#clone trooper comet

[boggsart]

My boys about to drop the sickest album of the century

[sadiecoocoo]

Thinking about Hardcase getting to be an ARC trooper with Jesse

Thinking about Tup and Dogma just talking and hanging out together

Thinking about Domino squad all joining the 501st and eventually becoming ARCs

Thinking about Rex getting to see his brothers after the war

Thinking about Comet hugging Wolffe after he lost his eye

Thinking about Wrecker letting Echo use Lula after a nightmare

Thinking about Fives being there when Echo was found

Thinking about bly and Aayla growing old together

Thinking about Cody helping shinies adjust after their first battle

Thinking about Boil and Waxer going back to Ryloth and visiting Numa often

Thinking about Omega getting to see the stars without the fear of being hunted

Thinking about Plo Koon making sure the 104th felt loved

Thinking about Ahsoka joining the clone cuddle piles

Thinking about Rex watching his brothers be happy

Thinking about the clones being happy

[veny-many]

Wolfpack's pup

You know, I really love the headcanon of Wolffe being protective and loving his youngest brother of pack.

[omaano]

🤍 Wolf boys 🤍

[honeydwellerbee]

Ok so I may have gone a little ham on the Chibi clones. I am really happy with how they all came out though. if you wanna see my 502st little guys Its my previous post. This was a ton of fun and was a lot less stressful that working on a full illustration so that's cool :) anyways enjoy my little guys. 

[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.

[oceansssblue]

SW REQUESTS:

"Would love to see a Wolffe x reader fic where the AFAB reader is injured in battle, Comms him and then their Comms get jammed and he's just freaking the hell out. Love some angst of him carrying her back to a ship and losing his mind over it"

Some minor alterations but I'm SO HAPPY with how this one came out! I love wolffe and there aren't that many fics about him. Do recommend your favourites! Xx, sky.

"RADIO SILENT" –WOLFFE/F READER

WARNINGS: BATTLE, WOUNDS&BLOOD, ANGST AND FLUFF. 📩💔����

Halsakaa is a nightmare. The Republic hasn't been able to redirect more forces to the Outer Rim planet to help you; and your troops are struggling to keep the droids battalions at bay. It honestly feels as though the Republic –and the Jedi– have abandoned you to your wrath; no-one coming to this remote location in the galaxy to save you. The destine of your own life, and the lifes of your soldiers, are solely in your hands. And you'd give everything for them, even sacrifice yourself if you have to. After so many experiences together, for almost three years straight now, they have becomed such an important part of you it feels as if you have ingrained every single one of them in your soul. You know you should'nt be so attached to them; Master Ploo quietly reminds you from time to time –though you know he's not exactly indifferent either–. The wolfpack is his own just as they are yours. Yours. Growing up as Jedi you haven't had this kind of... ownership over anything but your saber. Obviously, you don't see the clones as something you can posses, use; but they do belong to you in some sense, and in that way, it's your responsability to command them, to take care of them. And you... love them. It's a dangerous word for a Jedi. But it's the truth. It is the reason why, right now, your soul aches. Each death is a strike right to your heart. But how can you see them any different, when they are such loyal friends? Such fierce soldiers, who fight and die selflessly for the freedom of other citizens in the galaxy, a freedom that hadn't been given to themselves?

Your dark emerald green lightsaber flies in your hands, deflecting one bolt after the other one. Sweat makes your usually comfortable jedi robes stick to your body; minor scratches and wounds tingling painfully at the friction of the fabric. It doesn't make you move any slower, though; you feel unstopable jumping from a cluster of droids to another, the hum of your saber following you around while you slash through your enemies with persistent focus and skill. General Ploo is doing his own thing on the other side of the battlefield; your clone troops split in half to defend both sides of Halsakaa's capital.

You don't know how much longer you can hold this off. All of you have been trained for this, and you're used to drawing strength from the Force, increasing your usual endurance; but even you are feeling exhausted, muscles straining like painful cords, and the thing about the droids is that they never tire out. You know this has to end eventually. Right now, Master Ploo's orders are to hold on til some other battalion can come to your rescue –the other option abandoning Halsakaa to the separatists, which would cause a disastrous impact on the Republic–; though you don't know when that will be. It may be days, or weeks. A month, maybe two. Even with the system of rest-and-takeover you've got established with the clones you're afraid you're going to lose.

The night falls, and some troopers fall back into the delicate safety of the makeshift camp, a decent distant away from the battlefield; they'll try to shut the eye for some hours before replacing other brothers positions again. You keep fighting, completely exhausted but knowing perfectly well that your presence in the battlefield equals the force of ten clones; pushing through your energy limits and fiercely holding your own.

Hours pass, and the two suns of Halsaaka rises again; your tired eyes getting used to the new light while you keep slashing droids with your saber.

"We're pushing them further away from the South Door" Master Ploo's calm voice picks up through your coms. "I have been informed that the 442th have been dispatched in our way. They will join us in two sunrises".

You can't help but give a relieved sigh. The 104th have worked with the 442th more than once in the past. They are heavy infantry; and you wouldn't say no to some of that now. Any fresh soldier would be a welcomed addition. You can see the strain on your troopers; though none of them would dare say a word out loud.

"Copy that" you answer through your channel with your Master and the 104th's commander and sergeant. "I'll feel as happy as a kid with a popsicle when I see that green stripped armour along our light gray one".

You dodge a shot and use the Force to push a wave of droids to the side; your troopers quickly using the oportunity to blast them down.

Wolffe's deep husky voice pipes up in a tiny, well-humoured comment.

"Still a kid yourself, General" he teases you, voice still firm and contradictionally serious.

Your lips pull up on a tiny smirk.

"We can't all age in a blink of an eye, my dear Commander" you chirp back.

The coms pick up his raspy chuckle before the frequency goes back to silence.

The droids make way for something bigger and you groan under your breath. The first bolts make the earth beneath your feet shake slightly; orders and screams shouted all around you.

"Bad news, boys" you open the general coms this time so everyone gets updated in this very unwelcomed surprise. "We've got some spiders".

You focus yourself on them; flying through the battlefield and jumping on one droid after the other one, sinking your saber into their red sensors or cutting off their laser canions. Then, when you're in the middle of jumping off of one, a surprisingly well aimed bolt crosses the air and hits you; and you fall down with blood quickly soaking your side, staining the fabric of your Jedi clothes.

"Fuck" you mutter out loud, jaw clenching til your teeth hurt while you stand up quickly and deflect another bold with your saber, trying to cope with the pain. You open your private frequency with Sinker and quickly inform of your state.

"Sinker, I've been hit" you grit between your teeth while you kill the droid responsible for your wound and step back between your troopers to cover yourself momentarily.

You pull your clothes up and quickly glance down at the wound. Usually the bolts inmediately cauterizes the wounds; but this hadn't been a normal droid, but a combat-J1, with it's weapon specifically designed to make the most damage to human's skin without it's predecessors side-efects. The apparently less dangerous bolts are quite the opposite; dividing into smalller ones that diverts into different directions when hitting a surface with enough resistance. Right now, there's only one entrance wound on your right side; but you know they may have carved more than one path inside of you, making it a life or death situation depending on how lucky you are.

"How bad is it?" He asks, slowly but effectively advancing through the droid lines towards you, an easy person to locate with the shine of your emerald saber.

You grunt in pain, hand soaked in dark scarlet blood, and take a deep breath in, knowing what you need to do for now.

"Bad" you just answer, carefully lowering your own saber towards the wound "It's a shot from a J1. I'm going to cauterise the wound for now, but I might go into shock in the next hour. Just a heads up."

You chuckle weakly, and then carefully graze your lightsaber against the wound. The skin quickly hardens and clots; the smell of the burn quickly reaching your nose. Your knees buckle while you swallow your scream of pain; legs shaking weakly and tears springing to your eyes while you finish putting a momentarily solution to your wound. At least you won't die from blood loss for now.

"Maker, General" Sinker is suddenly there, taking a strong hold of your opposite hip to stabilize you. "That really doesn't look good. You should go back to camp, Sir".

You find solace in his strength for a minute before rightening yourself again and getting ready to move. You close your eyes and center yourself with the Force. You're hurt, but you're still in the middle of open fire; you need to swallow the pain and dizziness down and hold on.

You give Sinker a firm nod.

"I'm letting this side of the battlefield on your hands, then" you tell him, his own back inmediately straightening too under such responsability. "Just one more night and we'll have reinforcements with us tomorrow".

Sinker nods in understanding, appreciating your words of encouragement. He quickly orders Comet to help you get safely back to camp; while he inmediately takes the role of leader and commands your part of the 104th clone troops. You need to protect the North Door of Halsaaka while Master Ploo and Wolffe take care of the South.

One arm around Comet's shoulders and finding strength in the Force, you quickly start your dangerous way back to safety. Even though Comet's alert with his own blaster and you're still deflecting bolts with your saber, you're vulnerable now. You just hope you're both able to make it.

You open your coms to inform of the new situation.

"I've been hit with a J1" you warn Master Ploo and Wolffe. You don't like how weak your voice sounds. "Wolffe, I..."

There's a small explosion right beside you; and the force of it pushes both you and Comet to the ground. You whimper in pain, but quickly grab him and push the two of you back up, resume walking –more like stumbling forward–. You try the coms again, wanting to tell Wolffe you've left Sinker with command before retiring for the night; you grumble in irritation when you see your com device has detached from your forearm and has been left abandoned behind.

"Do you have your com?" You ask Comet.

His voice is barely audible under the protection of his helmet.

"My audio appears to be broken after that last fall, General."

You sigh, tired. There's nothing you can do about it now. Sinker will communicate with them sooner or later.

"Let's just make it back to safety then" you say, and Comet nods diligently.

You'll just focus on not collapsing to the ground before reaching camp.

•••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe's heart stutters inside his chest when he hears your voice in the coms. You're always strong, always fierce; something he had admired from the very first time he had had the chance to work under your command. He had been cold towards you back then; not purposedly harsh against you, but not friendly either. You hadn't cared. When one of his men had pointed out to you it wasn't personal, but just Wolffe's reserved, unpolished personality, you had answered unbothered and completely understanding. He could still hear those words in his head; "I get it. I'm a stranger that holds the lifes of his brothers in her hands. None of you know me yet; trust is earned. I hope I will with time. I'd like us all to be comfortable with each othef. But if not, it doesn't matter. I'm not here to make friends. I'm here to fight. I'm here to protect people; and I'm here to direct my assigned troops as best as I can in order to achieve the best results with the minor number of casualties. If Commander Wolffe opens up to me I'd be honored. If not, I'm sure we could still be good comrades in this war". He still remembers the way you had tilted your chin upwards; staring defiantly at the clones in front of her, completely unaware of him standing not so far away at her back. "Now, I believe there's still some preparations needed for Jaal; and we're taking off in an hour". With that not-so-subtle signal that the conversation had ended, the troopers around you had quickly fell back to place; and Wolffe had silently followed Master Ploo Koo towards you. "Look at you, little warrior" the older Jedi had told you, a pleasant smile wrinkling the corner of his covered eyes. "Already displaying such good lidership traits". You had turned around in surprise; so many life presences around you, and experiencing a rush of your own emotions, you hadn't been aware of both of their presence. Your cheeks had flushed slightly; though that same defiant glint hadn't left your eyes. "Master" you had slightly bowed towards him. "You see me with good eyes" you had smiled softly at him, in a clearly opened affectionate way Wolffe wasn't used to seing in other Jedi. "Just having a chat with the troops". Master Ploo had chuckled quietly and pointed at him with a hand gesture; Wolffe quickly taking a step forwards towards them. "I have just had a quick meeting with the Council. Commander Wolffe will update you on my behalf, as I need to go have a word with the pilots" Master Ploo had glanced back at him pointedly. "If he'd be kind enough...". Wolffe had inmediately nodded, firmly. He had high respect towards that specifical Jedi; and he didn't usually hold others in such high regards. "Of course, sir" he had then turned towards you. "General, if you can follow me to the strategy room...". You had firmly hold his stare for a few seconds; and the quiet inquisitive gaze had felt as if the young Jedi Warrior had scanned his own very soul. Wolffe had had his first tingle of that uncomfortable but curious feeling back then; a feeling that had only increased with the following years. Nowadays, he...

Wolffe cleared his thoughts and focused on battle. Your voice had sound weak and tired, but you were perfectly capable of holding yourself, and this wasn't the first time you had been hurt before. He had actually patched you more than once in the past and... And then you mentioned a J1, and whispered his name, and there was a loud ringing sound through the coms that sounded too close to an explosion for his comfort and... And the sounds died, leaving nothing more than radio silence. And Wolffe, going against everything he had learnt and was trained for, pannicked.

"General?" His frantic, afraid voice was enough for Master Ploo to focus his attention on him, a graze at his Force life enough to make him understand his commander's feelings. "General. Come on. Com in, kid..."

There was only static.

Wolffe's heart pumped faster, adrenaline shooting through his veins. His hands trembled. A knot formed in his throat, slowly chocking his voice. He never broke down. He never broke down, but...

"Cyar'ika" he begged in a whisper. "Please, please answer and tell me you're okay".

He still got no answer back from you, and he felt his soul hurt.

Master Plo's hand suddenly renched him back into reality; a comforting wave of what could only be his Force washing over him. Wolffe turned his face towards him. The Jedi watched him in understanding.

"I can feel your turmoil. It is such it's difficult for me to focus on anything else. You are in no state to stay in the battlefield" he told him, cautiously gentle. "If my padawan has been gravely injured someone has probably helped her return to camp. You must go and make sure she's okay".

Even if Wolffe wanted nothing more than to start of a run and find her, he still hesitated in front of his General. He was a soldier. A commander. He couldn't leave his place just because he had stupidly, oh so fucking stupidly, fallen in love with her...

Master Plo squeezed his shoulders once. He knew him so well.

"Go" he insisted. "That's an order".

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Wolffe quickly wrenched the flimsi excuse of a door of the tent open. He had gone to the makeshift infirmary first; his doctor quickly informing him of the state of his Jedi, and where he could find her resting at the moment. "A dangerous wound, but surprisingly stable" he had told him while he took care of the wound of a fellow brother. "She's a tough one, our General. It was a good idea to use her own lightsaber as a cauterizer. She wouldn't have probably made it all the way back here otherwise". That probability had made Wolffe tremble.

His own eyes quickly scanned the Jedi's state now. She was laying down on a rucksack, unusually clad in just a sport top and his Jedi pant's; outer robes discarded and clean bandages effectively wrapping around her lower torso, with just a small amout of blood transpairing on her side. Her lightsaber had been carefully placed at her side. Her hair was untied and a mess; some sticking to her dirtied face and some falling around freely behind her. Despite her evident exhaustion, Wolffe hand't ever been so happy to see her.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

"Commander?" You asked in a surprised voice, slowly and carefully propelling some of your weight in your elbows in order to see him better. "Shouldn't you be back on the battlefield?"

Your face quickly changes into a deep, worried frown as you scan him up and down quickly.

"Are you hurt too, Wolffe?"

His heart clenches again. He steps inside the tent, slowly falling down on his knees besides you, and closes the door.

"No" he simply answers, observing you quietly.

You're completely lost. He's looking at you in a different way. He... Feels different, in the Force. Usually he feels much more reserved, almost as if he had learnt how to shield his emotions from a Jedi; however this... This felt raw.

"I'm afraid I don't understand" you chuckle and then wince at the way the movement tugs at your wound, a bit nervously now. You pointedly look at him. "You wouldn't be here just because you got worried, right?"

Wolffe's expression doesn't change.

"You went radio silent" he answers, quietly.

You arch an eyebrow.

"Our coms died" you explain, still confused about his attitude.

Wolffe can't help himself. He reaches forward and carefully grasps your chin in his right hand; eyes boring into yours. You gasp in surprise and can't do anything else but stare at his breathetaking mismatched eyes in response; emotions inside of you swirling dangerously with his move.

"You were hurt" he enfasises, almost as if he's trying to tell you something else, something you're not quite understanding. "You were hurt, and you went radio silent".

Oh. Oh. He thought you might be... You might have...

"Oh, Wolffe" his name is an understanding, affectionate sigh on your tempting lips. "I'm okay".

He doesn't want empathy. Doesn't want that almost condescending type of comfort. He needs to make sure you're still here; with him. He needs to exteriorize all this raw, painful emotions he has been keeping hidden for so fucking long, and he wants you so fucking bad it makes his mind and soul burn...

He bends down over you, holding himself against one hand proped against the floor while the other one tugs your neck forward, and then he's kissing you –fiercely, dominantly, real–; he kisses the same way he fights and a surprised but delighted whimper of a moan can't help but escape from your lips, hands quickly clinging onto his shoulders desperately.

You... You hadn't thought you'd end up having this. With you being a Jedi and him being such a perfect, respected clone Commander, you had always brushed your wants aside and...

"Wolffe" you whisper, trembling inevitably when his plush warm mouth moves from your lips to the side of your neck, biting gently. "Wolffe, I...".

He breathes and looks up at your face again; cupping your cheek with his right hand and observing your reaction with his eyes shimmering in needs and desire.

His Force signature blasts. He loves you. He loves you, and you...

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum" you whisper, risking it all and giving your heart to him.

Tears blur your sight. They're not sad tears; they're not happy either. They're a mix of emotions that make you feel like a mess and...

Wolffe sighs. You love him. You love him, and the fact that you've told him in Mando'a...

He closes his eyes and gently presses his forehead against yours; finding solace and peace in your embrace, in this Keldabe. His eyes then flutter open, and he holds your face in both of his hands, slowly joining your lips in a kiss much more sweet and unhurried than those from before. You hum, surrendering in complete bliss.

He caresses your smuged cheek with his thumb, taking some of the dirt and exhaustion of the battlefield away.

His voice is a secret whisper as well.

"Ni kar'tayli gar darasuum, cyare".

Your fingers tug at the hair at the back of his neck, and you crash your lips onto his.

You imprint those five mandalorian words in your soul.

THE END.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

This one was a blast to write! Felt the emotions so raw myself tooo bfbfbsfb this two are so cute. I hope I get to write more of Wolffe in the future, I really like the guy.

Did some minor alterations –like him not been the one to actually carry you back to safety– but it kinda wrote itself and I'm happy with how it came out. Hope you liked it as well!

Also, dear friends, if you ever want to request something longer than a one-shot, you're able to do so as well (if the plot goes accordingly or I find it expandable). I'm not writing whole stories, but a short one of maybe 2-5 chapters max would be okay.

Stay tunned for the next one yall. It will be a little angsty one with Echo, and then we'll have a flirty fun one with Crosshair.

Xx,

Sky.

Back to main masterlist here!

[goldnightshaade]

Plo and his sons

[deathxxfandom]

[loverboy-havocboy]

i like the idea of comet having a mohawk

[mnnulat]

Room for More

TBB x fem!reader (platonic)

Fandom: Star Wars: The Bad Batch

Summary: A Jedi padawan of Master Plo Koon, you'd been on the run since Order 66 was executed after the Wolfpack betrayed your master. Mostly hiding out in Ord Mantell, you soon encountered Clone Force 99. After helping out with some of their missions for Cid (and always hanging out with Omega), the Batch welcomed you under their wing. However, you don't talk to them that much if it isn't mission-related. A certain mishap may change that.

Warnings: mentions of death, minor angst, metions of Order 66, mentions and description of vomit and GERD (PLS DO NOT READ IF THAT BOTHERS YOU)

A/N: Not proofread or edited. Reader should be around 20 years old. Also, reader's experience with GERD is based on my experience with it (I'm no medical professional so disclaimer!!)

The journey on the way back to Ord Mantell is not always vibrant, but this time, it is. Blue streaks decorate the blackness of space as the Havoc Marauder travels back to Ord Mantell. The energy in the ship is unusually jolly after a mission; you could feel everyone's energy.

Cid's client this time was a sheriff. He hired you and the Batch to act as temporary bodyguards to drive away mercenaries from his town on a tropical planet. While you were there, you and the Batch befriended the local villagers. As a thank you gift, they gave you tons of food—enough for a real meal for the five of you—for the journey back to Cid's.

It seems they packed you some sort of noodles. It's incredibly saucy—almost a vibrant red—not that you mind. The smell is delicious, mild enough for Hunter to enjoy it properly, but enough that you can smell the blend of several different spices. Chopped out pieces of vegetables and meat are mixed into it, as well.

You sit on your bunk, quietly observing the Batch as you heartily eat the noodles. Wrecker, who practically wolfed down his big portion of the food, is now playing dejarik with Omega, who is multitasking between eating dinner and playing the game. The girl giggles as she continues to beat the gentle giant.

Tech and Echo are both seated by the ship's console. You could sense that they're relaxed and satisfied, as opposed to their usual tired state after a mission. They both eat the food while chatting with each other, a smile on each of their faces.

Your glance finally lands on Sergeant Hunter. With his food in hand, he leans on the wall as he watches over his crew. Looking at him, you can feel warmth radiate through your body, and you know that feeling to be Hunter's; it's just the Force's way of telling you how happy he is for the time being.

You smile to yourself, it's not every time that the Batch could enjoy like this. Your heart feels light just by watching them. They reminded you of the Wolfpack.

Oh.

Your heart turns heavy. You're quite past being angry with them: about turning their backs against the Jedi Order; about betraying the cause they fought for; and about killing Master Plo.

No. You just miss them. You miss how things were. You miss the warmth they brought with their presence. You crave for Master Plo's fatherly advice and care. You want to feel Wolffe's comforting hug after a failed campaign. You want to hear Sinker's and Boost's corny jokes that would distract you from the horrors of the war.

You just want them back—just like the old times.

Breaking out of your thoughts, you feel a lingering sensation. Looking up, you find Hunter looking at you with worry. It still surprises you, that after months of being with them, you still can't quite figure out how his enhanced senses work.

Regardless, you send him your signature tight-lipped smile. That awkward smile that graced your features upon your introduction to your new master. The one you gave the 104th battalion at your first campaign as their Commander. The one—

You huff, internally berating yourself for going there again. You really should control your thoughts better.

You quickly finish your food, before properly disposing of the container and utensils. Quickly, you head to the fresher to brush your teeth. Once you're done, you feel something in your stomach, as if you're still hungry, as if something is bubbling inside. You ignore it, just wanting to sleep so that your mind won't be plagued by unwanted thoughts. It's hard at night, the dark thoughts always seem to get worse then.

Heading to your bunk, you collapse on it; everything you and the Batch did the past few days finally catching up to you as your adrenaline drops. It doesn't take long before you're curled up on your bunk, asleep.

You don't even know how long it's been, but suddenly you sit upright and swing your legs over your bunk. Without thinking, you walk briskly to the fresher, slamming the door shut before hunching over the toilet and immediately expelling your dinner.

You groan, slumping down on the fresher floor. You could feel something bubbling in your stomach again, forcing it's way up, along with a strong pinch in your abdomen. The aftermath of your vomit tastes like dinner and something sour.

Just then, a knock is heard. "Are you okay?" Hunter's gruff but calming voice calls out.

Shakily, you stand and flush the toilet before washing your hands.

"Yeah, I'm fine," you reply calmly, masking the pain that you're feeling.

Hunter suddenly opens the fresher door, making you jump. He looks at you worriedly.

"I can hear your stomach, doesn't sound good."

You walk past him into the direction of your bunk. You feel Echo's and Tech's eyes on you as well, but you just want to go back to sleep.

"I think I just ate too fast. Don't worry about it," you mumble tiredly as you resume your slumber.

Echo, Tech, and Hunter all look at your sleeping form but decided that perhaps it's best you get some rest.

The peace continues for around half an hour. You wake up again, hurriedly walking to the bathroom. You don't even notice the worried glance Tech gives, or even the fresher door that you left open before throwing up in the toilet again.

You groan, slumping on the fresher floor.

Someone pulls you up gently by your arm.

"It's alright, I got you," you hear Hunter say as you see Tech flushing the toilet.

You sigh as he brings you back to your bunk, laying you down on it.

"Sorry, Hunter. Did I wake you?" You ask.

He just chuckles. "Yeah, but don't worry. How're you feeling?"

You slump back on my pillows. "Tired."

Just then, Tech suddenly appears, typing away at his datapad. He looks at you before talking.

"It seems that the contents that you expelled included acid, aside from the food you ate for dinner," he then looks at Hunter, "you said you could hear her stomach?"

"Yeah, it sounded like something was bubbling upwards."

Tech nods, seemingly satisfied. "Figured as much," comes his robotic-like voice. He looks at you again, with one eyebrow raised. "I had a theory, so I looked for your medical files from the GAR. You have gastroesopheagal reflux disease. It is most likely that the noodles that we ate triggered it."

"Yeah, kinda figured that out after I threw up the first time," you mumble. You bring the blankets up to your chin, wishing that you could disappear from their scrutinizing gaze.

"I've also checked our medpacks—we do not have any antacid at hand. We'd have to wait till we arrive at Ord Mantell to restock."

Hunter frowns. "Do you need anything?" He asks you.

Your gaze lingers a bit longer on him than you would've liked. His eyebrow are arched upwards, causing lines to appear on his forehead. While crouched, you could still tell that his torso is slightly leaning forwards towards you. He keeps one hand on your bunk, too. For a brief moment, you see a man with a GAR-standard haircut, a cybernetic eye, a scar over it, and white and grey armor. But it's as if your vision shifts, and you see the man with long hair, face tattoo, a red bandana, and colorful armor.

"No, nothing. I'm fine," you reply dryly.

"No, you are not," Tech bluntly points out.

"I'll sleep it off," you mumble, rolling over to your side as your eyes begin to droop once again from exhaustion.

Hunter and Tech both sigh as you quite literally turn your backs on them. At this point, they're quite used to you being closed off, but this is the first time they've seen how you're like when your sick. You're more distant than you usually are.

After some time you feel the familiar pinch in your stomach and your labored breathing. The acid quickly rises in you, and it feels as if it were knawing through its pathway.

You quickly turn to the other side of your bunk in hopes to reach the fresher again. Instead, your eyes meet a metal bucket beside your bunk. Unable to hold everything in, you expel the acid in the bucket.

You cry out in pain; the muscles of your abdoment working overtime to push the acid out of you. Your hair drapes around your face as you throw up, getting in the way of the vomit that not only comes out of your mouth, but also some through the nose.

You vaguely feel a hand gathering your hair and holding it away from your face, and another hand gently rubbing your back.

"Hey, it's okay. I got you," it says soothingly.

Warm tears stream down from your eyes, to your cheeks, and pour down to the bucket.

You lie back down, breathing heavily. The bitter-sour aftertaste of the acid makes you cringe. Your eyelids flutter heavily, and you drift in and out of sleep. You don't even notice that Hunter disappeared until you hear the fresher door open and the bucket being settled down beside your bunk again.

"I could've done that myself," You mutter tiredly.

Hunter crosses his arms over his chest, a big frown on his face. "No, you need to rest. Let me help you."

"It's my problem. I'm the one who's sick."

"Uh-huh," Hunter grunts, looking very unimpressed. "C'mon, ad'ika. Let me help."

Ad'ika.

As he says that, you could hear Wolffe's voice. Your eyes dart around the room, trying to find him. But the only other person you see is a concerned Hunter looking down at you.

Logically, you knew you needed someone to help you with the bucket, and other things that may come up. Your heart clenches at how you wished it was Wolffe, or Boost, or Sinker, or Comet, or Master Plo. But deep inside you, you know that if you try to do this all by yourself, you may end up vomiting on the floor or elsewhere where you shouldn't be. You wouldn't want that.

"Fine," you concede. Your voice no longer holding the fight it had previously.

Hunter flashes you a faint smile as he leaves. Your head lolls on the pillow as your eyelids close on their own and your mind becomes blank.

You wake up once again to someone tapping your shoulder. In your hazy vision, you see Hunter holding out a bottle of water to you. Sitting up, you take it gratefully, taking a few sips. You hand it back to him before resuming your slumber.

And so under the lights of hyperspace, the cycle continued until you reached Ord Mantell. Every thirty minutes or so, Hunter would wake up after you throw up in the bucket; he would flush it before returning it to you clean. Occassionally, he would refill the bottle with water, as well.

In your delurious state, sometimes you would see Wolffe instead of Hunter moving about. And it would seep into your dreams, too. You would see the blur of grey and white armor of the Wolfpack instead of the colorful armor of the Batch. You would hear Wolffe's voice—gruff and strict—telling you to take it easy.

But as the hours tick by, you no longer see or hear anyone from the Wolfpack, whether it be in your dreams or reality. You don't see the grey and white. Instead, you see flashes of color; you see flashes of grey mixed with yellow, red, cyan, and orange. You don't hear Wolffe's strict voice, Boost and Sinker's jokes, or Master Plo's comforting advice. You hear Hunter's gruff but caring remarks, Wrecker's booming laughter, Echo's gentle reminders, Tech's steady comments, and Omega's soft greetings.

And as you arrive at Ord Mantell, you accept their assistance without protest as you disembark from the Marauder. You know that Master Plo and the 104th would always have a place in your heart, but you know now that there's room for five more colorful people.

[boggsart]

There are a lot of things i messed up while making this, a lot of weird issues i encountered but couldn't fix, but someone already said i'm yapping way too much when i talk about my work, so i'm just gonna shut up lol. And enjoy, next one on the list is Captain Tukk 💙🪶 (there's no teal heart emoji so just imagine) I also just had to sneak in the sassiness™. I mean... woudn't you?

Here's one for Tech

Here's one for Hunter

Here's one for Rex

Here's one for Echo

——————————————————————

taglist: @callsign-denmark @techwrecker @dahscribbler @lightspringrain @dreamsandrosies @brainless-tin-box @thecoffeelorian @luzfeather @burningfieldof-clover @99tech99 @theglitterdark @fangirl-goes-nova @foundenterprisefamily @fanfictasia @jedi-hawkins @megmegalodondon @lifblogs @photowizard17 @isthereanechoinhere96

[tcw-incorrect-quotes]

Plo Koon: The results are in, I’m afraid you have updog… 

Wolffe: What’s updog?  Plo Koon: Comet! Get in here, I told you I could do it!

[veny-many]

My headcanon of Wolfpack's gathering be like:

[omaano]

Are you still doing the trio prompts? If so, I humbly submit Rex/Obi/Cody for I1, or all of the "assigned baby by fandom" clones (Tup, Wooley and Comet) as K1

I'm still doing the trio prompts, and I'm finally about halfway done with them too! Thank you for the prompts, Anon, I could hardly pick (so in the end I didn't - but I'm posting them separately). I especially loved working on the "assigned baby by fandom" boys, thank you for picking such a lovely thing for them ❤️

Credit where credit is due: I've only ever seen Wooley as shiny-new in the show with no paint of his own, so I ended up using @yukipri's wonderful paint design for him (since I'm pretty sure that if Comet and Tup have their paint then Wooley should definitely has his worn in as well)

Polyamorous/platonic poses for sketching

and the other drawings I’ve made for them

[coffeeandbatboys]

What clone am I thinking of—Movie date edition

Hey y’all so I’ve had this idea and @sunshinesdaydream gave me her blessing so I’ll be doing this edition of the series for a few weeks 🩵

I’m just gonna tag a bunch of people and if you don’t wanna be tagged then let me know. Or if you do wanna be tagged let me know. (Reblogs appreciated to get the word out!)

@the-bad-batch-baroness @lonewolflupe @moonlightwarriorqueen @somewhere-on-kamino @ladyzirkonia

@clonethirstingisreal @eternal-transcience @kimiheartblade @nahoney22 @baddest-batchers

@wings-and-beskar @cloneflo99 @bamfahsoka