#clone trooper hardy

[shagpaboloutpost]

Wraith sighed.

“I am not your enemy,” he said, leaning forward. “I want your squad to continue operating. But to do that I need cooperation, which means you need to tell me that you resent your captain for never being at his post, or about personality conflicts between your people, or about the times maybe somebody let a local in when they weren’t supposed to be here. That’s the nature of Intelligence. We have to know everything, draw the whole truth out, and then we can start to piece together what’s important.”

“You’re so sure you’re asking the right questions?”

“I ask every question,” Wraith said. He wasn’t going to get further by pushing, so he sat back. “I’d like to interview your squad. See what they might have noticed.”

“They’ve told me everything,” Quaver said.

“Everything they could think to tell you,” Wraith agreed. “Set up the interviews, sergeant?”

The first clone on the list was Widow, the bald one who clearly resented Wraith.

“If I was going to fuck with anything here, it wouldn’t be my own base, and it wouldn’t be a bomb,” they said.

“You aren’t a suspect,” Wraith said.

“Obviously,” Widow replied. Wraith blinked, trying to figure out what that meant.

“Did you notice anything the day the bomb was found –“

“I noticed Todd trying to get hold of more bandages before Fever found out he didn’t order enough last time he was in charge of the medbay supplies,” Widow said. “So did Fever. We were a little more preoccupied with that at the time.”

---

“Todd threw the box out the window,” Fever said. She took her hair out of its messy bun, shook her head, and started to tie it back up again. Wraith pulled his eyes away from the tattoo on her cheek – it looked like she’d just asked someone to squiggle a tattoo needle around on her face until she got tired of it – and waited for her to elaborate. “It hit Rattler on the head.”

“Did you notice anything that day that wasn’t bandage related?”

“Yeah,” Fever said. “The cut I had to patch up in Hardy’s arm, because I had no bandages.”

---

“And… Hardy was injured that day, in a way that could have benefited from the one thing you didn’t have.”

“Oh, that’s normal with Hardy,” Widow said, clearly enjoying themself. “She convinced Rattler to get her in touch with his batchmate Slayer over in Ty’s squad, and Slayer’s been showing her a few things. They’re a little more enthusiastic than they are coordinated, but I like the kid’s initiative. Never hurts to know your way around a vibroblade.”

Something in Widow’s smile made Wraith surreptitiously check for the vibroblade he kept hidden up his own sleeve.

---

“That’s old news, Slayer training Hardy,” Rattler said. “I offered to help, because I made Slayer teach me a few things back on Kamino, but apparently I’m ‘accident-prone’ when it comes to sharp objects.”

“You wouldn’t describe yourself that way?”

“No!” Rattler said. “I was fine with hand-to-hand. It’s just the time I tried to cook for everyone that I nearly cut off my finger. Now Fever doesn’t let me near anything sharper than a pen.”

---

“I think Fever made a good call there,” said the clone with their hair dyed in a rainbow. “Rattler’s knitting is bad enough, but at least he’s never stabbed himself with the needles.”

“Are you… Todd?” Wraith asked, checking his increasingly disorganized notes.

“No, I’m Festival,” they said. “Rattler said you talked to him and Fever about Slayer, and we all came up together on Kamino, so I figured –“

“Is this the wrong room?” Another clone was at the door, this one looking perfectly bland and normal like they’d just stepped off Kamino. “I can come back later –“

“Please tell me you’re Todd,” Wraith said.

“That’s me,” he said with a little wave. “Should I wait for you to be done with Festival, or –“

“No, Festival can leave,” Wraith said. “Now.”

“He’s asking about Rattler’s cooking skills,” Festival told Todd on their way out.

“Oh! I thought this was about the bomb we found,” Todd said as he sat. “You know, Rattler’s a great cook, he just has a bad habit of sending things flying when he tries to chop the vegetables.”

“I cannot stress,” Wraith said carefully. “How much I do not care about Rattler’s cooking ability.”

Todd blinked, looking hurt.

“You would if you’d ever tasted his omelets,” he muttered.

---

“What happened around the time Todd hit you in the head with the box?” Wraith asked.

“That was Todd?” Rattler said. “Did Fever know about this?”

Wraith spared two seconds to consider his options.

“No,” he said.

---

“You’ve only got the numbers in your file, haven’t you?” Widow sneered. They leaned across the table to see, and Wraith flipped his datapad. He’d been taking notes on names and pronouns as they came up.

“That’s how official GAR files work,” he said. “It’s not my fault.”

“Sure,” Widow said. “So you don’t need my help matching numbers to names.”

“I can figure it out just fine,” Wraith said. By his count, he’d spoken to half the squad so far: both medics, Todd and Fever; Widow, of course; Festival, the mechanic; and Rattler. That left Hardy, with her mysterious injury; Tibanna, who’d actually disposed of the bomb; one clone whose name he hadn’t caught yet; and the one who’d found the thing in the first place, Inferno. He wasn’t sure which number was Inferno’s, but he wasn’t about to admit that to Widow.

Anyway, he really did want to speak to everyone.

“Good luck,” Widow advised. Judging by their smirk, they didn’t mean it.

“You think I’ll have a problem with one of your squadmates?” Wraith asked, eager to turn it around on them. Widow wiggled their eyebrows tauntingly.

“I think they’ll have a problem with you,” they said. “Especially Hardy. They don’t like fools. And if you make Linsey cry we’re all coming after you.”

---

“Uh,” said the clone at the door. “Are you Sergeant Wraith?”

“I am,” he said. “I’ve only got your number. What’s your name?”

He suspected that a clone who tattooed his forehead with a pale blue flower probably wouldn’t go for a name like Inferno, but then it never paid to make assumptions.

“I’m Linsey,” they said. “I was doing inventory in the armory all that day, so I don’t know if I can help.”

“You were close to the bomb’s location, then,” Wraith said. Linsey shrugged.

“I didn’t hear about it until after Tibanna took care of it. I get focused.”

There was a slight tremor in their voice.

“Is everything all right?” Wraith asked.

“Fine,” Linsey said defensively. “I just didn’t expect to be interrogated.”

“It’s only an interview,” Wraith said soothingly. “Did you know about Todd and the bandages?”

Linsey frowned.

“What happened with Todd? I know Hardy got hurt, because they were playing with a vibroblade again – a very standard-issue vibroblade, sir, I promise – but is Todd ok?”

“Is there concern about some of you getting hold of weapons that aren’t standard-issue?” Wraith asked. Linsey visibly gulped.

“No?”

“Does Hardy have an illegal weapon?” Wraith asked.

Linsey opened their mouth, then closed it.

“Is Todd ok?” they asked again.

---

“You have any weapons other than the blasters assigned to you, Hardy?” Wraith asked.

“I wouldn’t tell you if I did, because I’m not stupid,” Hardy said. They were slouching, letting their curls fall over their eyes. Wraith gritted his teeth and folded his hands together, trying to look as professional and authoritative as possible. He could pick his battles. He could. The vibroblade probably wasn’t important, and the last thing he wanted was to write up a clone for an innocent breach. Not when there was a bomber in play.

He’d come back to it.

“Tell me how you got hurt that day,” Wraith said.

“Rattler said you already talked about it,” Hardy said.

“I’d like to hear it from you, Hardy.”

“We both know you’re only using my name to make me feel like you’re nice,” Hardy said. “It’s not going to work.”

“It wouldn’t have to if you would answer my question,” Wraith said, annoyance getting the better of him. Every single one of these interviews had gone on for far longer than he’d wanted, and with nothing to show for them.

“Yes, sir,” Hardy said. “I was on a holocall with Slayer, who was showing me a few tricks. Todd came racing through like Fever was after him, surprised me, and my hand slipped.”

“You know why he ran through?”

Hardy shrugged.

“I heard he fucked up the supply orders. We ended up ripping the sleeve off one of my bodysuits. It looks better that way.”

---

“Hardy wanted me to bind the cut with her sleeve, because she thought she’d look cooler with only one sleeve,” Fever said. “They’re a good kid, but stupid. I mean, we wear armour! It’d just chafe, and nobody would see!”

“What did you use?” Wraith asked, hoping Fever could provide him with something useful. So far she’d been more helpful than Widow, anyway.

“I’d just sterilized one of the medbay blankets,” Fever sighed. “Todd owes me a new one.”

“You’re making him order one with GAR resources? Can’t you sterilize this one?”

“I will,” Fever said. “But Todd’s gotta pay somehow.”

---

“Fever said you owed her a new blanket,” Wraith said.

“And two drinks at the cantina,” Todd sighed. “And lunch, for that time with the baby rancor.”

“A lot of IOUs to put on the GAR’s bills,” Wraith said. “Isn’t there a limit on frivolous spending out here? We have one on Coruscant.”

“Oh – yeah,” Todd said. “We have that. We make it work, though.”

“You better,” said Fever from behind Wraith. He jumped.

“That door was locked!” he exclaimed. Fever raised an eyebrow at him, then looked at Todd.

“Next month’s supply list,” she said, tossing a datapad at him. “Don’t fuck this one up.”

“You can’t just – this is a private interview!” Wraith sputtered. Fever waved over her shoulder and locked the door behind her.

“She does that,” Todd said. “I always said she should have been Intelligence.”

---

“It’s not that anyone here is mean, you know?” Linsey said earnestly. “I mean, Widow, obviously. And Hardy makes a sport of it. But they care. It’s just not the same as the batch you grow up with! I mean, Menagerie’s got his issues, and we had a brother who always tried to pick a fight, but at least they didn’t show up out of nowhere like ghosts! Or Todd – Todd’s great. But when you have a conversation with him, after three minutes it’s just back to this one comedy holo he likes. Or how much he wants to learn to fish. The only fish on the planet eat people. Where did he even come up with that?”

“And all this is what you were preoccupied with while you were doing inventory?” Wraith asked. His cheek was aching where it was smushed against his hand. He tipped his head the other way and propped himself up with the other hand.

“I mean,” Linsey said. “I got a message from one of my batchmates recently, so I was thinking about how different everything was from those days. So yes?”

He sucked in a nervous breath.

“Please don’t tell anyone I said any of that,” he said. “I don’t want them to think I don’t like them.”

Wraith’s chin slipped from his hand, and he jolted upright.

“You’re dismissed,” he said quickly before Linsey could realise he’d been drowsing. Linsey nodded and stood quickly. He stopped in the doorway, and Wraith barely held back a groan.

“It’s just Inferno and Tibanna left, right?” he asked. “Do you want me to grab one of them?”

Inferno and Tibanna. The two with the most to offer, if Wraith could just get them to say anything useful.

“Surprise me,” he said.

---

CT-73-998 had dyed their hair blonde at some point, though now their dark roots were clearly winning the battle. They peered nervously into the room. Wraith coughed to draw their attention.

“Sorry, sir!” they said. “I’m Inferno. I just – uh, there was a spider in that corner the other day. Did you get that when you set up in here?”

“Yes,” Wraith lied. “Please sit down. You’re the one who found the bomb?”

Inferno nodded.

“It just looked like a normal crate,” he said. “Not that the crates we usually get have timelocks, but sometimes they leave special shipments here that we aren’t meant to touch.”

Wraith lifted his head from his notes, studying Inferno carefully. He looked earnest and eager-to-please, though he was still casting nervous glances around the room as if checking for more spiders.

“Who’s they?”

“The GAR,” Inferno said. “Whoever passes through, really.”

A lot more people than just the GAR passed through the Shag Pabol hyperlane. Wraith considered his next question carefully. Whatever was going on here, he doubted Inferno knew – but if he was a good liar, Wraith didn’t want to find out the hard way.

“Do you often go into the storage closets?” Wraith asked instead. “Seems like there might be plenty of spiders in them.”

“I don’t have a problem with spiders,” Inferno said immediately. He was either a criminal genius or a really, really bad liar.

“Right,” Wraith said. “So do you find these mysterious packages often?”

“No,” Inferno said. “I… really don’t like doing the inventory. It’s just boring.”

He looked into the corner again.

“Are you sure you got that spider?”

[cabezadeperro]

jango/obi-wan + abduct? thank you :)

hello anon!

T, around 1k. canon divergent, takes place during the clone wars. feat. cody.

---

More often than not, winning the fight is not enough.

Jango rolls with a grunt, his shackled hands numb and slick, and blinks at the dark. He can hear himself breathing: rattling, hoarse gasps that echo in the small space. He caught a look at the cell before they closed the door—barely a cupboard, narrow and not very deep, with raw durasteel walls and floors and not a single source of light. He closes his eyes again, and shifts and settles the best he can to lie on his side. He’s pretty sure nothing’s broken. He’s bruised and bloody, shaky with pain and exhaustion and thirst, but it could be worse.

It might be. Jango swallows, throat clicking. He knows how this goes. It somehow makes it worse. The knowledge of old pain doesn’t make the certainty of future pain any easier. 

The cell is cold and damp in that impersonal way Jango has learned to expect from droids. Organic weaknesses are to be expected and managed: Jango will survive this, so his discomfort will be ignored as long as it doesn’t threaten his life.

Because they want him alive. Dooku wants him alive, if only to make sure this time Jango stays dead.

Jango licks his lips, tasting blood and sweat, and makes himself think. Think, and plan. It’s hard to look beyond his pain, beyond the awful, crushing fear, beyond his worry for his son. Droids are hardy but dumb. And he hurts, and he’s tired, but he’s not done. He tugs at his cuffs, the metal unyielding and digging into his wrists, and then he starts making a list of all the things he knows about B1 battle droids.

It’s quite a lot, and it keeps him calm and entertained for long, long seconds that become minutes and then follow him into an exhausted, anxious doze.

The crash rattles him to the bone. Jango curses and sits up. He glares at the dark, hands clenching and unclenching at his back, and starts the awful job of trying to stand up. Human voices, blastershot, the clanging noise of metal bodies hitting the floor, and then light flooding his small cell. Jango hisses, closes his eyes.

“Found him, sir.”

His own voice, twenty years ago.

Gloved hands wrap around his arms, and he’s pulled along the Seppie shuttle narrow corridor and into another ship, warmer and bigger: Jango keeps his eyes closed and doesn’t ask for his hands to be freed, because the Grand Army of the Republic might not be Dooku, but that’s about it. The troopers are very careful: Jango can feel their eyes on him, suspicion and curiosity doing very little to breach the calm professionalism he’s handled with.

He must be on a Republic Venator. Jango is pushed into a turbolift and then across another very long corridor and then into a smaller, even warmer room. It’s quiet and it smells of old caf and the rubber-stink of overheated electronics.

Jango opens his eyes. Meeting space, with a holopod and a table and half a dozen chairs. Small round viewport on the opposite window and caf machine on the narrow shelf to the side.

Boba.

Jango’s knee hits the floor half a second before Boba launches himself at him, skinny arms wrapping around his neck. Jango breathes him in, shushes him when he starts crying. The door slides open at his back: his cuffs click. Jango swallows a groan of pain and hugs his son back, his fingers so numb he can’t move them to wipe the tears from Boba’s face.

Kenobi and his commander step into the room, the door clicking locked once again. Jango watches them over Boba’s shoulder. Commander Cody looks at him like he always does, with his unique brand of belligerent, bland politeness. Kenobi is smiling, his lips tight. 

He looks almost as tired as Jango feels.

“Where’s my beskar,” Jango says.

Commander Cody raises his eyebrows.

“What beskar,” he replies, voice flat. Kenobi sighs. 

“Cody—”

Commander Cody turns to look at his general. For a beat, they just stare at each other, and then he snorts. He shakes his head.

“May I be dismissed, General Kenobi?” he asks. Kenobi presses his lips together. He’s annoyed, and the good commander couldn’t give less of a shit. Every time Jango meets him he discovers Commander Cody has somehow found new, infuriating ways to weaponize by-the-book decorum. 

“Of course, commander. I’ll see you on the bridge.”

“Sir.”

Jango waits until he hears the door slide closed again, and then he stands up with a groan. Boba helps, or tries to, his warm, stick hands holding him up around the torso.

“You deserve each other,” he tells Kenobi. Obi-Wan rolls his eyes. 

“We did find your beskar,” he says. “It’s—safe.”

Jango swallows. His throat hurts.

“Thank you.”

Obi-Wan blinks. He sighs and rubs his face, and then he’s crossing the small distance between them, pulling out a chair.

“Sit down before you fall down,” he says. 

Jango drops in one of the office chairs with a grunt, Boba still stuck to him like a too-big mynock. He’s very quiet and watching it all with huge eyes. He’s too pale, and Jango—

No. He’s fine. He made it. Boba will never have to find how to survive on his own. 

There’s a small conservator tucked under the shelf. Obi-Wan grabs a water pouch and then he stops in front of Jango, stiff and tense. He leaves it on the table. 

His hand is warm and dry. Jango closes his eyes, turns his face into Obi-Wan’s palm. Obi-Wan’s fingers twitch, just the once, and then he’s moving away.

Jango opens his eyes again. Obi-Wan has been put away: General Kenobi looks back from his face, hands linked at his back. 

“My men will escort you to the medbay. Take as long as you need,” he says. He pauses, and then he sighs, smiles.

“I owe you,” Jango replies. 

It’s a useless reminder. Kenobi already knows.

[coldbrewarts]

Hello my friend! 🖤 I have some asks for Striper 🥰😏

stature: What's your OC's body type? How tall are they? Do they wear clothing to accentuate their look or do they try to mask it?

arms: Does your OC have any weapons? What weapons do they carry, and how do they wear them when they're not fighting?

change: Has your OC ever drastically changed their appearance? Significant haircuts, big tattoos, complete wardrobe swap, etc? Why? How do they feel about the change?

I'm making more lore for him on the fly because of this. And it gets really angsty. Some gory descriptions too so you have been warned.

Stature: hes a standard clone trooper height (6') but he's not as hardy as most of his brothers, due to lack of care for himself. Helena is the only reason he gets a decent meal at least once a day, because he's always sacrificing rations and supplies to the younger and injured corries that pass through his medbay.

Putting the cut here because this is where it starts to get icky.

Arms: he does have a standard issue deecee, however he can be downright dangerous with a scalpel at close range. He knows the location every exposed artery, every sensitive nerve point and is literally the enemy's worst nightmare.

Change: after the guard picks him up, someone points out that he has a head wound bleeding from his hairline down to his eyes. When he looks and sees that the two rivers of blood look like tears, he commits the image to memory and has it tattooed in dark red ink. Sure its morbid, but the star on the breast of his cuirass is the spot where Boon was shot, and the stripes on his legs mark the points where Stills lost his legs. The entirely red armor signifies the blast that Vek and Tax were caught in. He deliberately chose these designs to remind himself of them every day. Does it drive him to madness? Eventually. He becomes even crazier than Fox at one point, who has to subdue his vod'ika and help him with his trauma.

[unafearless]

Beneath the White Armor

A Star Wars Story set in the time shortly after Order 66. The Empire is rising, slowly but surely taking hold of the galaxy far, far away. But there are not only stories of Jedi and Sith to be told, Star Wars has many more tales in store. This is one such story, of Stormtroopers and the last of the Clones, and of friendship, deep attachment and love within the horrors of darkness.

-------

Coruscant

The dawn's early light was just beginning to seep through the towering skyscrapers of Coruscant, casting long shadows across the room where Jax had spent another restless night. His sleep had been haunted by dark, swirling emotions, a storm that seemed to have no end. The weight of his role, the faces of those he had confronted, all seemed to press down on him in the quiet hours. But duty calls, regardless of personal turmoil, and this morning was no different.

He was summoned to meet with his commanding officer, Captain Dox, a figure whose authority was as unwavering as the Empire itself. The briefing room felt colder than usual, or perhaps that was just the chill of anticipation running down his spine.

"TK-414, you are sent on an off-world mission," Captain Dox began, her gaze sharp. "You will lead a team on a special operations mission to dismantle a small base of insurgents on Fex, a moon in the Outer Rim. Intelligence indicates they're accumulating arms for a significant offensive. You are to neutralize this threat."

Jax's mind momentarily drifted to the previous night's shadows, wondering if this mission was a chance to chase away his inner darkness with action. "Understood, Captain. We'll ensure the mission is successful," he responded, his voice steady despite the storm within.

"You're not going alone," Captain Dox added, shifting the topic to his partner for the mission. "You will be joined by Clone Trooper CT0910 and his squad, who have considerable experience in such matters. He's already conducting reconnaissance. You'll rendezvous with him on Fex."

Clone Trooper CT0910—a designation, not a name, reminding Jax of his own numeric identity within the Empire. Yet, the idea of working with someone from the era of the Republic, a clone Commander, intrigued him.

"You'll find the coordinates here," Captain Dox handed him a data pad, her expression stoic and unreadable. "Your team is to leave within the hour. The Empire counts on your success."

Saluting, Jax accepted the data pad. "Yes, Captain. We will not disappoint."

Exiting the briefing room, Jax felt the weight of the upcoming mission pressing against him, yet there was a flicker of something else—perhaps the hope that confronting the darkness outside might help quell the turmoil within. As he prepared to meet CT0910 and face whatever awaited them on Fex, he couldn't shake the feeling that this mission might change more than just the strategic balance; it might also offer a path through his own personal night.

Fex

Jax's team, a carefully chosen group of recruits, moved with a sense of urgency towards the shuttle port. The journey to Fex was marked by a briefing that filled the cabin with Jax's determined voice, outlining the mission's critical points and goal. A heavy silence fell, each member lost in their own thoughts, it was their first real mission, chosen to gain practical experience outside the training facilities. Jax observed his squad, their individuality swallowed by the uniformity of stormtrooper armor. He knew their stories, their strengths, and their fears, yet in this moment, they were an indistinguishable sea of white.

***

The shuttle’s descent onto Fex was smooth, landing them in a secluded spot close to an outpost that would serve as their base. The moon's landscape was stark, a seemingly endless expanse of grey, craggy rocks and dust, under a sky that shifted in hues of dark blues and purples, a result of its thin atmosphere. Sparse vegetation dotted the landscape, hardy plants that seemed to cling to life as fiercely as the rebels clung to their cause.

His squad quickly formed up after disembarking, their movements crisp in the alien silence of Fex. Jax, his heart beating a steady rhythm of anticipation, turned to face the approaching figure.

The man before him wore the distinctive armor of a clone trooper, yet it bore the marks of wars fought—scratches and markings that spoke of countless battles. He carried his helmet under one arm, his face looked surprisingly young, yet carried an age in its eyes that spoke of experience and loss. The clone's demeanor was one of calm assurance, a stark contrast to the tension that Jax felt within his own squad.

"CT0910, reporting as ordered," the clone trooper announced, his voice clear, giving a crisp salute. “You can call me Blade.”

Jax, momentarily taken aback by the presence of the clone, removed his own helmet, revealing short, hazel brown hair and green eyes, and a face marked by recent sleepless nights. He returned the salute, feeling an odd connection to this soldier in front of him.

"Welcome, CT0910, Blade. I'm TK-414, but you can call me Jax," he said, extending a hand in camaraderie beyond the formalities.

Blade's gaze briefly passed over the squad, a hint of a smile touching his lips. "Let's get to work. We have a mission to complete."

To be continued ...

---------

If you like this story and want more of it, please like it or give any kind of feedback. I'll post the next part soon.

For over a year I had a Stormtrooper story brewing inside of me, but I never dared to write it. Of course, not many might be interested in such a story but after watching The Bad Batch I was so inspired that I just started writing. This is the beginning of a story without Kylux and lightsabers. The Force is there but this is not a Jedi story. I hope you like it nonetheless, tell me if you want more.

[gothseparatist]

Typical colored form of Anisacanthus wrightii, a hummingbird-pollinated member of the acanthus family from southern TX. I’m really pleased with this species so far; it’s handled a phenomenally shitty bed at work (fill dirt, awful root comp, sloping, parking lot esque radiative heat, years of what I call “bad soil hygiene”*) quite well and of all plants I had at nursery it was least impacted by 3 days of 99 F. It is listed as hardy to zone 7b but experiences by other gardeners indicate it needs heat to flower with some upper Midwesterners I know only getting results by keeping it in pots on driveways. It can be ungainly in some contexts but I suspect a lot of that is too many nutrients, something I do not encounter growing it in FL lol

It’s also in Acanthaceae and every subshrub (branch-y perennial as opposed to basal rosette eg a dandelion) species I’ve worked with roots like a dream so you can quickly make a clone army. If there’s a native subshrub acanth in your area I recommend trying it out for this reason

There are other forms of this species in cultivation. Two offered by my favorite online nursery (Almost Eden) are the following:

‘Pumpkin Pie’

(I plan on picking up this one for myself bc I’m a sucker for mango-colored flowers and I need a trooper to go by the mailbox)

‘San Antonio Red’

*inspired by sleep hygiene as a term, I use good soil hygiene to describe maintenance regimes that preserve or improve soils over time. Bad soil hygiene denudes them and can favor bacteria rather than fungus-dominant profiles (common difference between newly added soil vs mature ones) which lowers drought tolerance. Common example is taking too much leaf litter away

[pat-the-togorian]

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

8! There are some much older titles on my FFN (14), but I've stopped posting new works there.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

43,798! Mostly thanks to month-long challenge attempts in Feb and April of last year! Otherwise, I write *very* briefly.

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Star Wars currently! But in the past I've written for Legend of Zelda, Civilization V, Doki Doki Literature Club, RWBY, Octopath Traveler, Pokémon, Kung Fu Panda, and even one Hardy Boys parody fic! In the future, I want to do more with HTTYD and some of the others, likely in a gift fic request form!

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

Tending to Togrutas - 61

Never That Normal - 39

The Silent World - 20

Skywalker Snared - 16

Pat's Febu-Whump 2023 (28 chapters) - 7

(OC fics and one-shots sure make the numbers uninspiring 😅

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

Yes, I love getting comments, especially from repeat commenters! I always try and thank them and let them know it means a lot. Engagement is priceless.

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

One of the individual chapters in Febu-Whump or Angstpril, most certainly. Leaning towards Chapter 23 of Pat's Febu-Whump, "You'll Have to Go Through Me," in which Pat witnesses several Clone Troopers, including one who terrorized him before he became a Jedi, sacrifice themselves for his sake; becomes Force-inhibited, and is presumed dead by his new found family.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Most of them do 🤣 But of the ones I have written, I'd say it's Never That Normal.

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

Not usually. Some of my old stuff got some anonymous reviews, but I'm pretty sure they came from one vindictive person, on personal reasons, rather than fic preference. Oh! And my Pokémon piece was caught up in Blades of Chance's crusade.

9. Do you write smut?

Nope!

10. Do you write crossovers?

I sometimes roleplay crossovers or toy with the ideas, but nothing that's complete enough to publish.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of! Help me out if so!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

It would be news to me! Although it would be an honor!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yes, @sinvulkt, @ct2002-rema, and @asteral-feileacan consulted on their characters in the prompt challenge fics, and I'm officially co-authored with them and The Jedi Wayseeker on A Questionable Encounter. There are also a few fics with Venom Garage and @christina-stark-skarlet-stileto, such as Across the Stars.

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

I usually just stick with what's canon when reading, and I don't write a lot of romance on my own 😅For reading, though, I like Hiccstrid (HTTYD), Zelink (Legend of Zelda), Link/Orielle (LOZ: Skyward Sword), and laughing from afar at whatever madness my fellow roleplayers (...especially you, Rema...) come up with for their original characters!

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

Maybe my attempt at Angstpril 2023? Some of it is based on roleplaying game sessions none of us remember that well 😅I still hope to post what I did finish, but making it to 30 is unlikely.

16. What’s your writing strengths?

Mechanics, grammar, thesaurus and editing. I love editing (but I'm not taking new jobs rn sorry). I also love writing dialog and short, punchy descriptions.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

Sometimes I can make paragraphs too long or make scene transitions a bit vague. Also, when I have a strong internal conception, I don't always remember to explain it fully on paper. I also get caught up in high-school English level bad habits like never using the word "said," which makes my dialog tags laborious and distracting.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

Never been fond of the idea of, for example, learning Mando'a. For Pokémon, or the dragons in HTTYD, or droids, I try to focus more on their body language, movements, and the mood of their nonverbal vocalizations. I'll mention when people/sentients switch to another language, but requiring the reader to understand the language or translating it directly on the page removes readers from the moment, in my opinion.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

My first fic ever published was for Legend of Zelda! It's only on FFN, titled Shared Memories. The first fanfiction I ever attempted to write was for Wreck-it Ralph (being the first ever work of fanfiction I stumbled across) but alas, I was 14 when I wrote it, and I'm grateful I didn't publish those awkward beginnings.

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

For its sheer merit and the (relative) acclaim it's gotten, I'd choose Gift (Guardians of the Galaxy, on my FFN).

For the experience, Pat's Febu-Whump 2023. It brought out the long-hidden roleplayer in me, deepened my friendships with the creators of the other characters, and has even been printed out by @sinvulkt ! I got to autograph it for them and it was a huge honor! It was a proud finish, and I'm forever grateful to my team and all the reviewers from @fanfictasia.

Speaking of whom... @asteral-feileacan and @christina-stark-skarlet-stileto, would you like to take the same interview? Anyone else is also more than welcome to keep the chain going!

20 Questions For Writers

Wow, thank you so much for the tag @fanfictasia !! I've wanted to participate in something like this forever!! 🎶✨️✨️

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

Right now? 66.

"Yes, as a star wars writer, I am very proud of that. No, I do not intend to change it anytime soon."

I really need to focus on (and finish) some of my WIPs, and that mean trying not to disperse my energy amidst one shots (no matter how much i love monthly challenges and fic exchange events). Also I'm very proud of that 66 count and want to appreciate it xd.

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

321k words!!

(More or less 100k / year 🎶 little me would never believe that 0.0

My school exam results sure don't, with how they are dropping 🤣)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Star wars mostly (Vaderkin or my OC Sinvulkt), then Marvel (Dr Strange), Dream SMP (Dream), Le Visiteur du Future (Renard) and more recently Batman (Bruce Wayne) as well as Avatar: the last airbender (Zuko).

Plus the original stories I am supposed to write but almost never end up doing xd (the engagement in fandom compared to original stories make the switch hard xd).

4. What are your top five fics by kudos?

1. Dreamt of a Never Ending Sky (Dream SMP)

669 kudos

2. To Fly Free Under The Morning Sun (Star Wars)

480 kudos

3. On the Edge of Twilight (Star Wars)

380 kudos

4. Scales of Embers (Avatar: The Last Airbender)

353 kudos

5. Crash Landing on Space Australia (Star Wars)

319 kudos

I'll never know how my Dream SMP fic got so much engagement. Good timing at a moment the fandom was in effervescence, I guess. Scales of Embers scoring so high is also a surprise 0.0. I discovered it had that many kudos today. It’s a shame the Dr Strange fandom is small because I think my Dr Strange WIP What If Doctor Strange Lost His Humanity ? would have deserved a place here. It definitely does in my heart.

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

I try to! As a reader, I always feel super happy when the author shows that they’ve read and appreciated my comments. I know that personality an author who answers make me more likely to want to drop a comment.

As an author, I absolutely want to show how much I love every single comments, so I try to answer them all. But I get a little overwhelmed sometimes, bcs lots of other stuff going on irl or another reason. As such, it can happen that I don't feel the energy to answer a comment on the spot. And if I don't answer it on the spot (using the power of the wiggy dizzy nice happy feeling of getting a comment), I don't necessarily have the energy to answer later on. I currently have something like 60 unanswered comments I think? TT.TT

But rest assured that whether I answered or not, I absolutely adore and cherish every single ones!! Comments are amazing! ✨️.✨️

(This kind of engagement is one of the only reason I managed to settle into such an active rythm of writing after years of trying then dropping the hobby~)

6. What’s the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Glance at my fics.

Uhhh... This is a hard question here... Many of them have angsty endings XD

Mostly the ones at the beginning (the worst written ones xd). I wonder why~

Also a lot of them don' have endings yet XD

I'll say amidst the 'old' fics from 2021, Day 8 - Screaming (Star Wars) would be the angstier one (or most horrible one ig xd).

But as far as recent fic go... While I haven't finished writing it bcs its wordcount exploded in my face, I already plotted / drafted it a few months ago and I know the ending, so I'll choose:

Batman’s Downfall (To Stand Alone) (Batman)

I noticed my kind of angst doesn’t have much success around these parts 🫠🤣. Oh well. I cherish it all the same :3.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Sometimes I think I wrote too many fics. It's hard to select one.

Uhhh... My fluffiest works are one shots in Of Feathers and Freedom serie, but they are part of the series so it’s not really an 'ending'.

...

I'll answer for the crackiest story rather than the happiest ending bcs all my finished fics ending are ominous open ending at best xd.

The Blob Adventures Of Excentrics Jedi (Star Wars)

Because it's cute blob drawings of our crazy team of OC in taaoej, and I love them (although we are all angst lovers in taaoej, so it's more crack-angst, and we don't know the ending bcs there isn't really one. Not yet at least. Hopefully never).

8. Do you get hate on your fic?

Just my own innervoice as far as I'm aware. But then I've always been rather clueless when people tried to 'hate on me'. The message usually just got lost somewhere in dreamspace immensity, never computing.

I've found the fandoms communities really welcoming at the very least!!

9. Do you write smut?

No.

I don't really enjoy reading smut. Nor romance for the matter. I don't think I'd enjoy writing it.

But maybe I'll try one day, for the sake of experimenting all genres.

10. Do you write crossovers?

I never did. I don't know why. Maybe I just never felt the need to mix characters and universes. There are amazing crossovers out there though, so who knows, maybe one day I'll try one.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not that I'm aware of. In all honesty, I don't think my works are nearly popular enough to get stolen xd.

My writing style isn’t that good yet, and my dislike of romance when the majority of the fandom community is ship-powered means I end up in a corner quite niche. (A corner I love, that being said. Yay Crack, Angst and Gen~)

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

No, but maybe I'll translate some of mine in french someday. Be it only so that I do write fiction in my native language from time to time.

Anyone that wanna translate my fics, feel free to!!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic?

Yes, To Fly Free Under The Morning Sun (Star Wars)!!

I’m still waiting for my co-author @purpleopossum to come back to me / get back in star wars mood to continue that one. 🫠

Can’t say my hopes are that high up after all this time, but it’s the redemption | healing part of the serie and I don’t really have fun writing alone redemption | healing part... i prefer doing the whole mayhem that create the injury in the first place. And with how long some of my fics hiatus are (and I got no excuse for those xd), it’s only fair for me to wait. (I did write more other works for the dragon Vader serie in the meantime xd).

I made an oath to myself to never leave a work unfinished though, so we’ll see. If in several years purple still doesn’t wish to continue it, or if she inform me she is dropping the story, I’ll try to make some kind of ending. It’s part of the game i guess.

Alternatively, the The Amazing Adventures Of Excentrics Jedi universe is a group of star wars OCs that we made together with @pat-the-togorian , @asteral-feileacan , @ct2002-rema and Xylian. I don’t know if that count as co-writing? We usually write our OCs pov.

But in all cases, co-writting is very fun and I’d definitely do it again if other opportunities arise in the future.

14. What‘s your all-time favourite ship?

The absence of ship is my all-time favorite ship. Otherwise, "main character / digging their own grave" would be my 'favorite ship' since I tend to synch with idiots snarky jerks disasters.

15. What’s the WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

To Fly Free Under The Morning Sun (Star Wars) that I mentioned for question 13? 🤣

More seriously, I'll answer On the Edge of Twilight (Star Wars)

Because it's my vent fic. I know the main plot line, I vaguely know the current arc, but no one can predict where the next arc will go. It's all pure impulse and while I have a vague idea of 'ending', I refuse to plan a path towards it. This fic specifically, I want to keep pure impulse. So I'd love for it to become some kind of "The NeverEnding Story". :3

16. What’s your writing strengths?

I write.

No seriously, it's not something I did four years ago appart from vent poems here and there. Writing is in itself a huge writing strenght!

Otherwise I'm also a bottomless well of idea. It's pretty neat.

17. What’s your writing weaknesses?

... romance?

Or dialogues. Lastly I have a lot of frustration around the transition from dialogue / transition / dialogue. I feel like I'm crap at properly timing that.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language for a fic?

It's fun. I do it for games sometimes. Since apparently writing normally is not chllenging enough for my brain sometimes. It did teach me bits of mando'a.

Recently for Sēċan (Star Wars) I decided last minute to put the whole droid dialogue in morse, and I regret none of it.

I'm usually only doing it for one shots though, and never 'official existing' languages until now.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

Star wars :p

20. Favourite fic you’ve ever written?

Now that's another hard question, how am I supposed to select one.

I'm gonna answer the whole Of Feathers And Freedom (Star Wars) serie. Bcs wings. :3

Tag time~ (if you wish to)

@purpleopossum @pat-the-togorian @cinderfeather @beguilewritesstuff @purple-iris @dreaminghour @ravenite-void @trickstress333 @bluntblade @doctorgeekery @stewardofningishzida @jenae-0 @trickstress333 @kittonafoxgirl @pastelcourage @salparadiselost @kefalion @charlottevader @ravenstakeflight @starr234 @aelaer @sarcasticfirefighter @mckiwi @linzerj @sonderwalker @exomal @tonhalszendvics @nephilimswitchlight @firejay112 @only-here-for-the-star-wars @ajedilikehisfather @makaronik @chickadeechickadoo @dirtkid123 @numerousbees1106 @akizumy @25centsoda @udekai @wendingways @silvereddaye @in-company-of-misery @wisechaosglitter @kuraiarcoiris @alright-anakin @wyvunn you're more than welcome to join on the interview fun!! (Or to ignore the tagging if not interested xd).

I know I tagged. I lot of people. Some of you may recognise my pseud, some may not. But I thought it would be interesting to hear the answer of the various authors with whom I interacted on ao3 over the years, so I went and digged up those with tumblr I could find from my inbox 🤣

(Hopefully I didn’t bother any of you >.< - otherwise I apologize. Same for if I accidentally tagged a non-writer.)

I'd love to hear your answers! 🎶

[fucktheroyals]

can we acknowledge the random celebrities who randomly appear in the star wars sequels as masked characters (usually stormtroopers)?

[whosscruffylooking]

Bad Bounty Chapter One: Reunion

Sergeant Hunter x Fem! Bounty Hunter

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: Maybe mutual pining? Nothing too gross.

A/N: hunter was already attractive in season 7, but i managed to suppress my feelings for an ANIMATED character. alas, the bad batch has cursed me and i have finally accepted that he is my latest comfort character.

“You hold onto friends by keeping your heart a little softer than your head.”

“Clone Force 99. Welcome back, ” Commander Cody extends a hand to Hunter who firmly shakes it.

“Apologies for showing up late, we-”

“Got stuck handling some unexpected complications during a mission. I understand Sergeant Hunter,” Cody winks.

“What have you got for us this time Commander?” Crosshair mumbles, twisting his toothpick around between his teeth.

“This one is going to be a bit different boys. It’s not exactly…sanctioned by the GAR. Let’s call it a favor for an old friend of mine.”

Crosshair straightens up, suspicious of Cody’s statement, “We may bend the rules from time to time, but we don’t do favors.”

“This is an efficient mission that ultimately will aid us in the war, provide you some easy target practice…and helps me relieve an old debt I have to pay.”

“Is there a reason you can’t do this yourself?” Hunter questions.

“We’ve been called into battle. Besides, this separatist encampment is one we have failed to infiltrate time and time again,” Cody responds.

Hunter shifts, struggling to comprehend where this is going, “What does attacking a separatist encampment have to do with repaying a debt?”

“There is a Senator stationed on Drahgor III…a corrupt senator at that. One who has a significant bounty on his head. My dear old friend is a bounty hunter I met on Ord Mantell. Your job will be to take out the clankers and retrieve any data you can from the main database. Meanwhile, my bounty hunter friend will secure the bounty and you’ll go your separate ways.”

“Who is this Bounty Hunter?” Crosshair inquires.

“Glad you asked,” Cody exclaims, “Y/N!”

The clone troopers twirl around to see you approaching them. Your manner is conservative yet confident. One thing you have become an expert at is never striving for attention. Instead, your presence demands it.

You nod at the troopers, “Clone Force 99, it is a pleasure to be working with you.”

Surveying the team, your eyes first fall on Crosshair. His distrusting look reaffirms the defense you raised long before wandering onto the landing platform.

Gotta keep an eye on that one.

Next, you glance over to Wrecker. A massive lug of a man, but he has the noticeable demeanor of a gentle giant. Something about him reminds you of a plush toy you once owned as a child.

Tech catches your attention next. He is clearly the intuitive one. He will either be a pain to deal with, or a beneficial asset.

At last, your eyes meet Hunter’s. Such a tiny gesture of nothingness feels like you’ve just been thrust into a timeless world of something far more significant. You quickly dismiss your gaze, but soon find your eyes wandering back to him. His eyes are already on you.

Tech quickly picks up on your silent interaction and nudges Hunter to break him of his trance. Hunter quickly snaps out of it and clears his throat. He is dumbstruck by his response. His heart beats recklessly.

Taking note of his counterpart’s vitals, Tech is left unsettled by the quickening of Hunter’s heart rate. “Hunter, I need you to focus on your breathing. Your heart rate is abnormally high.”

Setting your sight once more on the rugged clone trooper, you catch the ever-changing hue of his cheek…the one that isn’t covered in dark ink. A hint of red paints his untouched skin.

He clears his throat, “Erm-thank you for alerting me Tech. I’ll be aboard the ship.”

Cody shrugs his shoulders at you, “I guess you’ll brief them on the ship. Have a safe trip.”

“Thank you Cody, ” you clap him on the shoulder and follow the rogue crews lead onto their ship.

++++

𝙿𝚛𝚎𝚜𝚎𝚗𝚝 𝙳𝚊𝚢

“Where are we going to go? We need somewhere we can set up camp that isn’t easily tracked, ” Echo declares.

“There is one place I can think of, but I’m not sure that Hunter will be a fan of the location, ” Tech announces apprehensively.

Hunter lets out a groan and tightens his fist.

Wrecker laughs, “Hunter doesn’t like this idea! Which means I like it even more!”

Glaring at Wrecker, Hunter abruptly stands and stomps off into the cockpit.

“Where is it?” Echo inquires. He leans in, intrigued by the atmosphere that has suddenly befallen the Marauder.

“Let’s just say…we’d have to get help from an old friend.”

“Ha! An old friend!?” Wrecker blurts out, “Try an old fla-”

“That’s enough, ” Hunter commands, having regained his composure, “We will attempt to make contact this evening and if we have no response by the morning, we will seek out other options.”

++++

All night Hunter stayed up, much to the dismay of his crewmates, awaiting an incoming communication. His mind told him that it would never come through; his heart made him believe…or at least hope otherwise.

He stretches his arms into the air, releasing a hardy yawn. Tech enters the cockpit, “Anything?”

“Nothing, ” Hunter responds with a hint of despair clouding his words.

Just then, a muffled echo transmits through the comms unit. Hunter nearly falls out of the captain’s chair as he scrambles to the commlink.

“This is Phoenix 178095 trying to contact Clone Force 99. I repeat, this is Phoenix 1780-“

“Copy Phoenix 178095, this is Clone Force 99,” Hunter announces almost frantically.

The only response is silence…until, “Hunter? Hunter, is that you?”

The rugged clones grasp on the comlink tightens, and he touches it to his forehead. His eyes are locked shut, his breath unsteady.

“Yes. It’s me.”

You hear his guttural voice and suddenly, your memories which you’ve strived to suppress come flooding back, knocking the wind out of you.

Attempting to swallow the lump that insists on crowding your throat, you press down the transmitter button, but fail to express your thoughts.

“What?” A menacing voice echoes out, “Lothcat got your tongue?”

You chuckle, pressing the comlink to your forehead, “well if it isn’t my favorite piston head.” Piston head, a nickname you have used to refer to Crosshair for as long as you can remember. You find it fitting because term is in reference to a droid, similar to the droid-like manner in which Crosshair carries himself.

“So!” Shouts a third, brooding and somewhat childish voice, “Are we bunking with you or what?”

“Yes Wrecker, you are more than welcome to stay here.”

“Thank you, ” Hunter softly says into the comm’s mic. His voice still brings warmth to your soul, although the communicator slightly alters it.

“Get here safely.”

“Always do.”

“I know, ” you affirm and disconnect the commlink.

Looking around at the empty room, which mere seconds ago was filled with the sound of your closest friends’ voices, you feel once again plagued by loneliness.

It has been nearly three years since you last spoke to them. Choosing to once again shove your feelings down deep inside you, rather than let the pain consume you, you prepare for their arrival.

++++

“Maybe one day we will meet again, when all of this is over. Perhaps then we will have the freedom to say all that we have long held in, ” you exhaust yourself in the effort to fight back the words that are bottled up inside of you.

A void and emotionless, expression spans across his face as he finally acknowledges the weight of the moment. A single tear threatens to spill over, and he clenches his fist to fight back the giant hole that is forming in his heart.

“Y/N, ” he utters, “I-”

“Hunter! It’s time for us to go, ” Tech calls out.

++++

Your entire body jerks to a standstill when you hear the hum of their ship landing.

Hunter feels a sudden sickening sensation throughout his body.

“Deep breaths, brother. You don’t want your little reunion to be overruled by sweaty palms and rosy cheeks, ” Crosshair teases.

Hunter groans, “We are here for a short period of time until we can safely get back to Kamino. Until then, this is strictly business as usual.”

“Whatever you say Hunter,” he flicks his toothpick into the garbage receptacle with perfect aim.

The leader of the clone force, known for being courageous, daring, and valiant has abruptly shifted to a timid and uncertain man. But that’s just it. He felt like a man. A feeling only familiar when around you. Every other day of the rotation, he is merely a defective clone—a misfit who despite his enhanced abilities, is thrown into combat, aware of the fact that he is completely dispensable. Because he is merely one of hundreds of thousands of others just like him, he feels like he is just another carbon copy dispersed off of a factory line. Yet, around you, he never felt that way.

He watches out the cockpit window and sees you emerge from your homestead. His heart somersaults.

“Shall we disembark Hunter?” Tech asks.

He nods.

You are so lost in your thoughts that you hardly notice the troopers exiting their ship. It isn’t until Wrecker has scooped you up into his arms that you are jostled back to reality.

“Wreck!” You cry out in excitement as you wrap your arms around him.

Crosshair lends you a wink that you flirtatiously mirror. It’s always fun seeing him fight back a cheeky grin.

Tech is clearly holding back, so you eagerly close the distance between you two and envelope him in your arms. Initially, he hesitates but rapidly works up the bravery to reciprocate.

Chuckling at his hold on you, you tease, “I don’t know who gives the stronger hugs! You, or Wrecker.” He quickly releases you and straightens his glasses.

“Who’s this?” You motion towards the pale, almost sickly-looking clone. In fact, he looks more like a machine than a clone.

“I’m Echo, ” he extends his hand to you. Accepting it, you introduce yourself in return.

Hunter appears from behind the group. Suddenly, you lose the ability to think straight, let alone speak. His eyes meet yours and you share a somber smile. Each taking a step toward each other, you close the distance between you. Unable to resist any longer, you throw your arms around him, drawing him tightly to you.

For a moment, he stands frozen. Hunter has imagined the feeling of taking you into his arms again more than he would like to admit. At last, he pushes his thoughts aside and encircles your waist with his strong embrace.

You can feel his heartbeat slowly accelerate; at least your heart isn’t the only one threatening to beat out of your chest. You seemingly melt into each other. His hands softly tracing circles on your lower back.

Knowing that this moment cannot last as long as you’d both like, you hesitantly pull away from him. His hands grip at your hips as if he is begging you to not stray from his grasp. Your heart yearns to pull him back into your embrace and to stay there with him forever.

Becoming aware of the world around you once again, you feel your face flush into a crimson red.

“Why are they just standing there like that?” Wrecker leans down to whisper to Tech.

“Sometimes, the most important messages do not need to be said with words,” he responds softly.

[mwolf0epsilon]

The Aftermath of a Nightmare...

Summary: There's nothing more humbling than being met with one's mortality. Lichtenberg might have not been the one at risk, but he's humbled all the same.

[THIS STORY IS NOW ON AO3]

---

A minute too late and they'd all be dead. Sponge's words, and Lich knows they're not one to exaggerate when it comes to medical troubles. A minute too late and four of Lich's batch (he had more than just the two he'd grown up with, how insane was that?!) would be dead.

Pox had done everything to keep them stable once he'd killed Sulu Ra, and Rhythm had all but marched into the lab with a spark in his eyes and a handful of Mandos at his back. Once they'd realised just how bad the situation had been however, they quickly moved on to Plan B: They commed Sponge.

The more experienced medic was fairly cordial about helping their vode in need. Kept their mask on around the Mandos the entire time, but that was just typical of them. Sponge didn't trust easy. Lich knew them pretty well at this point, since he'd been living with them and their ade for quite some time now. He knew they weren't as cold as they liked to pretend.

In the end Olly's size and hardy constitution put him at less risk than the others. The armaboras venom coursing through their veins was no joke, of course, but Olly was well fed and built like a tank. '02, '03 and '10 on the other hand...

Their apparent gene aberrations wasn't the most shocking part of their appearance. These kih'vode were pale for clones (having never seen or felt sunlight in their entire lives), and quite skeletal from both starvation and malnutrition (a measure to ensure control over them, no doubt). Their hair was long and matted like you'd see on a neglected prisoner, and the various scars they bore were quite visible to the naked eye.

Even if they got a good dose of the anti-venom Pox had produced for them, it was likely that their already severely deteriorated conditions would make it hard for them to heal. Nerve damage was a high possibility as it stood. They'd need medical rehabilitation and, likely, a buttload of therapy to overcome years of abuse at the hands of Sulu Ra.

Lich hoped he was up to the task to show these lost vode the love they very desperately needed. He himself was still in recovery, and PB too had his demons that often sparked arguments between him and Olly. But maybe... Just maybe... They'd all be alright.

"A little help please?" Rhythm's plea brought Lich out of his thoughts, and he couldn't help but to grin like an idiot at the sight. The Guard vod that had volunteered to keep an eye on Olly, was effectively caged by his Free'ika's arms. His shivering had lessened since being administered the anti-venom, but he was still a whimpering mess whenever the burning sensation flared back up. It reminded him too much of the gene therapy he'd suffered.

"I don't think I'd be able to pull you out of there." Lich responded as he watched his sleeping vod'ika press his face to the back of Rhythm's neck. Cuddling the living crap out of him.

"Lich, I really need to pee..." Rhythm whined. His poor bladder was probably not handling the squeezes too well, if he sounded this distressed.

"Fine... I'll try my best." The scarred trooper snorted. "Hopefully I'll have better luck than PB over there."

Said long-haired trooper sent him a glare from where he was being sandwiched by '03 and '10. He'd ended up tangled up after Sponge had come by to pick up '02 who needed closer attention due to his visual impairment.

"Kriff off..." Pretty Boy just barely managed to flip him off before he ducked under Olly's arm and pushed upwards with his back. "They just like that I smell like nice soaps unlike you stinky heathens..."

Rhythm managed to squirm his way out of Olly's arms, giving him a grateful look before he rushed off to go take a leak. Lich then lowered himself so that he effectively took the communications officer's place. He let his little brother coil himself around him tightly, before humming a soft tune to further sooth him.

A minute. Just one insignificant little minute and he wouldn't have this anymore. What a terribly humbling thought...

[cc-tens]

Rotating Hyena and Jackal in my head.

Two former GAR troopers who defected. Started fighting underground for money - under anonymous persona's, they always keep their faces and any identifying Kamino sources marks hidden or covered, they wear masks and outfits - and they loved it. They originally had a shitty manager who was definitely taking advantage of their lack of familiarity with money and whatnot and was definitely setting them up for failure, but the boys were used to being exploited by the thing that birthed them so they took it in stride. They got rid of their manager, got a new crew they're ride and die for, and they became fucking underground pro fighters.

I think they'd probably meet up with my Rebellion crew later on due to rumors of rly hardy fighters who were Clone sympathizers, rly could be useful for the cause, and Lo and Behold! They're fellow brothers in disguise!

Got bored at work and began planning out an ex Clone Trooper turned deserter turned underground illegal fighting ring champion named Hyena and this is his ring theme song.

[hardcasey]

Party Hardy

Won’t Fade into the Background - Part 7

Pairing: Boost x Reader

Summary: The Wolfpack attends their first house party and an accident brings you closer to one of them.

Word Count: 3.2k

Ratings/Warnings: T, warnings for alcohol consumption and smoochin'

A/N: This is a follow up of sorts to the last chapter with Sinker. It was inspired by the story of how Alan Alda met his wife, which is very funny and cute. I thought the premise fit our resident stinky boy, Boost, which is how I ended up with whatever this is. Enjoy~

They could feel the pulse of the bass two floors below their destination. The Wolfpack - sans their leader, who was too busy ‘writing reports’ (aka being a party pooper) - climbed up the narrow stairway to reach the party Sinker’s girlfriend and her roommates were throwing in their apartment.

They all could tell what door it was without Sinker even telling them the room number, the lights flashing under the door were a dead giveaway. There was a couple outside the door, a human woman leaning up against the wall and chatting up a pretty green-skinned twi’lek. They didn’t spare a second glance at the passing troopers, save for a quick nod that Sinker returned.

He was about to knock when Comet piped up, “Uh, are you sure this is a good idea? We could just head back to the barracks, it’s not too late.”

“What, are you scared?” Boost teased, nudging his brother with his shoulder.

Comet pushed Boost away before replying, “I’m not scared, I’m just… We’ve never been to a civvie house party before. I don’t know what to expect.”

“Just think of it like going to 79’s, only with less rules,” Sinker reassured him before knocking on the door. It swung open immediately, one of the people near the door opening it and inviting them in.

“That’s what I’m afraid of,” Comet muttered under his breath as he followed his brothers through the doorway.

The party was packed, humans and non-humans alike crammed into every available space, chatting and drinking and dancing to the loud music that blared through a set of speakers. The air was slightly hazy from the group of people tucked in a corner and passing around a joint. The three troopers stood in the doorway for a moment, stupefied as they took in their surroundings.

“Alright, I just messaged my girlfriend to let her know we’re here. She said to meet her at the bar,” Sinker informed them.

“Wherever that is,” Boost sighed, standing on his tiptoes to try and see over the sea of people.

Comet decided on a different tactic, instead flagging down a nearby Mirialan who had a drink in their hands. “Hey, do you know where the bar is?” He asked, having to shout to be heard over the music.

The Mirialan pointed towards the back of the room and gave Comet a cheeky wink, the rest of their friend group giggling behind them. Comet blushed and was about to respond with something flirty when Boost grabbed him by the collar and started tugging him towards the bar.

It took a while as the clones squeezed through the crowds of people, but eventually they made it to the bar, which was really just a fold out table stacked with booze. Sinker’s girlfriend was nowhere to be found, so the group decided to grab a drink while they waited.

~~~

You stood behind the makeshift bar, bouncing in place to the beat of the music as you mixed up a drink in the cocktail shaker. One of your roommates had shoved a pair of huge novelty light up sunglasses onto your face at some point in the night and you had a bunch of plastic bead necklaces around your neck, your collection growing as more and more people offered you them.

You had volunteered to work the bar tonight, hoping to show off the skills you’d picked up after taking a mixology class you’d found a coupon for. You thought you’d be tired of making drinks by now, but it was surprisingly fun. You got to chat with everyone as they waited and you’d even gotten a few tips. There was also the added benefit of having access to all the booze you could want, and even though you knew you weren’t really supposed to get drunk off your own supply, who could blame you for taking a few shots here or there?

Maybe you were drunker than you realized, though, since you swore you were seeing double all of a sudden. Wait, make that triple. A group of three identical looking men moseyed up to your table, and you blamed the alcohol in your system for how long it took you to not only realize they were in fact three separate people and not one guy, but also that you knew one of them.

“Hey, Sinker! How’s it going?” You greeted the white-haired clone loudly, straining to be heard over the thumping bass.

Sinker greeted you and introduced you to his fellow clones, his ‘brothers’ as he liked to call them. The two of you had interacted only a handful of times - usually he was too busy macking on your roommate in her room - but he’d always been polite and kind.

“This is Boost,” Sinker pointed his thumb towards the clone sporting a set of wild-looking double mohawks, “and this is Comet,” he pointed to the clone with a shooting-star tattoo on his temple.

You waved at them with both of your hands. “Well, Comet, Boost, and Sinker, can I get you anything to drink?” You motioned to the chalkboard listing all the drink specials you were offering, each one of them complete with a little drawing to go with it. It had taken you much longer than you cared to admit to make it, but it had been worth it in the end.

The boys crowded around to get a better look at the drinks listed. “Naboo Sunset… Jedi Mind Trick… Outer Rim… These are some fancy drinks, I’ve never heard of ‘em before.” Boost commented as he read the names aloud.

“Well what liquor do you prefer? The Naboo Sunset and Outer Rim are tequila based and the Jedi Mind Trick has vodka.” You’d had this same conversation several times tonight, enough you could recite what was in each drink without thinking.

“Which one is the prettiest one?” Boost asked after thinking about it for a second. He wasn’t choosy with his liquor, couldn’t afford to be when all he had access to was whatever someone put in front of him at 79s.

Comet raised an eyebrow at his brother. “Really?”

“C’mon. You’ve seen some of those crazy drinks people order at 79s! The ones with all the colors. This could be our only chance to try one for free.” His head shot up all of a sudden as if he just remembered something, “Wait, these are free, right?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at their antics. “Yup, totally free. Though I do take tips in the form of credits or in particularly cool bead necklaces.”

“Sweet!” Boost pumped his fist in excitement, making Comet roll his eyes, though he couldn’t contain the smile on his lips.

“If you want something colorful you should try the Naboo Sunset. It has a bunch of different colored liquors layered on top of one another. Very pretty,” You suggested.

“Okay, I’ll have that one,” Boost agreed. “What are you getting, Com?”

“I’m torn between a Jedi Mind Trick or an Outer Rim. What about you, Sinker?”

Sinker considered for a second. “You get the Jedi Mind Trick and I’ll get the Outer Rim and we can share them.”

“Okay, one Naboo Sunset, one Jedi Mind Trick, and one Outer Rim coming right up.” You told them as you started grabbing bottles.

Just as you began mixing Boost’s drink, you saw a flash of red in your peripheral vision as your roommate ran past and all but tackled Sinker. Had he not been a soldier you were pretty sure he’d be flat on his back right now, but he was strong enough to catch her with one arm as she launched herself at him.

“Hey, babe,” he said with a lopsided grin as he spun her around, “I brought the ice you asked for.”

“My savior!” She said as he set her back on her feet, pecking him on the lips before taking the ice from him and quickly handing it over to you to deal with so she could go back to hugging her boyfriend.

You rolled your eyes at them as you cut open the bag and dumped the ice into the almost empty ice bucket. When you turned back to your task, you caught Boost and Comet’s eye and the three of you exchanged a look.

“I’m really gonna need that drink if we have to deal with this all night,” Boost quipped, making the three of you burst out into laughter.

“I’m on it, darling,” you reassured him as you hurried to make their drinks.

The boys kept you company as you worked, sharing silly stories that had you nearly crying with laughter. You had the three drinks ready in record time, though by the time you finished it didn’t seem like SInker would be able to pry himself away from his girlfriend long enough to take a sip.

“Well, I guess you get both drinks then,” you told Comet as you handed him his and Sinker’s drink.

“Be careful mixing alcohol, vod,” Boost warned before taking a long sip from his brightly colored drink, layered with shades of pink, orange, and yellow. His eyes had lit up like a toddler being handed a cookie when you gave him his glass, and by the way he was sucking it down he was enjoying it immensely.

“Or… you could go and bring one over to that Mirialan over there.” You pointed with your chin to motion towards the Mirialan they had met when they got here. “They’ve been making eyes at you this whole time. Plus, I know they really like the Jedi Mind Trick,” you offered with an eyebrow wiggle.

The two clones both turned to look at where you were pointing, and the Mirialan gave Comet a little wave. Comet waffled around for a bit until Boost elbowed him in the side and told him to go live a little.

“You’ll be alright without me?” Comet asked.

“Yup, I’ll be hanging out with our new friend here. Now go get ‘em, tiger.” With that, Boost shoved his brother towards the Mirialan. Once the two of you were alone, he turned to you, “Hope you don’t mind me keeping you company. The only other people I know here just ditched me!”

You laughed at his choice of words. “Of course not. If you want, I can teach you how to mix drinks.” He’d had a lot of questions for you as you prepared the drinks, wanting to know what every item did or what every step was for, so you thought he might find it fun. Plus, you could use a buddy at the bar now that things were slowing down somewhat. It seemed like everyone who wanted a drink had already gotten one and you only had to deal with those coming back for seconds.

“Sure! That sounds fun,” he said, rushing over to join you on your side of the table.

~~~

You weren’t sure how many hours had passed, but you and Boost made a countless number of drinks, some for the partygoers and some for yourselves. At some point in the night the two of you had sunk to the floor behind the drink table, both tired of making drinks and too busy talking with each other.

“What is this party even for anyway?” Boost asked between sips of the water you had forced him to drink. You’d given him your big light up sunglasses and the rim of the glass clanked against them as he brought it up to his face, knocking the glasses askew and making Boost frown dramatically.

You adjusted them for him before answering. “Uhh, I think it’s a birthday party.” He gave you a look as if to say how could you not know so you added, “It’s for a friend of a friend and I’m four Naboo Sunsets in, don’t give me that look.”

Boost nudged you with his shoulder as he laughed, and you were suddenly aware of just how close the two of you were, snuggled up together with your head on his shoulder. When had that happened? Not that you were complaining. All of the clones were attractive, but something about Boost was especially so. He was unapologetically himself, loud in both personality and looks. You’d asked him about the mohawks at some point and he’d told you they started off as a dare but he’d gotten attached. His brothers apparently liked to tease him about his crazy hairstyle but he wore it with pride. He said his hair made him stand out, which you could guess was important when you shared a face with millions of others.

The area behind the bar was a flurry of activity as your other roommates scrambled around grabbing snacks to pass out to everyone. One of them grabbed a cake from the fridge and started putting candles in it.

You got Boost’s attention and pointed it out to him. “See, I told you it was someone’s birthday.”

Not ten seconds after you said it, your roommate grabbed it off the counter and was ready to bring it out to whoever it was for when someone else bumped into them from behind, sending the cake flying. Everyone in the vicinity watched in horror as it sailed through the air before landing upside down on the floor with a splat. There was a chorus of shouts as everyone realized what had happened, the person who caused the accident apologizing profusely while others lamented the loss of the cake.

Once everyone got over their initial reactions, things settled down and your roommate rushed out to explain what had happened to the cake’s intended recipient. Everyone else in the room started debating what to do with the ruined cake.

“Are you really just gonna throw it out?” You asked sadly. You’d been eyeing that cake all morning and couldn’t wait to try a piece.

“Well yeah, it fell on the floor,” someone else responded.

“But there’s still a bunch of good cake left!” Not all of it was touching the floor, just the top portion. From your side you could hear Boost agree with you.

“If you want to eat it, be my guest.”

You thought about it for a second and looked over to Boost. “Wanna eat some floor cake?” He asked, handing you a fork.

You grabbed the fork and smiled at him, the two of you shuffling over to where the cake had fallen before digging in, careful to only eat parts that were safely away from the floor, and since it was a triple decker cake, there was a lot to choose from. You grabbed a big piece, making sure the cake to frosting ratio was acceptable, and held it out to Boost.

He gobbled it down in one bite. “Mmm, gourmet,” he joked, flashing you a huge smile before offering you a bite. “For you, my dear.”

You giggled in between bites of cake. “The dirt really adds a certain something.”

The two of you carried on like that for a while, ignoring the stares sent your way. You wished you could have blamed your suspect judgement on the alcohol, but you knew you would have probably done this when you were sober too, so you had no excuse. But you were happy you had someone by your side who was just as weird as you.

~~~

Sinker nudged his girlfriend. “Hey, I should check in with the guys. Just to make sure they are doing okay.” He hadn’t checked in with them in a while and was feeling a little guilty for abandoning them for so long.

“I think I saw Comet making out with someone a few minutes ago.” His girlfriend offered with a yawn. It was getting late and the party was starting to wind down. It was far less crowded now and there were people passed out on the couches nearby.

Sinker looked around and sure enough he found his brother in a corner, wrapped around the Mirialan they’d encountered earlier. Good for him, he thought, happy Comet had been able to come out of his shell after being so nervous about going to the party. He hated having to be the one to break them up, but it was getting time to head back. Wolffe had kindly reminded them they had an early morning training drill the next day as they were leaving for the party, his way of telling them to be home at a reasonable hour.

Once he had collected Comet, he set off to find Boost, knowing that out of the both of them Boost was way more likely to have gotten into trouble. After asking around a bit, they were pointed in the direction of the kitchen. Sinker ducked his head in the doorway only to find what felt like the worst case scenario, his brother surrounded by a huge mess. It took a second for his brain to process the fact that you and Boost were feeding each other bites of cake from the floor.

“Please tell me you didn’t cause this,” Sinker sighed.

“Nah, we’re helping clean up. Didn’t want it all to go to waste.” Boost explained from his position on the floor, his legs sprawled out and tangled with yours. That was an interesting development. He’d met you a few times and thought you were very nice, but he’d never in a million years have put you and Boost together. You seemed too… normal for his brother, though apparently that wasn’t actually true.

Sinker’s girlfriend poked her head in as well. “Awe, cute! Now smile you two, I want a picture,” she said before snapping a quick photo.

“It’s time to go, Boost. We gotta get up early tomorrow.” Sinker told him.

Boost turned to you. “I should help you clean up first. Like actually clean up.”

“I don’t want you to get in trouble with your C.O. Don’t worry about it,” you assured him.

“Okay,” He hesitated for a moment before starting to get to his feet.

“Wait!” You called after him. He turned back towards you and you took the opportunity to snatch the front of his shirt and drag him into a kiss. It started off tense, with you catching him by surprise, but he melted into it, his lips sweet with the taste of frosting. When you broke apart you added, “I had fun tonight. We should do this again sometime.”

“Y-yeah,” Boost agreed, stumbling to his feet. Sinker and Comet were all but dragging him away but he resisted long enough to ask. “Wait, I don’t have your number.”

“I’ll give it to Sinker,” your roommate offered, and that was enough to get him out the door. She closed the door behind them before joining you on the floor. “I’m gonna show that picture at you two’s wedding,” she teased, a shit eating grin on her face. “Y’know, you have me to thank for introducing you. I expect you to name your first child in my honor.”

“Shut it,” you told her, taking a piece of cake and mushing it onto her cheek.

[shagpaboloutpost]

Squall doesn't actively try to get angry; it just happens to fae. The fact that Hardy goes out of their way to look for things to get mad about or trouble to get into pisses fae off, though, while Hardy sees Squall's temper as something that should be embraced and can't understand why fae don't want to channel that to any of her causes. They know each other well enough, and each have strong enough tempers, that most of their conversations tend to end in verbal or physical fights. On Kamino, this didn't come up so much, since they were outnumbered by the rest of their batch. Here, where if they're together the only mitigating presence is Inferno who hates upsetting either one of them, it gets bad much more quickly. Ty and Quaver had a system in place to make sure Squall and Hardy weren't left alone on the rare occasions they got to meet up; Wraith, of course, doesn't know this is necessary, but he learns quickly after the first holocall between the batchmates.

And yes - in spite of the many, many arguments, they do still regularly call each other. Part of this is to appease Inferno, who they're both fond of. Part of this is that, for some reason that's inscrutable even to Squall and Hardy, they don't want to stop talking to each other no matter how awful talking to each other gets. They've had each other in their lives so long they don't know how to not be in each other's orbits.

[melissa-kenobi]

Last updated: 05/08/2022

* - NSFW Content

Requests: CURRENTLY CLOSED

STAR WARS

Clones Masterlist* [18+]

[Arc Trooper Fives, Captain Rex, Captain Howzer, Commander Kiri, Commander Wolffe]

Jedi Masterlist* [18+]

[Anakin Skywalker, Cal Kestis, Obi-Wan Kenobi]

Bad Batch Masterlist* [18+]

[Sargent Hunter, Tech, Echo, Wrecker, Crosshair, Omega]

The Mandalorian Masterlist* [18+]

[Din Djarin, Boba Fett]

Other Characters

Poe Dameron: Surprises --- Back from a mission Poe has plans to spend the night with you, but you have a surprise planned for him.

Grand Admiral Thrawn: ---

Kinktober 2021 Masterlist [18+]

RED DEAD REDEMPTION 2

Arthur Morgan Masterlist [18+]

MOON KNIGHT

Jake Lockley

Reality --- Jake meets a cute girl at his favourite cafe.

Headcanons

- Sleeping Positions --- [How each of the Moon Boys sleep with you]

- Quirks/Traits --- [Favourite Quirks/Traits of the Moon Boys]

SPIDER-MAN (PS5)

Spider-Man Masterlist

[Peter Parker, Harry Osborn, Felicia Hardy, Mary-Jane Watson]

TAGLIST

[bedlamsbard]

"the dark troopers in Mando were just inefficient, ineffective back-engineering of assassin and combat droids from the TCW era designed in a post-Jedi era" *inquiring noises* I would love to know more, please do elaborate!

yes! I have been meaning to make this post since "The Rescue" aired...uh...last year. And I haven't rewatched since, so bear with me if I get any details wrong.

So the dark troopers in the Mando era (post-OT) are obviously designed to be heavy hitters -- they're a very real, very dangerous threat to armored and experienced Mandalorians and bounty hunters, and would probably chew through ordinary Rebels (a few years earlier when the Rebel Alliance was still a thing) or New Republic troopers. But they're completely useless against a moderately skilled Jedi Knight.

On the surface, this feels like plot convenience -- combat droids of one sort or another aren't rare in the Star Wars universe and in fact were the main opponent back in TCW/the PT era. And combat droids can absolutely kill Jedi; a lot of the time it's because there are so many of them that they outnumber the comparatively small number of Jedi present, not because of their actual hardiness or battle capability. (Though they're still extremely dangerous, even the ordinary B1-series battle droids that TCW usually plays for humor. The Imperial security droids in The Wynkahthu Job aren't individually a problem for anyone; the fact that there are a lot of them is a problem.) But there are a lot more types of combat droids than that, some of which are designed specifically for fighting Jedi, and what I'm thinking of right now are BX-series commando droids and MagnaGuards. Both of those are very maneuverable, they're very fast, they're very strong, and they're a very real threat to any Jedi who comes up against several of them. (Remember Eeth Koth getting taken out in Grievous Intrigue?)

But after Order 66, there's two main things going on: 1) the Empire doesn't really want or need to use combat droids; they're associated with the Separatists and they're on the whole kick of getting rid of clone troopers during the development of stormtroopers, and 2) there just aren't any more Jedi. You don't need to develop droids that are capable of going up against a Jedi Knight when there are no Jedi to fight.

By the time Mando takes place, the Remnant -- or at least Gideon -- has swung back around to droids again (maybe for lack of cannon fodder stormtroopers, maybe because he needs something tougher than stormtroopers, maybe because he just likes to make things, maybe a combination of factors). But he's not worrying about fighting ten thousand Jedi; that's just not something that even factors into the development of the dark troopers. Because there aren't any Jedi (or they're so few that their actual threat is negligible, rather). So the dark troopers are developed to fight a very different kind of enemy and they don't have to be efficient about it, because they're bulldozers; they can be power hogs in the way that PT-era combat droids couldn't be. It's a combo of Gideon and his engineers making development choices based on the threat he has (or thinks he has) and what's lacking in his actual flesh-and-blood troopers, but I got the vibe that they didn't actually look very hard at older combat droid models because the older droids are very different (and a generation or two out of date, at that). It's the whole tech bro start-up thing where they think they're reinventing the wheel. But they can't stand up to a Jedi because at that point in time, why the hell would you bother making them capable of doing so? The Jedi are all gone.

[simping-for-fives]

Soft Percentages of the Clones

This is in Softabetical order (Softies at the top, Hardies at the bottom)

Captain Vaughn - 97%

Tup - 95% 

Waxer - 94%

Arc Trooper Echo - 93%

Commander Ponds - 92%

Commander Bly - 91%

Wrecker - 90%

Captain Gregor - 88%

Droidbait - 87%

ARC Trooper Fives - 85% 

Captain Rex - 83%

Tech - 82%

Commander Wolffe - 81% (Secret Softie. Very well hidden.)

Commander Doom - 80%

Kix - 79%

Hardcase - 78%

Commander Thorn - 77%

ARC Trooper Jesse - 76%

Sinker - 75%

Boil - 74%

Sergeant Hunter - 73%

Commander Fox - 72%

Boost - 71%

Captain Keeli - 70%

Commander Cody - 69%

Cutup - 67%

Commander Appo - 66%

Dogma - 63%

Hevy - 59%

Commander Bacara - 47%

Crosshair - 34%

Alpha-17 - 3%

[a-lil-perspective]

A little peek of my wip “The Good and the Same”

Featuring Cody and Hunter, in which the two catch up over drinks. This is my first time writing for Cody and I am finding I really quite enjoy it. Anyway, thought I’d share a snippet in an attempt to spark some inner excitement—I’ve been incredibly mean to myself over my writing lately and it’s just been rough going.

———

“So tell me,” Cody took a break from his drink, setting it down with a announcing clank. He hollowed his cheeks, sucking at the residual liquor to be found there. “How are the boys holding up?”

It was easy to appreciate when Cody asked; he was the only one who ever did so without the recurring connotation of ‘performance’ to dress it. Everybody wanted to know if Clone Force 99 held up to their engineering, to their one-hundred percent success rate. Cody genuinely cared about their welfare, and nothing spoke more profoundly to Hunter than someone on the outside emotionally investing in his boys. The Marshal Commander’s compassion went way back.

Hunter felt himself begin to loosen, though he wasn’t entirely sure whether it was from the alcohol, or the company, or a sprightly mix of both.

“They’re good, I think,” Hunter answered, shrugging. “Same old same old.”

Dissatisfied with the ambiguity, Cody raised an eyebrow. “For you four? That sounds rough going.”

Hunter thought about that for a moment. “No, they’re doing good,” he assured. As good as a Clone could get, anyway. “Just a bit bored. Giving me headaches.”

Cody made a sound of understanding. “Sorry I haven’t had more for you all lately. Been pulled away to seemingly everywhere at once and I haven’t been able to gather enough op lineups to keep you occupied for longer than a rotation or two.” Cody sighed with far more patience than was expected of him in that moment. What was meant as a dutiful smile revealed as raw weary to Hunter. “Sometimes I wish there were more than one of me.”

Hunter’s face twitched and then both men erupted into hardy laughter. It was so refreshing and light in a way alcohol had no influence over.

Hunter coughed, swiping at the strained tears that had formed in his eyes. “Yeah, there’s only several million of you, brother.”

“Lucky me.”

Hunter grimaced. “Bit touchy there, eh Commander?”

“What can I say,” the Commander’s equable disposition was working fervently to reset. “We can’t all be as distinct.” He smiled at the way Hunter preened briefly at that before the Sergeant retreated to that frustratingly bashful state of his. Had Cody not been as familiarized with Hunter’s tendencies, he’d have wondered how he ever assumed an authoritative role. For an elite Commando, Hunter’s self confidence could be best compared to that of an oscillating pendulum. Peculiar, to say the least.

“It’s just the hair.”

“I know a couple of troopers who’d kill to have that.” That pulled a wry smile from Hunter.

“I like you vod, but not that much.”

Cody sighed theatrically. “It was worth a try.”

Hunter paused to take a moderated pull from his bottle. He brought it up and tipped his head back, letting it run acridly down his throat before he set it back down with a smack of his lips. His fingers laced around the base as he steered the conversation back. “So what about you? How’s your headache?”

Cody smirked as a peculiar and ever-present strain of it came to mind. “Being a massive pain as usual.”

“Kenobi, right?”

Cody chuckled roughly and tossed back the rest of his drink. “That’s him. Crazy Jetii.”

“You two must get along swell then.”

That was one way of putting it, Cody supposed. His lips steeped up with something reminiscent.

“Yeah, something like that.”