Clone Force 37 - Tumblr Posts - Page 2

WHY? WHY WOULD YOU DO THIS?

37th Battalion (The Lucky Batch)

A little SAD “what if” scenario because my heart craves angst and I’m so sorry @lynnpaper you know i love you.

Don’t

“Don’t you dare die on me, Captain,” she said angrily, nose scrunched and eyes wet and desperate as she held him over her lap. Her hand was pressed against the wound on his stomach, trying to stop the bleeding; but blood, like every goddamn second, slipped between her fingers swiftly, unstoppable.

The clone’s quiet chuckle at her tone turned into a series of coughs, and his body shook in retaliation as he hacked up air and red liquid. Kehnla shushed him, urging him to save his stupid strength, and turned towards the nearest trooper.

“Where’s the medic?” Her voice was strained and tight as she looked at Foxy, her eyes deadly serious as they met his own.

His face was grave and dark, hand clenched on his blaster as he studied his brother’s fatal injury. “Pepper’s on his way, General, but there’s a lot of them in the way.”

She pressed her lips and watched Raffle's complexion grow paler and paler, his Force signature fading. "Hold on just a little longer, Raf, help is almost here.”

The Captain managed a pained smirk, and placed a hand on her own as she tried to keep him from bleeding out, giving her a reassuring squeeze. “It’s been an honor, General.”

“Don’t you say that,” she snapped, and oh how she wished she’d paid more attention to the healer's lesson back in the temple; how she wished that she could somehow make herself develop the Force healing skills that she’d never had the knack for.

The Jedi secretly lamented that Brisk wasn’t there, yet at the same time was so incredibly grateful her other Padawan was safe back with the rest of the battalion, away from the chaos and mayhem and pain they were trapped in. Raffle’s eyelids fluttered as exhaustion started to settle heavily on his muscles, and his vision slowly started to muddle at the edges with blurs of black.

"You can't die, Captain. That's an order," her voice was hard, imperative, and it was such an unusual thing to hear the humour and confidence vanish from her tone that the clone couldn't help but chuckle again, despite his lung's stinging protests.

He closed his eyes, half a smirk on his lips, and the stinging in his chest flared angrier. "Serious isn't a good look on you."

"Shut up and save your strength, di'kut."

His breathing had become slower, shallower, and the hand he had placed over hers reassuringly slackened and fell on the floor with a gentle tap. A soft breath left his lips, lost in the mess of emotions tangled in the air.

"Hey, hey, come on." She clenched her teeth, her throat tight and chest heavy as she held the trooper close. Her eyes stung and she saw Luna cover her mouth to stifle a sob, Rane's steadying hand on her shoulder as his lips pressed on a tight line.

No.

"I'm pulling rank here, Captain." The togruta's voice trembled as she shook his body gently, praying to every star in the galaxy that he'd open his eyes, but she knew. "Wake up, you stubborn trooper. Come on."

He was so impossibly quiet, and the beating of her heart suddenly became the only thing she could hear as she looked at his face, his signature slowly slipping from her grasp like mere wisps of smoke.

Wake up.

@lavenderstaars @mango-peachjuice @namesmox @lusiawonder @monako-jinn-stories @foxlock @cosmicghostie @oo-hazel-oo @generaltano @radbatch @letsunity @longearedowlfromouterspace @maygalodon

this is beautiful! you both did a wonderful job writing this (though it definitely left me foggy-eyed)

The Lucky Batch☘️

Finally finished Ryder’s backstory :D

Venators

CT-0017 loved being on venators. He loved being on a massive shuttle, flying through endless space. They had everything a clone could possibly need. Medbays, refreshers, bunks, mess halls, they were essentially flying bases.

“Once again, you’ve proved very useful with your knowledge of weapons,” CT-1882 said to CT-0017. “I don’t think any of us would have used the right weapons if you hadn’t told us which ones to use.”

“Ha, yeah, you di’kuts really need me, don’t you?” He joked back.

“Hey, I was complimenting you, that doesn’t mean you insult me,” CT-1882 joked back.

“Yeah yeah, get going to the bridge. We need you to fly us back safely. I don’t know if I trust anyone else to control this thing, especially not CT-2019.”

“Sir yes sir,” CT-1882 said while giving his vod a sloppy salute, slapping his arm as he walked away. CT-0017 smiled after him, shaking his head before heading to the armory.

“Hey, CT-0017,” another trooper, CT-2019, said as he walked in, “you think I can keep this blaster?”

“Sure, just make sure you only use it for scouting and stealth. It won’t help much in the middle of a heavy wave, it’s more for sniping.”

“Alright, thanks. And hey, tell CT-1882 that he owes me a drink.”

“I think he owes us all one.”

“I wouldn’t be surprised if he did,” CT-2019 chuckled. “See ya around, vod,” the clone said before he left the room, a wide grin on his face as he carried away his new weapon.

CT-0017 sat in the armory and prepared to clean his own weapon when something hit the ship and caused him to drop his blaster. He immediately rushed out of the room and to the bridge, wanting to know what was happening.

“CT-1882, what’s going on?” He asked frantically, going over to where his brother was.

“We’re under attack! The separatists don’t seem to have been happy with our win on the ground. They must have called for reinforcements while we were still fighting!”

“Attack squadron, get to your shuttles and get out there! But be careful!” Their general yelled.

“Yes sir!” CT-2019 responded before saluting to CT-0017 and CT-1882. “Keep an eye out for me, would ya?” He joked to the two before running to the hangar.

“CT-1882, we need to get the shields up, fast! They’ve blocked our exit, so don’t worry about flying out of here,” the Dathomirian Jedi yelled.

“Yes sir!”

CT-0017 looked around the room as others were scrambling about, trying to figure out what to do.

They were all alone, having just finished a mission on the planet below them. They had thought they were successful, having won the battle on land. They had even begun to have little celebrations, but that was cut short when they were attacked. They were trapped, with no way out.

“CT-1882, are the shields up yet?” General Lyle yelled.

“Yes sir!”

CT-0017 didn’t know what to do. He was the weapons specialist, and he was much better in ground battle. He also wasn’t a pilot, so he couldn’t fly out and attack the enemy, not that he wanted to.

A large blast from the enemy shook the venator, and CT-0017 had to reach out to steady himself. He looked out the viewport to see explosions all around. His eyes widened as he watched another blast hurdle towards the ship and hit it. The lights flickered for a second before they settled.

“General Lyle, sir! Our shields have been destroyed!” CT-1882 shouted, his eyes wide as he looked at the controls.

“Kriff! We have to get out of direct fire!” General Lyle yelled back.

“What’s going on there?” CT-2019 asked from his shuttle.

“Nothing, don’t worry about us! Focus on fighting out there!” CT-1882 shouted back over the comms.

“I can multitask!” CT-2019 tried to argue.

“CT-2019, watch out!” One of the other clones in the attack squadron shouted over the comms. CT-0017 looked out just as he saw the clone’s ship get blown up by a separatist blast. He nearly fell to the ground as he watched, unable to do anything about his fallen brother. He wouldn’t even have a body to bury.

“CT-2019!” CT-1882 shouted into his comm, though he knew there would be no response. Static sounds played over as he listened, hoping for a small chance of survival. He looked away from what he was doing to look at CT-0017 briefly, tears in his eyes. CT-0017 looked down, taking a second to mourn before he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“CT-0017, come with me!” General Lyle said.

“Yes sir!” He responded, running after the Jedi.

“We are suffering major damage to the venator! We are going to have to abandon ship!”

“But sir! What about the others?”

“That’s what I need you to work on! Get the escape pods ready, and when they are, gather as many troopers as you can into them! I’m trusting you, CT-0017!”

“Sir yes sir!” He responded, immediately beginning to prepare the escape pods.

The ship shook around him again as he worked, and he tried not to think about what was going on. He could hear the squadron yelling at each other over the comms, and then it went silent.

“Attack squadron! Is anyone still out there?” General Lyle’s voice came over.

No response.

“Attack squadron! Come in!”

Again, nothing.

Their fighters were down, they had no one outside the ship to fight.

Suddenly, the ship jerked violently. CT-0017 flew forward, falling to the ground. When he pushed himself back up, the alarms were blaring around him. Red warning lights were flashing around him, and he began to panic more.

“Major damage to the bridge, general!” CT-1882’s voice yelled over the comms.

“Everyone, get to the escape pods!” General Lyle yelled.

A horrible metallic ripping sound flooded CT-0017’s ears, and he brought his hands up to try and block out the sound. The loud sounds of men shouting in his very own voice mixed in with it.

“Troopers!” General Lyle shouted. “What happened?!”

Again, there was no response to his question.

“CT-1882! Come in!” CT-0017 shouted.

“T-the bridge…” he responded, “i-it’s too damaged. Part of the ship was broken off by a blast.”

“Can you get out? Can you get to the escape pods?” Their general asked frantically.

“No, sir. We're trapped, I’m sorry.”

“No, CT-1882! You have to try! You have to get out!” CT-0017 begged.

“Sorry, vod. You’re going to have to learn to fly without me or CT-2019. Go, while you still can.”

“No! I’m coming back to help!” CT-0017 said before he began to run, only for an invisible hand to stop him. He turned and looked down the hall at his general, whose face was pained but determined.

“CT-0017, you have to get into one of those escape pods if you want to survive!”

“Sir! I will not abandon my brothers!”

“CT-1882 told you to go! Do this for him!”

“I WON’T LEAVE WITHOUT HIM!” CT-0017 shouted, tears falling from under his helmet.

The next thing he knew, the Dathomirian was rushing over to the closest escape pod and opening the door. He used the force to lift up CT-0017 and throw him inside. CT-0017 immediately jumped up and ran forwards, only for the door to shut in his face.

“NO!” He screamed, fist pounding as his general looked at him through the small glass.

“Never forget us, CT-0017,” General Lyle said before he slammed the button to release the pod.

“NO!” CT-0017 screamed again as he was launched away from the ship. He quickly moved to the controls and began to spin the pod around to look at the venator.

He fell to his knees as he watched. The massive ship before him was surrounded by smoke. Blasts from enemy ships kept raining onto it. He could see the part that had been broken off. The bridge was utterly destroyed.

“General!” He shouted into his comms. “CT-1882! Anyone!” No response came to his calls, and then it happened. The final blow came, and the venator was completely destroyed. The force of the explosion tossed his escape pod around, and when he finally steadied it, nothing but scrap metal remained at the scene. The Separatist ships had already fled the scene, and CT-0017 was alone in the endless space.

~~~

CT-0017 hated venators. He hated being on a massive shuttle, flying through endless space. They held memories of his past battalion, his general and his brothers that had all been killed.

They reminded him of General Lyle, the Dathomirian Jedi that had saved his life. They reminded him of CT-2019, and CT-1882, one the leader of an attack squadron and the other the captain of the venator. Both had promised to teach him how to fly. Both had died.

@foxlock @letsunity @radbatch @maygalodon @stereotypicalpicnicmat @oo-hazel-oo @lusiawonder @longearedowlfromouterspace @lynnpaper @just-another-dreamerr @lavenderstaars @cosmicghostie @namesmox @generaltano @mango-peachjuice sorry if I left and Lucksters out, I tried to get you all!

The Lucky Batch☘️

This is pretty overdue, but here’s Jack’s backstory. Hope you enjoy!

Tw: physical abuse, mentions of blood

(Also, quick reminder, Jack’s CT number is CT-0123)

Jack of all trades

“Aim!”

Cadet 0123 raised his blaster. It was shaking strangely, but that probably had something to do with his hands and their inability to keep still in situations like this. It was pretty hard for a cadet to keep a cool head today, as the scouts were watching for the exemplary young troopers or the best of the best of the best, as the instructor said. Today was the final day of his testing- the precision test. But Cadet-0123 knew he could pass. He could feel it. His eyes met the target- a line of super battle droids, adjusted to fit the GAR’s needs. He could shoot this with no problem. He could do this. He could-

“FIRE!”

The sounds of gunfire echoed through the room. Every cadet had fired their gun. Except for Cadet-0123. Frozen with fear, he clutched his blaster as the menacing grey mass of pure metal drew nearer and nearer, its steps punctuated with a deep, sonorous clank. ‘CADET!’ the instructor barked “WHAT ARE YOU WAITING FOR? SHOOT IT!” Closer and closer the droid came, and Cadet-0123 squeezed his eyes shut, his fingers shaking as they inched towards the trigger. “CADET!” The roar reverberated around the hall, making the cadet jump. CLANG. The droid lay a meter away, a glowing hole in its chest. Cadet-0123 looked down at his smoking firearm in amazement. The other cadets exchanged perplexed glances as Cadet-0123 made his way to the base of the surveillance platforms where the others stood waiting. The instructor gathered the young clones in, still shocked from their complete success against the droids. “You did well, soldiers. There’s still a way to go, but you have all proven yourself skilled and calm in the face of danger” Cadet-0123 suddenly felt the eyes of the other cadets on him. The instructor continued to talk about the glory of fighting in the grand army of the republic, and how they would value men like them. A scoff sound came from the cadet standing next to Cadet-0123, which the instructor seemed to ignore. Eventually, the cadets were dismissed, and they went off in their little groups, chatting eagerly amongst themselves about how they defeated their battle droid in two shots or three but from a distance. Everyone except Cadet-0123. Alone, he trailed behind the group, watching as his brothers laughed and cheered each other. A little part of him had hoped someone would turn around and say to him ‘Good job out there!’ or at least ‘Not bad!’. The latter was more likely, as whenever Cadet-0123 did something that didn’t blow up in his face, the instructor would always say that. But however much he wished, that would never happen. Never from his brothers.

As the cadets reached their bunk, the conversation turned to Cadet-0123. “So, what did you think of 0123’s performance?” Cadet-1356 asked with a smirk. “Well, at least we don’t have to worry about him,” Cadet-1204 responded darkly. “Did you see him with his eyes scrunched up like he was fresh out the tube?” “Or how he shot the droid at super close range? How much you wanna bet that was a fluke?” “He doesn’t know jack about how to be a soldier” A small silhouette emerged from the doorway, trying to flee, but Cadet-1356 grabbed him by the arm. “Hey boys, look! It’s our hero, 0123. Oh, and look at that, he’s crying!” The cadets circled Cadet-0123, sneering as they drew closer. “What a soldier! I wonder if he can take a hit,” one jeered as he drew his arm back and released it with all of his might. And one by one, the others followed suit, jabbing Cadet-0123 wherever they could reach. They moved as a horde, laughing in unison at the cries of their brother. One of them stepped away from the group, staring sardonically at Cadet-0123 as he knelt next to him. Through the blur of pain, and the echoes of cruel laughter ripping through the young cadet’s head, he could faintly hear the voice of a full-grown. “Have any of you seen Cadet-0123? I want to speak with him.” He was getting closer… “No, sir. We haven’t seen him” The pounding footsteps faded into the distance. There was no one to help him.

“FIGHT BACK!”

“I don’t think he can.”

“Of course he can’t. He’s too subpar for that.”

“I swear, he’s hopeless”

Cadet-0123 couldn’t remember anything else after that.

The next day, the scores of the testing were released, and to everyone’s surprise, Cadet-0123 was not at the bottom, but rather in the middle. He felt the eyes of everyone burn into him, and the bruises from the night before ached, but he felt better than he ever felt before. He had proven himself not to be a mere defection. But his brothers only saw a threat. Their mediocre brother, better than some of their proclaimed ‘squadron’ members? Every night, they tested him to the brink of agony, to see how much he could take. Despite that,the yells of Cadet-0123 did not go unnoticed. One particular night, he managed to free himself from his brothers’ grasp and run, not knowing where to. He felt the blood drip down from his nose, which seemed a different shape completely. In the stark hallway, he sat alone. Until 99. The janitor clone was just cleaning the hallway at the time, and he saw a small, sniffling child covered in bruises curled up against a wall. “Hey there,” he whispered gently, “are you alright?”. The young clone looked up, his big eyes shining with tears. 99 gasped and said in dismay “Oh, oh, don’t you cry. I’ll take you to where you’re meant to be, and it’ll all be fine.” The cadet scrambled to his feet. “No. Please don’t take me back, sir. Please!” The old janitor outstretched his wrinkled hand and smiled. Not another word was spoken as they walked to a private medbay, where 99 cleaned Cadet-0123’s wounds and kept his spirits up as he did so.

From that day on, 99 kept Cadet-0123 in his sights, and taught him all he knew. Over time (and through many painful attempts) Cadet- 0123 learned how to basically reconfigure a frequency, fly a ship at a passable level, hand to hand combat (at the basic level, of course), and learned how to speak an adequate level of a few languages ( Mando’a, Huttese and Aqualish). He became what 99 called a jack of all trades, a master of none. As he grew, CT-0123 developed more and more skills, like sniping, grenade making ( he enjoyed that one very much) and baking. It was odd, but after a gruelling day of training, a warm brownie was all he needed. One day, 99 came up to CT-0123 and told him of a squadron that was recruiting for new team members- clone force 37. 99 handed him the pamphlet, which had a shoddy hand-drawn picture of a three-leafed clover, which from 99’s botany classes he recognised as a trefoil, even though trefoils weren’t usually turquoise and peppered with stickers. Below the drawing, the words ‘THE LUCKY BATCH’ was written in all caps. There was no other information on the flimsi apart from a small note on the back, which read: ‘training room, 23:00, be there :) ’ The smiley face must be a sign of professionalism, CT-0123 thought.

At 23:00 on the dot, CT-0123 stood at the main entrance of the training room, nearly bouncing up and down in excitement, ready to try his hardest to make this squad accept him. He was just about the training room when he heard footsteps draw closer, and remembered his former cadet roommates, and he froze, his eyes dilated in panic. What if they wanted to join the squad too? As the footsteps creators came into view, CT-0123’s jaw dropped under his second-hand helmet. Seven clones strutted around the corner, one slightly stumbling along as he attempted to keep up. They were clad in turquoise armour, with a familiar-looking flower painted on the chest. They also had patterned gauntlets and various stickers plastered on them, but that made them even cooler in CT-0123’s eyes. “So, where’s everyone else?” said the one in the centre. “I don’t know sir,” CT-0123 responded“I like your skirt, sir.” The one in the centre took a deep breath and said sullenly “It’s not a skirt, it’s a kama.” He sounded like he had to say that a lot. “Right. So you’re the only one? That’s great” another member of the group said, his voice dripping with sarcasm. Not detecting the hostility, CT-0123 took off his helmet and beamed at the troop of sticker-wearing soldiers. “After you all, then!”

Together they sat at the base of a sniper tower, looking eagerly at the clone who seemed so desperate to join in. “So, what’s your name? I’m Pepper, by the way, and that’s captain Raffle, the captain or whatnot, that’s Ballast, the mechanics guy, there’s Ryder, the weapons guy, there’s Foxy, the sniper (he’s kind of mean sometimes, so pay no attention to him), Boots, the guns guy and Thumbs, the therapist. We also have some Jedi friends, but they’re not here right now, but they’re pretty cool. Oh, and we also have a gonk droid that hates me called Goose. ” CT-0123 took a deep breath and said awkwardly “I’m CT-0123.” the group exchanged confused glances, and the one the others called Thumbs inched towards him, looking curious “That’s it?” he asked, and CT-0123 nodded glumly in response. “You know what, we’ll come up with a name for you,” said the mechanic, Ballast, cheerfully “What are you good at?” “Well,” CT-0123 mused “I’m kind of good at a lot of things. I can blow stuff up, fight stuff, shoot stuff, dance, speak in different languages and I recently learned how to bake, but I don’t know how that’ll help with giving me a name” The captain stood up and made his way to CT-0123, and said “ You sound like a jack of all trades to me. You could be a valuable asset to our squad, you know.” “Wait!” the medic cried out, “‘Jack of all trades! Your name could be-” “Trades!” “What? No. Jack! Your name could be Jack! Man, you make it painstakingly obvious why you never picked a name for yourself.” CT-0123 screwed his face up in thought and nodded “Yeah. I like Jack.” “Alright, Jack! Welcome to the team.” “Wait, do I have to do a test or something?” The crew looked at each other and burst out laughing. “Nah, too much work,” The captain said dismissively, “ Besides, you seem lucky enough to be one of us.” And together the team marched down the halls, and this time, Jack marched alongside them. He now had a name, a family, a home. Something told him he wouldn’t ever feel alone anymore.

@lavenderstaars @mango-peachjuice @namesmox @lusiawonder @monako-jinn-stories @foxlock @cosmicghostie @oo-hazel-oo @generaltano @radbatch @letsunity @maygalodon @lynnpaper @just-another-dreamerr

in this house we stan thumbs and his amazing knitting skills

37th Battalion (The Lucky Batch ☘️)

Thumbs is a sweetheart @oo-hazel-oo , and here’s a little ficlet of appreciation for the boy.

Tied together

Thumbs liked to knit.

Ever since the General had gotten him a couple of hooks and needles at his request, he’d slowly but persistently taught himself the ways of weaving: how to hold the thread so that it wouldn’t get tangled, the different kinds of stitches there were, the various patterns… He’d gradually practiced and practiced until yarning over felt as natural to his fingers as pressing the trigger of his blaster.

Brisk would smuggle him thick turquoise wool after a quick trip to the market on Coruscant, sometimes adding some small pastry she had baked herself wrapped neatly and tied with a bow.

Luna would occasionally bring him a bright, rainbow colored yarn that shone in the dark. (He'd always tried to get her to tell him where in the world she got the stuff, but the girl would simply stick out her tongue playfully and cheekily tell him it was "a top-Jedi secret", whatever that meant. He couldn’t help but smile and pat her head.)

His brothers would sometimes pitch in to get him a color he had run out of. He would find the replacement waiting at the end of his bunk, packed in a simple bag with a couple of thumb and heart stickers. Nobody would say anything, but the gesture never failed to make the corners of his lips tug upwards softly.

He could make little gifts for his friends: a sweater for Kenhla, a scarf for Brisk, a pair of fluffy mittens for Luna’s cold hands, pouches for his brother, a blanket for field missions…

War could be way too cold sometimes; he wanted to keep his family warm.

It wasn’t conventional, he knew. A being made for war, weaving socks instead of training his body or his shooting. A part of him whispered that it was useless, ridiculous, completely absurd.

What do you hope to achieve? Are you trying to make amends with these bloody broken hands?

Don't you know you're meant only for pain?

But he liked knitting. It was comforting to feel the yarn slip between his fingers gently, the piece he was working on slowly growing as he added stitches and time into it in the rare moments of quiet between battlefields and screams.

He tied them together carefully; every loop had a place, a role, and the whole thing wouldn’t be the same without each woven yarn tightly tangled into the final piece.

Every finished work, no matter how small, made the world shine a little brighter in his eyes; a little warmer. He’d put a bit of himself in it, a bit of his heart, and that meant something to a clone who’d all his life been told he was nothing. It sometimes meant more than he could ever imagine.

And it was kind of bittersweet, giving someone the thing he’d poured so much time and kindness and effort into, but it was worth it to see the smiles— to make the people he cared about feel loved. There was no more rewarding feeling than the one that bloomed in his chest every time he spotted his brothers or the Jedi wearing the gifts he’d made them, faces beaming proudly, comfortable in their own skin, unlike how he used to feel some times.

As soon as he’d finished his latest project, he’d immediately start with a new one.

After all, knitting was always better than letting his mind wander.

The ridge was half way down the steep, sharp cliff and the torrential downpour wasn’t making the job of carefully making their way through it any easier.

There was a yelp behind him as rocks behind him gave way, and he turned around fast enough to see, amidst the thick water curtain, Boots slipped.

Without a heartbeat of hesitation, Thumbs lunged.

His fingers managed to grasp his and he latched on fast, desperately, willing the world to stop for a moment as his brother dangled over the edge of the cliff, feet kicking wildly for purchase on traitorous rock. He could feel shuffling next to him and the Captain was probably yelling instructions through the coms from the way the sides of his head were buzzing, but he couldn't hear anything but the sharp downpour on his ears and his wildly beating heart.

Don't let go.

He held his brother's hands tightly as the wind roared, rain mercilessly splattering against their armor, so thick and cold he could barely move. His fingers felt numb, absent.

But he forced himself to clutch tighter, refusing to let the clone slip from his grasp. Refusing to give up.

He was not letting go.

With a grunt and a desperate burst of strength, he managed to pull his brother up to the ledge and, as soon as he’d made sure Boots' knees were secure on the ground, he wrapped his arm around him to keep him steady.

To keep him close and reassure himself he was safe; that he was still with him, with them, alive.

A brother had not fallen: Thumbs would never let that happen.

Even with the storm thundering around them, and water running like rivers down their armor, he could feel their frantic breathing, the raging beating of their hearts as the scare slowly washed away with the rain. Willing his knees to stop trembling, he slowly got back on his feet, back pressed hard against the ledge as he helped Boots up, aware about the way his own hand was shaking in his. But he gave him a nod, a reassurance to both of them, and straightened his back.

Standing next to him in line, Sparks placed a hand on his shoulder, snapping him out from the haze of terrible what ifs, the image of loss that had flashed inside his head in those few moments. He looked up at him and found in his gesture a message of gratitude and approval expressed quietly: good job.

And then they were off again, ears still pounding with adrenaline, feet shaking yet pushing forward. Thumbs tightened his trembling fingers over the slippery surface of the cliff, itching to reach once again to his brothers, to make sure they wouldn’t fall.

He would always keep them together, even if he had to pull every single string in the galaxy to keep his family safe.

@lavenderstaars @mango-peachjuice @namesmox @lusiawonder @monako-jinn-stories @foxlock @cosmicghostie @generaltano @radbatch @letsunity @longearedowlfromouterspace @maygalodon @lynnpaper

these guys are so cute!

Quiet Moments

I decided to write a sweet little bonding moment between Sparks and Thumbs. I am in no shape or form an experienced writer but I hope you all enjoy this bit of fluff before the upcoming angst nonetheless! 

Thanks to @just-another-dreamerr for helping me edit this! :D 

Thumbs belongs to the awesome @oo-hazel-oo !  ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The sound of pained cries and screams fills his ears as the smell of blaster fire begins to suffocate him, with a seed of guilt and regret settles and begins to grow in his stomach, all these factors overwhelming the engineer. 

“This is all your fault.”

Sparks jolted awake with a sharp gasp. Taking in his surroundings, he tried to slow his elevated heart rate. The sound of his brothers’ snores and relaxed breaths reminds him that he was on the Clover. With a tired sigh, he got up from his bed and walked out of the room to avoid waking anyone. The engineer leaned against the now closed door with a tired sigh.

 ‘Well, at least I tried.’ He thought to himself as he ran a hand through his hair and down his face.

“Sparks?” He looked up to see Thumbs standing a few feet away from him, a concerned expression evident on his face. 

“Thumbs, hey.” Sparks straightened up, stepping away from the wall. “What are you doing up?” he asked, trying to seem casual.

 “It’s my turn to keep watch of the ship.” Thumbs stepped next to him, gently putting a hand on his often-stoic brother’s shoulder. “Why are you awake?”

 Sparks turned his head to look at the floor. “Ah, I just … I couldn’t sleep. That’s all.” He looked up at him, giving him a small, forced smile. 

Thumbs, unconvinced at his brother’s response, gave his shoulder a comforting pat. “You know I’m here if you want to talk.”

“I know.” He responded quietly. “Thank you.” The corners of his lips quirked up slightly, giving a quick genuine smile. Thumbs returned the smile with one of his own. 

’`Would you like to keep watch with me?” he offered. Sparks gave him a nod in response as they both walked to the cockpit of the ship. The engineer spoke up again, his voice almost too quiet to hear, “Thanks again, I needed this.”

 “Anytime, vod.” Thumbs responded as they both sat down looking out at space, enjoying the moment of peace and quiet together.

@lavenderstaars  @mango-peachjuice @namesmox @lusiawonder

@monako-jinn-stories @foxlock @just-another-dreamerr @oo-hazel-oo 

@radbatch @letsunity @generaltano @longearedowlfromouterspace @maygalodon @lynnpaper @stereotypicalpicnicmat and anyone else I missed! :)

this is beautiful, you did an AMAZING job @just-another-dreamerr

37th Battalion (The Lucky Batch ☘️)

The idea reminded me too much of your works @lavenderstaars so I sprinted to the docs to put it down.

(I wrote this at 2am aaaaaa)

Blooming in the ashes

Luna stood in the middle of the field in silence, a single whisper of wind making the tips of her hair brush softly against her cheeks. Her eyes, usually bright and starry, were clouded as they gently traced the outlines of the land, her lightsaber hanging from her hip heavily.

The sun was quietly setting in the horizon in strokes of sorrowful red, flooding the plains where the fierce battle had been fought for days; chaos of screams and blaster fire and explosions. People had died—people had killed—in this corner of the galaxy, and it had been shredded and torn apart by the pandemonium of the roaring fight. Now it was as if they had never been, every bit of sound stifled by the quiet of a land in mourning.

She could feel it. There was blood tainting this soil, this place. The earth was soaked in tears and cries, life stamped to death under heavy tanks and harsh boots. It had been helpless as bodies of flesh and metal had hit the floor with a final cry, flattening the vegetation and denting the soil under their weight.

There had been grass growing in this field, before they had come with their armies and destruction and ran it over without a second thought. Now, not a single splotch of green could be found among the scars of explosions on the ground, or the sad husks of walkers and droids scattered throughout it. It was barren, disfigured by the horrors of battle still fresh in her mind, haunting. Luna lightly wrapped her arms around her body, suddenly aware of how small she was compared to the battlefield; how young.

Just a little girl standing in the ashes of war.

She knelt into the tainted ground, the burden on her shoulders unbearably heavy. Her fingers brushed against the earth, copper dust clinging to the tips and smearing over her robes. It was as if this world was branded her as an enemy, a bringer of destruction, and not the peacekeeper she was supposed—meant— to be. And maybe, a part of her whispered harshly in her ear, it was right.

Tears slid quietly down her cheeks as her conscience reached out blindly into the stars, the universe, trying to ease the coldness crawling up her throat and the stinging in her stomach.

She found only another kind of emptiness, similar to the one now carved deeply into her chest. The Force was still, as if it too was bleeding for the ones who’d fallen.

“Take heart, little one,” her Master had once said softly.

(So many lives, lost in the name of peace and justice.)

Kenhla had smiled sadly, a steadying hand on her trembling shoulder. Her eyes had been filled with burrowed sorrow, and the girl could sense how much it pained her to see her padawan being forced to fight.

(So much blood spilled by men bred and raised for war; by brothers with nothing to lose but each other and themselves.)

“War is not an easy burden to carry.”

It wasn’t. It was stifling and suffocating and painfully crushing. She hadn’t been aware of the toll it would take on her body, on her mind—on her heart. Despite the dampness on her cheeks, she didn’t utter a word.

How do you comfort a grieving land?

Luna grieved along with it, her sorrow stretching out into the skies, burying itself deep into the broken ground as if trying to piece it back together, bit by bit; a shattered field mended by the tears of a stranger.

She opened her eyes again, tears thick on her lashes as she stared down, devastation drowning in her chest.

Between her guilty fingers, stained by ash and violence, a little white flower bloomed.

@lynnpaper @maygalodon @radbatch @monako-jinn-stories @lusiawonder @foxlock @letsunity @catboy-tech @burnthashbrown27 @oo-hazel-oo @longearedowlfromouterspace @mango-peachjuice @namesmox @cosmicghostie @generaltano

THE LUCKY BATCH IS BACK WITH AN ABSOLUTE BANGER FROM @monako-jinn-stories ! I LOVE IT!!

AHHHH MORE LUCKY BATCH FINALLY

I’m so excited for this one!!!

Speeder Rides

The nightmares flooded his mind again. The red flashing lights, the blaring alarms, the yells from all the men around him. The sight of CT-2019’s ship exploding, the silence when CT-1882 tried to comm him. The fear that flooded his senses when CT-1882 commed General Lyle to tell him the bridge was damaged washed over him again. The horror he felt when his escape pod was the only one to leave the venator as he watched it explode. The utter loneliness of realizing that everyone he’d spent his life with, everyone he’d fought by from the beginning, suffocated CT-0017 in his sleep.

Ryder wakes up with a jerk, his body trembling and covered in sweat as he tries to breathe normally. His heart is racing, and he takes deep, shuddering breaths as his mind processes the nightmare.

Ryder climbs down from his bed as quietly as he can, but he doesn’t realize that someone else is awake as well. As Ryder silently leaves the room, Jackal crawls out of bed to follow. Ryder moves quickly, much to Jackal's surprise. It’s like he’d rather be anywhere but here, and Jackal knows that’s probably true.

He’d been trying to fall asleep himself when he’d heard Ryder above him. Mumbled words about needing to escape, calling for General Lyle, CT-1882, and CT-2019. He knew that those were people from Ryder’s original battalion, the ones that had died on Ryder’s last mission with them.

Jackal had almost gotten up to make sure Ryder was okay during the nightmare, but before he could, the clone had climbed down from his bunk and left the room, causing Jackal to be even more worried.

Jackal isn’t sure how to approach him, not wanting to scare him or make him feel cornered. He wants Ryder to feel safe, to know that he has someone there for him.

As he enters the hangar after Ryder, Jackal watches as he went right up to the speeder they’d given him. Ryder pauses, taking a deep breath as he seems to debate getting on.

“Can’t sleep?” Jackal asks, startling Ryder slightly. Ryder looks at him for a second before turning and climbing onto his speeder.

“Yeah, something like that,” he replies.

“Where are you going?”

“I…don’t know…” There’s a moment of silence, Jackal questioning if he might be pushing too much, but decides to ask another question.

“Mind if I join you?” Ryder looks at him again, studying his expression. Jackal was battleworn, like most of them in the Lucky Batch. He’d seen enough pain to last more than a desired amount of lifetimes. He’s lost his own brothers, and was no longer a part of his own original battalion.

“Sure,” Ryder finally answers, and Jackal climbs on behind him.

“So, you just going to fly around until we find somewhere or run out of fuel?”

“Yeah, that’s what I usually do,” Ryder says before starting the speeder. “Uh, just a heads up, sometimes I can be a little…reckless.”

“Reckless flying? Ha, sounds like me,” Jackal jokes, and Ryder gives a huff of amusement.

“Just try not to fall off,” Ryder says before he starts to fly out. At first, Jackal wasn’t sure whether Ryder was being serious, as he went slow and was gentle with his movements. But once they were out of the hangar and into traffic, Ryder proved he wasn’t joking.

Jackal instantly grabs onto Ryder, holding back a startled yelp as Ryder speeds through the flying lanes. Lights and colors flash by as they maneuver around tight corners and busy lanes. Jackal is sure Ryder’s speed is much faster than what is regulated, but that doesn’t matter to him. He’s too focused on not slipping off as Ryder points the speeder nearly straight up and flies up the side of a building.

“Kriff, Ryder! If you didn’t want me with you, you could have just said no! You don’t have to try and get me to fall off!”

“Sorry,” Ryder chuckles, leveling the speeder out as they reach the top, “but I did give you a warning.” Jackal just huffs in response, letting go of Ryder as they slowly fly over the top of the building. He takes a moment to look out over the city, admiring the lights of Coruscant’s night.

Ryder also gazes around, letting his mind be filled by the sounds around and below him, instead of the sounds of his nightmares. He lets out another deep breath, closing his eyes to try and find peace in the city.

“Hey, uh…you okay?” Jackal asks, noticing Ryder’s mood shift. Ryder peers around at Jackal before flying over to another building. He knows Jackal is trying to help, and he’s grateful for that. He just doesn’t know if he’s ready to say it out loud.

“I think…I think I need a little bit more time before I can talk about it,” Ryder responds after another minute. Jackal nods, resting a hand on Ryder’s shoulder.

“Well, Ryder,” Jackal says, smirking as he uses the clone's newly acquired name, “we’re here for you. I’m here for you. And I’m your new bunkmate, so I will listen to anything you need to say, and I will help you with everything I can.”

“Thanks, Jackal,” Ryder says, turning slightly to give him a small smile.

“Now, is there a favorite place you like to fly to? Maybe a spot that really helps you?”

“Well, seeing General Jinn always helps.”

“Ah, you mean Heather? Yeah, my partner Urania is good friends with her. She tells me about some of their fun adventures and shenanigans. I have to say, I’m a bit surprised someone like you is with someone like Heather.”

“What do you mean?” Ryder asks, slightly offended by the comment.

“Oh, I just mean, you’re kind of quiet, not really…adventurous? She just seems a bit more ‘hey let’s do this crazy, probably not good, idea’ and you seem more ‘hey, maybe we should consider the consequences first,’ if that makes sense.”

“I mean…I was more like her before the…” Ryder trails off, a shudder taking over as his nightmares burst to the front of his mind again. He grips the handles on the speeder tighter, and speeds up as if he’s trying to outrun the memories.

“Hey, it’s okay,” Jackal says, gripping Ryder’s shoulder. “We all have a past. I wasn’t always a pilot, you know. I used to be a medic for the Wolfpack. But, things happened, and I ended up here as a pilot. And yeah, I miss the boys, more than anything. But I also have a new family here. I’ll never forget my past, but I’ll use it to grow. I’ll remember it and the people who taught me the important things. I’ll cherish the memories I have, and know the bad happened for a reason.” Ryder listens closely, absorbing Jackal’s words carefully. He knows he’s right, but he can’t help but feel like his past is too painful.

“Ryder,” Jackal says, more serious now, “you’ll never be the man you once were. I don’t know if you’ve accepted that, but if you haven’t, you need to. You’ve gone through too much, changed too much. But that doesn’t mean you can’t keep changing. Let your past help you become the man you want. I, for one, think you’re going to become an incredible guy. Well, not that you aren’t already, but you know what I mean.”

“Yeah, I do,” Ryder chuckles. “Thanks, Jackal. That really helps, and means a lot.”

“Hey, it’s what brothers are here for. You’re my vod, and you can’t get rid of me,” Jackal says, giving Ryder a wide grin.

“Are you saying I should try and get you to fall off?” Ryder jokingly asks, but Jackal just grins even wider.

“Oh, you’ll know what I mean soon enough,” Jackal responds. “Just be careful if you ever bring Heather around, I can’t promise to be on my best behavior.”

“I’ll definitely remember that.” They laugh before falling silent again, each one falling into their own thoughts as Coruscant passes by. They’re in a quieter part of the city now, the place Ryder always imagines moving to with Heather after the war. If she wants to stay here, that is. If not, he’d follow her anywhere she went.

Maybe they’d stick with Jackal and Urania as well, perhaps flying off planet to live in a shared home, raise their families together, if they had them. The thought made Ryder smile, imagining building such a close bond with a brother that they choose to spend their lives together. Already, Ryder was feeling safe around Jackal. He felt like he could talk to him, and so he did.

“I had a nightmare. It’s a recurring one. About the venator,” Ryder began to explain.

“I assumed so, I heard you mumbling names and warnings.”

“Yeah. It’s just all…I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s like it happened yesterday.”

“I know what it feels like, for something to stick with you for so long, to feel so new, even after it’s been months.”

“I’m scared,” Ryder admits, making sure Jackal can’t see his face.

“Scared? Of the nightmares, or something else?”

“I just-I don’t want to go through that again. I don’t want to lose you guys like that.”

“Ryder,” Jackal says in a firm tone, “as the pilot of the Clover, I promise you will not have a bad venator experience again. And as your self-proclaimed new best and favorite vod, I promise you won’t lose me, or any other Lucky Batch member.”

“As much as I appreciate the promise and dedication, I won’t believe it until I see it.”

“Wow, way to be a pessimist,” Jackal says, rolling his eyes with a laugh.

“I'm just saying, it’s a war, and we don’t know how long it’ll go on for. We don’t know what will happen, who we’ll lose.”

“Well, you won’t lose me. I swear to the Maker on that,” Jackal says. “And if I’m wrong, if that swear is broken, you can have Grizzer after I steal him from Fox.”

“You’re going to steal Grizzer?” Ryder questions, not believing that Jackal will actually do it.

“Yup. That’s one of my bucket list items. Steal Grizzer from Fox and never give him back.” Ryder huffs, shaking his head at Jackal’s bizarre idea.

“Well, good luck with that, I guess.”

“Oh, you’re helping me,” Jackal says.

“No way, I’m not messing with Fox, or any of the Coruscant guard.”

“Oh come on, it’ll be fun!”

“Nope.”

“I’ll convince you.”

“No you won’t.”

“You’ll be helping me and you won’t even know it.”

“Lies.”

“I’ll prove you wrong.”

“No you won’t.”

“Want to bet on it?”

“Actually, yeah I do. If you steal Grizzer with my unknowing help, I’ll let you fly my speeder for a standard month.”

“Deal, and if I don’t get your unknowing help, I’ll let you fly the Clover for a standard month.”

“Deal,” Ryder says, turning to shake hands with Jackal. Jackal has a mischievous glint in his eyes, and Ryder can tell he already has a plan forming in his head.

“It won’t work.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes I do. And even if it does, I’ll just say you cheated.”

“Cheated? How would I cheat on manipulating you to unknowingly help me steal a massif?”

“I don’t know, but I’ll find a way to prove you did.”

“Yeah, alright, whatever you say, Ryder.” They both chuckle, peering out into the city. The sky is becoming brighter, and they haven’t realized how long they’ve been out.

“Maybe we should get back, I think it’s daytime,” Jackal says.

“Yeah, there’s just a slight problem,” Ryder says, looking down at the gauges on the speeder.

“Please don’t tell me what I think you’re going to tell me,” Jackal says.

“We’re almost out of fuel.”

“How far do you think we can make it before it stops?”

“I don’t know, let’s find out,” Ryder says. He steps on the gas again, and after a few seconds the speeder stalls before it stops.

“So, we got a few extra feet.”

“I guess we’re walking then,” Ryder says, jumping off before Jackal groans and climbs off as well.

“I’m not helping you push that,” Jackal states, walking ahead of Ryder.

“Hey! You were the one who asked to come along with me, so you get to help.”

“But you’re doing perfect! Look at you! All strong and-ow! Hey!”

“Well, if you’re not going to help, and if you’re going to walk in front of me, I might ‘accidentally’ hit you.”

“Fine, I’ll help,” Jackal grumbles, going to the other side and helping Ryder push the speeder back.

Once they reach the hangar, it’s almost midday and the rest of the Lucky Batch is waiting for them.

“Where have you guys been?” Ballast asks as they walk in.

“Out in the city. Ryder decided to use up all the fuel before heading back.”

“You asked if I was going to fly around until we ran out, and I said yeah that’s what I normally do,” Ryder says.

“Yeah, but I wasn’t being serious,” Jackal counters.

“Well I was.”

“Raffle has been looking for you,” Boots interrupts as he walks over.

“Better be prepared for the fly swatter, he’s not in a good mood,” Cypher adds.

“I’m telling him it was your idea,” Jackal whispers to Ryder as they head in to find Raffle.

“Yeah, well I’m telling him you’re planning on stealing Grizzer.”

“You wouldn’t dare,” Jackal says, narrowing his eyes at Ryder. They share a tense moment, staring at each other before they both break into a run.

“RAFFLE! IT WAS RYDER’S IDEA!” Jackal yells through the halls.

“JACKAL’S GOING TO TRY AND STEAL GRIZZER FROM FOX!”

“DON’T LISTEN TO HIM, HE’S LYING!”

“NO I’M NOT, I HAVE IT ON RECORDING!”

From down the hall in his room, Raffle sighs and puts his head in his hands. He doesn’t have the energy for this today. When they both burst into his room, he just mumbles to them about going to find something else to do, that he’d deal with them later. The two then look at each other before running off again, and Raffle can’t help but hope they’re not going to get up to any mischief.

Ahhh I wrote this when I should have been writing two other things, but I had this idea and I wanted to make it! This includes some snip-it’s of headcanons about me and @maygalodon’s characters that we have formed together!

Ryder and Heather belong to me, Jackal and Urania belong to @maygalodon, Ballast belongs to @radbatch, Boots belongs to @lusiawonder, Cypher belongs to @stereotypicalpicnicmat, and Raffle belongs to @lynnpaper

The lucky batch! @lavenderstaars @lynnpaper @foxlock @maygalodon @oo-hazel-oo @mango-peachjuice @radbatch @letsunity @burnthashbrown27 @generaltano @catboy-tech @cosmicghostie @namesmox @monako-jinn-stories @longearedowlfromouterspace @lusiawonder @just-another-dreamerr @the-lucky-batch

IM SOBBING I LOVE THIS SO MUCH

The Lucky Batch as Vines Pt. 4!

Please this took so long to do

Tags:

@letsunity @monako-jinn-stories @maygalodon @just-another-dreamerr @oo-hazel-oo @lynnpaper @lusiawonder @generaltano @burnthashbrown27 @longearedowlfromouterspace