Fam Force 37 - Tumblr Posts
“I refuse to lose another padawn.”
Enjoy pepper using the lightsaber as a nightlight!
Art credits: NamesMox/ZenithFox (me)
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THE LUCKY BATCH AS VINES PART 2!
@monako-jinn-stories @just-another-dreamerr @lynnpaper @lavenderstaars @foxlock @maygalodon @letsunity @oo-hazel-oo @radbatch @generaltano @cosmicghostie @lusiawonder @the-lucky-batch @burnthashbrown27 and any other lucksters i missed!
Names Skip. Now what can I do for ya?
Missing the ♾ tattoo but I like these ones as well!
Tagging the Lucksters! (No pressure tho) @lavenderstaars @oo-hazel-oo @monako-jinn-stories @lynnpaper @mango-peachjuice @lusiawonder @radbatch @longearedowlfromouterspace @catboy-tech @maygalodon sorry if I missed anyone!
The Lucky Batch
Starting a picrew chain!! Come on, Lucky Batch, I found a cool little picrew and I want y'all to join in! Link here!
My boi Foxy here!
Tagging all Lucky Batch (no pressure at all!): @mango-peachjuice @lavenderstaars@monako-jinn-stories @letsunity @stereotypicalpicnicmat @radbatch @just-another-dreamerr @maygalodon @lusiawonder @namesmox @generaltano @oo-hazel-oo and anyone else I’ve forgotten!
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
I finished it!
Click for better quality
@lavenderstaars @lynnpaper @foxlock @maygalodon . @oo-hazel-oo @mango-peachjuice @radbatch @letsunity @burnthashbrown27 @generaltano @catboy-tech @cosmicghostie @monako-jinn-stories @longearedowlfromouterspace @lusiawonder @just-another-dreamerr :D
Uh oh…
Someone pissed her off
@monako-jinn-stories @oo-hazel-oo @lynnpaper @letsunity @just-another-dreamerr
I’m picking the Lucky Batch back up. This is gonna be fun
The Lucky Batch as Vines Pt. 4!
Please this took so long to do
Tags:
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@letsunity i just want to say you are a GENIUS, i love this idea so so much
I'd like to introduce you all to my member of the Lucky Batch:
@longearedowlsfromouterspace= CT-0123, Jack, the jack of all trades. He insists he’s the muscles after knocking out Ballast with an accidental blow to the head after the explosive he made actually worked. He also occasionally introduces himself as the sniper as he once shot a droid dead in the eye ( from a metre away). But his teammates believe him a valuable asset to the team because maybe he can't do everything with extreme accuracy but goddammit, he does his best! He can also make excellent baked goods ( which totally isn't the reason the others keep him around)
Introducing the Lucky Batch, the worst soldiers in the Republic Army
@letsunity = CT-2002, Pepper, the “Medic” of Clone Force 37. He got his name after eating pepper spray that one time.
@maygaladon = CT-1313, Jackal, the ‘special’ specialist and Pilot. He’s knowledgably in very specific things and crashes more often than General Anakin Skywalker.
@radbatch = CT-5050, Ballast, the Mechanic. He’s a blast, mostly because half of his inventions explode.
@oo-hazel-oo = CT-0000, Hazel, the moral support/unlicensed therapist. Provides emotionally assistance, shooting a thumbs up every now and again.
What’re your Lucky Batch numbers, names and specialties lol? There should be a whole fic about our dumbass antics
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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
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.
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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
this is too gold to not reblog!
THE LUCKY BATCH AS VINES PART 2!
@monako-jinn-stories @just-another-dreamerr @lynnpaper @lavenderstaars @foxlock @maygalodon @letsunity @oo-hazel-oo @radbatch @generaltano @cosmicghostie @lusiawonder @the-lucky-batch @burnthashbrown27 and any other lucksters i missed!
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