The Weight Down In The Deep Of You: A Lucky Batch Fic

the weight down in the deep of you: a lucky batch fic ☘️

(guys!! i finally wrote a thing!!! feat. why ballast's name is ballast and why jackal loves throwing his prosthetic arms so much. hope you enjoy!!!)

A ballast is the secret, vital core of a ship: the weight down in the deep of you that keeps a vessel upright in dark water. - Catherynne M. Valente, The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two

    The sun hung low and hazy in the sky and most of the clones of the 37th battalion were still sleeping in their camp when a terrifyingly loud, terrifyingly explosive sound erupted from nearby the ship. 

    “What the kriff--” Jackal moaned, jolting awake. He held his head. He hated loud noises at the best of times; and it was even worse to be rudely awoken by one. 

    “Was that an attack?” another voice sounded. It was Ryder.

    “I don’t know, di’kut,” Cypher responded groggily. “Why don’t you go out and look?”

    Several of the Lucksters stumbled out of their tents into the cool morning air and looked around. It didn’t look like they were in immediate danger, but there was some smoking coming from Ballast’s workstation.

    On closer inspection, the entire workstation--as well as much of the dark, sandy ground--was covered in soot and ash. The greatest amount was collected on Ballast’s face. At least he’d had the sense to wear goggles. 

    “Oh, hey boys,” Ballast greeted his batchmates cheerily as they came over. “Just a faulty wire. Sorry if I woke you. I’m going to see if there’s any replacement parts on the ship.” 

    He walked off, whistling a sprightly tune as he went. His brothers shared glances between them, shaking their heads.

    “Does anything rattle that guy?” Rane wondered aloud. Jackal glanced toward Ballast’s retreating frame, a small smile gracing his features. 

    “You don’t know the half of it,” he replied, a faraway look gracing his features as a memory overtook him.

    The air was so thick with blaster fire, it was nearly impossible to see. This was not ideal for the clones of the 37th Battalion, who wound their way through a massive and labyrinthine Separatist facility. They were on mission from the Jedi council to retrieve a particular set of data for the Republic. The security around the facility was so great that they needed all hands on deck to help keep them at bay while others infiltrated the facility, which was why Cypher and Ballast found themselves winding their way through the dark hallways along with Jackal and Ryder. Jackal and Ryder were used to the front lines, but Ballast and Cypher were not usually in the thick of things like this. They’d been raised and trained for battle, but their talents typically had them supporting the other soldiers in other ways.

Now, they found themselves hunkered down in a side hallway while droids bore down on them from either side and they wouldn’t have time to retreat back the way they came before the droids caught up to them. Jackal held his head, struggling with the noise of the blasters. Ryder pat himself down wildly, trying to find which of his weapons still had any fuel left. 

    The familiar clicking of empty blasters sounded from Cypher’s pistols. “This is bad. This is terrible, disastrous, catastrophic!” he shouted over the noise as he hunkered down in the hallway. 

    “Keep it together, Cypher,” Ballast said, his voice steady despite the hammering in his chest. He’d never been in a position like this before, but he knew they all needed to stay calm if they were going to make it out alive. Still, he was painfully aware that they were outnumbered and outgunned. Glancing around, he noticed a control panel on the opposite wall. They could use that to short the circuits and get the doors shut to cover their retreat. But they didn’t have enough ammo left to cover him while he worked on it. His heart pounded furiously, his stomach was in his throat, but he forced himself to take a breath and clear his mind. There was a solution. There had to be, and he would find it. 

    A blaster bolt came frighteningly close to their position of cover and Jackal threw his arms up over his head, his metal prosthetic hitting Ballast in the process. Wait….there it was! The solution!

    “Jackal!” Ballast hissed to his brother. “Your prosthetic. We can use it to short that panel and get the doors closed!”

    “You want to use my arm?” 

    “I’ll make you a new one!”

    Jackal’s eyes went wild for a moment before settling with a fierce determination. “All right,” he said, tugging on his prosthetic with his other arm. It came free in his hand and he passed it over to his brother. “But this had better work!”

    “Yeah, I hope you know what you’re doing, Ballast!” Ryder cried, firing off a couple more of his few remaining shots. It wouldn’t be enough to last them if it didn't.

    “So do I,” Ballast replied through gritted teeth as he whipped out a couple of tools from his pockets, opened the sockets of the prosthetic, and set furiously to work. 

    What felt like an eternity but was really only a few moments later, Ballast handed the prosthetic to Ryder. The fist was closed except for the pointer finger, which was extended. “You’ll have to be precise with this shot!”

    “Wait, wait, wait!” Jackal cried, reaching for the prosthetic. Ballast was worried he’d changed his mind about using it, but he merely folded down the pointer finger and extended the middle finger.

    “Really? Right now?” Cypher cried, but before anyone could say anything else, Ryder sucked in a breath and launched the prosthetic at the control panel.

    The metal of the prosthetic alighted with sizzling electricity as it interacted with the panel. The boys held their breath for those agonizing seconds; the last thing they saw was the control panel fizzling and Jackal’s prosthetic dropping to the floor before the doors before them shut. 

    “It was the middle finger that did it,” Jackal voiced before they retreated back the way they had come. 

    Later that night, Ballast sat with a cluster of parts in his lap, working by the light of their campfire. He was determined to make Jackal’s new prosthetic even better than the last. Before long, he heard approaching footsteps and looked up to see Jackal coming over to join him by the fire. He sat down next to Ballast, who in turn shielded his project from Jackal’s eyes with his arm. 

    “Hey, let me see!” Jackal protested, craning his neck to try and sneak a look. 

    “It’s going to be a surprise!” Ballast replied, playfully knocking his brother in the shoulder. 

    “Alright, keep your secrets.” The two of them grew quiet as they gazed into the gently flickering flames. 

    “What a day, huh?” Jackal finally voiced. “You know, we managed to draw enough of the droids’ attention that the others were able to get the data we needed.”

    “So I heard. Glad your sacrifice turned out to be worth it,” Ballast grinned. Jackal just shook his head, growing serious. 

    “How did you do it?” 

    “Oh, well, I had to recalibrate some of the motor functions so that when it hit the panel--”

    “No,” Jackal interrupted Ballast before he was subjected to a long-winded explanation of mechanics. “How did you stay so calm? How weren’t you scared out of your mind like the rest of us?”

    Ballast looked back at the fire. “I was,” he said after a long moment. 

    “Wait, really?” Jackal looked at him incredulously. “Didn’t seem like it.”

    “When I’m working, there’s always a chance that something is going to break, misfire, explode….like a ship on rough water,” Ballast began to explain, his voice soft. “You can’t always predict the way the weather will turn, can’t control the wind or the waves, but you can control the way you carry yourself through it.” He allowed himself a small smile as he looked over at his brother. “Giving in to that fear wasn’t going to help any of us. I just wanted to be strong for us.”

    Jackal smiled broadly back at Ballast, placing his remaining hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Well, thank you. For always being the weight to carry us through. And hey,” he added, “maybe you should make a few more of those prosthetic arms. I kind of like that tactic.” 

    “I think I can do that,” Ballast grinned. Jackal chuckled. 

    “Just try not to let them explode, yeah? At least, not on purpose.” 

    “Now, where’s the fun in that?”

@monako-jinn-stories @just-another-dreamerr @lynnpaper @lavenderstaars @foxlock @maygalodon @letsunity @oo-hazel-oo @generaltano @cosmicghostie @lusiawonder @the-lucky-batch @burnthashbrown27 @stereotypicalpicnicmat @mango-peachjuice @namesmox and other lucksters i missed!

37th Battalion (The Lucky Batch ☘️)

It was raining the other day and it reminded me of you lucksters @mango-peachjuice @maygalodon @generaltano , so now this little thing exists. (Rane loves his little sister Brisk, I know, the Force told me.)

Rain can be bittersweet too

It was raining.

The soft splatter of the first few drops against durasteel had him looking up from where he was cleaning his blaster, eyes climbing through the tall canopy until they spotted the clouds covering the skies. They were a pale grey, light and fluffy, like the ones that usually hung over Kamino with gentle rain and murmuring thunder.

It was like the first time he’s felt it on his skin, from that time, long ago, when something inside him had pushed him outside the domes and into the storm. The moment that had earned him a name.

And the last time, when he’d let it run over his face as he’d held the bodies of his brothers, his chest tight while his heart shattered.

A thunder rumbled softly in the distance and dragged his mind out of bittersweet memories. He looked at the sky, uncertain, something off between his ribs.

Hesitantly, he stretched his hand forward, out of the cover of the dropship's wing. Gentle droplets landed on his hand, scattering once they met the plastoid on his arm and leaving specks of water that slowly made their way down his dusty armor, the trickles thicker as rain started to come down a bit harder and pool at the base of his palm.

He hadn't realized he was trembling until the water cupped in his hand slipped between his shaky fingers.

Ozone in the air, blood on the wet soil, cold—

Suddenly someone rushed past him, a cold breeze brushing against his cheeks as Jackal and the General dove forward, away from the cover of the ship’s wings and out into the open. He watched, impossibly still, as they both started sprinting like madmen in the small clearing, legs brushing against the tall grass and faces up to feel the water on their cheeks.

There was singing and smirking and buzzing energy under the skies, both of them drunk in the unexplainable freedom of the incoming storm. Songs got woven in the air and the warm rumbling of thunder echoed in the distance, like drums joining in to their display of joyful nonsense.

And there was laughter.

He'd never heard laughter in the rain before.

Jackal and Kenhla kept running around, boots splashing in muddy puddles as the water poured down, trying to get to each other. They were drenched from head to toe, armor splattered with mud, robes dark and heavy and wet, and yet they looked like they didn't have a care in the world other than dancing under the rain and laughing and spinning and joking—

Brisk suddenly joined in, an extra bounce in her step as she spread her arms wide, like a bird ready to take off towards the endless sky. She did a happy little spin, her feet light on the slippery floor and her eyes closed as she welcomed the storm like someone would greet a childhood friend: with glee and a grin that stretched from ear to ear.

A giggle escaped her lips and it was a sound of pure joy, a melody among the thunder and trickling water of leaves and metal, and Rane couldn’t help the way his breath stuck in his throat at the sight of the little padawan dancing under the rain.

There was a warm light in her eyes; a spark he found so hard to find in his own these days.

“Hey, Rane!” She called to him as she caught him staring quietly from under the shelter of the ship. The girl looked so carefree with her short hair plastered against her forehead, robes getting darker with water by the second— it was as if the weight of command and war had been lifted from her small shoulders for a moment. Her hand reached out to him, an invitation, a grin wide on her face. “You coming?”

Yes. No.

It hurts. It's cold.

Like holding somebody’s dying body. Rain was lonely.

But it’s freedom. It's life.

They were laughing and dancing. Together.

It's home.

He smiled quietly, hesitantly, and with a deep breath, took the step forward.

@lavenderstaars @letsunity @lynnpaper @monako-jinn-stories @oo-hazel-oo @catboy-tech @cosmicghostie @radbatch @longearedowlfromouterspace @namesmox @burnthashbrown27 some wholesomess for the soul.

if anyone ever asks why return of the jedi is my favourite star wars film i’ll just send them this gif

omg-

thinking about...

crosshair with piercings

let him get a cute little nostril ring

maybe let him get an industrial ear piercing

alongside simple pierced lobes

Me writing a rough draft of The Lucky Batch pilot today…

but my animatic is at 50 frames now so maybe i won after all