not that it meant anything! You were allowed to admire the handsome technician of course, but that's all it was. He certainly wasn’t looking back at you every minute or so either. You were probably imagining it. You had to keep your eyes out for any breaches in security. Any guests acting strange. Certainly not staring at the drop-dead gorgeous clone in glasses across from you.

“Feeling alright, Feisty?” Hunter asked in a low whisper. You smirked at the nickname, apparently you had made an impression on them in the first mission when the client had gotten too mouthy. “Your heart rate is higher than usual.” He added, and you could hear definite amusement in his tone.

You pursed your lips together, trying not to smile from embarrassment. “I’m fine Hunter.” You replied out of the corner of your mouth. Another sweep of the venue with your eyes-- oh kriff Tech was looking your way. Your eyes met for just a second before you tore them away. You heard Hunter chuckle.

“You sure?” He muttered, folding his arms,

“Shut up, Hunter.” You retorted with a soft huff. He chuckled again and you felt your face grow hot. By the nine moons of Endor you wanted to run. It was then the music began and you steeled yourself. The ceremony was beginning.

It was lovely, really. Very sweet, lovely and romantic. The Togruta and his Twi’lek bride seemed very in love if the look on the groom's face was to be believed. He practically lit up like a beacon on seeing her. You had the brief thought... would anyone do that for you? Before immediately pushing it away. Those sorts of thoughts were dangerous. You were sure that it was going to be boring… but you couldn’t help but get a little distracted when they began to say their vows.

“...my darling. There is so much I want to say to you. So much I have felt and left unsaid, I am sure you know just how I feel just by the way I look at you.”

Your eyes instinctively flicked to the otherside of the room. You glimpsed his eyes on you and was immediately caught in the depths of his soft brown eyes. The gentle and kind look you had seen many times, but thought nothing of. He was just kind, that’s who he was. In this moment though-- you were sure there was… a little more to it.

“...It was not easy to let myself open up… to bring myself to acknowledge my feelings but in one moment I knew they were endless and unrelenting. I love you from the depth of my soul and I never want to be apart from you…”

Oh hells… these vows were so saccharine sweet that normally you would be gagging… but these ones hit a little too close to home. You couldn’t stop your eyes from being tugged toward the suited clone trooper opposite you, no matter how you forced them away, to scan the room for danger, they were always drawn back to him. Always him.

“...When I met you you were just so wild. Such a firecracker…!”

There was a laugh across the room and you almost jumped, reminding yourself you were in a crowd. Though none of them paid attention to you. Only one.

“...It was like seeing the sun for the first time, with you in my world colours were brighter, food was sweeter, I found myself longing for times when we could be together, even in the small moments…”

You recalled the times Tech and yourself had been together, doing maintenance, repairs, listening to the music through the entertainment channels. The little laughs, the simple things.

“...not everything was easy, and there has been so much danger…”

You remembered your last serious injury, the piece of twisted metal sticking out of your leg while you hauled ass back to the ship, firing behind you to cover the boys. The way Tech’s eyes had become as big as moons when you finally collapsed, and they saw how bad the injury was.

“... but I always trusted you to get me through anything. I love you, my darling. With all my heart, and soul and with every beat of my heart and breath in my body. I will be yours even after all the stars in the galaxy burn out.”

You had been unable to tear your gaze from Tech’s for the last minute or so and you could feel your face burn. It was only when the vows were done and the bride and groom kissed, their hands wrapped together in a red ribbon and the other guests clapped in support that you snapped out of your little reverie. You joined, half-heartedly in the applause but you felt… strange. You really wanted this mission to be over. Or a drink. Yeah, a drink would be good.

#tbb fanfiction #tbb #tbb tech #tech #clone tech #the bad batch #fanfic prompt #tag a tech simp #tech x reader #tech x you #tech fluff

[catboydogma]

Die Alone (i)

vertical transmission masterlist

prompt: bleeding

warnings: torture aftermath

wc: 892

Waking hurt. His skull was pounding like an alpha trooper had taken the butt of a DC-15 to it—repeatedly—and opening his eyes felt like peeling scabs.

“Prime’s balls,” Tup said fervently from somewhere above him. It was dark and warm and smelled like blood.

Dogma opened his eyes again and was treated to the sight of Tup’s face not three inches from his own, long hair hanging down around them like a weird curtain.

“T’p?” Dogma managed. His jaw felt—weird. He opened and closed it a few times, only to stop when the movement sent a shooting pain through his head.

“You were out longer than I thought you’d be,” Tup confessed, pressing his forehead to Dogma’s. They were both hoarse, though Tup sounded—better. Not good, not really, but better.

“How’re—?” Dogma patted Tup’s thigh. He was half-propped up on Tup’s lap, one shoulder leaned against the wall and the other against Tup’s abs.

“Good,” Tup said, smiling a little. “A lot better. The voices are gone.”

Dogma nodded vaguely. This was only a good thing, surely. “Droid?”

“Gone,” Tup said. “Could only stay here two hours anyway.”

“Mm.” Dogma closed his eyes again and took a careful breath. The stabbing pain eased, with time, and Tup made for a good pillow. They could finally rest, for a little while. Tup wasn’t dying anymore and they weren’t being shot at and Dogma wasn’t being fried like a Kowakian monkeylizard in an open-air market.

This lasted for about two minutes.

The heavy, metallic tread of a line of droids echoed through the corridor. Dogma sat up, nearly knocking his head into Tup’s, and immediately regretted it. The world wobbled around him, going bright and hard, and he almost slumped down again.

“Easy, kih’tracyr,” Tup said, one hand between Dogma’s shoulder blades and the other pressed to his chest. “I won’t let them take you.”

“You can’t promise that,” Dogma snapped, shoulders tensing. It was mean-spirited and awful and rude to say but he was tired of pretending. They were just two clones. There was nothing they could do against the head of the Separatist movement and however many droids he had at his beck and call. All Dooku had to do was flick his hand and Dogma could die in a million different painful ways.

“I’ll make him regret it,” Tup said fiercely, grabbing Dogma’s shoulder and pulling him around into a Keldabe. Their foreheads bumped together and blinding pain shot through Dogma’s head but he leaned into it anyway, breathing in the smell of blood and sweat. This close, he could almost imagine the fading, saccharine scent of Tup’s special jogan fruit shampoo. “I’ll make him hurt for it.”

The ray shield died with a hiss and a crackle. Dooku, backlit by the corridor lights, cast their little cell into shadow.

“How trite,” Dooku said. “Apparently, one of you has convinced MD-4033 to take your inhibitor chips out.”

Dooku had known about the chips? Inhibitor chips? Dogma froze against Tup, their eyes meeting for a split second. Dogma wasn’t stupid, as much as the natborns might have liked to pretend. He had been trained since decanting in strategy. The implication of Dooku knowing about the chips, knowing what they were, when not even the clones, not even the Jedi—

“We have to get out,” Tup whispered against his jaw, fingers biting into Dogma’s shoulder. He’d reached the same conclusion. Dogma remembered the confusion at the beginning of the war, the way none of the Jedi had seemed to expect or know what to do with them. Dooku’s obsession with Tup and his malfunctioning chip—if they’d made it to the medcenter, the chip would have been discovered. And if its primary purpose was to make the clones turn on the Jedi—

It made sense, in a horrifying, sickening sort of way. The war had come together too neatly to pretend otherwise. It seemed they’d been made for the Jedi in more ways than one.

“Since I cannot trust you to behave together, it seems I must separate you.” The Count extended a hand and Dogma was dragged forward again, Tup thrown back against the cell wall. He couldn’t move, paralyzed by whatever the Count was doing to him. His head was hurting again, the pain in his temple stabbing through his skull and down his spine all the way to his toes.

Dooku caught him by the throat. His too-long nails dug into the soft skin under Dogma’s jaw. “You are far more trouble than you are worth,” he said quietly to Dogma, as if imparting some great secret.

It wasn’t anything Dogma didn’t already know. He kicked out at Dooku, barely catching the edge of the man’s rich brocade robes.

“None of that, now.” Dooku shook him a little, as if he were a misbehaving anooba, and threw him against the wall. Dogma hit it hard at the point of his shoulder and slid down, vaguely aware that he was leaving yet another splatter of blood behind. He was bleeding again and he didn’t even know where from. Dogma heaved and retched, the back of his throat going hot and tight, but he had nothing to throw up.

The droids dragged him into another identical cell. The ray shield came to life with a high-pitched hiss.

#whumptober 2021 #no.19 #bleeding #the clone wars #fanfiction #torture aftermath #wo2021 #vertical transmission

[kyber-queen]

Like Real People Do (Rex x Reader) Pt. 5

Summary: Jedi!reader and Rex fall in love but are separated by the war. They meet again two years later, weeks before the Siege of Mandalore. This chapter takes place three weeks after the last one. Lotsa fluff, Rex n reader are in LOVE, more Rex cuddles bc its what we deserve, enjoy the seratonin bc its gonna get real sad real fast next chapter. 

Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Mentions of family planning??, some heated smooches in the supply closet

Author’s Note: You guys,,, this is the last happy chapter im going to sob TWO MORE CHAPTERS LEFT 

Previous | Next

************************************

For the last three weeks since that whiskey-fueled evening in your quarters, you spent the night in Rex’s arms. With gentle touches and whispered words, you slowly but surely built back the bridge between you that time had razed. The swan song of the Clone War could be heard from a distance—more and more, your thoughts centered around your future. Rex’s future.

Your eyes fluttered open, only to be met with Rex’s honeyed gaze.

“Good morning, cyar’ika,”.

You hummed a lazy greeting, stretching out your bare limbs. Rex was warm, and your original plan for getting out of bed was discarded. Meetings and paperwork could wait—you savored these early morning moments more than Rex could possibly know.

“Good morning, my love,”.

You pulled him into a slow, saccharine-sweet kiss. He smiled into your lips, and you giggled as he pulled back to press a quick peck to the tip of your nose.

“You going soft, Captain?” you questioned with mock disdain.

“Only for you,”.

You rolled your eyes at his sappy answer and collapsed back onto his chest. The air around you stilled—Rex’s heartbeat was steady against your cheek as you allowed yourself just a few more minutes of respite.

Rex’s voice rumbled through his chest, still rough from sleep.

“I’ve been thinking, cyare,”.

“Hmm?”

“About Naboo,”.

Realization crossed your features, and you propped yourself up on Rex’s chest to meet his gaze.

“What about it?”

“Well, it seems like every day, we get closer and closer to ending this war. I want to be with you when it’s all over,”.

“Me too, Rex,”.

Rex’s features relaxed, his thumb tracing a steady circle around the small of your back as he mulled over his words.

“The house on Naboo—I want a window with a view. So I can see out into the fields, keep an eye on the kids when they play outdoors. Oh, and a table, too. A big one, so when my brothers visit, there’s always room,”.

You smiled at this, sliding your hand up Rex’s chest to rest against his cheek.

“We’ll have all that and more, I promise. You deserve it,”.

Rex had earned his happy ending. After two years of war, maker knows you did, too. A flash of guilt crossed your mind—you had yet to tell Master Windu or Master Secura of your plans to leave the order. The prospect of leaving behind everything you’d ever known should have frightened you more than it did. Aside from the subtle nagging of your conscience, you were strangely calm. As much as you loved the Jedi order, you loved Rex more.

He kissed you gently. As the two of you prepared for the day ahead, your future rose before you, bright and shining.

***

Your morning was one of the busiest you’d had in a while. Rex was quickly whisked off by his fellow troopers—Commander Tano had returned, on urgent business, and the 501st was playing the role of welcoming committee. You smiled to yourself. Tano’s name had come up frequently when Rex talked about his past two years with the 501st. The two clearly had a strong bond, and Rex had explained to you how painful it was for the entire battalion when she left the Jedi order.

While Rex prepared his men, you had already spent two hours filing equipment damage reports for the council. Your fingers ached from typing on your datapad, and your vision swam. Filing damage reports was about the dullest job you could have chosen to complete, but Skywalker was infamous for pawning off filing duty on a low-ranking officer or shiny. At least if you completed them, they’d be done right. Your consciousness was just beginning to slip when your commlink lit up.

“Commander, we need you in the hangar, immediately,” General Skywalker’s voice reverberated through the small room. Sensing a break from the tedium, you made your way to the hangar double-time, barely remembering to close the filing room doors.

The hangar was filled with armored men, painted with Tano’s markings. You smiled—Rex had clearly made it his mission to give the former Jedi a warm welcome. Kenobi’s voice rumbed to your left. Skywalker, Tano, and Kenobi had clustered in the center of the hangar, clearly discussing something important.

You cleared your throat.

“You wanted to see me, General?”

Skywalker turned, relief flooding his features.

“Yes, actually. Rex and Ahsoka will be leading an emergency mission on Mandalore. I’ve promoted Rex to Commander, so he’ll take the lead, and Ahsoka will be acting as a civilian advisor. I’m sending them with as many members of the 501st as I can spare. As a member of the council, you technically do not need council approval to accompany them to Mandalore. While on Mandalore, you would not be acting as a representative of the council, and your rank would be demoted to Lieutenant Commander. It’s your choice—if you don’t accept, you’ll accompany me and General Kenobi to Coruscant—we leave immediately, Dooku is attacking the capitol.

You remembered your promise to Rex—the war was coming to its close, and you swore that you would be with him when it finally did.

“I’ll go to Mandalore,”.

Skywalker nodded to Kenobi, and turned back to you.

“Alright, then, it’s settled. May the force be with you,”.

“May the force be with you,”.

You turned to board the Venator. You made your way to the bridge, where you knew Rex would already be seated, probably checking over ammunitions inventory. He stood when he saw you, his lips twitching into a slight smile.

“Commander Rex, may I have a word?” The phony formality dripped from your tone, and Rex quickly dropped his datapad to accompany you into a less crowded hallway.

You yanked him into the first supply closet you saw, boxing him in against the closed door. Rex sucked in a breath at the sudden movement, and you giggled in response. Pressing up onto your tiptoes, you leaned in closer to Rex’s ear. Your breath was warm against his neck, and he shivered involuntarily.

“Congratulations on your promotion, Commander,”.

Rex’s hands attached to your waist like a magnet. He hoisted you off the ground with ease, settling you on top of a supply crate to your left. As soon as your ass hit the unforgiving metal, his lips were on yours.

You held on to his plastoid chest-plate for dear life, pulling him closer to you as he pressed his lips hard against yours. You gasped, and he pulled away for just a moment, chuckling to himself before attacking your neck with kisses.

“Rex,” you whispered. He ran his tongue over a dark mark he had sucked just above your pulse point.

“Need something, cyare?”

Before you could answer, Rex’s commlink buzzed. Ahsoka.

Fuck.

“Rex, where are you? We land in an hour, and I’d like to go over our strategies,”.

Rex pressed a finger to his lips, motioning for you to be quiet.

“Sorry, Commander. I’m on my way to the bridge, now,”.

“Are you alright? You sound like you’re breathing pretty heavily—are you sparring right now?”.

You grinned, holding in your giggle. Rex shot you a warning look before responding.

“I’m alright, just tired,”.

“Alright, then. Pick up some caf pills from the medbay on your way. Oh, and before I forget, if you see the Lieutenant Commander, tell them to meet us on the bridge,”.

“Yes, sir,”.

The commlink disconnected, and you let out a snort. Rex chuckled to himself, and helped you off the crate. He cleared his throat

“To be continued?”

You nodded. He pulled you close, and pressed a final kiss to your forehead before you both walked out the door.

********************************

Like Real People Do Taglist: @pinkiemme @callme-eds @porgnugget @obi-robi-kenobi

#captain rex #captain rex x y/n #captain rex x you #captain rex x reader #rex x reader #rex x you #ct 7567 #the clones #the 501st #my fic

[kandoesfanfics-writes]

Untitled Clone Fic

@thefreelancerdivision, I haven’t been ignoring you!!!! I just saw your post about chubby clones and the clones not being fed enough and somehow it took me all day to write this!!!!! So I guess this is for you!!!! :)

They had no idea how it had come to this.

One moment the they were being reamed out, and the next thing they knew one shiny was passed out on the floor and a tiny blonde woman was giving the mongrel officer what for.

Vid couldn’t believe his eyes, and he was almost positive no one else would believe him either.

He and his brothers had been requested to guard a small gathering of senators on Coruscant- at the request of Senator Organa. The senator had greeted them warmly and thanked them for agreeing to be the protection detail. He had told the clones that if needed they were welcome to some refreshments.

The mongrel officer who insisted on leading the security detail then turned around and snapped that the clones weren’t to touch anything...and if they did their rations would be cut. One of the shinies had broken that rule when Senator Amidala insisted he try some, and as a result, they were denied nightly and morning rations.

The poor nameless shiny almost cried, looking at his batchmates, apologetically.

The older clones were used to this from the mongrel officers-being refused food. Sometimes the mongrels would pick a trooper and pick on him and refuse him food until it got critical. The shinies weren’t just yet. They hadn’t learned to hide portions of their rations away for times like these. It showed when the same shiny who’d gotten in trouble the night before collapsed from hunger.

The mongrel had moved to kick the shiny in the head when he found himself being levitated off the ground.

Vid and his brothers had spun around to see the tiniest little woman with her arm outstretched.

Vid was taken back by how angry she looked. Her eyebrows were pinched together, lips pulled into a tight line, and eyes practically burning with intensity. In armor reminiscent of their own, she walked forward, slowly before demanding to know what was going on.

Her voice was soft, but hard, clearly showing that she was not in a joking mood.

“I don’t know who you think you are, but put me down! I’ll have you arrested for this-” the mongrel tried to argue.

“My name is Commander Arya Clarke, padawan of the Jedi Order….and who do you think you are, attempting to kick a man while he’s down?” she responded, not lowering her hand for a moment.

Things made a bit more sense to Vid now. He’d heard of Jedi, even saw a few while stationed on Coruscant, but he’d never seen this woman before. He’d never seen a Jedi wear armor so similar to the clones own, and he certainly had never seen a Jedi use the Force like that.

He watched as she set the mongrel down, standing over the poor shiny like a guardian angel.

Arya turned to Vid and said, “You, tell me your name than tell me what happened here.”

“CT-8925, mam-”

“That’s not what I asked, trooper. Call me Arya, not ‘mam.”

“...name’s Vid, ma-Arya. The shiny hasn’t eaten in three standard days-”

“And why the kark not?!”

“...he was being punished,” Vid sighed. “Kid took some food Senator Amidala offered him and Officer Tak told us that if we ate any our rations would be cut. Kid broke the rules, so Tak’s been withholding all of our rations. Kid was starving and passed out. It’s really not that big of a deal-”

“Yes. Yes, it is. Officer Tak, was it? This is inexcusable. Under no circumstances is starving your troops an appropriate punishment, especially when they’ve done nothing wrong! If this trooper was offered food by the senator, than he hasn’t stolen anything,” Arya snapped, turning her angered gaze onto the mongrel officer.

The mongrel didn’t know how to respond other than to splutter and try to defend himself. However, the small woman gave him little chance to respond. She simply sent him a withering glare before looking at the troopers.

“Vid, please take your brother to the med bay. The rest of you, report to the mess immediately. You need to eat and you need to eat now. Triple the rations you intake. The amount they give you on Kamino and around here is appalling!” Arya said. “I will deal with Officer Tak here.”

“You’re just a padawan! And what do you know about what these clones can handle-”

“Oh, I’M SORRY! Are YOU a battle certified medic? Are YOU a Jedi healer? Do YOU know how fast their metabolism burns compared to the average human male and that what we’re giving them is woefully inadequate to keep up with aforementioned metabolism? I had NO idea!”

“You-You-You’re still can’t just barge in here and take my men-”

“I do believe I rank higher than you, Officer-”

“You still have no right-You’re only a padawan, not a Jedi!”

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?”

Vid and his brothers simply looked at one another before Tapout made a shooing gesture. Vid nodded and bolted off with his little brother, leaving Tapout, their batcher Inkstop, and the two remaining shinies. Tapout and Inkstop looked to see a young Twi-Lek woman approaching, flanked by three men with bright green painted armor, reminiscent of the Twi’Lek’s skin color. The saber clipped to her waist clearly showed she was a Jedi. Lively brown eyes looked between the padawan and the officer currently shouting at each other. Her tattooed lekku were wrapped around her neck, a beautiful smile on her face.

“Hello, lil Arya! How have you been darling?” she said, placing her hand on the young human woman’s shoulder.

“HE is my problem! He’s been starving his troopers until they drop!” Arya snapped. “Zehra, he can’t do this!”

The Twi’Lek’s expression turned cold upon those words as she turned on the mongrel officer. She smiled widely, saccharinely sweet as she responded with, “Well, we'll just have to speak with his superiors about this, won’t we padawan?”

She turned to the troopers behind her.

“Tracer, Wash, Sylv, why don’t you escort these boys to the mess?” she said. “Make sure those boys eat! They’re much too thin.”

“Yes, General Karga! C’mon boys, the general and commander will sort this out,” the biggest of the group said.

His paint curled in lines around his arms and shoulders. His two brothers were slightly smaller than him, but both much larger than Inkstop, Tapout or the other two brothers.

Inkstop looked at Tapout before the large trooper said, “Name’s Sylv. These are my boys Tracer and Wash. It’s time to get some food in the lot of you.”

The two shinies looked at Inkstop and Tapout hopefully before looking back at Sylv.  Inkstop and Tapout simply nodded and decided to follow Sylv.

As the group walked away from the two Jedi and officer, Tapout asked Sylv why the commander seemed so upset.

“Commander Clarke? Oh, she wasn’t kidding when she said she’s a Jedi healer and combatives medic,” Sylv chuckled. “She takes her job very seriously. You guys are seriously underfed.  When we get to the mess, Clarke’s gonna make sure you get triple of what you were eating before.”

“...We-we’re underfed?” a soft voice, one of the shinies, broke in. “B-B-But we were eating about the same size portions as on Kamino.”

“Yeah, don’t get Ar’ika started on the Long Necks. She will never stop once she gets going,” Wash laughed. “They weren’t feeding us nearly what we needed back on Kamino. Ar’ika can explain it better.”

“So...we’re going to get more food?” asked the other shiny.

“Yup! C’mon kid,” Tracer said, throwing an arm around a shiny.

The group made their way down to the mess, happy and laughing soon to be joined by two Jedi- a bright and happy Twi’Lek and a grumpy, shouty, blonde Mandalorian.

#clone troopers #star wars: the clone wars #star wars clone wars oc #oc troopers #oc jedi #swtcw #thefreelancerdivision #eeeeeeeeeep

[circadianaa]

every member of cortex squad has a star somewhere on their armor; at first, it was just wishbone’s symbol, but it didn’t take long for the rest to adopt it, too. these are the stars for the youngest three members of cortex: knifepoint, saccharine, and knucklehead!

#clone trooper knifepoint #clone trooper saccharine #clone trooper knucklehead #my art #art #circadraws #clone trooper #clone oc #star wars the clone wars #star wars #the clone wars #swtcw #tcw #tcw oc

[circadianaa]

saccharine ❤️

#clone trooper saccharine #my art #art #circadraws #cortex squad #star wars the clone wars #star wars #the clone wars #swtcw #sw #tcw #clone oc

[circadianaa]

saccharine is really mean ❤️

transcription:

saccharine: have you ever thought that… your life might be a bit less lonely and a bit more integrated if you took the time to connect with somebody and not just make videos?

cherub: …..wh— um

#art #my art #circadraws #clone trooper saccharine #clone trooper cherub

[circadianaa]

circadiana's oc masterlist!

realizing i haven't had one of those before?? so here's that i guess. will likely be updating intermittently with new ocs, ocs i missed, and new information!

the lineup:

- cadaver

- wishbone

- isadora ariti

- cortex squad

- rotgut & scout

- eyre brraven

- ceph

- sarad

- joona caegris

Details, stories, and art below!

cadaver (he/him) - CT-1811

#clone medic cadaver

READ HIS FULL DOCUMENT HERE.

cadaver is most well-known for his gruffness and lack of patience for antics or cowardice. he's not known for being very social with anyone other than locks, but he has strong bonds with most senior members of the 501st, including particularly rex and echo. he also forges a close relationship with dogma and tup, who he views as his responsibility. their losses change him in a way he never recovers from.

during the war, he makes a small group of friends while on shore leaves—duke, dvas, druzy, and himself (d-squad!). the four of them meet up at jazz clubs all over coruscant to dance, enjoy music, and chat the night away. they’re some of the few people cadaver feels able to relax around. he also shares a particularly close relationship with duke during the war, teetering between friends and something more until just before cadaver ships out for mandalore, when they share their first kiss.

cadaver survives order 66, but not without serious consequences. after the crash of the venator, he was left stranded under burning debris for two days before rex and ahsoka found him.

almost all of my post-order 66 content is in the commander cad au. summarized, cadaver becomes a rebel commander. he also reunite with duke and is able to pursue a relationship with him.

wishbone (she/her) - ARC-2384

#arc trooper wishbone & #wishadora

READ THE CORTEX SQUAD DOCUMENT HERE.

wishbone is my other main oc. she's an arc trooper and a sergeant in the coruscant guard and leads a squad of nine troopers called cortex squad. cortex will get more content and rundowns as soon as I can get to it--there's lots of lore there! check out the document above for rundowns of each member.

wishbone is kind, intelligent, and very protective, though she often suffers from unsureness borne of her inability to protect her family in a time of war. her best friend is cherub, her second-in-command, and the only member of cortex who is older than her. she's also close with her agemates, woozy and chitin, and very much so with her adopted children, the youngest three members of the squad--knifepoint, saccharine, and knucklehead (more often referred to simply as "knuckles".)

wishbone is also involved with a twi'lek named isadora ariti. isadora Is a waitress in the mid-low level district that cortex patrols and works at a clone-friendly diner, which has become the safe haven of many a coruscant guard. wishbone and dora meet two months into wishbone's deployment to coruscant, which was halfway through the first year of the war. they hit it off right away and wishbone is immediately head-over-heels for dora, but has no means to understand or communicate her own feelings. she gets her star tattoos in honor of dora, who, after confessing that she'd never been of coruscant, shared that she dreamed only of getting to see the stars one day.

four months into her deployment, wishbone is seen without her helmet on by one of the more clone-resenting senators--with her longer-than-regulation hair and tattoos, she is deemed a defective unit requiring immediate decommissioning. commander fox acts fast and slices into the system, marking her ct-number as decommissioned and reassigning her the ct-number of a recently deceased clone who had not yet been reported dead. after, he does send her back to kamino, but not to be decommissioned--rather, to receive arc training. regardless of her exemplary performance justifying the promotion, specialized training would allow wishbone to fill important roles outside of the senate dome, and also just gave her a moment away from the prying eyes of the republic.

wishbone serves as an arc trooper and sergeant for the rest of the war, leading cortex squad. upon her return to the guard, she also rekindles a relationship with isadora, however tentative and unsure. over the years, their relationship grows stronger, and though they never quite have the chance to put a name on it, it's as real to them as it could possibly be.

however, by the end of the war, wishbone is aware of growing tensions within the republic. she senses that the war is reaching a boiling point, even here at the heart of the republic, and she wants dora nowhere near it. she tries to distance herself from isadora gently, but unable to explain why, dora doesn't accept this. she's determined to find a solution to fix whatever it is wishbone is so afraid of. wishbone tells her there's nothing wrong, they just can't see each other anymore--but dora doesn't accept this either. out of options and backed into a corner, wishbone resorts to saying that she never loved isadora--that she was bored and had no interest in continuing their relationship. the words, so far from the truth, break her as she says them, and isadora's heart is broken as well. wishbone leaves that day and never returns.

order 66 fully affects wishbone, as well as all of cortex squad--except for the youngest member, knucklehead. knuckles flees the corrie headquarters and ends up wandering lost through the lower levels of coruscant, where he reunites with scout, his best friend before he was assigned to cortex. he had thought scout dead for a long time, and to the guard, scout was--but the story wasn't that simple. (check out rotgut's section for more about scout). with scout's help, they track down isadora. isadora is resistant to them, still bitter over wishbone's abandonment, but when knuckles tearfully explains the situation, it all clicks in dora's head.

though it takes a few weeks, together, isadora, knuckles, and scout isolate wishbone from a patrol of stormtroopers and knock her unconscious and remove her chip.

tragically, by the time they have they have the means to rescue wishbone, all other members of cortex have been reassigned or executed. knuckles and wishbone are the only ones left.

their small group escapes coruscant, and though it takes years, they grieve, heal, and move on. wishbone and isadora reconcile and are able, finally, to have a real relationship. they get married and have children, the youngest of whom is named after wishbone's first daughter, saccharine, lost in order 66.

isadora ariti (she/her)

#isadora ariti & #wishadora

isadora is wishbone's partner. her and wishbone's story is covered in wishbone's section. isadora was born and raised on coruscant to rylothian refugees and has never left the planet, dreaming only of getting to see the stars one day. she's a waitress at a small but homey diner in the mid-lower levels of coruscant and can often be found at clone rights protests. after the war, she and wishbone escape coruscant and eventually end up getting married and starting a family together.

cortex squad

#cortex squad & individual oc tags

READ THE CORTEX SQUAD DOCUMENT HERE.

Note: aside from Wishbone, I share these characters with a buddy!

cortex squad consists of nine clone troopers led by wishbone.

wishbone -- sergeant

cherub -- second-in-command, corporal. generally very laid back and a little gruff. oldest member of the squad.

woozy -- medic, corporal. skilled medic but extremely squeamish, hence the name. he hates his job.

chitin -- riot trooper, corporal. he's self-assured, tough, and acts a lot like a jock. he can sometimes be the cause of tension within the squad due to his stubborn and argumentative nature.

watchdog -- arf trooper, k9 handler, corporal. protective, high-strung, and unable to let down his guard.

sodwatch -- private. quiet, anti-social, and shy. NOTE: Sodwatch is owned by my buddy, not me.

knifepoint -- private. brash and rebellious, though protective of his younger siblings saccharine and knuckles. he's the oldest of wishbone's kids.

saccharine -- private. clever, witty, and humorous, though with a bad mean streak. she's wishbone's middle child.

knucklehead -- private. sweet, friendly, and a little bit stupid.

for more details about everyone read the document above, but please note it's still in the process of being written!

oc tags all follow the #clone trooper [name] outside of watchdog, who will use #arf trooper watchdog.

rotgut & scout (he/him)

HEAVY CONTENT WARNING: implied torture, mind-control, non-consensual body modification, violence, death.

#clone trooper rotgut

Note: Rotgut is shared and co-written by me and a buddy!

i rarely talk about rotgut or his lore, but there's lots of it, and because it's sort of relevant to cortex squad, I'll share.

rotgut is a CC clone and an ex-commander of the coruscant guard. during his time as a commander, he was subjected to experimentation by Palpatine. palpatine wanted to know just how far the inhibitor chip could be pushed, and through rotgut, he learned.

rotgut's chip was left permanently damaged by Palpatine, and after the sith had finished his experiments, he wiped rotgut's memory. rotgut was left staggering with an impossible-to-ignore void in his mind--though he didn't understand what, how, or why, he knew that something was missing, and he was determined to find out what. rotgut's psyche was also damaged, leaving him volatile, unempathetic, and deteriorating.

to add insult to injury, rotgut was removed from command and demoted to corporal. unfortunately, his batchmate cherub, another commander, was also demoted. his relation to rotgut was cited, claiming that one faulty product in a batch tainted all the others. though cherub eventually moved on from this, he never stopped feeling as though he was meant for something more. rotgut was assigned to manage the shinies coming in from kamino and cherub was assigned to the newly-formed cortex squad under freshly-promoted sergeant wishbone.

rotgut experimented on himself to discover what was missing, and when that stopped being effective, he started kidnapping his shinies and experimenting on them. he rationalized it as being for the greater good--the sacrifice of few would lead to the liberation of many. one such shiny was named scout. rotgut took a shining to scout--intelligent, ambitious, and most of all, incredibly loyal--and instead of kidnapping him to experiment on him, he faked his death and took him to fill a role as his assistant. scout was forced to lead his brothers to their deaths and hold them down as they begged for mercy.

mercy never came. not for rotgut's victims, and not for scout.

after order 66, rotgut (by that time, fully deteriorated and more cybernetic than human) abandoned his laboratory with scout inside of it. scout was trapped for days, but eventually managed to break his way out and escape into the lower levels of coruscant, where he reunited with his old friend knucklehead.

rotgut was left wandering the galaxy for years after order 66, replacing more and more of himself with poorly-made cybernetics in an attempt to fix the damage left by Palpatine and furthered by his faulty chip. he died alone, wandering the sands of some unknown backwater planet, his mission never accomplished.

eyre brraven (they/them)

#eyre brraven

while eyre had previously had a lot of lore and plot, that has since been retconned since I've distanced myself from the bad batch. there's not as much now, but I'll go over what's left!

eyre was raised in the jedi order from age 2 and was 16 at the start of the clone wars. their master was a togruta named master rekaari, who was the chief healer in the jedi order. their relationship with their master veered more towards father and child than it did master and apprentice, but that didn't make it any healthier. rekaari was reactive and his love for eyre was very conditional, leaving them with an insecurity in their relationships that they carried far into adulthood. they had a passion and talent for healing as a padawan, but that all was dismissed at the start of the clone wars. their master was killed at the battle of geonosis and, instead of being assigned to a new one, they were given a single clone battalion to command under the supervision of various, oft-changing jedi knights and masters. them and their battalion would travel from front to front, providing reinforcement wherever the council deemed it necessary. throughout the year they participated in the war, they served under obi-wan kenobi, depa billaba, and more.

a year into the war, however, they were caught in a battle that went as poorly as it possibly could have, and despite eyre's best efforts, all of their troopers were lost--their siblings, subordinates, friends--gone in an instant.

the council deemed eyre’s survival of this event a sufficient substitute for their jedi trials and offered them knighthood. disgusted by the jedi's treatment of the death of their men as a mere trial in eyre's own life, eyre spat in the face of the jedi council and left the order.

eyre's story from here on out is vague, but after order 66, they end up in the rebellion and getting in contact with an old friend of theirs, @jaigeye 's bernardeau namya, who had helped raised them in the jedi creche.

ceph (they/them)

ceph is my kamino security oc. they serve under @jaigeye 's commander luck among other kamsec ocs belonging to my friends and mutuals.

they're a young, cheeky, and a little empty-headed clone who always has a smile on their face, despite the rather dire circumstances they live in. they love the rain, the ocean, and the storms of kamino, and feel most at home in it.

ceph is known for walking unnervingly quitely, almost seeming to teleport from place to place, much to the annoyance of their frequent victim, alpha-17. lock helps them put charms and baubles in their hair (which, amazingly, yes, they do voluntarily style like that), in the hopes that it would help everyone hear them coming. it doesn't work, but now ceph's attached to the little doohickeys lmao

sarad (she/her)

#sarad

sarad is a togruta who was only a few months old when cadaver and duke adopted her. she's a sweet, bubbly baby.

joona caegris (they/he)

#joona caegris

joona is my padawan self insert oc! next to no plot for them, they're just there to be fun to draw and talk about with my friends. their master is mace windu and they have a peach lightsaber!

note on joona's pronouns: they generally prefer they/them but are happy to have he/him sprinkled in there occasionally :)

if you’ve made it this far, thanks so much for reading! again, these are very liable to be updated as i come up with new lore, ocs, or just realized i forgot someone lmao. cheers!

#my ocs #clone medic cadaver #arc trooper wishbone #isadora ariti #cortex squad #clone trooper cherub #clone trooper woozy #clone trooper chitin #arf trooper watchdog #clone trooper sodwatch #clone trooper knifepoint #clone trooper saccharine #clone trooper knucklehead #clone trooper rotgut #eyre brraven #clone trooper ceph #ad’ika #sarad #joona caegris #long post