#Clonexocweek day 7

[crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf]

Disgrace Chapter 10.5: A Cross X Tahny Road Trip

On Past Conquests...

See "Fast and Hot on Coruscant", A Disgrace prequel short story.

On Missed Connections...

On... Jedi.

Menace.

Thanks for sticking with me for @clonexocweek! If you're a Disgrace reader I hope you liked the supplemental content, If not and you want to see how the story plays out you can find the chapter index HERE. Read on Tumblr or Ao3!

@feral-ferrule @vimse @kaytunez @substantial-exposure

[filamentlights]

Welcome to LOVE & HYPERSPACE!

Clone x OC Week - Day 7, Free Space || ??? x OC

Event Masterlist

SUMMARY: Game description. Hyper realistic new otome game with never before seen immersion full of your favorite clone soldiers! Where all your dreams will come true! 🎀💗🐷

Tags & warnings: otome game, mystery, role-play games, dating sim

Caoimhe isn’t sure what amused deity possessed her to download an otome game of all things when her schedule is up to its eyeballs with essays to write. Between the game’s odd story premise and its boasting “realistic interfaces” that gave an “unbelievably immersive experience”, she doubted this was much more than a trashy romance game. With that said, the game had been downloaded. Caoimhe, fresh off of a catharsis cry after nearly flunking her OCHEM test, needed some trashy romance to soothe her soul.

She clicked on the brightly colored game icon, which showed a handsome man with tan skin and dark curly hair grinning at the camera charmingly. His eyes were a striking gold, and his warm skin stood in contrast to the saturated background.

As the game loaded, Caoimhe’s screen was filled with more eye-catching men. Shy, demure boys posing with wildflower bouquets and flushed cheeks. Men with gruff looks and scars hiding red-tipped ears from her. Playfully smiling guys running off to do something spontaneous.

One thing which stuck out to her however, was that they all looked the same and wore the same type of outfit. A white armor painted over with designs of various bright colors. She knew the premise of the game was odd; clones who fought in a galactic war, vying for her hand. What a weird game idea, but hey at least they were hot.

After a bit of loading, a neon pink square popped up telling her to build her character. Basing it off her own looks, she gave her avatar brassy red hair, freckles all around her face, a sloping nose. Although, Caoimhe did pick out pretty blue eyes with little gold flecks in them instead of her usual brown ones. Once that step was completed, another pop up appeared. This time it was to build her bio.

Out of all the options, being a “Jedi General” sounded most interesting, so she tapped that option. The game mechanics whirred and began assembling her character. Her avatar spun in glowing white and pink streaks until coming to a stop facing Caoimhe with a hand on her hip, swinging around to look at her new outfit: tapered brown trousers that looked a bit like cargo pants, practical boots, and a fitted long-sleeve cream top. Skimming the small biography, it said that she was a 24 year old Jedi learner, which made her a commander of the army. Her teacher was someone named Oppo Rancisis, but she was deployed under one Anakin Skywalker with the 501st brigade.

Caoimhe clicked on the Start button. As the game begins to load up, she’s met with an assortment of characters floating on screen, each with their names underneath and little factoids hovering around them. For one, bright futuristic letters read the name Fives. She skimmed the bit of information about him being an ARC trooper and being especially close to his batch-mate Echo. Extra information on the side told her the term ‘ARC trooper’ meant that he was in an elite branch of soldiers, and that ‘batch-mate’ meant that group of other clones he was made and raised with. Traits about Fives also popped up like “courageous” and “loyal.” Another figure with a zigzag pattern on his shaved head popped up, brandishing a suave smile. The pop up read that his name was Kix and he was a medic.

The little loading progress bar hit 100%.

Caoimhe blinked. Her head hurt.

Everything felt fuzzy.

“Commander? You alright there?” There was a man looking at her. She squinted. He had dark curly hair and hazel eyes. His helmet was tucked under his arm so she could see his face, which looked at her in concern.

“Yeah, yeah I’m ok,” she hesitated before adding, “Tup.” She didn’t know why she hesitated before saying the trooper’s name. The 501st, which she’d been assigned to as Anakin’s legion commander, had just returned from a battle on Orto Plutonia, and she remembered she was checking up on him. Before the battle, he was a shiny who’d introduced himself to her, stuttering all the way, when they were suddenly deployed to help Obi-Wan on the Pantoran moon. That had been Tup’s first battle.

“You weren’t responding there for a second, Commander Caoimhe.”

She frowned. She was in a corridor talking to Tup.

“Oh, it’s pronounced quee-vah, Tup. Odd, I know,” she murmured. Tup didn’t seem to notice, and just chuckled.

“Oh, where’s it from?”

Caoimhe paused, trying to recall.

“Oh, you know, it’s just a natborn name.”

Tup chuckled again. “Alright then, see you around Commander.”

She nodded.

Incoming Event: Frozen Hearts

The alarm blared.

Caoimhe looked around. Pulsing yellow lights flared all around her as everything dimmed. For a moment, it was just her in the dark. Low lights along the floor then flickered on, though it didn’t do much for anything but lighting her feet.

A squad of troopers ran by, of which she recognized Fives and Jesse among them.

CHOOSE:

[ASK JESSE] or [ASK FIVES]

The trooper nodded and rushed off. Caoimhe made to run for her quarters and grab her thick robe, but before she left, she watched a small glowing +1 tick off from the leaving trooper’s head before fizzling away.

She turned the corridor, looking for her quarters. Her assignment had been a relatively new one, with her having only seen one full battle before, having been in the Battle of Mumbai with Rex. The Council had assigned both her and Ahsoka to Anakin, Ahsoka as his padawan, and Caoimhe as a…mediator. For Anakin’s temper. Caoimhe chuckled, memories of Anakin throwing a fit at how she a padawan—despite her being three years older than him—was the Council trying to micromanage him.

Caoimhe turned down another corridor, knowing her quarters were somewhere in this area. But she began to feel a chill seep into her. Her fingers were already freezing, so she tucked them under her armpits. She bundled her hands into the long sleeves of her fitted top, but the material was thin. She shivered. Caoimhe realized she could see her own breath puff through the air.

CHOOSE:

[PUSH FORWARD] [TURN BACK & FIND OTHERS]

With a bit of mother-henning from Coric, Caoimhe managed to escape the medbay without too much of a scolding. Luckily, she just had a few mild frost bites, nothing that wouldn’t heal in a bit of time. Although, it did seem like her brief misadventure had quickly spread across the troopers, where more than one had come up to ask about her well being. Thanking the medic, Caoimhe went off to find a group to huddle with. All the troopers had settled into the surrounding armory, three training rooms, and the ship navigation systems center. She even spotted Broadside and Matchstick with a couple other pilots camping out in the hallways. 

CHOOSE:

[BROADSIDE] [MATCHSTICK] [WHOLE GROUP]

Afterwards, Caoimhe made her rounds with the men. She’d checked in with Anakin and Ahsoka and let them know she was alright, and now she was just wandering through one of the training rooms looking for a spot to sit and huddle. Spotting a relatively secluded corner of the gym, she was about to sit down when she heard a voice behind her call her name. 

CHOOSE:

[FIVES] [ECHO] [DOGMA] [JESSE] [REX]

A/N: why did I chose to make this last day so hard for myself. why do I do this to myself. im so sorry if this whole thing is confusing asf LOL. Also I have no idea what Love and Deepspace is like, ive never played it, but I thought it was a cool play on words for the title😁. Anywayssss, hope u guys enjoyed the game!! Hella shout out to @clonexocweek for hosting this and going through all the trouble to make an event to bring together clone wars lovers. Aaaand also shoutout to @orangez3st for being amazing ur probs the only reason I finished the event💀. This wraps up clonexocweek 2025, and it was great! Thanks for reading! ALSO credit for the dividers goes to @/strangergraphics

[lizbiz99]

And this is it: the last day of @clonexocweek . I’m sad it’s over, but it was fun to do.

Okay, so I decided to do something simple. A friend of mine is making a custom Funko Pop that looks like Naria, and so I thought, “Wouldn’t it be cute if Hunter and Naria had those cute couple Funko Pops?” Well, here we go. I think it’s pretty cute.

I think after this, I’m gonna try to post more (key word being try) because I didn’t think so many would end up liking Naria as much as they did. Thank you all for the love. We need to do stuff like this more often.

[dangraccoon]

Steadfast: Live

@clonexocweek Day 7 Free Space

Word Count: 1542

Content: accelerated aging, genetics, author does not understand science, mention of stewjoni biology, mention of past clone trooper mistreatment, marriage proposal, engagement, background Codywan, background Blyla

Mando'a Guide: sarad - flower vod - sibling (used to refer to a clone) kaminii - kaminoans the Vode - used to refer to the clones as a group the Tolase - system (used to refer to the Vode government ner mirdala jetii - my clever jedi kih'vod - little sibling cyar'ika - sweetheart (used here similar to girlfriend) riduur - spouse

Kresta

Kresta knew she was getting close to it. She could feel it in her bones. She pulled up the latest analysis, scanning over each data point as she leaned against the kitchen counter.

Then she saw it. One tiny, seemingly insignificant gene. This was it, the breakthrough.

“I brought you some tea,” Fluke hummed, appearing at her elbow. She nearly jumped out of her skin. He eyed her, clearly bemused. “Didn’t mean to startle you.”

“I don’t understand how you do that,” she groaned as she accepted the mug from his hands, quickly shutting down her datapad.

“Gotta keep you on your toes somehow,” he grinned. “Especially since you’ve decided to spend all your time in that lab at the Temple–”

“I do not spend all my time–”

“All your time that you’re not here with your face buried in your datapad,” he corrected himself. “And you won’t keep up with your training.”

“My training is mostly medical,” she said.

“Oh, and all the combat training?” he teased, wrapping his arms around her waist, pressing his face into her neck as he hugged her from behind. “Ni kar’taylir ner sarad liser cuyir burk’yc… tuu kaysh copaanire.” [I know my flower can be dangerous… when she wants.]

She chuckled softly, tilting her head to allow him more access. “If you say so, darling,” she smiled, sighing as he pressed soft, lingering kisses against the scars on her neck.

“I do say so,” he murmured against her neck. “Dangerous, smart–”

“Fluke,” she protested.

He traveled up her neck to that sensitive spot behind her ear. “Beautiful, kind, funny–”

“Okay, okay! I get it,” she laughed as she tried to pull away from him, the low rumble of his voice tickling her skin. 

⫷⪡◈⪢⫸⫷⪡◈⪢⫸⫷⪡◈⪢⫸

Fluke

“What are you working so hard on anyway?” he asked, releasing her. He hadn’t told her any other time he asked, so he didn’t expect it now.

He watched as she straightened herself up, smoothing down her dress and tucking a few strands of her hair behind her ears. He could see her wrestling with how much she could tell him.

“Well, I was able to find a… rather unique clone to aid in my research.”

His brow raised. “Your research that you refuse to tell me about? Or any vod for that matter.”

“Yes,” she said with an apologetic smile. “Hopefully, it won’t need to be classified much longer. I believe we’ve hit a breakthrough.”

He couldn't help the way his heart leaped as the excitement shone through in her voice. “Because of this vod?”

“This clone’s DNA is the closest we can get to an unaltered sample,” she nodded.

Fluke’s head spun. The kaminii had destroyed all of their data on the clones–the bastards–so she couldn’t have access to Prime’s DNA. “You found Alpha?”

“No, he remains under the radar as far as I’m aware,” she hummed. “Her name’s Omega.”

“Nala Se’s assistant?” he murmured. “But she’s not–”

He cut himself off as she smiled at him. 

Realization swept over him, as well as that soft, warm feeling he got whenever he saw cadets nowadays. “We’ve got a little sister?”

Kresta nodded, grinning at him. 

“Sister will be thrilled she’s not the only one,” he chuckled. 

She laughed, then wrapped him up in a tight hug.

“Omega might be the key to slowing your accelerated aging,” she whispered. “We found the altered gene; that’s the breakthrough.”

The galaxy froze around him. He felt like his body was moving through honey as he pulled back to find nothing but sincerity and hope in her eyes. 

⫷⪡◈⪢⫸⫷⪡◈⪢⫸⫷⪡◈⪢⫸

Kresta

“Is- is that what you’ve been working on?” Fluke whispered. His voice sounded so small. “That’s what all this secret research has been?”

She suddenly felt somewhat self-conscious under his intense gaze.

“Yes,” she said simply.

His breath came out in a soft pant, his mouth slightly opening and closing as he processed what she’d just told him.

All at once, he nearly collapsed against her, hugging her tighter than he ever had before. A quiet sob escaped him. 

Something uncomfortable roiled in her gut. She hadn’t meant to upset him. Only five years had passed since the end of the war, but that was ten for the clones. The eldest of them were in their thirties physiologically.  Assuming that no fights, accidents, or diseases took them before their time, they’d follow the typical average age for humans and live into their eighties or nineties. 

Kresta shuddered to think that was only about twenty-five to thirty years, whereas she’d likely live another eighty from her current forty-two. Part of her cursed her Stewjoni biology like she had many times over her adult life, but anyone part realized with dread that she would likely have to live another fifty years after Fluke had marched on, as would Obi-Wan without Cody and Aayla without Bly. 

She might be able to ease that pain from their shoulders. Maybe that was selfish. She knew Obi-Wan and Aayla carried it with them the same way she did. She wondered if there were others like them. Jedi who fell in love with their troopers. It wouldn’t surprise her. 

But now, standing here in the kitchen of his little apartment on Centax-2, she wondered if that’s what the Vode wanted. She’d been so caught up in trying to see if she could do it to think about if it was something she should. So many of the Vode had been poked and prodded constantly by the Kaminoans’ endless tests that maybe they wouldn’t want her to go in and manipulate their genetics even further. Horror dawned over her. She wouldn’t hurt them. She’d found what she was looking for; her curiosity was satisfied, and her questions were answered. 

“I-I’m so sorry,” she whispered, her chest feeling hollow. “I shouldn’t have–”

“What?” Fluke gasped, pulling back to look at her. His eyes were damp, and his brow was scrunched together. “Sorry? Sarad, what–”

“I shouldn’t have assumed that it was something you would want,” she said, solidifying her thoughts in an almost scolding tone. “You’ve all endured so much. I should have just talked to the Vode. I should have gotten my research approved by the Tolase or–”

Before she could continue any more of her guilt-ridden rant, his hands cupped either side of her face, roughly pulling her to him in a searing kiss. She was so startled she nearly forgot to close her eyes. 

⫷⪡◈⪢⫸⫷⪡◈⪢⫸⫷⪡◈⪢⫸

Fluke

He pulled back, cracking a smile at her confused face. “You’re not upset?” she whispered.

“Sarad,” he laughed. “What you’re doing, all your research? You’re giving us a gift; you’re giving us the possibility of living a normal life. How could anyone be upset about that?”

Her lips finally started to pull into a gentle smile. “I still shouldn’t have told you yet,” she murmured, her brow scrunching slightly. “It’s- it’s too much to promise, Fluke. I don’t know that I’ll be able to–”

“Kresta,” he said. “Ner mirdala jetii, I have every confidence in you and your abilities.”

“But–”

“But, even if it doesn’t happen, I will love you for as many days as we have,” he told her, pulling her against him and pressing a soft kiss to her forehead.

His hands started to shake despite the sense of calm that washed over him. 

You’ll know when it’s time, kih’vod, Cody had told him at the wedding. He’d been skeptical at first, but, as usual, Cody was right. It was time.

“Sarad,” he breathed.

“Darling,” she replied. He could hear that she was starting to let her anxiety about the gene go. 

He pulled away from her. “I do have… one question.”

She nodded. “Anything.”

Maker, she was so beautiful. Her eyes were bright and curious, their sea green wrapping around his soul as usual. The top layers of her hair were tied back from her face in a simple braid. He could see hints of silver at the roots of her long, auburn locks. He had told her it was just as beautiful despite her usual protests.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while and… I think it’s time you got a promotion, don’t you?”

She grinned. “What do you mean? I told you Jedi ranks function differently–”

“I meant from being my cyar’ika to my riduur,” he said. Slowly, he lowered himself to one knee, taking her hands in his. Her soft gasp sent a thrill through him. “Kresta, I love you with everything I am and everything I ever could be. I want you in my life for the rest of it. You are my light, sarad. Will you marry me?”

He could see the tears welling up in her eyes as her face burst into a wide smile. “Yes!” she cried, practically tackling him backward, kissing him hard. 

They lay like that for some time, tangled up on the floor, smiling, laughing, kissing without any expectation for more, eventually relocating to the couch to cuddle close to one another.

“I… I never thought I could ever be this happy,” she whispered after a while. “You make me happy.”

“You make me happy,” he repeated, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. “Ner riduur.”

⫷⪡◈⪢⫸⫷⪡◈⪢⫸⫷⪡◈⪢⫸

To be continued…

⪡ Previous Day

Thanks for reading! - River

Steadfast Master List DangRaccoon Master List Tag List Form Read on AO3

Tags: @writing-positivelyexisting @nekotaetae @lokigirlszendaya @get-wr3ckered @jediknightjana @idoubleswearimawriter @lucyysthings @unstable-kiwi @6oceansofmoons @l3xi3luv @savebytheodoresnonjosestuff @winter-phoenix1995 @serenityselene @nomercyforthewarrior @ravenclawbitch426 @luna-the-lone-red-wolf @Padawancat97 @wishyouthetest @orangez3st @flowered-bicycles @error6gendernotfound @techs-goggles9902

[w31rd0-art1st]

@clonexocweek

Can't believe this is already over.. it's honestly been such a blast participating in this event. No writing today but instead two drawings!

Paring: oc × oc × captain rex(with my vitiligo and heterochromia headcanons)

(Mandalorian x Jedi x clone Captain)

Very happy with how this turned out! The hand on the left drawing is slightly traced though...

This is the one i made originally but I made it when I was struggling with art block so it isn't the best...

Paring: sister × oc

References 🔽

[silverwings22]

Tech and Shiani: Free Space!

Free space is less writing and more art show and tell! I came up with Shiani while brainstorming an RP with my best friend Lamp that never actually got written, but the first sketch I ever did of her was on the back of some scrap paper at work and it was her hanging upside down. So free space is Throwback Siren Sunday, with a before and after!

Note: This pairing is from my completed fic Song of the Sea. Check it out here or AO3! Art below!

@clonexocweek

The first squidlett doodle!

And final art for this challenge. Happy clonemas!

[talesfrommedinastation]

I don't talk enough about Tanke and Crosshair. Because, let's be honest, it's more fun to talk about romance then other types of love.

Romance is easy to get sucked in by. Platonic, maternal, filial, not so much.

For as gentle and sweet as Sjael is, is the opposite. Which is Tanke Drummer.

Originally, I thought about hooking her up with Daddy Warcrimes.

Then I wrote A Conversation in the Sick Bay to get into their heads, and sent it off to a few folks to beta read.

It was well received, and the readers had nice things to say about the writing style, especially since none of them were familiar with the world of The Expanse.

But what surprised me was how people reacted to Tanke and Crosshair's relationship. It was clearly affectionate, and the two have tons in common.

Both have complex relationships with their families, PTSD from their strong sense of duty and loyalty, followed by rigid, painful lines in the sand that one does not cross.

Ergo, Tanke wasn't seen as romantic in the piece. She was seen as a protector, almost maternal, pointed out a reader.

She's not playful or sweet like her little sister. And Crosshair? He's not curious or adventurous like Tech. But would either Sjael or Tech have turned out the way they did had they not had their siblings to guard them?

It's explored more in both Far Past the Ring and To Guard Against Titans. I might do more. I don't know!

[thora-sniper]

Free space and 7th day are going to VampAU. This thing find it's place in my heart right after "Detective Cross" series, so here some old arts and first meet episode.

Disclaimer: I'm thinking about what to make with other Batchers: all of them vampires too, or they are classical monster collective, for example:

Invisible Man - Tech

Werewolf - Hunter

Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde - Echo

Monster of Frankenstein - Wrecker

So... I open for this journey too

Thora was sitting in her cage sadly looking into the sky. The bottom of the cart rocked beneath her, bouncing on potholes, the wheels creaking. The driver cracked his whip dejectedly, urging on the already exhausted nag. It wasn't that place where young woman want to be, but her family has a lot of debts and they have no money to pay. So now she is a slave.

She was glad that she has no pretty face, because it saves her from being whore in one of those den where rich people could buy everything. But now she has two ways - working on farm or plant, or stay in someone's house as a servant. Ok, factory would be more pleasant, because it makes her life shorter and she can be struggle with this not so long.

Two other cages wasn't empty too, but one man there don't want to speak, other was sleeping all the day or he was vomit so his place smell disgusting.

-Could we clean his cage, - Thora asked next stop.

Driver smirk and spit under her fit:

-No, suffer with this.

It was about few hours to nearest town, but night fell down earlier. It was dark, like the sun was turned off in an instant, and very cold. Thora has her coat on, but it wasn't enough.

-No fire, no stop, - the driver warned. - This place is damned and strange. If we have has less stops we was in the village now.

-Why it's damned? - asked woman. She can't sleep and she tried to distract herself with conversation.

-There monster near here. And look, monster hunters there on the forest, - driver answered without his occasional scorn, poking with the whip to some small moving lights.

-Is it dangerous? Can it attack us?

-No, I suppose. We are not rich, and this cart smells like a garbage thanks to your neighbor. This monster don't need villagers, most of the time he attacks carriages or something like that.

-Why?

-Hella I know. You asking too much questions, shut up. Go to that corner and sit silently.

And he slapped the bars. Not so strong, but enough to make her fingers get hurt while she was holding the bars. Hissed, she slide to the corner and just in time.

One of the wheels meet the most headstrong rocks on this road and the whole carriage jumped, and the cages hit one of the sides hard. The cart might have been able to withstand a slight roll, but the shifted center of gravity turned it over. Two of the four wheels creaked helplessly, hanging in the air. The cages fell out and rolled down the hill, cracked at its base.

Thora hit her head. Sleeping man was pierced with a rod, it was sticking out of his chest right above his heart, and the other had pierced right through his neck. Other man was alive but may be unconscious. He moaned. Driver was over there near the road, woman heard him cursing.

She was confused, not knowing what to do. If she try to run, she has no any chance to win. She can't help one of her mates, and other one looks so strange. But when she heard weak "help me" from him, she made her choice.

He was under cage frarments, it wasn't too big or heavy but it looks like he was so weak for them, it's like he've been starving for weeks. Long white hairs was dirty, cheekbones stood out sharply against man's stubbly face, but he was watching every her move carefully. When Thora was ready to help him rise up and gave him hand he pull her down on him and grabbed her shoulder with long, tenacious fingers.

-There is no escape for us, if those hunters will be here, - his voice was scratchy to the core. - Even I'm not that monster they're tracking, I'm still not enough human. So you have two ways - stay here and die, or give me some of your blood and I can save both of us.

He smiled and Thora seen two pairs of long fangs in his mouth, so why he was so silent all the way, trying to hide this from her. Vampire, or something else. She new only one thing - they're powerful, can be rich, but not necessarily. Woman was scared but she new that unknown monster scares her more than this politely gentleman. He have enough power to force her to squeeze out the blood by force, but he gave her the right to choose.

-I'm already slave, so it doesn't matter who I end up serving, - she answered, taking off her coat and pulling down shirt collar.

His first bite bring so much pain. But both of you need him be strong and with his whole abilities activated. Tears sprang from the Thora's eyes and she felt that her body don't belonged to her anymore. And she wanted to sleep.

-Good brave girl, - he whispering on her ear and lick the place of the bite with his long tongue. - This hunters have no any chance this time, because of you helping me. I hope next time I don't need so much, and you can feel little bit better.

A silent question froze in her eyes. "Next". Is he planning to bite her again? She don't want to be monster feed.

-Oh, don't say a word, - he mentioned her face express. - It's not easy but I think you like my next proposal.

-No, I...

-You're in no position to tell me "no", - he hissed, grabbed her almost unconscious body and threw the woman over his shoulder. Then she pass out.

It was early morning when Thora wake up. Wide bench under her was covered pair of blankets, her wounds on the head were washed and covered under fresh strips of fabric. Some dishes covered with towel was on the table. When woman open the, he heard familiar scratching voice from the darkest corner of the room:

-You need to eat, you have to be healthy, if you want to survive next time when I need to feed myself, - vampire show to the dishes. This smells really tasty. Thora take a cup of tea and it warms her hands. She began to eat under his intent look.

-Why do you think that the next time would be?

-Because you have no place to go, you were at those slave cage and now you're run. Don't you think that they want you back, - his narrow eyes stared intently into the soul. She nodded silently.

-No, I don't. I'm just peasant girl sold for debts. There hundreds of us. What's your name? - she asked.

-Name me Crosshair. And driver was right, you asking so much questions.

-I need to know rules, don't you think? So that's why I asking so many things. I never was so far from home, and never meet so many others, if you understand, - she trying to explain her position.

-Rules, you need me make rules for you, - he became thoughtful. - You have them, but now eat in silence, please.

Thanks for reading, or looking through to everyone 🫶

And more thanks to them who making "likes" and "reblogs" 😍

Thanks @clonexocweek for this event!

[vimse]

@clonexocweek | Day 7: Free Space | Pairing: Tech x Silvie

Note: Hello!! This is super late, I’m sorry!! I wanted to join the event as it was happening, but...couldn't, for a lot of reasons. One of those reasons is that I really don't have anything concrete decided for this pairing, just— v i b e s. But I wanted to contribute with something. So here is a playlist.

Below is a holodisc containing a mixtape that Silvie made for Tech: one that would hopefully convey her growing feelings for him, one that she never got the chance to give to him before he and his family left Ord Mantell for good. Why is he holding it in the picture, then? Ah, well, I'd like to think that he somehow discovers it one day far into the future, when they meet again.

Translations and a selection of lyrics below the cut!

Aurebesh to English translation of the second picture:

To Tech I really like you but I’m not good with words, so...here you go Tracklist 1. L&H 2. Freedom 3. Runaway 4. Friend of Mine 5. Heavy with Hoping From Silvie

Lastly, some lyrics of the chosen songs to describe the things she wanted to convey:

Silvie’s Mixtape

L&H - Leska

Love and happiness Something make you do wrong Love and happiness Make you do right

Freedom - Kygo & Zak Abel

You give me something that I can hold on to A little light when I'm down on my knees I was so lost in myself when I found you But in that moment you made me believe

Runaway - Galantis

Think I can fly, think I can fly when I’m with you

Friend Of Mine - Avicii, Vargas & Lagola

My, oh my You must have saved me about a thousand times I wouldn't be the one I am today If you hadn't been a friend of mine

Heavy With Hoping - Madeon

Shut me up Shoot me down before I Break and tell the truth Heavy with hoping Heavy with hoping you love me too

[gars-weaponeer]

This is not from the same ship, is not even a romantic ship. But my hand is hurting after an intense week of drawing so here is a little sketch I had in my folder.

TLDR: Fox meets an Amaran senator for the fists time and decides to protect her.

This is my other Oc: Senator Lisik Dhelpra. She is from Naboo, she is Padme's best friend and she is an Amaran. A fox like alien species.

ANYWAY! thank you all for this amazing week!

Thank you for all the love and support for my boy Iellan, I hope I can share more of him in the future if anyone wants to tune in to check it out <3

Thank you to @clonexocweek for hosting this event! <3

Taglist: @orangez3st (my vod, thank you for your constant support <3)

[kamino-burrito]

For @clonexocweek day 7: Free Space! I'm a bit sad that it's over, but I'm really proud of all seven of my entries! And, it was really fun to share my lovely OCs.

"I don't think I'll let you go this time." "I think you'll be charged with theft of Republic property." "Willing to take that risk." "I don't doubt that, cyare."

Also thank you @vimse for your kind words! It was very heartwarming to read them 🥰

[eclec-tech]

Pairing: Clone Captain Brack (OC) and Dr. Zirdda Kyll, army physician

Ship Name: Brackyll

Captain Brack is an OC who popped up briefly in my long fic, and he's getting his own little tale in the Batched Zine OC Showcase (coming soon).

In the spirit of OC Sunday and in honor of the creative fun of Clone x OC Week, I made up an OC just for him. Dr. Zirdda Kyll—yes, it's pronounced kill—is a medical doctor from Mirial currently posted at the orbiting medical station at Ord Cestus.

They're both bored and lonely.

@clonexocweek Star Wars medical divider by @orbitalmirror

The worst part about having your ship limp into a base is that your men are usually in similar shape.

Captain Brack was able to walk away from this most recent battle with a dislocated shoulder and a few lacerations. Many of the men who made it back with him weren’t as lucky. With over sixty percent of his remaining men unable to walk and even more unable to hold a blaster, it was no surprise when he saw his company’s new orders: medical leave, four weeks, more pending medical re-eval.

Even with his arm in a sling, Brack tended to all the paperwork and protocols from that impossibly outnumbered mission in about a day and a half, including the debriefing via holo with Commander Cody and the handful of Jedi currently in the sector. He spent the other half of that second day checking in on each of his men, conscious or not, and walking the entire station to familiarize himself with his temporary home. By the third day, he was convinced he would need to be sedated if he had any chance of enduring the remainder of his medical “sentence.”

If only they were on a planet.

The orbiting medical station at Ord Cestus had but one view—stars. Brack didn’t mind a view of space if it was temporary, but the thought of being away from land and sky was not one he enjoyed. Kamino’s constant storminess bored him even as a child, and he knew he was in for a rough time if he were to look at the same gray walls and infinite blackness out every viewport for an entire month.

It only took a week for him to become bored out of his mind. His men needed rest, so he did his best not to bother them, and those who weren’t resting were busy training to rebuild the strength they needed to get back into the field. Brack trained as well, but it was only a temporary diversion. He needed a change of scenery.

The change he needed came in the form of a woman—and not just any woman. This one was the most breathtaking person he had ever seen.

A Mirialan with skin as purple as Garel at twilight was rare enough, but to see one with eyes the same blue as Kaller’s glaciers and hair the color of Naboo’s grasslands was like looking at a tour of the galaxy in the form of a person. When he was lucky enough to see her, he couldn’t take his eyes off her.

Not only was she the most colorful woman on the station, she was also the only woman on the station. And she was frustratingly elusive. Every time Brack managed to catch a glimpse of her, she vanished almost immediately. Suddenly, he was no longer bored. Finding out who she was became his new, sanity-saving hobby.

It took a few days, but he eventually narrowed down her movements to a handful of levels in the center of the station. Then, one afternoon, he got lucky. The mug of caf she was carrying from the mess was a bit too full, and it slowed her down just enough that Brack was able to follow her back to her office.

The temporary sign at the door gave him the last clue in the puzzle. Her name was Dr. Zirdda Kyll, and that knowledge made up his mind immediately. He was going to say hello.

He lifted his hand to the door panel, then snatched it away. What was he going to say? That he had been following her? That he was bored and had nothing to do, so now he was going to make that her problem?

She made the decision for him.

“I can see you out there. There’s a camera. Come in if you want.”

Brack’s eyes flew to the speaker next to the door and the little camera above it. Kriff.

He opened the door to the tiny office and found her sitting at her desk with no fewer than twenty medical datapads spread out around the barely touched mug.

“What can I do for you, captain?”

Whoa. Her voice is just as beautiful as the rest of her. “I, um…I’ve seen you around, and since my men and I are going to be here for a while, I thought perhaps I should introduce myself.”

Zirdda smiled knowingly. “Yes, I’ve seen you around too.”

Oh, kark. Does she know I’ve been watching her? Was it that obvious?

Brack rubbed at the back of his neck. “There, uh, hasn’t been much for me to do.”

Her smile widened. “This isn’t the most exciting post. I float from station to station as needed, and this one lost its charm after about a week. I sympathize, Captain Brack.”

“How do you know my name?”

“You’ve been wandering the halls. It’s my job to notice things like that. I needed to make sure you weren’t being treated for head trauma with the way you’ve been so restless. There aren’t many men here well enough to be wearing their armor, so it was easy enough to find out who you were with a simple cross reference of rank and injury. How is your shoulder?”

Brack gave his shoulder a roll under his pauldron and hoped the twinge of pain he felt didn’t make it to his face. “Stiff but almost back to its full range of motion. Thank you for asking.”

She shrugged, “Like I said, it’s my job.” She stood and held out her hand. “Dr. Zirdda Kyll.”

He took her hand and whistled low. “I was wondering when I saw your name out there if it was pronounced that way. ‘Kill’ is not a great name for a doctor.”

Zirdda chuckled softly and settled back into her chair. “Don’t I know it. But don’t worry, I’m a killer in name only. Your men are perfectly safe.”

Brack chuckled back, his nerves settling into something warm and confident the longer he was there.

“So, why are you here, captain?”

“Well, I’ve seen you around and hoped that if I came in here and introduced myself, you might give me a shot.”

“‘A shot?’” she repeated with a giggle. “That is the first non-sleazy pick-up line I’ve heard since I got here.”

“Uh-oh.” Brack crossed his arms. “Have my men been giving you a hard time?”

She rolled her eyes and shrugged. “I’m used to it.”

Brack’s eyes narrowed. “What have they been saying?”

“Let’s see…‘Would you like a private lesson on clone anatomy? Want to exchange genetic information? You look hot, can I take your temperature? You decide where I put my probe.’ Things like that. But to be fair, they were all heavily drugged at the time. The fact that they were able to get out complete sentences at all was a miracle. I won’t hold it against them.”

“If you tell me who said those things, I’ll have a word with them.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” she dismissed with a wave of her hand. “They would probably be mortified to know they said those things to me.”

Brack’s eyes landed on the no-longer-steaming caf and the backlog of datapads, and he began to feel a little guilty for bothering her. “I should go. Your caf’s gone cold, and you probably don’t get a lot of downtime. It was nice to meet you, Dr. Kyll.”

He turned to leave, but Zirdda’s voice stopped him. “Captain?”

“Yes?”

“You can come by again tomorrow if you want,” she offered quickly. “I take my break at the same time every day, and I don’t remember anything on your chart suggesting that you can’t drink caf. I can grab two cups from the mess tomorrow if you’d like.”

Brack smiled. For the first time since he arrived, he had something to look forward to. “I’d like that.”

[itzmoonstar]

Wolffe x Moon + Tiyaiya x Scout

Day 7 - free space @clonexocweek

OKAYYY IM DONE SPAMMING!! What I get for procrastinating 😭

Anyways—this was really fun to do plus it got me to draw again since I haven’t been doing that for a hot minute even if they weren’t anything with super fancy :)

Plus never really shared my OC’s, even if it wasn’t a lot. I might post more of them in the future or something. Or even better, actually flesh out their stories since they can’t live in my head forever. 🥲

Tiyaiya hates his ass :)

Plus the idea of Wolffe being at least a little scared of a 6’7” (with 3” heels) togruta is funny :) Scout is a clone that’s part of the Hellfire Squad which is what Moon commands :)

[hellfiresky]

For the Republic (And My GPA)

Contribution to @clonexocweek | Theme: Free space/catch up day

Summary: Fourteen-year-old Ren flunks PE, which, according to her parents, is a catastrophic failure that must be corrected immediately. Enrolled in a limmie class she wants nothing to do with, she takes matters into her own hands - by secretly copying the morning workouts of Republic clone troopers in Coruscant Park. From a very safe distance, of course.

Pairing: Commander Cody x Ren Kottakas (Teen!Kiffar OC - Sibling dynamics. Platonic) Warnings: None Word count: 3.5k words

Taglist: @orangez3st @msmeredithrose

The moment Ren’s teacher called her parents about her flunking PE was the same day they signed her up for a limmie class. Limmie. Of all things. As if running after a ball and kicking it towards other people would magically fix whatever fundamental flaw made her incapable of keeping up in physical education. It wasn’t that she hated sports. It was just that she liked history. She liked writing, analysing case studies and picking them apart, tracing the causes and effects of galactic events. That made sense to her. That had rules and logic. Not running until her lungs felt like they were about to explode and her vision blurred at the edges. And the worst part was that she was doing fine in every other subject. Perfect scores, even. Just not in PE. And apparently, that wasn’t fine enough.

Her first day at practice had nearly killed her.

Coach had them do a warm-up that was anything but warm. It was basically the Clone War. Burpees, push-ups, sprints, high knees, bear crawls - by the end of it, she was doubled over, hands on her knees, desperately sucking in air that just wasn’t coming fast enough. Her limbs felt like jelly, sweat stung her eyes, and her lungs burned so hot it was like she’d swallowed molten lava. Meanwhile, the other kids were barely winded. A little sweaty, sure. But still standing. Ren nearly quit right then and there.

But she wasn’t in some regular Coruscanti public school. She was in private school, and her parents paid a lot of credits for it. That meant she had to pass. That meant she had to suck it up. That meant she had to train. So, mornings became running days.

It was brutal at first. It was miserable. Five minutes into a jog and her breath would start coming in shallow gasps. Her ribs ached, her legs felt heavy, and her entire body screamed at her to stop, stop, stop. But she wouldn’t. Like most teenagers her age, she hated training at the school gym or running on the track. Too many people watching. Some of the kids weren’t even trying to be mean, but their stares got to her. 

So, Coruscant Park became her safe haven. You know, the one near the Jedi Temple.

She liked it there. Loved it, even. The Jedi fascinated her. Their little creche and padawans with their oversized robes, following behind their masters with discipline that she would never master. It was calming. She always wondered what they thought about while they sat in circles, eyes closed, backs straight, serene. Did they think about history? About their place in it? Did they try to trace their own pasts like she did? She never had the courage to ask. 

But they weren’t the only reason she liked it there. Sometimes, the clones showed up.

Yep, the cool and brave clones she always saw on the posters plastered across the city, standing tall in their armour with blasters in hand, promising safety and protection. The red-marked ones were different, though. Ren often saw them on the streets, standing at intersections, breaking up fights outside hovertrain stations, helping old people cross the road. Like it wasn’t something they had to do, but something they chose to do. Ren thought that was sweet.

She never really understood why people hated them. Her dad had tried to explain it once after dinner, rubbing his hands at his tired face the way he always did when talking about politics. “It’s not about the clones, Ren. It’s about what they represent. People don’t hate the clones - they hate what they remind them of.” But... didn’t they also just hate the clones? She had heard people say the worst things, like they were proud of hating them. The red-marked clones got it the worst - called freaks of nature, meat droids, drugstore Fett.

Who even was Fett? It must’ve been someone important, if people thought comparing them to him was an insult. One of her classmates, Tari, was blatantly anti-clone. She said some real kriffed-up stuff. Once, during recess, she sneered at a shock trooper stationed outside the school gates and said, “You know they age twice as fast? Half their brains probably don’t even work right. Wouldn’t be surprised if they all drop dead at ten.”

It had made Red angry. She felt it deep in her gut. But she hadn’t said anything. Just swallowed it down, the same way she swallowed her awful cafeteria soup, pretending it didn’t taste bad. She wasn’t sure she fully got it.

Ren just knew that the first time she saw them in real life, she just stared. Because, holy kriff on a bantha, they were insanely fit! They didn’t even look tired after who-knows-how-many klicks of sprinting. After a few minutes break, wiping the barely-there gleam of sweat on their forehead, they were onto the next set of drills.

And yeah, okay. They were handsome, too. Not as handsome as Chavi, though. Oh, Chavi was something else. The Twi’lek girl in her class, with smooth cerulean skin and deep violet eyes that sparkled when she laughed. Once, when handing Ren back her borrowed stylus, she had brushed their fingers together by accident, and Ren swore she could feel thousands of butterflies swarming her belly. Like a whole flock of them had decided to take up residence inside her ribcage. So no, the clones weren’t Chavi-level handsome. But if things were... different - if she were into boys - she could maybe see herself having one of those silly teenage-y crushes on them. Probably.

But that wasn’t the case. Instead, she was just in awe. And then, somehow, she found herself copying them. From a safe distance. Duh! Ren found a good spot - a tree far enough that she was mostly hidden, but close enough that she could see them clearly. The first time she tried mimicking their push-ups, she barely managed five before her arms gave out and she collapsed onto the mat like a dying fish. Had to use her knees. Jump squats? Oh don’t even start. She nearly ate dirt when her legs gave out mid-air. But hey! It was still way more effective than whatever her PE teacher had her doing at school. At least the clones were doing something. Her PE teacher barely tried. Half the time, they didn’t even bother teaching - they would literally toss a ball at them and tell them to “get moving.” Like, what did that even mean? Moving where? Moving how? If she knew how to be good at this, she wouldn’t be failing, right?

The limmie coach was marginally better. Four out of five. Could’ve done better! But Ren guessed the coach preferred the kids who were already good. Which was stupid because how were you supposed to be good if no one actually taught you? And watching these troopers was sooooo much better than watching those corny workout vids on the HoloNet. The ones geared for teenagers were so watered down, and even though - yeah, okay - she was struggling, at least the clones weren’t talking in that weird, forced, overly-enthusiastic way that made her cringe into the abyss. Like, No, Kassi Woe, I do not feel ‘soooo strong and energised’ right now, I feel like I’m dying. Thanks! Ren would rather flop like a fish in the dirt than watch one more forced-smile, neon-background, definitely-not-actually-sweating HoloNet trainer tell her she should “feel the burn in a good way.”

So, she kept doing what the group of clones were doing over there. Oh, kriff! They’re doing burpees now. Ren quickly tugged her jewel-green hair into a messy bun, the sun kissing her deep brown skin, making her feel like her golden face tattoos were melting off from the sheer amount of sweat pouring out of her. Which was, obviously, a dumb thought, because those were permanent. “Two more,” she hyped herself up, ignoring the screaming lungs and the shaking legs, before, oh, crap. Her lungs gave up.

Ren rolled onto her back, sprawled out her limbs, staring up at the sky like she’d just been force-pushed by the group of mighty five year old Jedi on the other side of the park into next week. And then, very slowly, she rolled herself into that weird pose she always saw the padawans do in the mornings during their meditation stretches - arms stretched out in front of her, forehead pressed against her mat, curled up like some pitiful, sweaty ball of regret. What was it called again? Something-something-pose?

Whatever. She was staying like this forever.

“You okay, kid?”

A deep voice startled her from above, and Ren nearly flung herself out of her curled-up, sweaty-ball-of-regret pose. Her heart slammed against her ribs like it was trying to escape her body. Her mum had always told her not to talk to strangers. And, okay, real talk - what if this was one of those bounty hunters she’d been hearing about? What if he was some greasy, sketchy-looking guy who had a really greasy, sketchy-looking ship waiting somewhere in the underlevels, just waiting to snatch her up and ship her off to the Outer Rim? She hadn’t even done anything yet! She hadn’t even asked Chavi out!

Well, actually - Chavi hadn’t asked her out. Which, statistically speaking, was way more likely to happen, since Chavi had that whole confident, cool-girl thing going on. Like the type of girl who knew what she wanted and just went for it. Unlike Ren, who overthought everything and could barely look in Chavi’s direction without feeling like she was about to combust on the spot. Oh, kriff. What if Chavi didn’t even like her like that? She always seemed super close to Lira, that equally-beautiful, equally-effortlessly-cool Twi’lek girl in their class. They were always talking, always laughing about something, like they had their own little world, and Ren didn’t even exist in it. But maybe Chavi liked her now, too? She had complimented her hair the other day. ”I like your dye. Green looks good on you.” Which totally meant something, right? Right??? Because Chavi was nice, but she wasn’t that nice, and she didn’t go around complimenting just anyone’s hair - at least not that Ren had ever seen. And she definitely hadn’t said anything to Lira about her hair. So that meant something.

Probably.

Maybe.

Oh, Kriff. What if she was just being nice?!

“Kid, you okay?”

The voice came again, breaking through her downward spiral, and Ren yelped for real this time. A full-on, high-pitched, totally uncool yelp before sitting up so fast she nearly fell over. Panic mode, activated. She scrambled back instinctively, palms pressed to the ground like that would somehow protect her, words tumbling out of her mouth like a sore loser - “PLEASE DON’T KIDNAP ME AND SELL ME IN THE OUTER RIM.”

Silence. Absolute. Kriffing. Silence.

Ren squeezed her eyes shut, mortified, because what the actual hell was wrong with her brain? Was she trying to make this situation worse? That was, without a doubt, the stupidest thing she could’ve possibly said, and now she was going to die of embarrassment before the bounty hunter even had a chance to snatch her. Now the bounty hunter probably thought she was the most uncool kid on Coruscant!

Except the voice didn’t laugh at her. Didn’t immediately deny the kidnapping accusation, either, which, honestly, wasn’t reassuring. She cracked one eye open, peeking up, and, oh.

Oh.

That was not a bounty hunter. That was Commander kriffing Cody. Who was Commander Cody again? NO KRIFFING IDEA. She’d seen him a few times on the news, though. Always in that same armour, always on the front lines, sometimes with a dashing Jedi General standing next to him, sometimes just giving serious-looking quotes about the Republic’s troops. Saying things like "The 212th remains prepared to execute high-risk deployments with efficiency." and sometimes, "We are holding the line against Separatist advances with strategic countermeasures.", and the most confusing one was, "Orbital bombardment is not an ideal solution, but given the current terrain disadvantage, it's our best tactical option."

What even was an orbital bombardment? And why would he do that to the droids? The droids seemed silly - all lanky limbs and weird, tinny voices. They didn’t even look scary. How hard could it be to just… push them over? And why didn’t the Separatists and the Republic just shake hands and end the war? Wouldn’t that fix everything? That way, everything could be fine again. That way, the clones wouldn’t be hated anymore. That way—

"Kid, are you having a concussion?"

Ren snapped back to reality, blinking rapidly, because oh kriff, Commander Cody was kneeling in front of her now. "I’m not selling you to the Outer Rim," he continued dryly. Then, he extended a hand towards her. "Come on, get up. I saw you from over there."

What?

Her brain was still buffering.

"For the past few weeks now," Cody added. "Are you seriously trying to copy our workout for free? Wooley over there moonlights as a PT - you should probably ask him, and he’d charge you."

Ren stared at him. Cody smirked. "Of course, I’m joking."

She was still stunned, still sitting there like a sore loser, still struggling to process the fact that a high-ranking war hero was speaking directly to her, acknowledging her existence, making jokes like they were lunch buddies or something. "Seriously, are you alright?" Cody pressed, voice more gentle now. "Need you to actually answer me, kid."

Ren nodded so furiously, then opened her mouth to speak, and what came out was a truly pathetic noise. "yEs."

Kriff. She wanted to die on the spot. Cody blinked, the edges of his smirk were twitching like he was actively trying really, really hard not to laugh at her. Oh, this was humiliating.

She sounded like a defective droid. A malfunctioning protocol unit caught mid-reboot. She could practically hear the 404 error noise in the back of her head. She cleared her throat, desperately trying to regain some level of dignity, but all that did was make her cough - because, oh stars, she was still dying from burpees. The man in front of her sighed, like he had just seen all of that play out in real-time and had come to the unfortunate realisation that he was now responsible for this disaster of a person.

"You sure about that?" He raised an eyebrow. 

Ren, who was still sitting in the dirt like a knocked-over training dummy, nodded again, a little less furiously this time, and managed to croak out a slightly more acceptable:

"Yeah. I… uh… I’m good."

Cody gave her a long, disbelieving look, then, apparently deciding that was good enough, reached out again. She hesitated for half a second before grabbing onto his hand - which felt like a mistake, actually, because holy kriff, he was strong. He barely even pulled, and suddenly she was standing again - probably too fast, because her vision blurred for a second. But, miraculously, she did not immediately fall on her face, which was progress.

"Alright," Cody clapped his hands once, like this was an actual mission briefing now. "Since you’re still breathing and not actively passing out, tell me something, kid."

Ren, still trying to figure out how to exist again, peered up at him.

"Why exactly have you been doing this?"

"Doing what?"

"This." Cody gestured vaguely at everything about her. The sad, sweat-soaked exercise mat. The messy, hastily tied-up bun that was already falling apart. The way she was literally just copying their workouts from behind a tree. Ren opened her mouth, then shut it again, because what was she supposed to say? "Oh, I flunked PE and now I have to train like an elite soldier so my parents don’t pull me out of school and assign me to remedial PE hell?"

…Actually, yeah. That was pretty much it. She shifted from foot to foot, suddenly very aware of how stupid that sounded, and looked at the group of clones still finishing their last set of actual training drills, wondering if she could just run away. Maybe roll back into the weird yet relaxing Jedi pose and pretend this was all a stress-induced hallucination.

Cody, because he was apparently psychic, hummed and tilted his head. "Lemme guess, didn’t make it to the limmie team?"

Okay, he wasn’t a psychic. But that was close.

"No but–" She huffed, crossing her arms, trying not to look like she was seconds away from bolting. "It's not just about limmie, alright? My PE teacher hates me. I mean, probably. Not outright, but he’s never actually taught me anything! And the limmie coach only cares about the kids who are already good. And I have to pass, otherwise my parents are gonna freak out and probably sign me up for something worse. Like, I don’t know. Remedial PE class at school?"

She shuddered at the thought. Remedial PE. A special class, designed for the worst of the worst, where the teacher would probably make her run drills until she dropped. "Not doing that," she added. "So yeah. Here I am. Copying the best in the business for free."

"Best in the business, huh?"

Ren squinted at him. "You do literally fight wars, yeah?"

That made him chuckle. "Fair enough."

"Exactly." Ren finally felt the heat from her face disappear. She was a little less embarrassed now. "You guys are way better trainers than those HoloNet fitness influencers. You don’t tell me to ‘feel the burn’ in a super annoying voice." That got a full laugh out of him. "But did you…" the commander paused, a teasing lilt creeping into his voice. "...feel the burn?"

Ren froze before she groaned loudly, throwing her head back to hold back a cringe."Ughhhhhh! I knew you were gonna say that!"

"So that’s a yes, then?" Cody burst out laughing.

"No! …Maybe! …I’M NOT ANSWERING THAT."

"Alright, alright," he threw his hands up. "Just checking, rookie."

"Rookie?" Ren squinted at him. "I didn’t agree to a nickname."

Ren’s brain stopped working for a second. What if, what if people at school found out she’d been training with clones? Especially the ones who weren’t anti-clone? The kids who admired the troopers - who, for some reason, remembered their names like they were some kind of Sparvel superheroes (what the hell?). They’d lose their minds. They’d ask her so many questions. And if word got out. NO! If Chavi found out… Oh, kriff. That would make her the coolest kid in school. That would mean Chavi would—

"Kid?"

"Huh?"

Cody was staring at her with that mildly concerned commander face.

"You heard me." He jerked his head towards the rest of his troopers. "You wanna keep doing our drills, you’re gonna do ‘em right. No more tree-hiding. You run with us, train with us, learn proper form so you don’t kriff up your knees and ankles."

"You said kriff." That was literally what came out of her mouth.

"…And?"

Ren froze, suddenly very aware of how stupid that sounded. Of course, he said kriff. He was an adult.

"Nothing! Nothing at all!" she waved her hands in frantic dismissal. Cody just shook his head like he was reevaluating all of his life choices that led him to this moment. Ren, on the other hand, was beyond stunned. This was so much better than sneaking around like some guilty tooka behind a tree. She was going to die. Oh she was sure of that! But she was going to die cool. 

Slowly, a grin stretched across her face. Cody raised an eyebrow. "That a yes?"

"Oh, kriff yeah."

"Language."

Cody patted her back. Which, ow, okay, strong! The commander beckoned her forward before jogging back towards his group of troopers. Ren rolled her shoulders. She shook out her limbs to hype herself up. This was it. This was happening. No more hiding. No more flopping around alone in the dirt. And maybe, Chavi would finally ask her out. (Or, okay, maybe she’d finally get the guts to ask Chavi out first, but details, details!)

"WAIT FOR ME!"

Ren took off running, her post-burpees lungs protesting as she sprinted after the commander with the absurdly long strides. Because, of course, these guys were giants. Tall. Huge. Juggernaut-like. Okay, not that huge. But BUILT.  Ren was pretty sure her entire torso was the same length as Cody’s thigh, and the way he effortlessly covered twice the distance in half the time was so unfair.

"It’s Marshal, kid," Cody called back, not even remotely out of breath. "Huh?" Ren puffed, trying not to acknowledge the fact that her calves were also screaming in protest because, stars help her, she had not done enough actual running in her weird tree-hiding workout sessions. "Marshal Commander Cody," he clarified. "That’s what they call me."

"C-cool. Yeah. Saw you on the news. Great. Marshal… C-Commander… C—" Oh, stars, breathing was so hard. She wasn’t dead yet. But give it like five more minutes and she might be.

[clonexocweek]

Clone x OC Week 2025

Day 7: Free space / Catch up day

For day seven, we entrust our participants with full creative freedom. Do you have a WIP laying around that didn't quite fit the other prompts? Show us! Is there any particular aspect of your pairing that you'd like to especially gush about? Tell us about it! Missed a day of the event due to life circumstances? Don't worry, this is your chance to catch up!

Today's tags:

#clonexocweek #clonexocweek2025 #clonexocweek2025 day 7 #[insert clone name]* x oc

*please write the clone name without the brackets, e.g., tech x oc. If the clone is an OC, please use the tag "clone oc x oc".

[moosethren]

Free Space - Clone x Oc Week 2025

I just want to thank the mods for hosting this event; it must have been a massive undertaking!

@clonexocweek

There's a lot I could talk about with Tech and Ash. They're a ship that got me through a hard time and I absolutely adore them. And being autistic myself, I see myself in both Tech's and Ash's reactions to things.

The drabble below is the last moment they share together before Order 66 comes crashing on them all and has a hint towards another clone x oc ship of mine.

Thank you to those who have reblogged and read my posts!

Ash's carrd

In the cockpit, Ash could be heard clicking away at something, occasionally cursing in her native tongue under her breath. The blasted thing was lagging and not cooperating at all, making her angrier by the second. 

“It’s not… that’s not what I want you to do! Just… work! Argh, dammit!” Shaking the datapad in her hand, her fingers clenched around it to the point it started to creak before she stood up from the chair and turned to throw it away from her. At the same time Tech was approaching the cockpit, about to grab the back of her seat.

He instinctively ducked as the datapad came flying by his head, looking over his shoulder where it clattered to the floor before turning back to Ash. Her eyes were wide, mouth agape in shock and horror all at once. 

Tech merely raised an eyebrow. “Problems?”

“Ah, shit, I’m… I’m sorry,” she groaned then, looking mortified before dragging her hand over her face. She really needed to control her temper but when technological things just didn't work, her patience flew out the window.

“Do not worry. You are not the first one to throw things around in the ship.” He took a few steps back, picking up the datapad and adjusting his goggles as he took a closer look at it, not missing the cracks in it.

“Don’t bother, Tech. It’s not working anyway. Poor thing’s been through too much over the years now.”

“More than a few years. It is a K7-model. I have only ever heard of them, never actually seen one up close.”

“That old, huh…?”

“Quite. I am surprised it has worked this long. Especially with your tendency to veer towards Wrecker’s temper when it comes to technological things.” 

She swore he had a smirk in his face, before he started to click away on the datapad. It gave no response and he hummed thoughtfully, picking up one of his tools instead and pried open its backside. He seemed quite content like this, trying to fix what was broken.

“Ah. I found the source of your frustrations.” He held up a black circular chip that he had plucked out of it. “Fried, I am afraid. And they have not been manufactured for years by now. Replacing it with a current model is not going to work either, the power connections will not fit.” 

“So it’s pretty much useless then? I guess I can still use it as target practice.”

“I would like to keep it, if you do not mind.” Ash shrugged. It wasn’t as if she would have any use for it anymore. Though she wondered what he could possibly want it for.

“Go ahead. I suppose there’s no saving the data on it?”

“No, that chip controls the harddrive. What did you save on it?”

“I like collecting old sheets of music I’ve found on my travels. It’s a fun challenge trying to convert them into violin music. Didn’t use that old thing for much else though. It couldn’t do much else.”

“I see.”

“Thanks for taking a look at it, despite nearly being beheaded by it.” She smiled faintly at him, not missing his brow furrowing. He turned it around in his hand again.

“Getting beheaded by it would be quite impressive…” 

Ash shook her head gently, the smile remaining. 

“Well, still, thank you. I… need to take another look at my gear before the mission. Talk to you later.” He watched her depart the cockpit. His focus quickly fell back to the datapad though. Lifting it up, he tapped it thoughtfully against his chin.

A successful mission later and safely back on Cardulia again, Ash bid the Batch goodbye for now. The more missions she did with them, the more difficult it became each time to leave. She was quite fond of their company, especially Tech’s. Even when not on the ship with them, her thoughts often strayed to him. 

That she was fond of him was quite clear, if not to him, then the rest of the squad. Their teasing had grown significantly these days, to the point that even Tech noticed it from time to time. They never spoke about it though, as if there was a silent agreement on pretending nothing was there. And maybe it wasn’t. Maybe she imagined it all. Even if she wasn’t, she enjoyed their friendship too much to put it at risk. 

With all that in mind, she felt a bit sad that he wasn’t present when she stepped off the Marauder’s ramp, with Wrecker waving enthusiastically to her from inside the ship, Crosshair standing in the doorframe. Hunter leaned on the frame’s other side, with his arms across his chest. Echo was outside, looking over one of the ship’s panels from the outside but raised his hand in farewell when he realised Ash was leaving.

“Can’t wait to see you again, Ash!” Wrecker called out over Crosshair’s head, who winced at the loud volume near his ears, nearly dropping the toothpick from his mouth. He did drop it when Tech suddenly shoved his way between him and Hunter, with the latter forced to step outside of the ramp, barely catching himself against the doorway. Almost hanging from the doorway, his fingers tightly clutched around the frame, he gave Crosshair a deadpan who chuckled before catching his wrist to help pull the sergeant back up.

Tech’s voice made Ash turn around immediately, the feathers of her wings fluttering in the movement. “Ash, wait!” 

She masked her relief quickly enough, her ears darting upwards in attention. Behind them and the landing platforms, the city of Tovor was sprawling with life, carduls, humans and other aliens marching back and forth; busy with accepting deliveries and sending them off to their numerous trade routes. Cardulia was flourishing, their trades one of the most important ones in this sector of the galaxy. An achievement considering the dangerous systems nearby.

Tech stopped in front of her, holding out a datapad for her to take. “I wanted to give you this. It is one of my spare datapads.”

“Spare? How many do you have?” She accepted it, turning it around in her hand to study it closer. It was certainly newer than her own. Which meant more complicated, undoubtedly.

“Four at the moment. I can do without a fifth. And -” he sided up with her to show her something on it, putting his hand over hers where she held the datapad for extra support, the other clicking at the buttons.

“It has quite a lot more functions than your K7 model did. Comlink, audio and recording functions, orientation access, holonet access, several text programs. I have also downloaded a few music sheets for you. I cannot recover the ones you lost, but I managed to find a few cardulian ones. On top of a few classics and one of my favourites.”

Ash had been distracted by all the functions of the datapad, blinking a little dumbfounded during his explanation. Now she abruptly turned her head to look at him though. 

“You - you have favourites?”

“Of course. Classical music is very stimulating to the mind. I had no idea you could convert sheets yourself though. Do you play?” He was immensely curious as he looked down at her, his hand still over hers. Something Ash realized first now. Her eyes fell back down at the datapad, glancing over at his fingers. It was far from the first time he huddled up against her side to show her something but he never touched her while at it.

Before she could reply, Hunter’s voice was heard, reminding her that they were still nearby.

“Tech! We need to get going.” He winced as Crosshair smacked him across his shoulder before the sergeant shrugged and stepped inside the ship.

“I’ll tell you next time,” Ash chuckled after having glanced over at the ship, as Tech looked torn between leaving and staying now, obviously struggling with moving his thoughts from the conversation and back to action.

She squeezed his hand over the datapad before tucking it into her bag. “Thank you. Again.” 

“Of course,” he offered a brisk smile, withdrawing his hands and resting them a little awkwardly before his chest now that he had nothing to occupy them with. He watched her take a few steps backwards off the landing platform, as if she didn’t really want to leave, until she turned and headed into the city proper itself.

Tech stood there for a few moments, contemplating how much he wanted to follow her. But duty called. Heading back to the ship, he spotted Crosshair’s arched eyebrow as he stepped inside.

Tech gave him a look in return. “What?”

“Adorable,” the sniper retorted with a smirk. “Going to start counting down the days until we work with her again?”

“Those will probably be short,” Tech replied, missing the tease entirely. “According to the latest data, the war is going very much in the Republic’s favour. We might see an end to it soon.”

“Oh, goodie.” Crosshair paused, not sure he liked those implications. An end to the war? While the idea was nice, it put one question in his mind most of all. What would happen then? It was such an unknown, that not even all of Tech’s data could prepare them for it. He looked upwards, watching the busy streets of Tovor up ahead.

“Things will surely get interesting once the war ends,” he voiced out loud, making Tech pause at the top of the ramp, as he observed Crosshair.

“I cannot imagine they will change too much. A celebration, followed by months or even years of political strife between the Republic and the Separatist remains. Rogue criminal elements will always be a constant in the galaxy, so most likely soldiers like us will be utilised to deal with them or any Separatist insurgents, while the regs will continue to serve as the backbone of the Republic's military. But that is just one hypothesis. I would not worry too much about sizable differences.” 

Crosshair wasn’t surprised to hear that his brother had already thought about the implications of the war ending. What didn’t that man think of? At least in some matters.

“Perhaps you will be visiting Cardulia more often? And Ash?” he suggested out loud, as Tech offered the city a brief glance. His brow furrowed. Their free time would not increase just because the Republic won. And now he did realise one terrible change that might occur.

“With the war ending, the Jedi will return to their previous duties. They will no longer be generals and thus any squads under their care will be diverted to other tasks. Most likely, Ash and Hide’s partnership will end. Where that leaves her…”

That one he hadn’t even considered yet. It was as if he hadn’t dared to touch that possibility yet. The notion of seeing her even less… it stirred something unpleasant in his chest and mind, something he didn’t want to consider. 

“Ask her then,” Crosshair looked back at his brother, though Tech’s sudden concern was infectious. None of them liked change. Yet the war would end eventually and it’d drag all kinds of change with it, despite Tech’s previous assurance. They were soldiers after all. Clone soldiers. What private lives could they possibly be allowed?

While he’d consider Crosshair’s words, he couldn’t worry about something that had yet to occur though. Changes were inevitable.

“What about you, Crosshair?”

“What?” 

“Are you counting the days until you see Varga?” The sniper bit down on his toothpick, looking dead ahead over the city rather than his brother’s face. He couldn’t even tell if Tech was joking or not. Judging by his tone, it had been a genuine question.

“I like the surprise,” Crosshair shrugged, stepping away from the door, to shut the hatch. “Go on then, before Hunter drags you to the cockpit.” Tech gave him a nod, walking off and leaving his brother alone with his thoughts.

He was never counting the days until he saw Varga again. But he was counting how many it had been since he’d last seen her. And right now, they had been more than he liked.