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arctrooper69 · 1 year ago

Note

🎊 Congratulations on the milestone!! 🎊

Your writing sparks so much joy, you deserve every single follower (and the many more yet to come!) 😄

I'd like to drop a request for Kix (beloved..), from the hurt/comfort prompts:

"How long did you think you could hide that?" + "I'm sorry you had to see me like that."

And if I may be so bold, reader is the one chastising him? 👀

Thank you so so much for your love and encouragement ❤️❤️❤️ I'm so sorry it's taken me so long to write this! I realize it's been in my inbox for several months now but here it is! I hope you enjoy!

ALSO... I loved this prompt so much and had a similar idea for an OC of mine, so there will be a Kix x OC version of this as well!

Prompt #20: "How long did you think you could hide that?"

Prompt #26: "I'm sorry you had to see me like that."

Beta-read by the amazing @staycalmandhugaclone

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Busy, Busy

Kix is stubborn. He's ways taken care of everybody else. Maybe it's time you took care of him.

Warnings: Mentions of sickness and injury.

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The med bay on the Resolute was quiet for once - not that Kix would ever say that aloud. He didn't want to jinx anything. Every healthcare worker knew that once that Q-word was uttered, all hell would be soon to break loose - a silly superstition, but one that had been proven true time and time again. Kix, however, did not have time to prove or disprove anything like that. He was just glad that none of his co-workers were here to tell him off for being so careless. Especially you.

He must've been allergic to something down on the planet they'd just been on. It was stupid, really - clones weren't supposed to get sick or have allergies.

I'm supposed to be better than this. Kix thought miserably. Yet here he was - snivelling like a child, sinuses so clogged that it felt like his head was in a bubble, and he was so damn tired.

Kriff... if it wasn't for this karking brain fog, maybe he wouldn't have slipped off the loading dock like that - landing on his side among boxes of medical supplies that he just now finished cleaning up.

The med-droid on duty stood quietly in the corner, ready to be turned on should an emergency arise but Kix quickly passed it by, opting to take care of himself in secret.

He groaned quietly, holding his side as he reached for the bacta at the back of the cold-storage unit. He grimaced, gingerly palpating his side with practiced fingers. Nothing felt broken, that was good. Just bruised. Nothing he could really do for bruised ribs. Maybe that was for the best. Kix still had a lot of work to do - reports to file, miles of inventory to catalog, and two med-droids to repair. Just some bacta for the pain and stiffness and maybe a stim for good measure - that would keep him afloat long enough to get all this shit together. Kix was short staffed, very short staffed. You had just finished up a triple, going on quadruple shift when he'd ordered you to get some rest.

"Makes no sense having a sleep deprived medic on the field, not to mention how dangerous that is," he'd scolded, now internally wincing at his own hypocritical actions just hours later.

But you're a clone. You can take a lot more than any nat-born. He nodded to himself, scrambling to find any justification for his actions.

"Alright," he grumbled, "quit stalling, Kix. You've got work to do. Then you can sleep."

He settled down in the small office behind the medbay, bacta on his ribs, a stim in his system, and a large cup of caf in hand - not the best combination, but it would work for the time being.

***

It seemed like only minutes had passed when the door slid open with a hiss. Kriff. He knew it was you despite the boxes of medical supplies that blocked his view and the stacks of datapads littering his desk. He sighed, rubbing a hand down his face, and stood up. He gripped the edge of the desk as a wave of vertigo nearly brought him to his knees.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he grunted out, surprising himself with the way the rough edges of his voice seemed to grate against the dryness of his throat. "I lost track of time."

He heard you shift and lean against the doorway. "That's alright. I figured that's what happened." The tone of your voice did not match the carefree understanding conveyed by your words.

You knew something was wrong.

Kix winced quietly as he eased himself back into his chair. Staying seated and unmoving was the best way for his side to heal up on its own. It was better for you not to see him. Until he could finish these reports, it was better he keep to himself.

"You wanna join me for breakfast?"

Breakfast!? It couldn't be time for breakfast yet. Maybe you'd just woken up early. Very early.

"Kix?" Your voice startled him from his thought-drifting fatigue.

"Huh?"

"I asked you if you wanted to join me for breakfast."

This time the worry in your voice was apparent and Kix felt his heart sink. The last thing he wanted to do was worry you.

"I'm really busy. Another time maybe."

"Kix...

"Your shift doesn't start for another three hours. You shouldn't be here." He snapped.

"Uhh...actually it starts in half an hour," you responded slowly. "Yours on the other hand, was supposed to be over like six hours ago. What are you still doing here?" The question was laced with the same sharpness he'd just directed towards you.

"Quinn called out. Their kid is sick." He spoke of the civilian contractor they'd been assigned.

The black and gold zabrak made a great medtech but, between various other assignments and six children, their appearances in his medbay were few and far between.

"So... you're going on four shifts in a row now?"

Kix grunted. He wished you would stop asking him questions. Talking made his throat feel as though he'd swallowed the general's lighsaber. "I'm fine."

"When was the last time you ate? Or slept!?"

He shrugged absentmindedly, concentrating on the datapad in front of him when it was suddenly snatched from his hand.

"Hey!" His head snapped up, glaring at his fellow medic who met it with an equally annoyed fire in her eyes.

"Give it back!" Kix made a grab for it but was suddenly and painfully reminded of his aching ribs. He collapsed back down into his chair with a defeated hiss of pain at the way the muscles balked at the tension. The movement took his breath away for a moment.

"Kix!" Your surprised cry pounded through his head as you dropped to your knees beside him, eyes widening as you thoroughly surveyed him for the first time since stepping into the room.

"Oh Kix..." you shook your head, reaching for a handheld scanner. He watched with heavy, lidded eyes as you swept the scanner over him slowly and methodically.

You set down the scanner with a sigh, gently placing a hand on his shoulder. "Kix, what happened!? Your shift was supposed to end at 2300 hours! You need to go to bed!"

Kix rolled his eyes. Only a few more things to do and then he'd gladly follow your direction.

"Relax, I'll just be a few more minutes! It's only -" he paused, looking at the chrono around his wrist. It read 0725. "Oh."

"Yeah."

He winced at your deadpanned tone. "Sorry. I guess I lost track of time."

"I'll say." You placed the datapad back onto the desk but didn't remove your hand. "You didn't answer my question."

"What question?"

"What the hell happened to you!? You look awful, you sound like your entire head is clogged, and you've got two cracked ribs!"

Oh. Cracked. Not bruised.

He opened his mouth to respond just as one of the datapads let out a beep. You frowned and put a hand up, cutting off yet another desperately fabricated excuse. "And don't tell me Quinn called out. You just got a message from the Admiral asking you why you canceled Quinn's shift."

He sighed defeatedly, suppressing a wince at the twinge of pain in his side. He didn't meet your eyes. "I fell."

"You...fell!?" you questioned, sounding a bit incredulous. "When? How?!" He'd seemed fine when he'd ordered you to take off.

"'Bout an hour after you left," he admitted. "Must've been allergic to something in the dust planetside. I was unloading some supplies, got dizzy, and fell off the loading dock."

"And how long did you think you could hide that?" Your voice had once again taken on that scolding tone which for some reason made him feel both guilty and proud. You'd been a timid shiny when he first met you. Now here you were, taking charge of the situation with an air of authority and sass he likened to one of his generals. He shrugged.

"As long as it took to finish all of this." He motioned to the cluttered desk, immediately regretting the movement causing his ribs to tense painfully again.

Your eyes were piercing - full of concern and disbelief. "Why are you acting like everything is fine!?" you snapped, suddenly angry at his seemingly unphased attitude.

He didn't answer.

You shook your head. “Why didn’t you call me, Kix? If I’d known you weren’t feeling well, I could’ve at least helped you with the work!”

Kix didn't blame you. He'd probably have reacted the same way if he were in your shoes. He looked away.

"I just... I didn't want you to see me like this." he muttered softly. He sounded hoarse and miserable.

You sighed. "Let me get this right....You didn't want me - a medic - to see you sick and injured? So you - also a medic, who should know better, might I add - decided to hide it from everyone so that you could get your work done!? You sent away our best medtech so that you wouldn't be bothered by them realizing something was wrong!?"

Kix frowned. It did sound bad when you put it all out like that.

"Guess that sounds about right."

You stared at him. "That was really dumb, Kix."

"Yeah."

You sighed. "How long has it been since you've eaten anything?"

Kix thought back. When was the last time he'd eaten? His stomach revolted with just the thought. There was no way he'd be able to eat anything right now.

"I...I don't know," he admitted, not meeting your eyes.

You sighed. "Okay, come on. I'm gonna go get you something to eat."

He shook his head, resting it in the palms of his hands, rubbing his eyes. You were right about one thing, he was exhausted. But duty came first.

"I can't. I have so much to do." He nodded to the screen of his datapad. It was full of messages, requests, reports, and a number of reminders and meeting invitations flashed across the screen.

You laid your hand on his shoulder.

"Just humor me, please. Eat something, take a nap - "

Kix shoved your hand from his shoulder, then instantly regretted the action. Maker, if his ribs weren't killing him, he could just scream. All he wanted to do was sleep. But he had work to do. Why couldn't you understand that? He knew he was irritable but his rude reaction towards you - his friend - flooded him with even more guilt.

"I can't! I just can't! Admiral Yularen needs these reports in by tonight and I'm only halfway through them because I got interrupted by General Skywalker needing additional information for the next mission, so I spent two hours tracking that down, come to find out it was all for nothing because the kriffing Jedi council decided to send them elsewhere."

He took a gasping breath. Fire burned through his side, igniting a feral panic that gripped his chest with an icy grasp. His ribs were screaming. His head felt as though he’d been forced beneath the rabid jaws of Kaminoan ocean waves - descending ever downwards, pressure rising in painful crescendos. His hands were shaking and he couldn't make them stop.

"Hey! Kix, hey!" Gentle pressure pulled him from his spiral with a grounding hand rubbing circles on his back. Concern clouded your face as you knelt beside him.

"Breathe, Kix. I need you to breathe."

"Can't," he panted.

"I know," you responded evenly, holding an oxygen mask to his nose and mouth. "Just do the best you can."

"No!" He swatted the mask from your hand. He really had to get this done. Just a little while longer, then he'd rest - then he'd let you do whatever you needed to do.

You pursed your lips looking at the delirious medic in front of you.

"You know, I really didn't want to have to do this but I - "

Kix rolled his eyes, unconsciously gripping the oxygen to his face as he took another short, gasping breath. He knew what you'd say next. It was the same thing he'd say to Captain Rex, or even General Skywalker when they fought him on coming to the medbay.

"Are you really gonna pull the medic rank card on me?" He interrupted.

"Do I have to?" You looked pointedly at him. You were annoyed, yes, but you were also concerned. He knew you'd seen dying patients with more life in their eyes than he currently did.

He looked down at the long list of tasks he had yet to do and sighed in defeat. "No. I guess not."

"Good."

He couldn't identify the look on your face as he allowed you to lead him to a bed. Your hand lingered on his arm for a moment too long as you delivered a sedative into his veins. But for some reason he didn't mind.

"Don't worry, Kix." you said softly as you watched his eyes flutter shut. "You're safe. I'll take it from here."

Kix allowed himself to succumb to the peaceful allure of sleep even as your words echoed through his brain. "Let me take care of you, you stupid, beautiful, stubborn man."

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harmless--dreamer · 1 month ago

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I should draw my clone squad OCs that I have along with their Jedi General. Don't get attached because all bar one are dead.

ALSO I KNOW ONE IS UNFORTUNATELY ACCIDENTALLY A CANON NAME I STOLE. I tried to Google as many of them as possible but I gave up because being a teacher is tiring as hell. Also there's like 6.2 million clones so chances are a couple of names got repeated.

The squad itself is split into a few different batches. The first set of batch brothers are Seven, Stims, Static, Base and Glint. Click joined separately after his initial batch died. The second batch of brothers were Storm, Rogue, Torch. Their other batchmates were reassigned after their first few postings. They're a small team, just them and their Jedi (then later, also, their Padawan), so no big ship or thousands of troopers- just a smaller elite squad.

Here's the squad anyway:

Commander: Seven

Sev is firm but fair. He was in a relationship with their Jedi prior to his death. It was well known amongst their squad but not outside of it. They all kept the secret. Seven is a good soldier and a better leader. He cares deeply for all of his brothers. He was the clear leader out of his batchmates and was always fascinated by the Jedi. His fascination led to a desire to work harder to be at their side.

He got close to their Jedi over time, nights spent doing paperwork or days in the med bay together. Eventually his squad realised he was into him and started teasing him, which led to their Jedi finding out. They took some time navigating the power dynamics, but eventually settled. Seven was a father figure to their Padawan and tried to keep her out of trouble, especially trouble the vode tried to drag her into. Seven had many a grey hair from his brothers antics- both him and Stims were going grey and they commiserated together. Stims would often complain that he had it worse, since he also had to deal with Seven and their Jedi being insufferable lovebirds.

Sev dies protecting his squad, his Jedi and his padawan. Not that he succeeds, because his squad (bar two and the jedi padawan pair) all die.

Medic: Stims

Stims is harsh and blunt. He takes no shit and has no time for it. He is kind, deep down, but he hides behind his outward persona of Tired Grumpy Medic. He absolutely would die for his brothers and their general and padawan. He does everything he can for his brothers and takes their health very seriously. Even if that means throwing a ration bar at their head because they haven't eaten yet today, the whole time muttering angrily about the headache they're giving him. He's honestly a massive grumpy bastard, but he's their massive grumpy bastard who loves them.

He's one of the only survivors from the attack that kills his squad, but he's presumed dead- taken as a POW by the Separatists. When he's eventually found, his Jedi has left the order, his padawan is a criminal, and only his youngest squad mate survived. The medical care he managed to apply while dying himself saved a few of them.

Assistant Medic: Storm

Storm was softer than Stims. While Stims will throw a nutrient block at your head, Storm would hand it to you and give you a short lecture- threatening to tell Stims if you don't get everything back in order. He was a regular trooper before he approached Stims asking for further med training. Stims was more than happy to have someone else to help out around the med bay. He would spoil their Padawan and got on best with the ""youngsters"" (himself, Torch and Rogue).

Demo Expert: Torch

Torch was... A little bit of chaos. He enjoyed explosions and fires and will take any opportunity to explode the clankers. He wanted to make a fire hot enough to melt the clankers. He was a bad influence on their Padawan along with Glint and Rogue. He'd make any excuse to start a fire or an explosion, often arguing for blowing a base up rather than leaving it to stand. He got drunk the easiest out of his brothers.

Stealth Expert: Rogue

Rogue was quieter but arguably the most feral of the bunch. When their general would get himself hurt doing force knows what to save their asses, he'd be the one curled up at the foot of the bed like a cat. He walked near silently and would frequently do so to scare his brothers. He was not above biting and would play dirty to win a fight. While his main skills lay in all things stealth, he was a heavy hitter and could absolutely handle the clankers. He always indulged their Padawan and would assist her with any pranks she wanted to pull. No questions asked.

Tech and Comms Expert: Static

Static buzzed constantly. Either he'd be making low grade chatter, constantly narrating his work under his breath, or his many tools would. He wasn't the most overly energetic, but when he was excited by something he would practically vibrate. He was more of a constant, low grade energy- like static on a TV screen, there and buzzing along constantly. He made the prosthetics for their Padawan and general, with the help of Click and Stims. He could hack into whatever they needed and could make whatever they needed with the help of Glint or Click. Ironically, Static was best friends with Stims because the medic said he gave him the least headaches.

Sniper and Weapons Expert: Click

Click could sometimes be rowdy and loud, despite being a sniper. On missions, he'd be serious and composed, the only sound you'd hear from him being the click of his blasters or mission critical information. Outside of missions? He was active, sometimes boisterous, and cared deeply for his family. He was one of the more tactile brothers and would often lean on the others or casually sling an arm around them. He was closest to Seven, Static and Stims. Often his work would coincide with the four of them so they naturally drifted close- despite him technically being one of the younger crew. Seven trusted him with difficult missions and would consult the trio whenever he needed advice. Click did however swear he hated children, and initially avoided their Padawan like the plague. He was a liar and they ended up getting on well- but he was more reserved around her. His voice is one of the deepest out of his squad, and when he wasn't overly excited it was fairly quiet- but full of emotion and well animated.

Heavy Weapons Unit: Base

Base was a little larger than your average clone trooper, always spending his time trying to get stronger and stronger. He wasn't the brightest bulb in the pack, but he was kind and loved his brothers. He doted on their Padawan, always willing to drop everything to help her. He's everyone's friend, always happy to help. Even if it was helping Torch set some recreational fires- though he was most often helping Glint or Stims and Storm. He did like to tease the shinies by scaring them with stories of their Jedi. One particular time when Hazard joined them, after Glint's death, he tried to scare the shiny by talking about how their general lost his arm. He also has what is widely considered the most ugly armour, since they all paint it themselves and Base isn't much of an artist.

Engineering Expert: Glint

The first to fall, Glint died prior to the mission that saw the entire squad wiped out. I wish I could say he died a hero's death, that he went down protecting his brothers like Base did, or Click, or Rogue, but he didn't. It was an unlucky shot, a stray blaster bolt catching him in the neck. There was nothing Stims could do, except heed his brother's last wishes. Glint couldn't talk, given he was rapidly losing oxygen and blood, but he held Stims hands and fixed him with such a fierce look- mouthing "look after them" desperately with tears in his eyes. Before his death, he would indulge their Padawan's every whim and was fiercely protective of his brothers. If Seven or Stims wasn't free to mediate a problem, he'd be the one.

After Glint died he was replaced by Hazard. Hazard is my partner's OC (<3). He's the only other survivor other than Stims.

#clones #the clone wars #clone trooper oc #clone troopers

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cloneshipping7567 · 1 year ago

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Romantic Confessions Part 15

Part 15/30

5. "I am so very in love with you."

Pairing: Jesse x Kix

Rating/WC: M/3,198 words.

Warnings: injuries, probably incorrect medical procedures, Jesse gets a lil high off pain stims lol.

Notes: This is my first time really trying to incorporate mandoa into one of my fics, and it's also my first time creating OC clones! Apologies for any similarities to anyone else's OC clones.

~~~

“No, vod, the cot on the left of that one. That one is still bloody. Careful with him!” Kix groans in annoyance, applying even more pressure to the poor shiny’s leg he’s currently stitching up. He appreciates when regular troopers try and help him and his team in the med tents, but sometimes he swears they don’t have common sense. “Put him down gently, you don’t want to hurt him, do you?”

“Sorry, sir,” the not-so-helpful trooper says bashfully. “Here, Trench, scoot back a bit…”

“Kix?” Coric asks, walking over with a a med kit. Kix looks away from the mess going on in front of him to look at his fellow medic. “I can take over, if you’re needed elsewhere.”

Kix smiles gratefully, turning his attention back to his patient.“What’s your name, trooper?”

“D-don’t have one, yet. My batch called-” he grunts as his leg spasms, causing Kix to apply even more pressure. “Called me Four-Six, the last two d-digits of my number.”

Kix nods, smiling in reassurance. “Alright, Four-Six. Coric here is going to take over for me, stitch you up and give you a bacta patch. Are you ready?”

Coric opens his med pack and starts applying a band above the wound to help stem the flow for the stitches, nodding at Kix.

“Y-yeah. Thank you, sir,” he mumbles, turning his attention to Coric.

Kix slowly pulls his hands away, allowing Coric to take over. “He still needs a pain stim, do you have one?” At Coric’s affirmative, he leaves them and walks over to the pair of troopers causing havoc in his med tent. “Trench, was it?” Kix asks, politely smacking the friend’s hands away and adjusting the trooper himself.

Trench nods, grimacing in pain. “Y-yeah, that’s me. I got hit in the side with shrapnel from an explosion.” he points to his right side, and his friend awkwardly stands at the head of the cot.

Kix nods and starts to carefuly remove Trench’s upper armor pieces, and hands them to his friend just so the poor kid has something to do. “And what’s your name, vod?”

“Uh…” he looks down at the armor in his hands and then back up at Kix. “Rung, sir.”

Kix hums, grabbing his scissors and turning his attention back to the patient. “Good job bringing your friend in,” he says softly. He cuts off the upper blacks, and hisses through his teeth as he takes in the wound. At least he isn’t actively bleeding out. “Yeah, it got you real good there. Lay back and try to get comfortable, I’m going to get you a pain stim and then I’m going to remove the shrapnel and slap a bacta patch on it. I don’t think you’ll need stitches, but I’ll need to see it once the foriegn bodies out, okay?”

Trench nods, gritting his teeth together in pain. “Sounds good, doc,” he gets out.

Kix nods back and stands up again, going over to his makeshift desk in order to grab the pain stim and his tweezers and tray. He looks over the rest of his patients on the way back to Trench’s bed, making sure they’re all still stable.

“Alright,” Kix says, sitting beside the cot once more. “I’m going to give you the pain stim, and then give you a few minutes for it to kick in. Are you ready?”

Trench nods, taking in a deep breath and holding it–maybe he’s been through this before.

Kix doesn’t give him a count down, just jams the needle into Trench’s neck and winces in sympathy as he gasps. “There we go. Give it a couple minutes, you won’t feel a-”

“I’m really fine, sir, I promise. I don’t need to see the medics.” Kix looks up immediately, putting his tray and tweezers down on the bed near Trench’s legs. They all have the same voice; but he knows that one. He would know it from a hundred klicks away.

“Considering you can’t stand up by yourself, I’m going to disagree with you,” a tired voice responds, instantly recognizable as Rex’s. “You were blown out of the sky, Jess. Let the medics take a look at you.”

“Was not,” Jesse argues, hobbling into view with his arm around Rex’s shoulder, who is half carrying Jesse into the med tent. “I happened to be in a gun ship which crashed due to enemy missiles. I’m perfectly fine.”

Rex rolls his eyes and makes eye contact with Kix. “How’s it going in here, Kix?”

Kix pats Trench’s good shoulder gently, and walks over to the pair. “Well, all things considered. Almost everyone has been patched up, and most everyone who came in has already been sent back to camp. How’s clean up going, sir?” Kix steps forward and throws Jesse’s other arm over his shoulder, and puts a hand on Jesse’s chest to help him balance.

Rex adjusts his hold so he’s supporting Jesse’s back, and Jesse’s arm slides down Rex’s back until it’s resting at his side. “Mostly well. Not very many injured clones this battle, mostly just…”

Kix works his jaw, dipping his head in respect for his lost brothers. It explains why his job has been unusually calm today. The group Kix was with during the fighting was with the General and Captain Rex; naturally, less soldiers get hurt when with them. Kix himself didn’t see much more of the fighting.

“I’m really fine,” Jesse says again, once the silence has gone on just a second too long to be comfortable. “I promise. I can help with the clean up, sir.”

“Your orders are to let Kix look you over and treat any injuries you have. You can help once the CMO has cleared you for action. Am I understood, Lieutenant?”

“Sir, yes sir!” Jesse says, straightening up out of habit and wincing in pain after he has. He sinks forward into Kix’s hold, jaw clenched tightly. Kix fights back a sigh; perfectly fine. Sure.

Rex steps back, keeping his arms out just in case, as he lets Jesse get used to Kix’s support. “Good. Kix, let me know if you need any additional support.”

“Yes sir,” Kix agrees, and starts to lead Jesse back to an empty bed. “Coric, can you handle Trench when you’re done with Four-Six?”

“Yes sir, I’m almost done here. You take care of Lieutenant Jesse.” Coric doesn’t look up from his stitchwork, too focused. He isn’t one to joke around or tease while on duty; that’s saved for the barracks.

“Great,” Kix says, turning to Trench. “Is that pain stim starting to kick in yet?”

Trench slowly turns his head to Kix, as if he’s two seconds behind real time. “Oh, yeah,” Trench drawls, smacking his lips. “Take-take your time. I feel…great.”

Kix snorts and nods at him and Rung, before leading Jesse all the way to the back. There’s a curtain here Kix can draw; they’ll be in relative privacy. “You got blown out of the sky?” Kix asks softly, not wanting to be overheard.

Jesse grunts, turning his head to force a smirk in Kix’s direction. “Nah, I just happened to be in a gun ship-”

“Which was blown out of the sky,” Kix cuts him off, helping Jesse turn and sit on the cot. “Where all does it hurt? I need to know how to lay you down.”

“You know I like it on my back, baby,” Jesse says, eyes alight with mischief. Kix narrows his eyes, unamused. “Everywhere, it hurts everywhere. I do think I’m good to lay on my back, though. I think I just bruised up my left side.”

Kix hums and starts to gently manuever Jesse onto his back on the cot, ignoring his pained pants and gasps for now. “Okay. Let’s get your armor off, and I’ll look you over.”

Jesse sucks in another shaky breath, but tries to smile at Kix through his grimace. “Bet you-you would want me out of my armor-”

“Save your breath,” Kix says, rolling his eyes. “I’m going to check you for a concussion first. Look straight ahead for me?” He pulls out his flashlight and lines it up with Jesse’s eyes.

“I’d rather look at you, darling,” Jesse murmurs, but he does as he’s told and stares at the opposite wall of the tent.

“You’re so annoying,” Kix complains, but shines his light and moves it around to check. His pupils look fine, dilating normally. No concussion, at least. “Do you remember hitting your head at all?”

“I think I hit my head when I fell for you, Kixy,” Jesse says, lulling his head to the side. “But I don’tremember hitting it in the crash.”

“I am trying to triage you,” Kix says, exasperated, and leans away from Jesse. “Can you take this seriously?”

“You always worry too much,” Jesse informs him, one side of his mouth quirking up into a cheeky smile. “I’m really fine, I just got bruised up. I was really lucky.”

“I worry because you’re stupid,” Kix says bluntly, starting to gently pull Jesse’s armor off. “And you avoid medical at all costs. You could be actively dying and you would find a way to avoid letting me take care of you.”

“I take offense to that,” Jesse mumbles, trying his best to help Kix. Kix moves down to get the lower half of Jesse’s armor off and allows him to get the upper half himself. “I like you taking care of me. Especially in the bedroom. I just don’t like medical.”

Kix gives him an unimpressed look, finishing up the lower armor and moving to help with Jesse’s chest and back plate. “I am working, Jesse. Behave.”

“If I’m good, will you give me a treat?” Jesse asks, immediately disobeying. “You know how much I love su-”

“Doesn’t matter, since you’re apparently set on being inappropriate,” Kix hisses, gently smacking Jesse on the forehead. At Jesse’s affronted look, Kix smirks and starts to peel Jesse’s uppers off. “Lean forward for me, you can hold onto my shoulders if it helps.”

Jesse carefully gets himself into an almost sitting position by grabbing onto kix’s shoulder, and while he’s obviously in pain he’s still smirking at Kix. “I think I know how to ride you by now, Kix.”

Kix barks a surprised laughed, finally getting Jesse’s shirt off and helping him lay back down. “Shut up,” he hisses, but his own amused smile gives him away. “You’re impossible. Let me look at you.”

Jesse grins, rolling a bit on his good side so Kix can see part of his back as well. “See? I’m fine. Just lots of bruising, I bet.”

Kix runs his fingers gently over Jesse’s side, frowning at the coloration. “You’re bruised to hell and back,” Kix mutters, narrowing his eyes when his fingers catch. He goes back to that spot and presses gently, causing Jesse to release a whimper through gritted teeth. “And you broke a couple ribs.”

“Kix,” Jesse whispers, sucking in a gasp and wincing as he does. “Ow.”

Kix sighs sadly, moving his hands up and looking over Jesse’s arm. “You bruised your elbow pretty bad, too.” He gently moves Jesse’s arm, bending it, and frowns when the other man lets out another pained gasp. “Sprained. I’m going to wrap it up, but bacta won’t do much for this.”

Jesse hums in acknowledgement, watching Kix’s fingers as they gently explore his injuries. “What about on my back?” he asks softly.

Kix lets his eyes flit to Jesse’s, and gives him a soft smile. “Roll over a bit more for me. Are you sure you didn’t hurt your other side? You aren’t putting pressure on any injuries?”

Jesse shakes his head and rolls over so almost his entire front is on the cot. “No, my right side feels fine.”

Kix runs his fingers over Jesse’s back, pressing on some parts and ensuring the bruising isn’t too bad. He doesn’t want to miss any signs of internal bleeding. “You banged yourself up pretty good, Jesse,” Kix confirms, sighing sadly.

“My hip hurts, too,” Jesse says, looking over his shoulder at Kix. “You might have to roll down my lowers.”

A part of Kix wants to narrow his eyes and call banthashit, but the medic in Kix doesn’t want to waste any time. He doesn’t say anything, just pulls Jesse’s lower blacks down and examines the area. “Did you land on it during the crash at all?”

“Kind of. I mostly just landed on my left side, which is why it’s all bruised.” Jesse shifts a bit, wincing as his arm brushes over his ribs.

Kix runs his fingers over the bruises, sighing again. “I don’t think you have any cuts or internal bleeding. I think you just need a pain stim and rest. The ribs are going to be your biggest problem, but you’re going to be sore all over for at least a week.”

“Move your fingers a little and you could leave me a more satisfying kind of sore,” Jesse whispers, smiling and reaching down to brush their fingers together.

Kix sighs heavily, pulling Jesse’s lowers back up and glaring at him. “Seriously, Jesse?”

Jesse only chuckles breathily, rolling over onto his back and wiggling to try and relieve as much discomfort as he can. “Worth a shot.”

Kix rolls his eyes and walks over to his desk, grabbing another pain stim. He jams it into Jesse’s neck without warning, earning a squawk of indignation for his efforts. “Let that kick in, I’m going to check on my more well behaved patients.”

Jesse pouts, his right arm wrapping around his body to rest lightly over his broken ribs. “But I’ll miss you,” he whines.

Kix shakes his head, but he can’t stop the small smile from forming on his lips. “You’ll live, I’ll only be gone a few minutes. Call if you need anything-but remember Coric is here, and he might check on you instead.”

Jesse tries to give a put on sigh, but winces at the pressure on his ribs. “I guess I won’t expose myself, then.” he grunts, rolling his eyes.

Kix doesn’t dignify the sarcasm with a response, just leaves and checks on the other vode who need his attention. Most of the troopers have fallen asleep, aided by pure physical exhaustion and the pain stims. He makes his way towards the entrance, and sees Coric is carefully pulling the shrapnel from Trench. “How’s it going here, Coric?”

“Good,” his fellow medic says without looking up. “Four-Six is all patched up, and I’m letting the bacta do its job. How’s the lieutenant?”

“Bruised very badly, broke some ribs and sprained his elbow. Nothing to be done except to administer pain stims.” Kix looks over at Four-Six, smiling at the way he’s fallen asleep with his mouth hanging open. “Lucky, all things considered.”

“I asked the captain, and no one else in the gunship made it out.” Coric does look up at that, dropping a piece of metal into the tray.

Kix feels his heart start to beat harder and faster, at just the idea of Jesse having died today. If the ship had exploded on impact with the ground, as they often do; or if he had been sucked out of the ship and fallen to the ground himself; if no one had searched the ship for survivors-

“Breathe, sir,” Coric says softly. “You just checked him over. He’s fine.”

Kix swallows thickly and realizes he’s holding his breath. He slowly pushes the air out through his nose, nodding once to Coric. “This was a-a hard won battle. Too many casualties.”

Coric nods in agreement. “I can handle things from here. Go get some rest, I’ll wake you up for your shift.”

Kix takes one last sweeping look around the tent, and nods at Coric again. “Thanks, vod,” he mumbles, before heading back to the curtained off section of the tent.

Jesse sluggishly looks up at Kix, and a dopey grin spreads out across his face. “Heeeeey baby,” he greets, just a bit too loud, considering where they are.

Kix lets out a soft laugh, closing the curtain and sitting beside the cot. “Shush, you’re being too loud.”

“Let’em hear me,” Jesse argues, reaching down and grabbing for Kix’s hand. Kix takes mercy and curls their fingers together. “They’ll just know how…how…yeah.”

Kix laughs and brings Jesse’s hand to his lips to kiss. “They’re trying to sleep, love. They need to rest too.”

“I don’t need rest. I just need you,” Jesse says, his eyes warm and full of affection. “You’re perfect.”

Kix ducks his chin and smiles, leaning on the cot. “You’re only saying that because of the pain stim.”

“Nuh uh,” Jesse argues, squeezing Kix’s hand. “I’m only saying it because-because it’s true and it should be said. You should know it.” He smiles again, using his other hand to run his fingers over Kix’s hair as far as he can reach. “You’re so pretty, Kix. You have cool hair.”

Kix snorts, scooting closer so Jesse doesn’t put any pressure on his broken ribs. “Are you feeling better?”

“Mhm,” Jesse confirms, his eyes roving over Kix’s face with such intensity it almost brings a flush to his cheeks. “You fixed me.”

Kix shakes his head fondly, resting his head on Jesse’s chest on his good side. He plays with Jesse’s fingers, keeping his hand in both of his. “Good, I’m glad you aren’t hurting as much.”

Jesse runs the fingers of his right hand gently over Kix’s hair, smiling down at him. “Oh, gods, Kix.” Kix frowns, ready to get up and force him to lay still and rest if he’s in pain. But then Jesse laughs and runs his fingers down the side of Kix’s face. “I am so very in love with you. It’s like my heart is gonna burst out of my chest just to get to you.”

Kix laughs at that, sneakily pressing two fingers to the pulse in Jesse’s wrist just to make sure his heart rate is actually normal. “Jesse…”

“I love you so much, Kix,” he whispers, his eyes starting to droop. “You’re so perfect, and you make me so happy, and all I ever wanna do is be with you. I love you.”

Kix is definitely blushing now. He leans forward and connects their lips softly, just to make him stop talking. Jesse obviously finds it hard to kiss back, but Kix doesn’t really mind. He moves their lips together, and adjusts for Jesse’s clumsy attempts to reciprocate. Jesse’s fingers curl over Kix’s hair, and he squeezes Kix’s fingers with his other hand.

Kix smiles and pulls back, rubbing their noses together gently before pulling back further. “I love you too, Jess. More than anything.”

Jesse beams at him, like Kix personally hung all the stars in the sky, and sighs happily. “Kix.”

“Go to sleep, love. I’ll be here when you wake up.” With a new pain stim, he doesn’t add.

“Don’t let go of me,” he mumbles as his eyes fully slip closed. “Hold my hand.”

“I will,” Kix promises, kissing Jesse’s jaw before resting his head back on Jesse’s chest.

#jesse x kix #clone medic kix #cloneshipping #my writing

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whirlybirbs · 2 years ago

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grim…………………………………….

; — burnt | chief medical officer grim

summary: grim gets shot. pairing: grim (clone trooper oc) / nurse!reader tags: medical procedure, minor body gore a/n: oh my god a star wars fic? for my boy??????

"What did I tell you—"

The medical tent is chaos, and you're at the helm. You slide a look to Kilo, who already has a sterilized set of surgical scissors at the ready. Kilo hands it off quickly, and below you, a certain Chief Medical Officer makes a strangled noise on the cot.

"I know, fuck, can we be a little nicer to me?" he grits out, face down, "I just got shot, okay? A little sympathy goes a long—FUCK."

"Are you lecturing me in bedside manners?" you ask, now gripping the molten piece of plastoid armor you'd just dug out from his shoulder between the scissors. Your surgical gloves are dappled with blood. You waggle it, a bite of anger rising in your cheeks, "You? Really? Really?"

"I love being under you, but right now you're scaring me—"

Grim probably deserves this. Getting shot in the back while hauling casualties off the field was bound to happen sooner or later — he'd dodged enough blaster bolts, close enough that he'd felt the heat through his armor, to know his luck was starting to dwindle. But it's a habit he isn't willing to break.

The Felucian heat clings to his neck. Mud and pollen and blood paint his armor with all sorts of muddied violence. You and Kilo had dragged him back to the travel med-tent by his arms as he'd kicked and screamed — even now, he bites his knuckle and ignores the taste of mud on the nanopreen.

"FU—ck."

You wince. Maybe you were being a little too rough. The wound is almost clean — that's the tricky part with these new CIS bolt shots, isn't it? The heat modifier on the barrel alters the reloads enough to eat through the Kamonioan's standard issue plastoid. Fuses it right with the skin. The only way to really ensure a decent heal is to carve out the melted armor from the burn site. Lots of bacta, too.

"I'm almost done—" your voice is strained as you lean over him and smooth a hand down his back. The hole in his bodysuit is nearly the size of your fist.

"Kilo?"

"Yessir?"

"I want you to take your blaster and shoot me in the fuckin' head, put me down like a fuckin'—"

You pluck a particularly stubborn piece of plastoid from the wound and Grim nearly folds in on himself. On instinct, you reach to soothe his hair. Guilt bubbles up, and you grit your teeth together tightly.

"I'm done. All done. I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I know," you hush quickly; the professionalism maintained is gone, and right now you're not nurse and CMO. It's just you and the man you love, "Kilo, could you get me the 1.8ml stim from the health pack— the blue."

"No," comes Grim's hoarse voice; suddenly, he's exhausted. The adrenaline has started to fade, "No stim."

Your fingers pause. Right.

"No stim," you affirm gently.

He reaches back blindly, over his head, and you take his hand with ease. Blood and mud forgot you squeeze his fingers. He squeezes back.

"No stim."

#talon squadron #clone trooper oc #grim x reader #grim x you #chief medical officer grim #111th #star wars imagine #tcw oc #star wars tcw

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honeymochibubbletea · 11 months ago

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Good night my dearies! (By the time i am writing this, it is night in my country)

How are y’all? Good? I hope so! :D

So, you all may remember my Oc that i showed on my latest posts: Oliver!

Today, i, Honey Mochi Bubble Tea, am here to ramble a little bit about my sweet Oc Oliver! (I swear, i am so proud of creating this cute boy, i mean, not here to brag or anything but my baby is literally a cutie :3)

So, let’s goooo:

Let’s start with the basics:

Oliver is an Telltown Oc.

Even though i call him “baby” or “sweet boy”, he’s actually 22 years old, believe or not lol. (This only happens because i always manage to make characters look younger than they actually are haha)

My Oc pronouns are They/them//he/him.

He’s gender-fluid.

His sexuality is pansexual.

They are autistic. (I’ll explain better on the comment section if anyone has more questions about it: like how is their autism, how they handle or feel about it, how is their stimming and other things related to their autism!) (ps: and yes, their autism is a reflection of my own autistic spectrum)

Their height is 4’7 feet tall.

They are Brazilian! (Brazilian pride here! ;D)

His comfort zone: his own home or any library; his comfort food: burritos or sushi; his comfort objects: music boxes, big plushies, his amulet and his books; his comfort characters: any big and muscular guys or tall ladies, really lol; his comfort drink: boba tea and his comfort dessert: mochis.

He’s very, very weak and slow. If hypothetically he was in a combat, he would either die very easily or he would get out of the danger by persuasion or luck.

Thankfully, he’s an inventor and created a machine that can always respawn him if he’s in a situation that he knows he’s going to die: as long as he has his soul, he’s going to be fine.

WARNING: this bit has mentions of panic attacks; suicidal thoughts; self harming and hyperventilation! He has serious anxiety and stress issues. (And you may wonder: does he treats his anxiety? The answer is yes, but it’s honestly so bad that sometimes even the strongest medications doesn’t work, and when it doesn’t work, it leads to him having a lot of panic attacks; suicidal thoughts; self harming and even hyperventilating to the point he feels like he can’t breathe…)

Their phobias are: Eisoptrophobia; Agoraphobia/Enochlophobia; Social phobia and Aichmophobia (when used on them, not when they need to use it).

Their main goal: becoming Dr. Phantasmo’s apprentice and a better villain!

Now here are some fun facts about Oliver:

Oliver is very afraid of Charlie, why you ask? Well: they presume that since Charlie is a hero and has Phantasmo as her arch nemesis and Oliver is a big fan of Phantasmo… automatically, in their head, Charlie immediately sees them as also a menace… (even if Oliver is menacing as a baby lamb hahaha)

Oliver likes Dr. Phantasmo very much. Like, to them, the guy’s an idol and one day, one day: Oliver is going to happily work for him.

Yes: Oliver isn’t as innocent as he seems, he creates clones out of other people’s parts of their bodies (nails; teeth; hair locks; dead skin and blood) and experiment on said clones… god knows what twisted things he does to these clones…

Now you may be thinking: “is Oliver a good or bad person?” And well…. I promise to expand more on their morals; ethics; philosophies; character and reasons to be the way they are. But have this as for now: imagine that he has intrusive thoughts: the problem itself isn’t having intrusive thoughts, because it is proven that everyone had or has intrusive thoughts, the real problem is when you put in action whatever intrusive thoughts you’re having: killing someone, for example.

Since Oliver isn’t the strongest or the fastest person, he has other methods to compensate for the lack of those things: if he has to defend himself or… ahem, “take someone down”, he usually carries with him (on his backpack, of course) a pistol and some sleeping drugs… (also a dagger and a taser)

Thanks to his cuteness; charm and politeness, he can almost make anyone trust him rather quickly.

Oliver usually doesn’t like confrontation or conflicts, but if an idiot walks over him or someone that can’t defend themselves… ohoho, let’s just say that Oliver will plan a “special party” six feet under the ground for them :)

Oliver’s plans after he met Phantasmo became basically this: befriend Phantasmo (or something close to that); show him anime and mangás; ask him on a date (if they ever build courage for that) and hope he doesn’t kill them. :D

Oliver doesn’t have parents. The “closer” he has is a mysterious entity that names themselves as “Élos”. Oliver never saw them before, he only knows about its existence through the letters they send him. Élos apparently is probably who created Oliver, i will also explain that relationship better on my next post~ ;)

Oliver knows Emilly too well, almost so well that it even looks like they’re siblings. But here’s the catch: they never met each other before. Ever. Thing is, no one ever saw these two together at the same place. Oliver claims that the two live together and when questioned about this peculiarity, he lies that she’s busy in a different place whenever he’s home… (Emilly is another Oc of mine that i’ll talk about later on my next, next post! :D)

#dr. phantasmo #charlie #fluffpillow #jencilthepencil #telltown #oc #others ocs #ocs #original character #Oliver #Emilly #oc art #oc x canon #oc artwork #digital drawing #digital art #artists on tumblr #i’m actually so excited to share my oc with you guys!#art

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detroitbydark · 4 years ago

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Title: Play With Fire- Part 2

Characters: Migs Mayfeld/”Pockets” (OC)

Rating: T

Summary: First Impressions

Warning: Blood? but not gore

A/N: So apparently Pockets is now and OC and I have more ideas then I care to admit for this pairing. Thank you to @crimson-dxwn for being my beta extraordinaire and listening to my rants and raves. Anything ya'll wanna know about these two crazy kids? let me know and I might explore it. Also, 3 ABY is approximately one year before the battle of Endor and the second Death Star and their reunion ( the first part in this) takes place about 9 ABY sometime after the second season of The Mandalorian.

3 ABY

Sometimes you made the shot of a lifetime. Sometimes you didn’t.

Sometimes you made that once in millennia shot as Rebel artillery was destroying your nest and you went tumbling ass over blaster down a ravine with half a ton of loose debris and rocks.

You couldn’t win them all.

Migs got this. He understood it like he understood his unfortunate short stature or the hairline that had receded for too early in life. Those were the breaks.

You either lived with it or died with it and he was fully set on living until he was old and shriveled.

Some days it just sucked.

Today was one of those days.

“We got a live one coming through. Clear a table, will ya?”

The voice of his squad mate, Crikes, was too loud on his right as his weight pressed heavily into Smitty on his left. The rough outer rim accent bounced around in his bucket like a stray blaster bolt.

Kriff his head hurt.

Everything hurt actually, from his head to the tips of his toes. The slide hadn’t been that bad. Seven meters? Maybe ten? It was the sharp obsidian stone that had come down with him that had done him in. The razor sharp black stone had bludgeoned and gouged his armor, weaseling its way into the cracks and under the plastoid plating. It cut at his skin with each move he made. If the stims hadn’t helped numb him up he’d probably have passed out when the assault droid had helped yank him from the rubble. His gauntlets were both cracked and he could feel a cool breeze coming through the cracks in his back plate. He’d liked his armor. Command wasn’t gonna take to kindly with having to replace it.

It was nice to pretend his biggest concern was getting a new set of plastoid requisitioned.

“Hey medic!” Crikes’ voice cuts through his thoughts, “I said we need a hand over here!”

“Maker… do you have to yell so fragging loud? I mean-“

“What are you going on about?” Looking back he’s never sure what it was that he noticed first, but he likes to think it was her voice. Like an holomodel fantasy out of a good spice trip, she shuts that Hutt humping Crikes up, marching over with her hands on her hips and scowl on her face.

“We got an Imperial war hero here.” Crikes sounds chastened, but Migs doesn’t bother to look over to see if his face matches what he’s hearing because he’s in the presence of a fragging angel.

“Yeah? Look around. Got a lot of heroes here.” Sarcasm flows from her pretty pouty lips like water from a fountain. She sweeps her arm toward the other beds and the piles of bloodied plastoid littering the small field hospital. “This one ain’t any better or worse.”

Migs frowns under cover of his helmet. For a while he’s been wondering if he might have some bleeding going on somewhere. He feels a bit woozy when he turns his head too quickly to follow the angel as she grabs a datapad off a nearby cart. He was better then a majority of the scum around him. He was a sharpshooter, best of the best, and the bastard who single-handedly brought down the pair of x-Wings decimating their ground troops.

He tries to tell her as such but the words don’t come out of his mouth in any coherent thought. Angel freezes, looking up from the datapad she barks to his squad mate and Migs suddenly feels his bucket being pulled from his head.

“Designation number trooper.”

It’s an order not a question. He didn’t like orders, even from his own superiors but she’s damn pretty and his head hurts…

“Trooper? A number?” Angel looks up from the datapad. There’s concern on her face. She’s scanning his injuries. The ones she can see. Were they that bad? Migs reaches up and feels something warm and sticky against his temple.

“FO-593” Smitty offers for him.

“593… got it…” she takes a step closer, setting the datapad down and pulling gloves from her pocket. She’s got the prettiest hazel eyes, long lashes. Migs wonders if she’s seeing anyone. It’s probably one of those civvie doctors that signed on…

“593-“

“Mayfeld. It’s Migs Mayfeld.” He clarifies, ‘cause a pretty girl like her should be saying his name.

“Alright, Mayfeld, what happened?”

“He saved our asses is what he did!”

Crikes again. Maker, if the bastard kept stealing his glory he was going to deck him. Once the room stopped spinning.

“You know what?” The Angel looks about as amused with Crikes as

Migs felt. “I think it’s high time you two go get some rations in you and leave Mayfeld and I to our own devices.”

Smitty elbows Crikes, the plastoid of armor clattering as he tips his head toward the entrance.

“I’m good boys,” Migs offers the other two field operatives, “Let me get some alone time with the pretty girl.”

He ignores the raised brow directed his way and the crossed arms that follow. Nausea rolls through him as his buddies wander back the way they came.

“Frag… I think I’m gonna be sick.”

She does well. Manages to miss the first splash of vomit. The second retch hits her shoe.

“Son of a bitch… Maker fragging-“

The angel has a mouth on her. He could get used to that. Migs uses the sleeve of his under armor, exposed by the shattered plastoid to wipe his mouth.

“Sorry about that, Sweetness.”

Her eyes narrow as she reaches behind him. “My name is not Sweetness. I am FM-111 to you trooper. Specialist Coronette if you're lucky.”

The words slip out, some verbal diarrhea to go along with what he was starting to think was a concussion. “I am lucky and you’re beautiful.”

“That’s it-“

“Pockets? Have we got an issue?”

Wait- was that a-

“No Coric, I’m good.”

The older man looks at Migs and Migs looks right back. No shit. A clone. You didn’t see that everyday. Guy’s got a head of close cropped salt and pepper hair, looks real dignified. He’s also… glaring? Ok yeah, that wasn’t good.

“If he’s giving you trouble I can-“

Angel’s…. Specialist Coronette’s face softens as she looks at the clone. Migs feels a little jealousy percolate deep down - accompanied by the occasional flip of his stomach. She pats the other man’s cheek fondly and he gives her a soft look.

Some guys had all the luck.

Migs closes his eyes as the world takes a big spin. He doesn’t mean to groan but the axis has tilted and the poles have just flipped and… Fek… he really is starting to not feel good.

“Hey… Mayfeld?” The voice is soft and Migs focuses on the sweet, silvery words. Slowly he opens his eyes and notes that Coronette, is at his side looking more concerned then she has the entire time he’s been in the damn med bay. Over her shoulder the clone medic gives his own appraising look.

“You got this Pockets?”

Migs sees irritation flash in sharp green eyes, not just green but, like, Endor. So bright and alive there wasn’t any way he could think to describe them other than the greenest Kriffing place he’d ever seen in his life.

“I’ve got it, Sir.” Her tone is sharp but the clone, her superior, doesn’t seem to take offense to it. She must not just be blowing smoke. At this point he doesn’t give a wamp rat’s ass. He really just wants to call it a day, catch a cycle worth of sleep and lay in bed til the gut-rending nausea goes the fek away.

“Uh-uh,” she tuts, irritation melted away, “can’t fall asleep on me just yet. You haven’t even shown me a good time yet.” She teases and Migs wills his eyes wide open.

“You’re flirting.”

“Maybe… or maybe I’m trying to keep you awake because you’ve got a concussion. You’ll never know.”

Specialist Coronette pokes and prods, shuffling him toward the edge of the gurney. “Wanna go somewhere more private?”

“Trying to get me all alone, beautiful?”

She huffs. It sounds half amused. He can work with that.

“I’m trying,” she grunts, looping his arm around her shoulder and manhandling him into standing, “to get you in a private room so I can assess your wounds without the whole battalion seeing you stripped down.”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa.” His head spins at the sudden change in momentum. “I’m not that kind of man. You gotta wine me and dine me before-“

She twists under his arm and sharp pain shoots through his side cutting off his words more effectively then any shushing ever could.

“Easy Mayfeld.” He hears a familiar voice but can’t place which slimy barve he knew it came from. “You can’t handle that one.”

A pair of voices, masculine and feminine, grunt in agreement as he and his medic slowly hobble past and to a clean, empty ‘room’.

It’s a room about as much as a room as a troop transport is a luxury yacht. Four ceiling to floor curtained walls block it off from the other rooms and the larger, open floor of the hospital. He manages to collapse onto the exam table as the world takes another vicious whip around. This time he manages to spew in the bucket shoved under his nose.

He apologizes after he finishes. “Thanks. You know, you keep showing me basic human decency like this and you’ll never be able to get rid of me.”

Coronette is pulling clean gloves on and hunting in a shallow drawer. She arches a pretty brow in his direction as she finds a pair of shears. “I have to clean up whatever mess you make. Don’t confuse decency with laziness on my part.”

“Whatever you say, Pockets.”

Her shoulders tense for a moment and then she takes a deep breath and lets the bait he’s laying out go to waste.

“I’m getting this armor off you. ‘Fraid it ain’t doing you any good anymore.”

Migs glances down at the cracked plastoid. His pauldron is long gone and both pairs of vambrace and gauntlets are thrashed. There’s so much under armor and skin showing, Migs isn’t really sure how they're still even on him. Pockets manages to get them off without much to it and little input from the guy wearing them. She begins on his cuirass and Migs thinks of half a dozen smart ass remarks about getting his clothes off, but there’s something going on under the armor and each time she begins working at the cracked and twisted chest piece it steals the air from his lungs.

“Karking hells,” he curses lowly.

“I’ve almost got it…”

Migs takes a deep breath and holds as still as he can. It kriffing hurts, burns hotter than two suns over Tatooine. Just when he’s sure he can’t handle a second more of it, the plastoid falls away in two pieces. It’s like a pressure he hadn’t realized was on his chest has finally been removed and he can breathe-

“Son of a mudscuffer-“

Migs doesn’t need to ask what’s wrong. He can feel it. Warmth spreading and staining the under armor across the left side of his chest.

“Karking thing was putting pressure on-“ she trails off again as she retrieves the shears from her pocket. She’s efficient and wastes no time slicing up the front of his under armor. The black fabric falls away from one side and clings to blood staining his other. Coronette doesn’t stop moving, flowing from one spot to the next. She doesn’t stop talking either.

“Fek. Fek. That’s not gonna fekking come out in the wash-“

He could laugh but she’s pulling the clinging fabric away from his chest and pressing bacta soaked gauze into the laceration. If that didn’t burn like the wrong end of a burner’s incinerator he didn’t know what did.

“Damn it! Is your kriffing processor pickled?! Warn a guy!” He's all bark and no bite at the mercy of the medic who continues to press hard on the wound.

“Shut it 593.” It’s grunted out as she continues to press with one hand and reach across him with the other for Palps only knew what. Sharp words fizzle on his tongue as he catches a glimpse of pale flesh down the top of her scrubs. Fek. He really loved a pretty pair of tits and judging by the rounded tops he can see and the slight jiggle as they move, Coronette’s were perfect. It’s better then any painkiller he could imagine… until she’s leaning back and catches the cast of his eyes.

“So are so kriffing lucky. You slimy little nerfherder- if I had two free hands.”

He should feel bad about being caught but Migs has had a day and he really can’t find it in him.

“Not my fault, maker gave you a gorgeous rack and Imperial uniforms don’t hide it.”

He winces as she yanks the bacta soaked gauze away, blood beginning to well up again immediately. She doesn’t warn him before pressing the gun into the open wound and squeezing the trigger. Bacta foam fills in the area as he hisses, sealing the laceration. She doesn’t stop to make sure he’s ok before she’s spinning and grabbing more supplies. A bacta patch gets slapped over the quick dry foam.

“Weasly stormtrooper scum…” she continues under her breath.

“Aww come on now, I’m sorry.” He tries to offer a weak smile but her back is turned as she furiously enters data onto a pad. “I really am. When’s the end of your shift. I’ll buy you a drink?”

The anger that flashes in those forest eyes when she whips back is the sexiest thing he’s seen in a standard cycle. If the stims weren’t beginning to wear off and his body beginning to hurt to Malachor and back, he’d be getting stiff in what was left of his armor.

“You think I’d have a drink with you?”

“Come on sweets, what really matters is if you think you’d have a drink with me.”

Her eyebrows skim her hairline. “Are you kidding me? Give up already. Karking little-”

“Not the size of the aak in the fight but the fight in the aak, Sweetheart.”

“Not in your life, Buckethead.”

Her ass looks almost as good in her scrubs as her tits but she doesn’t give him a chance to say so before she storms out.

#migs mayfeld #migs mayfeld/oc #the mandalorian

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tanyawritesstories · 4 years ago

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Sons of Kamino | An OC story

I wrote this little piece about my OC Clone Battalion and their General just for fun and thought I'd publish it. I'm extremely nervous about posting OC stuff because I don't think it's that good, so please be nice 🥺 I hope y'all like it, if not, I finished writing a sequel to Frozen Miracles that I should have published soon 😊

Word count: 1.7K

Warnings: none just post-Order 66 angst

•••

It was silent. He had never been in a ship that was pure silence. All that could be heard was the whirring of the thrusters and occasional footsteps as one of his brothers got up to walk around. He looked up from the floor for the first time in half an hour, glancing around he saw only pain and anguish. So many of his brothers lay on the floor of the ship in pain. Not all of their pain was physical, in fact most of it was mental. They had all just gone through the biggest betrayal they would ever see in their lives.

The entire army, every single one of their brothers, the Republic they fought for, their own bodies, had betrayed them. They were all still struggling to comprehend it, some doing better than others. He had known about it before it happened, but it was still horrifying to see a brother of his raise his weapon against him. They hadn’t killed anyone, not a single soldier of this battalion had died and for that he was proud, relieved.

Their battalion was one of the best out there. He remembered all the adventures and missions he had gone on, remembered how happy civilians were to see the droids gone and the clone soldiers in their place. The 607th Elite Stealth Battalion. He huffed in amusement. To think that name would never be heard again was haunting. He was brought out of his reminiscing by a tap on his pauldron, he looked up to see their medic looking back at him.

“Are you alright, Commander?” He asked. Concern could be seen in his brown eyes that were a shade lighter than the rest of his brothers. “I’m fine, Chance. Just tired,” he answered, before chuckling, “The war is over, I’m not technically your Commander anymore.” Chance sighed as he looked over his brother. He’d never seen his Commander look so broken and vulnerable before. “I’ll get you a stim, sir,” Chance said, turning around. “No,” he stopped him, “I don’t need one. Save them for everyone else.” The medic sighed again but left to check on the others.

He didn’t feel like their Commander right now, he felt like a failure. The battalion was small, only about 100 men and every single one was on the mend. The chips had been removed and destroyed along with all their comm devices, no one could contact them, the General had made sure of that. They were ghosts right now and that was exactly what they needed to be safe.

He forced himself to look up and take in the sight of his men. He knew every one of their names, it didn’t matter if they were shinies or the first few men in the battalion that had managed to survive the entire war. His eyes landed on his two ARC troopers, Trigger and Ace. They were tough men and amazing soldiers, batch mates and two of the closest troopers he’d ever seen. The two war hardened men sat next to each other hugging, both looked tired and lost. Trigger was the more talkative of the two, loud and boisterous, almost always seen with a smirk on his face and his beloved DC-15LE slung over his back. He was probably one of the best snipers in the GAR with that thing. Ace was more quiet and observative, he preferred to listen and watch. When he did talk, not a single pointless word came out of his mouth. He was just starting to open up a little, finally coming to terms with his sexuality and the fact that he preferred men over women when everything collapsed again.

The medic, Chance, was doing his best to stay strong for his brothers, and for himself. He had confessed a dangerous secret to his Commander two deployments ago. He was surprised to learn that his Commander stood for it as long as it stayed a secret. Chance had a family in progress, he had met a woman on Coruscant almost a year ago and fallen in love with her. He had learned not too long ago that their attempts to have a child were a success, he had a wife and unborn baby he wanted to spend the rest of his days with.

The Commander’s eyes panned over to one of their newest troops. Hotstuff was normally always joking, laughing or flirting with someone. Also, usually a pain in the Commander's ass. Now he sat on the cold floor, head in his hands, stone faced and silent. A few feet away, Arrow sat watching everyone around him, helping where he needed to. He appeared to be the one taking this the best, Arrow was used to trauma. He used to be in the 327th until he was discovered one night by the General of the 607th, tied to a wall, bloody and bruised having just been sexually assaulted. The General had saved his life, killed his abusers, and had him transferred to the 607th after spending a month of recovery in the General’s private apartment in the upper levels of Coruscant.

The Commander sighed again, his head lowering back to the floor of the ship. They’d stolen the ship from the Separatists and were now headed Maker knows where, as far away from the core worlds as possible. He reached up and ran his hand over the shaved sides of his head where he knew the wing tattoos lay on his skin. He had been thinking of growing his hair out in those spots, this would be a perfect time. He wanted to forget who he was.

“Commander Finch!”

He closed his eyes and stood up, looking to see who called him. It was Track, their explosives expert, another usually fun and energetic man who was now drained of energy and enthusiasm.

“What is it, Track?” He asked the man currently jogging towards him. “General Akana wants to speak to you,” Track informed. Finch looked towards the cockpit doors, the General had been locked in there for the past hour, only checking in on them over the ship speakers. He sighed, “thank you, Track.”

Finch made his way to the cockpit door and knocked. “It’s me,” he said softly. He didn’t need to speak loud or specify who he was, his General knew it was him. He heard the door unlock and it slid open, he entered and made sure it closed behind him. He saw the outline of the General against the bright lights of hyperspace. Finch noticed that the autopilot light was on.

“How are they?”

He sighed and walked to stand behind the pilots chair. “How are you?” He asked. “You haven’t come out of here in almost two hours.”

“I’m fine, how are the men? Do they need my help?”

Finch walked closer and swiveled the chair around to face him. The blue lights of stars blurring by cast light on the General’s face. Even in this state, Finch thought she looked beautiful. “The men will be fine. How are you feeling?” Finch knew it was a stupid question, given what she had felt through the Force and the reaction she had when the Order struck.

“I’ll be fine, I knew it was coming,” she said briefly. “Just because you knew it was coming doesn’t make it hurt less,” Finch told her. “I’ll be fine, Finch, trust me. I’ll get through it,” she tried to assure him with a fake smile. She swiveled the chair back to face the controls and aimlessly pressed a few buttons.

“I’ve been your Commander long enough to know when you’re lying,” he said. “Is there anything I can do?” She looked up at him with a sad smile on her face. “No, Finch, you’ve already done more than enough.” He sighed and watched her stare out the viewport, the minimal light letting him see the dried tear stains on her face. “You felt it all, didn’t you? Through the Force,” he questioned. She closed her eyes and he knew he had asked a bad question. When she opened them again he saw the light reflecting off her once again glassy blue eyes, filled with tears.

“I’m sorry for your loss,” he said, turning around to leave. "Wait," she turned around and stood, grabbing his arm to keep him from going. "I'm sorry, I should have told you what was happening when I collapsed," she said, letting go of his arm and blinking back tears.

"It's just...I could almost see that red lightsaber as it cut through his stomach," she was barely able to finish her sentence before breaking down in tears, covering her face with her hands. Her knees gave up and Finch caught her, lowering her slowly to the ground beside him. He just held her in his arms whispering comforting words to her and rubbing her back. She was young and had lost so much, first her parents, then her adoptive mother, then her best friend, and her lover, she was broken.

He knew she’d lost people to the Order by the names she had called out. Kit. Anakin. Cody. Plo. Rex. Jesse. Aayla. Ahsoka. Those were just a few.

Finch held his General until she stopped crying and got up to return to her seat. “Tell the men we’re stopping at Florrum to pick up a few things, then we’ll be heading to Coruscant to rescue Chance’s wife and Zip’s girlfriend,” she informed, her steel stern walls already back in place. “Yes, sir,” he said.

She had promised her men everything, a new life wherever they wanted doing whatever they wanted. Chance was planning to live on a desolate planet and raise a family where the Empire couldn’t reach him. Trigger wanted to become a bounty hunter once everything settled down, most likely Ace would go with him. Zip wanted to marry his girlfriend and become a writer. Neil wanted to try and start a school with Flanker and Nash as teachers. Arrow wanted to start a shelter for victims of sexual abuse. They all had wants and goals, only they looked attainable now that they were free. Finch wanted something too but he was almost certain his wish was unattainable.

He was sure he wasn’t the first clone Commander to fall in love with their General.

He looked down at his hands, the armor covering the back of them engraved with the Republic symbol. This was not his symbol anymore. He was free, not property, he could do what he wanted. He may have been born in a test tube, a clone with millions of look-alikes, but he would always be a soldier. Only now he didn't have a leash.

#star wars the clone wars #star wars fanfiction #my oc story

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ihathbenobiwankenobied · 1 year ago

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Obi-Wan Hurt/Comfort and Whump Rec 1: Long Fics

Some of my favorite multi-chaptered or longer form fics (>10K). These are whump, sickfics, angst fics, and hurt/comfort with some very general tags and descriptions. Please make sure you note the tags on ao3 before reading.

I tried to tag everyone I could find here on tumblr, but if you see your fic and want a tag, let me know and I'll add it in. To all the writers, thank you for these fics, I have read each of them multiple times and I am fucking in love with all of them.

Here we go, in no particular order:

Good Man of War - scrapathon

Codywan, OC clones and medics, 16.2K

This fic is so well written and it has some really well-characterized OC clones, including clone medic Zero, as well as a bit of codywan (which I can't resist).

Things Hidden, Things Forgotten- sospes

Codywan, Zygerria/Kadavo arc, 23.5K

This writer has some of the best codywan fics on their roster, but this one absolutely destroys me everytime. This fic covers Zygerria and gets into some of the emotional aspects of the experience for Obi-Wan.

Shoulder the Sky - @kcrabb88

Quinobi, rewritten ending for Palpatine, 149.4K

This fic is part one of the Shoulder the Sky Verse series and is one of my favorite fics of all time. This fic is incredibly detailed, and every character get's their time in the spotlight. The Obi-Wan whump is absolutely delicious, and lasts basically the entirety of this fic. The plot follows Obi-Wan's discovery of the identity of Darth Sidious and how this changes the course of the end days of the Clone Wars.

Whispers from the Dead - @kcrabb88

Quinobi, PTSD and medical trauma, 210K as of 8.14.2023 (WIP)

Another part of the Shoulder the Sky Verse series (please read the fic above first). This fic is a WIP and every time there is a new chapter I drop everything to read it. Equally as emotionally damaging, equally as much whump, and equally perfect characterizations of every single character. I won't spoil the plot, but it's a perfect continuation of the series.

Gaping Hollow - Walpger

Gen - Obi-Wan, Cody, and Ahsoka, Force-exhaustion and hypothermia, 18.1K

Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and Cody are trapped in a cave on the ice-planet Vandor and Obi-Wan uses the Force to keep them both warm and alive. This leads to impending Force-exhaustion. This is one of the earliest Obi-Wan-centric h/c fics I read and I love how the author describes Obi-Wan's use of the Force.

Enforced Convalescence - @swbumblebee

Gen - Obi-Wan, clones, and Jedi, sickfic/illness and fluff, 12.5K

Obi-Wan is ill and requires babysitting because he doesn't really know how to rest. This fic is endlessly soft, and Obi-Wan gets taken care of for once in his life. This author writes delightfully soft fics and this one is one of my absolute favorites.

Uja Nejah - @ijustreallylovedaredevil

Gen - Obi-Wan, OC clone medic Stim, clone troopers, Cody, diabetes and medical accuracy, 34.2K

Possibly my favorite fic of all time? Perhaps? Anything by whitchry9 is pure gold and this fic is only one example. This fic follows Obi-Wan's journey through his life as a Jedi diagnosed with diabetes. Deliciously whump, and my favorite OC clone medic, stim. You might as well read the whole series: a series of fics in which Obi Wan Kenobi having a disability somehow saves the galaxy

Iviin’hiibi te Tuur - @ijustreallylovedaredevil

Gen - Obi-Wan, OC clone medic Stim, clone troopers, Cody, epilepsy and medical accuracy, 16.4K

Surprise, surprise, yet another whitchry9 fic. This one is about Obi-Wan's life with epilepsy. This fic also has Stim and has a few extra oneshots that can be read with it.

every shadow - @kenobster

Gen - Obi-Wan, Anakin, Rex, Ahsoka, Cody, 501st, Zygerria/Kadavo arc and recovery, 34.9K as of 8.14.2023 (WIP)

This fic is a WIP and at 3/9 chapters, so I am going to to use part of the author's summary here: "during the mass casualty event following Kadavo and Zygerria, Obi-Wan and Anakin seek ways to cope with trauma." I am absolutely glued to this fic, and have already read all three chapters multiple times.

Finding Obi-Wan - @stolen-pen-name23

Gen - Obi-Wan, Anakin, and Ahsoka, amnesia and angst, 86.8K

For the record, I think I read the entirety of this fic in one day because I just couldn't put it down. In this fic, Obi-Wan loses his memory and finds himself in the lower levels of Coruscant.

something inside this heart has died (you're in ruins) - revanchxst (BadWolfGirl01)

Codywan (implied or pre-slash), Zygerria/Kadavo arc, 22.6K

In this fic, Cody joins Obi-wan on the Zygerria arc rather than Rex. Very painful with a sprinkling of codywan. 1000 kudos for this fic.

The Consequences of a Crash - happygiraffe

Gen or pre-slash Obi-Wan & Anakin, crash-landing injury/infection, 44.9K

ALRIGHT. Alright. This is the first long-fic I read in this fandom, and remains one of my favorites to this day. Delicious whump, a really wonderful look at Obi-Wan and Anakin's relationship, especially as Anakin has just become a Jedi Knight. I reread this one at least once a month.

See My Dreams All Die - @hellotemporaryuniverse

Obi-Wan & Cody (implied codywan), torture by Darth Sidious, 34.7K

This fic is absolutely brutal in the best way. In this fic, Anakin dies and Sidious is looking for a new apprentice. Such good whump.

From the Same Stone - @kckenobi

Gen - Obi-Wan & Anakin, concussion and poisoning, 8.1K

I'm already breaking my own rules, because this fic is under 10K, but this fic is one of my favorites and it's just long enough that it felt like it should be included on this list. In this fic, Obi-Wan and Anakin get trapped in a mine and are slowly ingesting a toxin.

|to failure, sweet victor| - littlekaracan

Codywan, angst and physical fights, 20K

This fic is as fucking bittersweet as it gets. Absolutely destroys me with every read. This fic follows Obi-Wan and Cody on Tatooine, but Cody's chip can't be removed until it has deteriorated to a certain point. As a result, sometimes Cody isn't quite himself.

battle scars - series - @calltomuster

Gen - Obi-Wan, Ahsoka, and Anakin, PTSD and medical trauma, 27.2K

This series gets into some of Obi-Wan's medical trauma and why avoids medical treatment. I can't get enough of the OC clone medic, Fuzzy, and I love how well the author writes Obi-Wan's PTSD.

shoulder the sky - series - Night_Fury

Codywan, Cerasi & Obi-Wan Kenobi & Nield, Qui-Gon & Obi-Wan, PTSD, temporary death, recovery, 196.1K

What can I say about this series? Probably too much. You will just need to read it to find out. Just read it.

chronic conditions - @deniigi

Codywan and clones, epilepsy and chronic illness, 13.1K

Yet another epileptic Obi-wan fic, this one through the lens of Kix and Cody. I am absolutely mesmerized by how this author writes, and I keep going back to this one over and over again.

Six Times Ahsoka Thought Her Grandmaster Was Dead, and the One Time He Actually Was - @pandora15 and lazarusII

Gen - Obi-Wan & Ahsoka, deathfic, 12.3K

The title says it all. You will be in pain.

heavy off a golden hue - @catboydogma

Codywan, hanahaki and chronic illness, 36.7K

This is a series which looks at Obi-Wan's life with chronic Hanahaki. This is such an amazing series, another set of fics I read in one sit-down.

Suddenly this is defeat - ealcynn

Gen, Landing at Point Rain and major injury, 13.3K

This fic is in first-person POV and does an incredible job of portraying Obi-Wan's perspective on the events based on the episode Landing at Point Rain.

This incessant snow - ealcynn

Gen, Landing at Point Rain and major injury, 20.7K

Part two to the above fic. Another extremely well-written fic. I absolutely adore the way Obi-Wan is written.

We Can Be Beautiful - OuzoAthena11

Codywan, panic attacks, 23.2K

The fic summary on ao3 says it best, "Five times Obi-Wan deals with anxiety or a panic attack and one time he causes minor anxiety in someone else." Really well written and soft fic.

Count My Little Scars I've Got Dozens Inside - nuclearturtle

Codywan (as adults), angst and de-aging, 27.1K

A de-aged Obi-Wan fic where Dooku attempts to gain his trust, but inevitably, doesn't. Very angsty. Extremely angsty.

Conjuring Miracles - @kcrabb88

Gen - Obi-Wan, Leia, Tala, Vader, PTSD, 29.8K

Another one by this author. In this fic, Tala doesn't get to Obi-Wan in time, and he ends up being taken with Leia to the the inquisitor base. There, he encounters Vader.

Rapture - @galateagalvanized

Codywan, depowered character, 62.5K

I think the summary on ao3 says it best, "An independent terrorist cell has developed a weapon capable of severing the bond between a Jedi and the Living Force. They test it on High General Obi-Wan Kenobi." Wonderful whump mixed with a great story, and of course, codywan.

Always Gold - happygiraffe

Gen - Obi-Wan & Anakin, terminal illness/cancer, 10K

In this fic, Obi-Wan is dying of cancer and just wants the best for his padawan. Prepare yourself, this one hurts.

As an Obi-Wan whump writer myself, I can't help but throw a couple of my own here (not that these are by any means on par with the quality of the incredible fics above). I have linked a couple below if you are interested:

orbit me slowly

Codywan, burns and recovery, 15.3K

After an injury leaves Obi-Wan down and out, he realizes that time isn't as unlimited as he once believed

green is the colour

Codywan, sickfic and injury, 14K

Obi-Wan, sick with the flu, is cornered by hundreds of droids. Cody and Anakin come to his rescue, but there is unresolved tension between them.

Hope you all enjoy this list!

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villainship · 5 years ago

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[OC bullet point info: TD]

Tagged by @a-muirehen :D Here’s their post with a more complete version (and info ’bout one of their cool kids). I’ve cut a section out (and rambled in commentary).

Tagging: 👀👉YOU. (and @ our blog, as ever) . . . And also: @spacebunniis, @claudela, @frozenabattoir ??? For this meme, or to tell me a random fact about a character you feel like mentioning. :’)

Name: Tarskal Occupation: Sith Lord/Emperor’s Wrath

$ Financial : wealthy / moderate / poor / in poverty ✚ Medical : fit / moderate / sickly / disabled / disadvantaged / non applicable ✪ Class or Caste : upper / middle / working / street trash / slave / unsure ✔ Education : qualified / unqualified / studying ✖ Criminal Record : yes, for major crimes (assuming it counts if the crimes are against the Republic/etc.) / yes, for minor crimes / no / has committed crimes, but not caught yet (I think he’s never exactly been arrested--not for things that are crimes by Imperial standards either--though there’s -at least- one specific incident where bounty hunters had him for a short time) / yes, but charges were dismissed

[ FAMILY ] ◒ Children : has had a child or children (1 clone to start with, another test tube baby later) / has no children / wants children / can’t have children ◑ Relationship with Family: close with sibling(s) / not close with sibling(s) / has no siblings / sibling(s) deceased ◔ Affiliation : orphaned / adopted / disowned / raised by birth parent(s) / not applicable / raised by hired help

[ TRAITS + TENDENCIES ] ♦ extroverted / introverted / in between ♦ disorganized / organized (it may not look that way heheh) / in between ♦ close minded / open-minded / in between ♦ calm / anxious / in between ♦ disagreeable / agreeable / in between (strongly stubborn or very accommodating, no middle ground) ♦ cautious / reckless / in between ♦ patient / impatient / in between ♦ (very) outspoken / reserved / in between ♦ leader / follower / in between ♦ empathetic / (very) unempathetic / in between ♦ optimistic / pessimistic / in between ♦ traditional / progressive / in between ♦ hard-working / lazy / in between ♦ cultured / uncultured / in between (um. Familiar w/ culture but chooses to reject it & substitute his own terrible taste & call that High Art.) ♦ loyal (very selectively) / disloyal / loyal unless their trust is betrayed ♦ faithful / unfaithful / in between (get a promise from him & he Will keep it)

[ SEXUALITY & ROMANTIC INCLINATION ] ❤ Sexuality : heterosexual / homosexual / bisexual (that post about the gender-neutral nature of greeting a crowd as “Friends and enemies”...? He’s into Both.) / pansexual / asexual / queer / undecided ❥ Sex : sex repulsed / sex neutral / sex favorable / naive and clueless ♥ Romance: romance repulsed / romance neutral (arrangements/”friendship” & connection, yes--but he’s never in his life experienced the desire to love anybody) / romance favorable / naive and clueless / romance suspicious ❣ Sexually : adventurous / experienced / naive / inexperienced / curious

[ ABILITIES ] ☠ Combat Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none ≡ Literacy Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none ✍ Artistic Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none (”creative” but, again, his taste is BAD) ✂ Technical Skills : excellent / good / moderate / poor / none

[ HABITS ] ☕ Drinking Alcohol : never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / alcoholic ✿ Recreational Drugs : never / quit / tried it / rarely / sometimes / frequently / addict ✌ Medicinal Drugs : never / no longer needs medication / some medication needed / frequently (do stims and kolto count? LOL) / to excess ☻ Unhealthy Food : never / special occasions / sometimes / frequently / binge eater $ Splurge Spending : never / rarely / sometimes / frequently ♣ Gambling: never / rarely / sometimes / frequently / compulsive gambler

#ask meme #Tarskal #raikari post

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magicallymango · 8 years ago

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Clone OCs!!!!

They all make up Sabre Squad, Jade Company. Captain Petal - this smol bean worked so hard for his captaincy. He wasn't really taken seriously when he was younger because he's rather flamboyant. He's carefree and very cheerful, but oh hell he has Captain mode and takes no shit from no one. He's got a bad habit of spending his credits on makeup. Seriously. He's the kind of person to take off his helmet and have flawless eyeliner. He's got a shit ton of floral tattoos, on both arms and much of his chest. Courtesy of his brother Attie. He's got his philtrum pierced, and has a dermal on his cheekbone. Super cute 💕 His hair is fun! It's shaved on both sides but long on top. It's bleached white, and the ends often change colour, but it's usually pink. He's all about destroying social standards of masculinity. Attie - Short for Atin, which is mando'a for 'stubborn'. Yes, I know, the name is taken, but that's why it became Attie! He's been through a hell of a lot... poor kid was caught smuggling food to his brothers when they were little, so he was reconditioned. Because he was so young, it really messed with him. He has some severe anxiety, which wasn't exactly helped by losing his closest brother. He's put a lot of time and effort into learning how to tattoo, actually. Partly stress relief. A good artistic outlet! After his closest brother died, it took him a long time to open up to his other brothers in Sabre, but he eventually did! His best friend is Sticks, the classic grumpy medic! Attie keeps his hair a bit longer, so it's curly and cute, like a fluffy mop. He's got a series of lines and dots tattooed on his chin, just for funsies. Other than that, he is absolutely COVERED in ink. All his own work. Sticks - the classic grumpy medic. He's actually a pretty good guy. He's been extremely good to Attie, and actually took a big interest in psychology in order to help Attie with his anxiety and the PTSD he and his brothers suffer. He's the one to always be over prepared; way too much medical supplies, extra socks, snacks, you name it. He's the only one without excessive body mods, but he does have a few little tattoos, and his ears are all pierced. Pekoe - like his name suggests, he's a SLUT for tea. Always has been. He got his name because he had a tendency to drink nothing but whatever piss-water substitute for tea they had on Kamino, but when he finally got his hands on real tea, he fucking BATHED in that shit. There's always tea in his kit. He's like the mom friend who has tea for everyone when they need it and will always spike it with whatever booze is nearby. His head is shaved, mostly because he's got a wicked scar that kind of makes a full head of hair look funny. Daxx - hell, I dunno where his name comes from, it sounded dope. He's a real big softie, with a big dopey grin. He's a bit of a joker, but he's actually really terrible at them. He tries. Everyone loves Daxx. Literally, his first day on the job, he didn't account for his Jedi commander's stature when he gave her an emergency stim, and totally intoxicated her. Whoops. Literal human trash. I love him. He tried! During one of his missions he was caught in a mine explosion and got trapped between a boulder and a wall, causing some pretty serious internal and spinal damage. It's a LOT of extra backstory for what happened, but he survived and his brothers pretty much protected him as he was healing, hiding him to keep him from being deemed useless. He learned to pilot in that time and became pretty great at it! He does walk with a limp, but the boi is much better. Daxx keeps his hair long enough to gel it back (read literal trash), but it's actually pretty cute, especially because it's dyed a midnight blue. He has his labret pierced, which is adorable, and his ear lobes are stretched a bit. He's got one tattooed sleeve, literally of just random designs. He willingly became Attie's doodle pad for a time. I love my boys. I didn't give them numbers because well, they're more than numbers. They good! There's more I could say, I just wanted to go over the basics lol.

#clone ocs #the clone wars #swtcw #Star Wars #my ocs #clones #plz talk to me about my boys #I'm always down for rp too #I want to draw them #but I'm pretty mediocre

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