#f37 raffle

[starlightartemis]

The Lucky Batch ☘️

Yes guys there's more. (Ft. Our baby padawan.)

The dark isn't so scary when you're with friends.

Luna doesn't like the dark.

It's an endless void, an empty everything. Like thick ink, it clings to your skin and clouds your senses until you're lost and alone. It swallows you up entirely, and it feels like you’re pointlessly swimming in the never ending expanse of nothingness. It's a quiet fear that looms in the back of her mind, whispering, haunting.

So when the cave-in rips the lightsaber from her hand and buries her in darkness, it's as if the galaxy had taken the light as well as the air from her lungs.

There's a pressure in her chest that feels crushing as her eyes look around and see nothing.

Where are her friends? Where's her Master? What's going on?

Each thought squeezes her heart tighter and tighter and she sinks to the floor, her legs curling against her chest as she presses her eyes against her knees, fighting the growing panic. The muscles in her body go taut, and her arms are stiff, her legs stuck, her throat crushing.

Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic, breathe, breathe—

She feels a kind hand on her shoulder, and it's like she's been thrown a lifeline in the midst of a storm.

"Hey kid," Raffle says softly, and his voice reminds her that even in the dark she can still hear. "It's alright. Slow breaths, we're here."

Another hand settles on her back and Luna feels the presence of Pepper next to her, at arm's length, gently instructing her to let the air fill her lungs and then ease it slowly. He makes his own breathing more exaggerated, so that she can measure the seconds in between inhale and exhaling.

Her raging mind takes a while to calm down, but the clones' grounding presence makes it easier to focus on something other than the suffocating darkness that's threatening to drown her. Once her heart stops galloping like crazy in her chest, she manages to lift her head from where it was pressed against her knees, a shuddering breath escaping her lips.

Her eyes are still closed tightly: it's easier to bear the dark when it feels like you're the one controlling it.

"Here, Commander," Raffle tells her, and she turns to face him blindly. The girl feels his hand take hers from the floor and place something metallic and familiar in her palm: her lightsaber. "You dropped this."

"Thank you, Captain," she's glad her voice does not tremble as relief floods her chest. Light.

The padawan ignites her weapon, and opens her eyes as it buzzes warmly in the air, comforting. In its white light, she spots the clones sitting around her, reassuring affection in their eyes as they silently ask her if she's alright. Luna nods, and huddles closer into the circle.

She doesn't like the dark, but it's easier when she's with friends.

Another one! @lavenderstaars @lynnpaper @foxlock @letsunity @maygaladon @radbatch @oo-hazel-oo @lusiawonder @monako-jinn-stories @catboy-tech

[starlightartemis]

yo I GET TO GIVE THE TATS?? I'm so honoured omg

I LOVE THESE TWINS.

Also you used the nickname "peps" like I did I'm crying thank u for this addition

The Lucky Batch ☘️

Adding another to the CF37 archives :D

Ballast narrowed his eyes, examining the strange scene before him.

“Are you two sure about this?” Thumbs questioned, excited but concerned at the same time. 

“Of course!” Foxy exclaimed, grinning like a madman. “We have to have a matching tattoo, it’s law!”

“No, it’s really not,” Raffle sighed, shaking his head. “Alas, I understand your wish to match. You are twins, after all.”

Pepper’s brown and green eyes wondered over his shoulder, watching Boots prepare his tattoo gun. Ryder hovered, eyes wide with excitement and anticipation. 

Cypher yawned, glancing at the scene at the back of the ship. Jackal leant back, smirking at the scene.

Foxy gritted his teeth as Master Kenhla Whiro began to ink his shoulder, using her future-sight thingy to mirror Boots. Pepper and Foxy breathed, holding hands through the sting.

As their skin was colourfully scarred, Luna decided that she wanted one as well. It’d be something light and sweet, as she hated the dark and spooky things. Or, as Ballast liked to say, Spoopy.

“You’re doing real good, Peps,” Ryder complimented, watching the lines come together. “Better than Foxy.”

“Bitch, nobody’s better than me!” Foxy yelled, forcing himself to sit still and not make a sound. Master Whiro chuckled, amused at his determination and competitiveness with Pepper.

Ballast wanted to be the one to tattoo, but everyone kept saying he’d blow them up. Preposterous, he’d only blow ONE of them up, not both. Ballast is brilliant with technology, even inky stuff.

Thumbs did his signature move, providing a thumbs-up for Foxy, who grit his teeth through the pain. 

The fact that they wanted to do it the old way made Raffle question many things. Why does he even bother questioning things? This lot are the definition of insanity, even their Jedi!

The only other person with a semblance of a brain cell is the homicidal gonk droid G00-S, or Goose as they’ve nicknamed him. 

Of all the things to call him, it had to be a demonic bird with teeth on its tongue.

Actually, no, that’s a fitting nickname for the little asshole.

“Nearly done boys,” Master Kenhla announced, sticking her tongue out the side of her mouth in concentration. “Looking beautiful, lads.”

Wanting to see the product, Jackal left the pilot seat (to the relief of everyone) to see how it was going. His mouth made an O shape, astounded by Boots’ talent with art.

“Dude, we should paint a snake on Pepper’s armour,” Jackal said, a light flickering in his empty head.

Pepper’s eyes watered, overjoyed at the mere prospect of having noodles on his armour.

While pondering, the gang heard a small bang. Luna ran to the noise, finding Ballast covered in smoke. From the looks of it, he was tinkering again.

Whatever he was tinkering with was now dead. 

Fortunately, the Vibemicide failed, though Goose found it funny. 

“I think I broke my wrist,” Ballast mumbled, mildly irritated by the situation. Raffle stared at the malformed injury, his stomach churning. 

“That sounds like a you problem, not a, like, me problem,” Pepper stated blandly, throwing a bunny sticker at his brother. “That’s my duty done.”

“Weird flex but okay,” Cypher hummed, getting a sticker thrown at his face.

“Say that again, and your knee cap privileges will be revoked,” Pepper said, turning back to Boots. “You’re doing great, sweetie.”

Boots beamed, glad that his work was appreciated. 

“Aww, it’s a little tooka,” Thumbs smiled, looking at Cypher’s new sticker. “That’ll look great on your pauldron!”

“Yo, give me one,” Master Whiro grinned, wanting a tooka sticker too.

How these guys were still alive, Captain Raffle had no idea.

———–

The tattoos

@maygaladon @stereotypicalpicnicmat @oo-hazel-oo​ @foxlock​ @lavenderstaars​ @radbatch​ @monako-jinn-stories​ @lusiawonder​ @lynnpaper​ @just-another-freaking-dreamer​ 

My first addition :D, love you guys!

[starlightartemis]

The Lucky Batch☘️

It's a thing. This is just the beginning.

Stickers

Pepper is never short on stickers.

It becomes his thing. He says that as a medic, he can certify that stickers make everything better, so there's always a bunch of them in his medkit, on his bunk, in his pocket.

Nobody knows where exactly he gets them, and honestly? They don't really want to know.

"Yes, that broken bone might need some bacta, but you know what will make it 100% better?" Pepper will say, slapping a sticker of a grumpy frog on on his brothers' armor.

He either gets a smile, an annoyed glare or an object thrown to his face, but it never fails to make at least someone else laugh.

"Pepper, can you please come to the mess," Hazel voice speaks through the comm. "Jackal's on fire again."

The medic is already on his way, sighing tiredly. "Tell Ballast that I warned him not to try any new explosives on Jackal. I'm telling the Captain."

"Noooo," someone whines on the other side of the comm, chaos echoing in the background. "I promise it's just a little fire this time."

"Drop and roll, vod, drop and roll!"

"What do you think I'm doing?!"

The door to the mess slides open, and Pepper calmly walks into a Jackal with an arm on fire, Boots with a now empty glass of water and Ryder recording the whole thing.

"Don't worry guys," he says, approaching the flames. "I got this."

He takes the fire extinguisher clipped on his hip and aims it at the fire, taking it out. Everyone stops screaming.

"See, it wasn't that—" he starts, but as he speaks the armor on his brother's arm sparks again, raging.

There's silence, confusion. Pepper looks at Jackal, reaches for his pocket, and softly places a sticker on his forehead.

"I've done what I could," he says gently, and walks away.

"WAIT—"

"Mmmm," Jackal murmurs, annoyed, his eyes digging holes into the Raffle's helmet.

"What is it?" Boots whispers to his brother, confused, following his gaze.

"It's the new Captain," he says, his glare focused on the captain and only him. "There's something about him��� something off but I can't get a hold of what it is…"

"Don't worry, I've got this," Pepper chimes in, popping from behind them with a grin.

Before they can tell him to stop, the medic dashes forward, stickers sharp in his hands, and slaps them onto the bare, new bucket of the recently appointed captain of the 37th.

He's beaming, pleased, as Raffle slowly turns to look at him, and then at the leaf stickers now stuck on either sides of his visor.

"What is this, trooper?" His tone is neutral, and there's a hint of puzzlement meddled in his controlled voice.

"Stickers, sir."

Boots facepalms in the background while Jackal tries to keep his laughing quiet.

Raffle pauses, an eyebrow quirked, and studies the leaves now decorating his armor. For a moment there's silence, and then he looks back at the medic.

"I'll allow it."

"You're welcome, sir."

"Who's this little fellow?" Boots asks, raising an eyebrow at the mechanic and the robot standing in the hallway.

"It's our new member, G00-S," Ballast pats its head, and it warbles angrily, zapping him lighty to get it off. "He's a menace. We call him Goose, the Murder Droid."

Goose chirps and turns presumptuously, his head legs kicking in approval at the nickname.

"Ah, I see Pepper got to him," the clone notices, spotting the bunch of stickers that had been placed randomly over the droid's body.

"Pepper always gets to everyone."

Pepper is standing close to the ship, keeping an eye on the mechanic inside. He doesn't get half of what his brother is muttering over the mess of wires and tools he's tinkering with, but there's a fire extinguisher nearby just in case.

"How's it going, vod?" he asks, tapping gently the medkit in his hands.

Ballast doesn't answer, his tongue sticking out as he makes the final adjustments to the panel.

"Aaaand… almost done!" he announces with a smile, wiping his forehead with the back of his hand. "Come here, Peps, help me out a bit."

Pepper doesn't move, and eyes the ship's ramp suspiciously.

"I'm okay right here," he calls out, and his brother snorts.

"Don't tell me you're scared?"

"Oh, I'm not scared. I just like having two arms attached to my body, thanks."

"Come on, vod," Ballast insists, head popping up from between scraps of metal. "Jackal needs this ship to work for our next mission, and he dared me to make it extra fast."

"Why would you help Jackal have an even faster ship? Are you insane?"

"I'll give you 5 creds."

There's a pause. "Ok, but I'm bringing the extinguisher with me."

"Fair enough."

The medic sends a prayer to the universe and steps inside the ship, holding his breath.

"Hold this," Ballast tells him, handing him some wires. "Don't let them touch."

He picks them up gently and watches as the mechanic finishes working on that. After a few moments, he gives the system a nod of pride and closes it with a satisfying click.

"What do you think?" He gestures at the panels, a grin on his face.

"Mmm, I think you're missing something," Pepper concludes, and before his brother can let out an offended scoff, he slaps a bunny sticker over the console. "There. Perfect."

There's a pause, and the mechanic nods in approval.

"Yes, I think that's—"

Smoke starts coming out of the console, and a bunch of red lights start blinking furiously.

The clones look at each other, and sprint.

The medic is just passing through the barracks when he notices Thumbs sitting on the bunk. He's looking at his helmet with a frown, and once he gets nearer, Pepper sees that the paint is chipped and burnt there where he had carefully sketched the design.

His brother sighs, a thumb brushing over the ruined drawing, and doesn't notice him approaching. Wordlessly, Pepper produces two stickers from his belt, both a cartoon version of thumbs up, and places it over the damage.

Thumbs looks up, searching for words to say, but he gives him a few pats on the head and a smile before walking away.

They're all exhausted, but at least Pepper has stickers.

"Well boys, nice work out there," he says, looking at his brothers.

They're all on the floor, their bodies too stiff and tired to even move their heads towards him. There's a collective groan as the medic walks between them, looking for any serious injuries while sticks star and heart stickers over their chipped armors.

"Peps, please, I can't feel my face," Ryder says exhaustedly.

The medic wordlessly slaps a sticker on his face. "You're welcome."

"Pepper, don't you kriffing dare touch the fangs," Foxy warns, his eyes closed as he feels him approach. "It took me 3 hours to get them right, and it took one more for it to dry without being set on fire."

"What about fang stickers?" The medic asks with a grin.

Foxy doesn't move, but his lips tug upwards as he lifts his aching arm up for his twin to place them on his forearm. "I love you, vod."

"You only love my stickers, you di'kut."

It was a terrible battle.

The field is a broken mirror, with cracks and bodies spread as far as the eye can see. Pepper walks among the wounded, bacta patches and bandages clutched tight on his hands as he tends to their injuries, lips pressed together under his helmet.

There's so much blood. So much quiet.

It almost makes him sick, the way a place which was filled with screaming and explosions can now be so deadly silent.

He nods at the trooper with the head injury and moves on to the next, who lays in impossible quiet half a feet ahead. The medic kneels beside him, refusing to acknowledge the stillness of his chest, the ease of his features. He looks like he's finally resting as he checks his vitals, heart heavy, and closes his eyes.

A brother dies, and Pepper isn't short on stickers.

For you guys @maygaladon @letsunity @oo-hazel-oo @radbatch @lavenderstaars @foxlock @monako-jinn-stories @lusiawonder @lynnpaper