#Clone Trooper Warthog

[dixieconley]

Boost: Why aren't there friend pick up lines? Pick up lines to make friends like-- Sinker, to Warthog: Hey, that's a nice paint job, you know where it would look better? On nobody else, because you're a beautiful individual. Wolffe, to Fox: Be my friend or I'll set your entire command staff on fire. Comet: There are two types of people.

[veny-many]

Related AU work

I realized that not all Wolfpack had met Plo yet.

And here's how they are doing alright!

(With best space buirs)

Shaak: You will be alright, children. Get some rest. I will be back.

Shaak: *comms on*

Shaak: <ATTENTION: If you found any children who seems to be running away or hiding, report to me IMMEDIATELY>

Mace: <Well, here we go again>

Obi-wan: <How many reports do you need?>

Shaak: <YES>

[grackle-draws]

Behold! The boys!

Filling the Tattoos prompt for my 104th bingo. @clonefandomevents

I had a silly idea based off this scene from the masterpiece that is Starship Troopers.

[brightsunsmeanshello]

Surely we all knew what had to be coming when I ordered paw print beads, right?

[mamuzzy-creates-stuff]

For the artist's asks:

5. how would you describe your art style? and/or 17. what is something youre confident about in your art?

Heyyy, thank you for the ask <3

5. How would you describe your art style?

My art is quite cartoonish, more like anime/manga, and while I'm still re-learning anatomy, I don't intend to go realistic any more than that. People who want to see the exact photocopy of Temuera Morrison in my clone art probably have a bad time in my gallery.

It's rather inconsistent, but I think I'm starting to have a recognizable style. You will always catch me using colorcodes: repcomm art usually red, coruscant guard usually red, tbb is a mix of reds, oranges and yellows (though I don't have too much tbb art), 501st art is always blue, thick lineart, and usually monochrome.

And here are these ones in comparison when the characters are not clones. My pretty sword boys~ <3

Strangely my requested arts don't reflect this, they are always ending up so different from my default style, but when my recent MayCross got attention, I was really happy. ^^

17. what is something you're confident about in your art?

I think I draw expressions well. ^^ And characters reflecting their personality is really important for me. Drawing clones is a challenge because they have to have a consistent appearance while making them always a slightly different based on their personality.

[dukeoftheblackstar]

My son is finally home 😩😩😩👌.

Took moooonths ;——;

RiP Hawk, thank you for your service in having my custom bebbi made. Now the 104th Battalion/ Wolfpack main squad is complete 🫡🫡🫡.

Ladies, gents, others, and fellow entities — my son, Warthog.

[totallycorrectjediorderquotes]

Wolffe: this is like military combat and I'm the brave colonel and you are all the footsoldiers fighting in the tranches

Comet: Tranch

Warthog: Tranch

Wolffe: I'm sending you both on a mission into enemy territory and I dont expect either of you to return

[spacemagicandlaserswords]

The Clone Wars 4.13 ‘Escape from Kadavo’ Reaction Take 2 

This scene of the slave camp in the Kadavo mines was brutal. Or at least I’m assuming they're mines of some sort, what with the shovelling of coal and minecarts being pushed around by the enslaved Togruta colonists.

More Obi-Wan and Rex whump. Aw yisssssssssss 

I know he’s just been hit with an electro staff but Rex really does look like he’s lounging on the coal pile. It also looks like he's wearing a skirt. I know it's a tunic that's part of the Zygerrian outfit but Rex's legs are looking particularly nice in it. More skirts for clones!

Does Dooku’s space ship have sails? This is reminding me of something but I can’t quite place it. Possibly a different sci-fi story or universe?

How does R2-D2 manage to roll around everywhere without getting spotted or detained?

“Dooku is not my master.” Honey, that is denial.

Anakin just yeeting himself over the edge of the balcony.

How did that Zygerrian not die on impact after being hurled that far off the balcony by Anakin?

“I’m listening.” Dooku is keen for more Obi-Wan despair.

That line from the Zygerrian queen about Obi-Wan’s efforts to help people only hurting them was rough yet also had some element of truth to it. Hmmmm. 

Poor Obi-Wan looks so sad in the enslaved bunk room that they’ve all been put in. Though the Zygerrian queen is busy monologuing about breaking his spirit at this point, so I suppose that makes sense.

Dooku has so much sass. It must be a disaster lineage thing.

The music in this episode was just fantastic. The music in The Clone Wars, and The Bad Batch, has been consistently excellent and the Kiner’s have done an amazing job. But this episode was even another step up on top of that. The fantastical theme that’s playing in the background as Anakin frees Ahsoka by lifting up her cage really elevated (heh) the moment.

Ahsoka just casually using the Force to break off her slave collar like it’s nothing.

A betrayal by your most faithful servant? Who would’ve thought!

The soap opera-espe way the Zygerrian queen screamed and threw her space martini on the floor was hilariously over the top.

Did Anakin really just walk into a confrontation with Dooku without a lightsaber? Or did he think he’d just be able to magically get it from the Zygerrian queen without Dooku noticing? More of the famed ‘no plan’ approach from Anakin.

“I see the queen has given you a long leash.” ahahahaha the snark.

Anakin just yeeting himself backwards through a giant glass window.

Yes, you’re also a slave. Took you long enough to realise it.

eeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee the “I’m no Jedi” moment has arrived!

More excellent Obi-Wan and Rex whump. Yassssssssss

There’s just something about Rex on his knees. Mmmmmmmm.

“Still afraid to get your hands dirty.” CACKLING

Wow, they did not hesitate to blow up the Zygerrian ship that Anakin and Ahsoka arrived on Kadavo in. Instantly started blasting.

“We’ll get through the old fashioned way.” Rip that door.

Rex looks so pissed at Dooku.

Ow, poor R2 getting blasted in the foot.

Anakin is absolutely not listening to Obi-Wan here, and for once that’s probably a good thing. His line about “I’ve had enough bargaining with slave drivers.” makes it pretty clear that he’s done with all of this.

“Who said I was alone?” which leads us to...

PLO

What a fanfare for their arrival. That is definitely a ‘the heroes have arrived to save the day’ moment.

Wolf Leader to Wolf Pack AAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH

Hey Warthog!

“About time.” Rex is ready to kick some arse.

Even Plo’s fighter is painted in the Wolf Pack pattern. Buir loves his sons very much.

Anakin just casually booting in a giant circle of metal like it’s nothing.

“We’ll need a bigger ship.” something something Jaws reference

Ok, I swear I have seen Obi-Wan use the same manoeuvre that Anakin just used that finishes with stabbing the enemy behind you while facing away from them. It feels awfully familiar. Seeing as Anakin was Obi-Wan’s padawan, it makes sense that Anakin would use some of the same fighting styles and movements as Obi-Wan, even though they ended up specialising in different lightsaber fighting forms. 

What an absolutely badass move by Plo. Getting R7 to cut the engines to tumble backwards behind the enemy so that he could take them out from behind. 

Fuck that blast shot from the canon just hit the clone flying that LAAT/i in the head. That was brutal.

Yas Rex, beat the shit out of that Zygerrian slaver!

Well that’s not gone well.

Omg that’s the moment Rex stabs the first Zygerrian slaver with his own electro staff. He just whirls around and stabs him with the Zygerrian slaver behind him. Also, the look afterwards. That glare. I am on the floor. 

Rex fighting that Zygerrian slaver is just So. Damn. Hot. And then he headbutts him with the most perfect keldabe kiss. And then the way he just stands there afterwards and gets a hero pose with the camera framing him from below. Sir. Please. Have mercy. 

The music is so good here. It’s really heightening everything and taking it all up a notch. Several notches even.

Ahsoka just magically knowing how to open the doors to the enslaved Togruta colonists. Blah blah movie magic blah blee yes I know.

Anakin looked so disgruntled at the canons having ray shields. Not worried. Like it was an irritation. How dare the canons ruin my fun with ray shields. Booooo.

WOLFFE

Finally get a good look at Wolffe’s bucket and he’s got 3 gold rectangles above his left eye, which isn’t the one he lost to Ventress. He’s also got funny looking spikey shapes beneath the lower split of his visor. Are those supposed to be fangs Wolffe? Oh, and there’s some triangles along the sides as well, under what passes for cheekbones on his bucket. His visor is also narrower than the other clones. It’s got a raised white lining around the outside. I wonder what that’s for. It's a different shape too.

Hello to the other two Wolf Pack clones in the background. I don’t think I’ve seen the marking of the one on the left but his helmet looks cool. The markings kind of look similar-ish to the Rishi eel on Fives’ bucket. Maybe this is Comet? Just checked Wookieepedia and yup, it's Comet. Hi Comet! I wonder what the design on his bucket is. Does anyone know?

The other Wolf Pack clone looks pretty standard apart from the grey lower sections of his bucket (which Wolffe also has) so I’m going to go with this being Sinker based on what I could see of their armour paint in 4.5 ‘Mercy Mission’.

Admiral Coburn seems about as no nonsense as Wolffe. I can see them getting along fairly well.

I don’t think that cruiser is a Venator. It doesn’t look big enough. Just checked Wookieepedia and it looks more like an Arquitens-class light cruiser.

Omg the “I’m no Jedi” scene has arrived.

“I know a Jedi won’t killed an unarmed man.” Obi-Wan: Have you met my very much not-a-Jedi friend?

The way Obi-Wan looks over at Rex like he’s the loophole out of this situation. 

Batman baaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaam

Rex just flings that electro staff like it’s nothing. He impales the Zygerrian slaver through his own chair. This post by @nikolaislanstovs has some fantastic contributions from @thatfunkyopossum, @norcumii and @anundine that break down just how strong Rex is in this scene. That electro staff isn’t pointed. It’s blunt. And Rex still hurls it through the Zygerrian slaver and through the back of his thick chair (that is presumably made of some kind of metal) so the entire head of the electro staff and more is sticking out of the back of the chair. The strength. Sir, please contain yourself. Actually, no. Don’t. Your particular brand of unhinged is perfect. 

I’M NO JEDI

AHAHAHAHAHAHHAHA OMG REX. SIR. OMG. You can impale me anytime.

As much as I love this moment, I expected it to be more. It’s another one of those major moments in the lives of the clones that end up being very brief moments in the show. I’ve rambled on about this before, most recently in 4.10 ‘Carnage of Krell’ so I’m going to stop myself before I keep blithering on about the same point.

That Zygerrian slaver and his silly hover chair made a particularly satisfying thunk when they crashed into the screen.

That is a tight fit for the cruiser. Good parking job whichever clone was flying.

Look at the Wolf Pack run along the top of the cruiser!

Aaaaaaaaaah they’ve got jet packs and Wolffe's kama is flapping behind him and he leaps off the top of the cruiser like a superhero and aaaaaaaaaaaaaah. 

Look at them all leap into the air and fly around! I love them all!

That’s a squad of 5 from the Wolf Pack. I wonder who they all are. Ok one of them is the clone with the somewhat Rishi eel style paint so I’m just going to run with the idea that it’s Comet. Oh, turns out the triangles on the sides of Wolffe’s bucket look like teeth. We get it Wolffe. You’re a wolf. Bless him. The paint on his vambraces and upper arm armour is also grey and finishes in spikes. Plus I think he has the same 3 gold rectangles above his eye on the other side (so the eye that he did lose to Ventress). He’s also got a tiny upside down red triangle in the middle of the forehead of his bucket. Fives had the same one. I wonder if this means something, or is supposed to denote something. Is this an ARC trooper thing? Wookieepedia doesn’t list Wolffe as an ARC but he’s got a kama so I’m going to go with the theory that he is one. 

Ahsoka saving the falling Togruta colonist by catching them physically and with the Force. More canonical evidence for my Tech is saved by a Jedi headcanon. 

How are the Togruta colonists not shredding their hands sliding down the cables?

Wolf Pack clones saving the other falling Togruta colonists by catching them using their jet packs! More canonical evidence for the Tech saves himself with the secret jetpack he’s made in his pack headcanon.

The Wolf Pack clone that saved the Togruta with long montrals had grey paint on the bottom section of their bucket so let’s assume that’s Sinker.

“That’s everyone. We have to go. The facility’s breaking up.” He’s so gruff and no nonsense and grumpy. I love Wolffe so much.

The music is so grand and triumphant here. It’s been so damn good this whole episode. 

Obi-Wan looking like an absolute wreck. Man keeps loosing robes in more ways than one. At least Cody doesn’t have to pick it up off the battlefield this time.

“Surviving this will only strengthen the people.” Hmmmmm. That’s not always the case. Speaking from personal experience here. What doesn’t kill you doesn’t always make you stronger.

You can see Plo, Anakin, Rex, Obi-Wan and Wolffe standing in the background having a conversation. I can just picture Wolffe giving Rex so much shit for his Zygerrian outfit. The commander's group chat is going to have a field day after this. There’s going to be so much ribbing.

[rare-clone-fic-exchange]

Drunk on You [Warthog/GN!reader]

Hi, it's @goblininawig with a Warthog fic for @starqueensthings . I went the smutty route. Hope you enjoy it.

Tags, rating, summary, etc below the cut. 

MINORS DNI

Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Summary: A heroic rescue by the Wolfpack, brings you to a celebration in their honor, where you get up close and personal with the trooper, Warthog.

Pairing: Warthog/GN!reader

Rating: M/18+/NSFW

Words: 1,733

Tags: canon-typical action/adventure, fluff, smut, we-might-get-caught situation, oral sex/blow job

The Magistrate’s children had been rescued after several days of fraught tension. Fearing a Separatist plot, the Magistrate asked the Senate for help. They sent Jedi Master Plo Koon and his Wolfpack. In a matter of hours, they discovered the children, hiding in a cave, where they had taken shelter after the speeder they’d taken on a joyride crashed, causing serious injury to both children and vehicle in the process.

The cave’s mineral composition had blocked any scans for life signs. It was Jedi instincts and clone efficiency that saved the day, quickly locating the speeder crash and tracking them from there. The children had been frightened and hungry, but were on the mend at the healing center.

Now the city was free to celebrate. And none were more merry than the Magistrate and her husband. Though the clones were a close second. The banquet hall was filled with laughter and celebration. The troopers' boisterous, beaming faces, free of their helmets, were quite a sight to behold. Despite their common origin, each was uniquely handsome, and you found your eyes returning more and more to a certain one. Warthog, the clone catching your eye, had the GAR regulation haircut, but he still seemed to stand out from the others – at least, he did to you.

You’d met him while helping to set up for the current banquet. (Normally you were assigned administrative tasks, but when the Magistrate suddenly decided to throw a party, everyone had to pitch in and make it happen.) Warthog had saved a cask of wine from breaking when it fell off the gravloader you were pushing up to the kitchens. Most impressively, he’d caught it one handed, with his pilot’s helmet held under his other arm. Then he had introduced himself and had kept you company, helping you with various tasks, until Commander Wolffe had called him back to join the other troopers.

You raised a glass of wine to your lips and watched over the rim as Warthog reached over to clap one of his brothers on the back, laughing uproariously at his own comments. He gesticulated wildly and drew everyone around him into his conversation with his warm smile. Then he looked up and met your eyes across the banquet hall.

You startled, choking and spilling wine down your front. Muttering a curse, you put the glass down and dabbed at yourself with a napkin, cheeks feeling hot. You excused yourself and hurried out to deal with the mess you’ve made.

Warthog watched you leave, thought a moment, and then made a choice. He knocked back the last of his wine and announced: “Wish me luck, Wolfpack. I’m going hunting!” He grinned and left the table to the sounds of good-natured ribbing and howling from his brothers.

In the ‘fresher, you tried fruitlessly to clean up the wine stain on your top. You looked and felt ridiculous. You thought about going back to your room, but decided to wait until the fabric dries. Maybe then, with the low lighting and everyone drinking, it might go unnoticed.

Leaving the ‘fresher, you turned away from the hall where the others are carousing, heading towards the nearby balcony instead. It was a pleasant night with a gentle breeze. You looked out over the city, a glow of light against the evening sky, but then turned at the sound of someone stepping along the corridor nearby.

A moment later, the clone you’d been admiring stepped through the archway to join you on the balcony. Your mouth went dry at the sight. You found yourself unable to speak as he stalked closer to you, filling your vision with his broad shoulders.

“Everything alright?” he asked with a self-assured grin.

You bit your lip and awkwardly try to cover the stain with your hand. “Um, yeah, I just had an accident.” You cringed at how that sounded, but forced yourself to continue explaining. “Thought I’d let it dry out in the wind here.”

“Oh?” he queried, tilting his head so that the low light gleamed in his dark, velvety eyes. “And here I thought you wanted me to follow you. I saw how you’ve been looking at me all night.” You blinked and swallowed hard. “Oh, um, sorry?” you said awkwardly, face burning with embarrassment.

“Don’t apologize,” he returned, eyes still glowing with humor and heat. “I like it.”

He stepped closer, letting you feel the warmth of his body. His head tilted and his eyes dragged down the length of you and back up again, slowly.

“And I like the way you look too.”

“Oh,” you breathed softly, hands raising as if of their own accord to rest on his cuirass.

He covers one of your hands in his. “Tell me to stop and I will,” he murmured, voice low and husky.

You managed to whisper, “Don’t stop,” before he leaned in and covered your mouth with his.

Any lingering sense of embarrassment evaporated in the heat of Warthog’s passion. His kisses made your knees feel weak and you clung to his armored shoulders as his hands gripped your waist and lower back, pulling you closer. Your chest, stomach and groin pressed against plastoid armor, making you feel soft and pliant in comparison. He was a rock while you were a wave crashing against him. He gathered you against him, claiming your mouth with a fervor that lit up all your nerves.

With a groan of discomfort, he reluctantly pulled back. One hand stayed firmly on your lower back as the other slipped down between your bodies. There was a click and a sigh as his codpiece was removed and dropped carelessly to the floor. “That was starting to hurt,” he murmured, leaning close to your ear and kissing just beneath the lobe.

You closed your eyes and bared your neck to him. “Hmm, can’t have that,” you dreamily replied.

He left a trail of kisses along your throat and then inhaled your scent. “You smell so good,” he murmured, his lips against your skin.

You almost purred in response and he pulled back to smile at you. His dark eyes gleamed in the low light, focused on you like nothing else existed. Warthog dipped his head again, and you parted your lips to let him in, kissing with wild, eager abandon. He was so tall, dark, and handsome, but also much more than that. His generous nature, how he went out of his way to help you, his kindness, his sense of humor, and his obvious bravery were all so deeply attractive. It was almost shocking that someone like him could be interested in someone like you.

But the feeling of his mouth on yours was undeniable. And so was the heated length rubbing against your thigh. It sparked a deep hunger in you that had nothing to do with the banquet you just left. It made you feel bold and a little reckless.

“Let me make you feel good,” you urged the next time he pulled back from your lips to breathe.

A furrow appeared between his brows in a silent question that was answered when you lowered yourself to your knees in front of him. Warthog let out a quiet groan. His pupils widened at the sight, making his dark eyes appear even deeper and more mysterious than before. He watched you watching him, as he slid his hand down, and pulled his erection free of his black body glove.

Your mouth watered at the sight of his thick length, eyes going wide. It was one thing to hear that the clones were the best built men in the galaxy, and quite another to see the evidence of it up so close. Glancing up again, you caught his expectant, lust-darkened gaze and licked your lips. He moaned as you pressed them in a kiss to the length of his hard cock, followed quickly by another.

The weight and heat of his hard-on felt amazing in your hand, and against your eager lips. You covered it in kisses before drawing the head into your mouth, sucking experimentally. Warthog groaned above you and reached down to cradle the back of your neck.

“That feels amazing,” he murmured, mindful of being too loud so near to the banquet hall.

You hummed your agreement around him, drawing another moan from the back of his throat. Eyes closed, you breathed in his musk, humming happily again, his hand tightening ever so slightly on your neck in response. Then he combed his fingers through the hair at your nape as you started to swallow him down, little by little, and then as deeply as possible. Your tongue was flat against his heated shaft as you surrounded it with your mouth and your hands, pumping and sucking greedily.

Warthog leaned his weight on one arm against the balcony, his thick thigh muscles trembling with the effort of holding himself back from spilling into your throat. “Kriff, you’re so good at that,” he praised. It thrilled you, sending a tingle down through your body that you followed with a hand, slinking down you to press between your thighs. That sight sent another moan through the handsome man. You massaged his balls softly as you felt his cock at the back of your throat. You swallowed, letting the sensation tease him, before sliding your lips back up and down again, repeating the motion until you felt his balls tense, along with his fingers at your neck.

“I’m close,” he warned. “Can I cum in your mouth?” he panted.

You nodded quickly, looking up at him as he closed his eyes and let himself go with a shuddering moan of satisfaction. You swallowed every bit of it down, hand still busy between your legs; your body wanted more.

As he tucked himself away and re-clipped the codpiece, you stood and wrapped your arms around yourself. When Warthog finished dressing, he pulled you close. He kissed you softly, tasting himself on your lips.

“That was incredible,” he murmured, eyes warm and soft on yours. “I’d love to return the favor, maybe someplace more private?”

You smiled and bit your lower lip. “We can go to my room,” you offer.

He smiled back, stoking heat in your belly with the way his gaze raked over your body. “Well then, lead the way.” You took his hand and he eagerly followed you.

[mamuzzy]

Hallo! I hope you don't mind adding one more to the Wolves :D. We rarely get some Warthog love and I was hoping you'd add to the small art for him out there :)

If you have time to spare, please draw my beautiful baby boy, Warthog with or without his fallen bestie Tracer ♥ Thems the bestest pilots ♥

YOOOOOUUUUUUUUUU.

I've just finished Shipyards of Doom just to get to know them better and catch their characters and even with initial information I DIDN'T PREPARE FOR TEARS! HOW DARE YOU!!! Such a lovely duo, thank you for requesting them. And of course, they come in pairs. <3

"You want go double or nothing by that bet, Warthog?" "Tracer, if we hit the planet, you're gonna die too." "Yes, but not before you! Ha ha!"

[veny-many]

If you want to understand drawings under, please read this previous post:

And if you don't mind other my alive!Plo AU too. (They have order 66 au tag)

Commander! Comet

He was promoted when Wolffe gone to MIA, due to his works he had in position of the right hand for Commander.

He didn't have Wolfpack symbol in his armor before, but when he became new officer for battalion, he marked wolf in his shoulder. To mark his his new place and responsibility in his mind.

Actually, Comet was one of the 104th that didn't want to paint wolf in his armor because of preventing from losing his individual(for his mad love for the stars and comets). But he had more important things in his new life than his own thought.

Comet think Wolffe betrayed them. So he tries to be angry to him. But when he got so much stress, all he could think was the protective and warm affection from his former Commander and big brother.

Other original Wolfpack members worries about him. They call him puppy or little brother despite the fact he is now their superior. They don't care, for their precious brother's sake.

When Wolffe knew about Wolfpack is now chasing them, the first thing he said was "That's my boi" And other people just got confused.

"They are dangerous hunters, Wolffe." "Of course they are. I taught them better than anyone."

When Comet finally dechipped, Comet glued to Wolffe's body and cries a lot. He knows is was embarrassing, but he couldn't help it. Thankfully his big brother said nothing and just hugged him back till he got tired from crying and fell in sleep.

Rebellion! Wildfire

Yes, rebels Wildfire is Canon.

When he first saw Wolffe he thought he was dangerous with his chips.

And Wolffe though him dangerous too.

Chaos ensures.

Until Plo back to place with meal and says "WTK is happening here boys"

And Wildfire and Wolffe finally believe they are safe and enjoy the meal together.

Warthog

I hope you like this @dukeoftheblackstar

Warthog first thought Jedis are traitor like other clones.

But by the time passed, and the world under Empire got more cruel everyday, Warthog started to doubt about the betrayal.

He thinks about the Tracer, his dear friend, who died under command of Jedi.

But Warthog was saved his life for multiple times by General Plo Koon. It was truth. When he shouted for help, his General always helped.

He thinks, if he feels bad for kind hearted Jedi's death, would it be betrayal to his marched away friend?

And the answer was, no. When he got dechipped, he finally able to think about the truth freely with his mind.

That karking Sith Lord made this stupid war and forced his friend and brothers and Jedis to death trap.

Warthog runs to rebels gunship for revenge.

Sinker and Boost stops him and finally managed to calm him down with promises of vengeance for Empire.

And Wolffe witnesses his brothers chaotic actions again, after the very long time.

[clonefandomevents]

Wolfpack Bingo Requests!! Was meant to be the October bingo card, and somehow we missed posting it! Join us in the 104th!

[clonetroopertournament]

[dukeoftheblackstar]

@omaano Alex 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

I was not expecting to ugly sob today because oh my god look at them. Just ... ugh. Look at these boys. Look at.. sigh. They're so perfect, okay?!?!?!?

My precious angel baby boy King and his evenly precious angel baby bestiecakes King ♥

Thank you for this omg!!!! They finally have another art of them together! I think this is the first one out there between Tracer and Warthog apart from the comics ♥♥♥

Look at these two, I bet you this how they'll look after getting absolutely wasted, Tracer being drunk-dragged and because Warthog purposely miscounted how many bottles they're in ♥ EEP!!

I LOVE IT SO MUCH!! THANK YOUUUUUU ;///////////////; !!!!

LOOK AT HIS FACE THOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO. THAT IS THE FACE OF HAVING DONE THIS 829391283918319TH TIMES!!! And Tracer is all at peace knowing Warthog's got him — even though he's unconscious HAHHHAH!

Or they've gone into centrifuge to test who can last longer on extreme level because #pilotlife ;///////////;

What? He's fine. They are just testing that gravity works alright, and Tracer needed help with stretching his back. Their success at it is a different matter.

@dukeoftheblackstar come and do something about your favourite boys, they are not doing so fine under the cut.

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

Poets and Painters (Midday) - Wolffe x Reader [Mature Fic]

Warnings and Information: In desperate need of just one day to take his and his men's mind off the war, Plo Koon orders that everyone make a stop on a relatively uninhabited planet in a peaceful sector of the galaxy to… have a picnic? Just what does he have in mind? A certain flint-gray Commander is finding it hard to believe that they're just on the planet for a day of R&R in the middle of a war, so he isn't letting his guard down. Perhaps someone will help Commander Wolffe find some way to help him relax before the day is over… 2nd person POV. Reader is undescribed save for minor details like personal touches to a uniform, and has a gender-neutral alias. Allusions to canon-typical violence, mention of injury and loss, and Plo just being a dad to the 104th Battalion in the background. Swearing. Discussion of more adult themes and some lewd jokes the more the fic progresses (this is not an Explicit fic but it is Mature; Minors please DNI). Takes place on a fictional planet.

Word count: 4,665

Midday

The trick to keeping Commander Wolffe from prowling the edge of the clearing like a caged animal had been surprising. To everyone. 

Allowing him to watch you work keeps him seated on the hill beside you, where he does not worry his brothers or Master Plo Koon by continuing to make lap after lap. He had left your side once, to take a look at something the Clone pilot Warthog had to show him, and then did a little shiny-wrangling (namely Soapsuds) because they were too close to the forest for his comfort, but he was quick to return. 

He's not much of a conversational partner, whether that's out of respect for you to let you concentrate, or simply a product of his personality. When he has something to say, Wolffe keeps it brief. 

"I'm not that pale." 

"But your scar is." you reply with a gentle smile and a soft laugh, carefully adding traces of a lighter flesh-tone to the vertical stripe of scar tissue in your sketching of the Commander. You keep your pressure light on the page, and make your best efforts to keep the strokes in roughly the same orientation. The smile gives way to a frown the longer you fill in the length of his scar on the page. Your heart hurts for what happened to him at the hands of a dark Force-wielder. What her blade did to him. "I imagine it was quite painful, to lose your eye…" 

"Yes." Wolffe replies in a clipped voice, suggesting to you that while he does not want to dismiss your sympathies, he clearly must not want to talk about this with someone he does not know, either. You feel a tug on the lapel of your uniform, and the gloved pad of his thumb brushes over something. Oh. You'd forgotten about that. "You added a wolf's head into your uniform, Arcadia?" He's changing the subject. And that's okay. 

That's more than okay. 

Glancing down best you can, you see the sloppy replication the flint-gray Commander refers to. The thread used for the head is a steely gray, the stitches are almost invisible and camouflaged in the color of the uniform, save for the eyes in your favorite color. It was meant to be practice for repairing holes in your clothing, you explain. "For emergency situations. I wanted to see if my stitches would hold up after being washed. I completely forgot it was there." You don't explain why you went with the image of a wolf. You won't need to, in his presence.

It's easy enough to guess why this would be the animal, of all possible choices available to you in this galaxy, you would stitch into your lapel. The name surrounds you. Wolfpack. General Plo's callsign is Wolf Leader when they engage in battle by starfighter. 

It is the name of the man next to you - granted it bears an additional forn and an esk. 

Wesk-osk-leth-forn-forn-esk. 

Wolffe. 

"It held up well." he compliments you, releasing the fold of the lapel and assuming his silence once more. Degree by degree, you are seeing he is not eternally gruff or cold with you, or anyone: merely a man made stoic and far more vigilant than before by war. In his vigilance, he continues to visually sweep the field for signs of trouble or mischief. 

Maybe, while he's distracted…

You stealthily swap out the current coloring pencil in your hand - a deeper skin tone - and pluck out the Lamp Black pencil in the mix, drifting your hand lower down the page until the end of the pencil was now lined up with the loosely defined crotch and codpiece of his armor. 

Maker alive let's just get this over with. 

The body glove is going to be innocent enough to fill in, but defining the shadows around the pubic bulge in his kit will be faster. Just keep it quick and be discreet. Work fast. Hope no one sees. Hope no one asks. 

Your pulse screams in your veins when he clears his throat - loudly - next to you, and you are so certain he is now trained on you, and acutely aware of where your pencil is. "Hm-mm…" Oh kriff me sideways. "Excuse me," he apologizes, clearing his throat again softer this time, "didn't mean to startle you, but I was trying to catch Suds' attention." Thank the Maker he didn't look when he apologized. Just a few more marks to finish shading in the codpiece, and then you can start on the body suit. "O-oh. Is he wandering off again?" 

"Looked like he was about to." 

Still breathing down their necks even from here? "Y'know-"

"As their Commander I am going to look out for my brothers, Arcadia." He sounds neither happy or unhappy with what he assumed you would say. And it's fair of him to assume that, in a sense. You only wish he didn't have to feel so defensive. 

"I understand that," you promise him, and for the moment, you set down the pencil in your hand so you are not dividing your attention between the artwork and Wolffe. "and I wasn't telling you to stop, either. I only wanted to warn you that, I think, General Plo Koon seems worried about you, that something is keeping you from enjoying yourself." 

To his credit, he gives your words a moment of quiet contemplation. Whether that's to consider the truth behind the words you said, or to come up with an explanation of sorts, Wolffe remains silent and still like the forest that surrounds you on all sides. What secrets does that forest hold? What lives within? 

What will you find other than sap and blood on your palms when you pull back the thorny branches? 

"I don't believe we're here just to relax for a day." Commander Wolffe admits with a heavy look of guilt and uncertainty. "I think the General has other reasons for bringing us to Little Archossi, and he won't tell us." 

"Reasons? Like what?" You pick the pencil back up, and return to the slow, gradual task of adding color to the page. You're going to give him time to think. Time to answer, if he even wants to. He may not. Warning him that he's possibly made his General concerned about him seems to shake him down, somewhat. "I'm sorry." 

It's reflexive, apologizing for upsetting him. That seems to pull him out of his silence, for the moment. "Don't be, Arcadia. I'm not going to fault you for having good intentions. Or a good eye." 

The kri-? 

In dawning horror, you see and fully realize where your pencil lead is. And looking over at him, you see that he does too. "I-I'm so sorry, sir…" You admit that you hoped he wouldn't notice, and that adding the necessary shading and color around areas that carry their shares of suggestive and sexual imagery and connotations would have been completed with as little attention drawn to it as possible. While you're not exactly ashamed to have drawn those parts of him, you feel a bit awkward to have him take notice of your work when you add the color. 

Half of his mouth quirks in a smile, an expression of his respect, understanding that took guts to admit. "That's nothing to apologize for. It's just part of the art, Arcadia. A little "awkward" would only be understandable. Would you feel better if I purposely didn't watch?" 

Well, seeing as how you're almost done with the inner thigh, you don't see much of a point to the gesture in this part of the progress. But, he did offer. And this seems to be what's keeping him seated in the grass. And what's keeping Plo Koon freer to spend less time being concerned about his diligent commander, and more time in showing his troops more aspects of Kel Dor culture and history, it seems. (Orchid keeps asking questions that Tack could easily answer about Dorin, and it serves as a neat little lesson for some of their newer shinnies. Plo is certainly grateful for the curiosity that allows him to be a teacher, rather than a fighter, today.) 

You shrug lazily, laughing softly under your breath. "I'll leave that up to you, sir. At this point…" 

Wolffe chooses to keep an eye on his brothers, so you make the process of shading the inner thighs quick, while being careful not to get sloppy. You're not trying to recreate a master painter's work here in the first page of your sketchbook, but you don't want to look at this one day and become filled with the urge to tear it out because all you can see are glaring imperfections, either. That's nothing but a fanciful daydream of making so much progress in your artistic prowess that you would ever be struck with such a thought, of course. 

You are preoccupied with a war against the Separatists: when would you ever have the chance to make regular progress and impressive strides without backsliding and the natural degradation of your skills when you do not use them? You're a small part of the busy crew that keeps the Triumphant running smoothly. 

People constantly need you. And that's all well and good, but sometimes you find yourself running into the same problem over and over again that crews of this size inevitably face: when you, who provides the help, needs someone, who is there for you? Do you turn to another crewmate who is already up to their neck in all the problems they juggle? Turning to one of the Clone troopers is ill-advised, no matter how much they swear they don't mind lending a hand or an arm (or two) to assist. 

You've been doing fine aboard the Triumphant; better than fine, in fact. But that worry claws at you, sometimes. I'm here to help everyone. But if I needed help, who would I go to?

Who does the Commander go to when he needs help, come to think of it… General Plo? Or maybe Sergeants Sinker and Boost, if the matter was a little closer to the heart, something he believed was best kept between brothers? 

Who does Wolffe turn to in his hours of need, you wonder. 

You need to rest your wrist, and soon. You have just a little more of this tree's canopy to color in though, and then you're calling it good. You've been working on this "sketch" for more than three hours with the Commander at your side. You want to have this done soon. You want to go check out some of these things other crewmates have been laughing themselves silly over for the last hour that leave them gasping and wheezing for breath, clutching their sides and drying their faces. You're burning to know what's so funny, why they keep calling your name to come see. 

Curiously guessing over and over what General Plo's reaction will be when you show him this amateurish endeavor in outdoor art drives you to continue, however. Just a few more tiny, feather-shaped leaves… Wolffe notices the sharp twinge in your face, and the uncomfortable spasm in your fingers as you adjust your grip around the Sunflower coloring pencil. 

"Getting painful?" 

"Just a little." you admit, knowing if you pause now, you will delay when you pick the pencil back. "I'll manage." 

"Making art shouldn't bring you pain, Arcadia." 

You scoff, just slightly. "Physical pain? Agreed. But emotional pain, that's another matter. Don't worry, I'll be done soon, Wolffe." 

He asked you to call him Wolffe a short time ago. It wasn't exactly necessary to call him Commander or Sir all the time if you had him sketched out on your page quite like… that. His legs parted and bent at the knee - flat in the grass out in front of him. Wrist of the left hand resting just on the surface of his thigh, with his hand hanging limp just inches from his groin. You were generous enough to draw his fingers in a more neutral position than how they had looked in reality… Otherwise, if his soldiers and brothers got a hold of the sketchbook, there's no telling how many jokes you'd have to hear about making it look like their Commander was jerkin' it in front of you. 

Calling him "Wolffe" would do just fine when it was just the two of you alone on this hill. Perhaps he felt it was only fair if he was calling you by your name. You had no title or rank, like him. You are just a humble part of the crew, but he assured you no less important than one of the soldiers. 

It takes all of us, he said. That's how we win this war. 

You've come to the home stretch, feeling the ache in your fingers deepen with every tiny skritch and shwoop! as you methodically color in your work leaf by leaf. "Just one last, little leaf," you promise, "and then I'm done." 

"Not going to sign your magnum opus, Arcadia?" Wolffe prods a little teasingly. He's smiling at you now, even. Hours ago, he was somber and battle-ready, no smiles, no nonsense. Now, he's beginning to make small jokes. "Should add a signature so future museums know who to accredit this to." 

"A leaf and then a signature." you chuckle warmly. "Future museum… Honestly." He only offers a shrug in response to that, and you take it to mean well, you never know. "What, you're trying to tell me you think this would honestly end up in a museum gallery one day?" 

He shrugs again, gazing off into the distance, into the forest. "Overheard one of the boys in the mess say something about the notion once. Something they read. Some kind of commemorative effort made by one planet to make sure they never forgot their bloody history by way of art and song and poetry inspired by that time. Evidence of a time best not repeated, but not forgotten either." 

Such an insightful and wise thing to be said so casually, poetically, and yet, there's a weighty truth to every syllable and enunciation. 

We doom ourselves to repeat the past when we do not remember it and do not teach it anymore. When we allow ourselves to forget, the shades of rouge we sop the bristles of our brushes in will not be in the rich scarlets of Dathomir, or the forever-burning rubies of Mustafar, it will instead be with blood. 

When we have enough evidence, it silences the naysayers and the fools. It validates the choking and trembling voices that say I have tasted the bitter blade of war. I have stood before the yawning maw of nothingness it leaves in its wake. I will never be the same. You do not have the right to tell me that I am some kind of paid actor. 

If they were conspiracies, do you not think I would be among the loudest of your prophets who tout these twisted claims in the hopes of converting another?

"Fascinating. Thinking something like that will come of the Clone Wars, Wolffe?" You've finished the drawing, now. Taking an ink pen, you jot down your signature in the tidiest handwriting you can manage in the lower right corner, making note of the date for good measure. You'll think up a creative title for this later. 

There's a third rising and falling of the shoulders from the man sitting beside you. "It's too soon to tell." 

"That's fair." you reply, gathering up your supplies to put them back into the bag for safekeeping. "But you just know, if it does happen, the Separatists aren't gonna like the art." You have faith that the Republic will prevail. How could it not when the soldiers who fight for the Republic are some of the most courageous, persevering people you know? (What will come of them after?) 

You're likely right about that, he agrees with a throaty chuckle. The Separatists will not like losing this war, and they'll like the art even less. "I can only hope… that it will not just be the Jedi who are…" Wolffe grows silent next to you. He's not certain what word he wants to use to best explain his thoughts, he admits plainly. There are too many. Too many answers that are right, but he struggles to find the one thing that is most correct out of all of them. 

Given what Tack has told you, the answer is obvious. "You're hoping that the galaxy will remember the Clones were a part of this conflict too. That the galaxy won't forget the sacrifices made by your brothers, and they won't forget how many lost their lives. You probably hope that when the free peoples of the galaxy remember the Jedi, they remember you, too. Both must be appreciated together."

"You're probably right," Wolffe concedes firstly, "And you're too wise beyond your years, Arcadia." Strangely philosophical, he tells you, for how old he guesses you to be. Maybe he's the right one this time, thinking to yourself on his words. 

Maybe he's not the only one hoping that when this war ends, no matter the outcome, those who served as a part of the Grand Army of the Republic will not be a forgotten topic ten, twenty… even forty or fifty years down the line. 

Tack has made a breakthrough in his mysterious flower just before Master Plo is free to come take a look at the sketch and color work you've completed, and concern for his men takes precedence. You would not blame him in the slightest if he forgot he expressed interest in seeing what you accomplished with art materials given to you as gifts. Because of your station with the crew of the Triumphant with a secondary speciality for risk assessment, you're involved in this discussion with the researcher and his commander and general. 

Right now determining the risks posed to the men of the 104th matters more. Art and philosophical pondering will have to come later.

Tack explains to both Commander Wolffe and Master Plo that he thinks the smatterings of blue flowers that dot this clearing here on Little Archossi are known as Dinocaeruleus anthos. By their common-name, you know that these flowers are a warning. A silent, unassuming danger for all their beauty and silky blue petals. 

Terrible blue flower. 

"You can make toxic honey with these flowers?" Wolffe asks more to himself than Tack, as he reads ahead in the compiled information. Plo is taking his time to read the information on the screen of the datapad in his hands. To make sense of this, the Jedi is being thorough. 

"Poisonous, Sir, more accurately." Tack makes the correction habitually, and Wolffe does not take it personally. He knows that Tack knows what he meant, and given his aptitude for analytics and other such sciences, his researcher is not correcting him to be a smartass. "But, yes, you can make bad honey with these flowers depending on what pollinators you harvest from. They are not wholly dangerous on their own. Eat it, it might make you feel nauseated due to natural bitterants. Touch it to more sensitive dermal surfaces and it will prove a powerful irritant." 

From a short distance away, you hear the voices of Orchid and Soapsuds, Tack's batchmates (you assume), commenting on what the four of you are discussing in the shade of the tree you spent the morning sketching. "So what Tack's saying is don't stick your d-" The speaker finds himself with the other's hand anxiously plastered against his mouth to shut him up in a hurry. "Maker alive, shut up!" Soapsuds warns him, "Orchid, why are you so vulgar?!" 

There is a pointed sigh from Commander Wolffe that is aimed at the two of them. Don't make me come over there. Behave yourselves in front of the General. 

Plo makes no indication that he's noticed the situation occurring just out of reach. You have to imagine he hears Suds and Orchid wrestling with each other in the grass, now, though, and is ignoring it. "Arcadia and Tack, in your opinion, will these be enough cause for concern to consider returning back to the ship?" Plo wonders aloud. The Kel Dor returns the device to the researcher, and folds his hands together in an act of deliberate contemplation, resting them against his stomach. 

Tack looks at you, and you at him, then the Commander. There is a look in his eyes, both the stark silver and the warm vandyke brown, that reads to you as a surrender of control. 

I will carry out your judgment. 

Tack scoffs and shrugs, his arms thrown wide. "Honestly, General? I don't know enough. I'd need more time to determine through more analysis and comparison. This is only one search result for one flower it could possibly be. But it was enough of a match to make me get the Commander while he was talking with Arcadia." Enough of a match to send him into a tizzy over it. Tack had tripped coming up the hill in his haste, trying to ask if - from where he was sitting - the Commander noticed anyone messing with the blue flowers. 

We have a potential problem! had Wolffe on his feet faster than engaging a hyperdrive. And then there was a flurry of questions. Was it contact from the planet's inhabitants? Has someone gotten hurt? Are they needed to assist another battalion? Where's the General? 

He has the look again, now. Worry. The inner anxiety is eating him alive. Tack doesn't know. So what about you? 

"I see…" Master Plo hums. "And what are your feelings, Arcadia? What do you think about the situation?" 

You think. What do you think about this situation? Is it worth double checking the matches for the flower, to make sure that it really is Dinocaeruleus anthos? Are the men really going to be so flippant as to disregard any kind of warning put out about these flowers if they are the Dinocaeruleus, or worse yet, a far more harmful flower? (Not necessarily, but you have to consider that warning the troops that this flower can have detrimental potential invites the opportunity to inflict it.) 

There is one thing that is already clear to you, at least. "Tack should first make sure these flowers are what he thinks they are before we make any kind of advisory, General. That is my opinion." 

Another thoughtful hum. "Interesting. And why is this your opinion, little one?" 

"We should avoid unnecessary panic. Until we know for sure what these flowers are, I say we don't say anything. We invite unnecessary risks by making the men paranoid." you suggest, glancing first at the Jedi, and then the flint-gray Commander to his left. They had every right to accept or disregard your counseling as the commanding forces of this battalion at the day's end; you hope they will consider it at the very least. 

"I'm in agreement."

"Then we will do as Arcadia advised, and we will let young Tack take more time to confirm his findings. Until then…" Plo trails off, nodding decidedly. Thank the Maker. Tack dismisses himself in a hushed, hurried tone. If he's going to spend more time pouring over information on the Dinocaeruleus anthos, he shouldn't dawdle. The Jedi kindly wills the benefits of the Force to guide the researcher before he turns to address you once again. "Have you made use of the gifts given to you since we last spoke?" 

Blinking with a mild start, you realize that Plo has changed the topic. "Oh, yes, I have. Let me go get my sketchbook from my bag, sir." You scoop the entire bag from the grass, re-tucking your datapad among your things as you extract the book and turn it to the necessary page for his convenience. "Here." 

Taking it carefully in his hands, the book is cradled like a priceless relic as his eyes must trace over the page. Once more your property is treated with such care and respect by the Force-wielder. "My… Arcadia, you have quite a gift." 

The action is perhaps more childish than professional, but you cannot help but duck your head at such praise, fearing to meet his gaze should he see how flushed your face is. It is not the heat of the sun above you, denoting that it is now high noon, that makes your face burn. You're never quite sure how to accept a compliment. 

You opt for humility. "Oh, it's hardly that great, General Plo… I wouldn't say I have a gift… just… a-an attention for detail." And that much is true; dedication to detail is why you spent hours on a simple "sketch" to begin with; why you took so much care and effort to get everything done the best you could. The form of Commander Wolffe's armor. The curve of his jaw and the roundness of the ala of his nose. The correct texture of his hair within the typical haircut many of the Clones have. 

But though gentle insistence, the General repeats his sentiment. "Attention for detail is no less of a gift, Arcadia. In war it is a mark of wisdom, in art, it is a skill." A skill that has made for a very fine portrait of the Commander. "Have you seen Arcadia's work yet, Commander Wolffe?" He offers the sketchpad with an invitation to have a closer look, though it isn't necessary. 

"I watched Arcadia add the colors, yes." Wolffe confirms. "Quite the process."

Not to mention a strain on your wrist, but one well worth it for the praise given to you from the Jedi, and now many of the men who have congregated to come and suss out what's going on. "I can only imagine… Even gone through the trouble of adding proper shadows to such… rich color." 

Sinker and Boost smile softly, not quite sadly (but certainly somber), when they take note of the color of paint their commanding officer wears when you allow the book to be passed around so everyone is welcome to have a closer look. They hold it longest out of everyone, looking at this artistic replication a little more closely than most.

"The ol' maroon, eh? Think it's meant to depict another time, before Abregado?" 

"But he's drawn with the scar, Boost."

"Ah, yeah, good eye. Missed that bit." 

You timidly clear your throat to draw their attention, and explain that of all the colors, you didn't have gray. "I didn't want to leave his armor naked, either." Not when you went through the trouble of adding the face of the wolf and the other design to each of his shoulder pads, or the unique shape of his visor when you drew the helmet next to his hip. 

You would not deal him further, small cruelties by stealing the colors out of his coat completely. These markings he has chosen for himself mean something to Wolffe. The color he wears now is a mark of mourning. The color in the pages of your book will serve as an homage. 

You have not forgotten your brothers. You will always carry them with you.

Hmmf. Are you a poet now too, Arcadia?

No sir. Not really. 

You're uncertain where the words came from. Borrowed from something you read once? Did you perhaps hear the General say these words once upon a time? You can't recall what inspired you to say such a thing. 

But you'll remember the change in his gruff exterior, the way in which he was quieter than quiet for just a moment, and he pivoted in the grass to better face you and make you his equal. 

It's only the two of us here on the hill, Arcadia. Call me Wolffe, please. 

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