#oc sundays

[vimse]

Errr.... a very self-indulgent sketch on this fine OC Sunday 😅

It's Tech and Silvie, happy ending edition.

Behind the scenes:

[freesia-writes]

Welcome to OC Sundays! 💙 Each week, I'll post three random questions for you to answer for one or more of your OCs. Feel free to link the work(s) they appear in, too! We'll have a little showcase where you might discover someone that piques your interest and voila! Something new to read! 😁 As for the image? Random dude I found on Canva, with so much sass and so much cake that I had to include him. 🤣🙈 And apparently all of this is going to have a 70's vibe, LOL.

What’s a song that represents their vibe?

If they could change one thing about themselves, what would it be?

Which store would they shop at for their clothing in a modern day AU?

[dystopicjumpsuit]

OC Sundays: Cerra Kilian GAR Datafile

Please click for better resolution bc Tumblr is Tumblr.

I've been waiting to share this until I had all posted all the chapters of Stars Beyond Number that could possibly be spoiled, but I'm finally ready to share Cerra's official GAR personnel file!

Transcript below the cut:

GRAND ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC

Personnel Datafile

Name: Kilian, Cerra Rank: Lieutenant, first class Identifying number: SO-3283627 Duty assignment: Supply officer, Ro-Ti-Mundi, Open Circle Fleet Status: AWOL

Service Record

Prior service: Corellian military defense force - 10 years [converted] Commendations: Senate medal of valor Qualifications: Close combat - armed; Close combat - unarmed; Marksmanship Medical record: Shrapnel - lateral and anterior thigh; Post-traumatic stress; Panic disorder Remarks: C.M.D.F. position converted following establishment of G.A.R. Assigned to 501st legion - V.C.S.D. Resolute. Awarded Senate medal of valor in recognition of heroic actions at Battle of Sullust. Transferred to V.C.S.D. Ro-Ti-Mundi following battle of Sullust. Reported absent without leave following battle of Coruscant. Current whereabouts unknown.

---

I used this picrew to make Cerra's ID holo. I didn't crop out the watermark, BTW; one of the transparent backgrounds they provide is watermark-free.

Ragu list:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino @spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @mandos-mind-trick @littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @clonemedickix @marierg @idontgetanysleep @moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine @multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam @banksys-rat @skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist @cw80831 @kimiheartblade

[talesfrommedinastation]

“Any Belter mother– any mother –worth the beating of her heart should be proud to call you her child. Her family, her blood.”

The clone held up a hand to his mouth, his eyebrows squeezing together.

- Dr. Tanke Drummer and Crosshair, ‘Tikkun Olam: Part 6’, Far Past the Ring.

—————-

Thanks to @luxris for a wonderful piece of OC, Tanke Drummer, and Crosshair.

Dr Drummer has a tattoo on her left arm for all of her children, for when they came into her life.

After what he goes through in Far Past the Ring to defend her home and people (peep that regrowing arm on him!), Crosshair gets a spot too….both on Tanke’s forearm and as a member of the Belter nation.

One of two major tattoo themed commissions…next one will be out on Tuesday!

[malsfefanfics]

Is it cheating to ask for Tancred sibling time with Hubert and/or Ferdinand for a drabble? :3c Best boy

Anything for little Treasure.

Ferdinand didn't take any heed of the whispers around him. Many people hadn't taken issue with the fact that the little stowaway had taking such a shine to him. They thought it was rather adorable how the young Vestra boy followed him around. One of the nuns had compared it to a kitten following its mother.

But what some had started to take issue with is the fact that Ferdinand insisted on taking the lad everywhere with him where he could. If it was safe enough, and Tancred's health was good that day, he took the child out for a ride on his horse. Or took him to market when it was his turn to run errands. The two often found themselves in the kitchens as well, with little Tancred taste testing anything Ferdinand had chosen to create that afternoon.

And now, Ferdinand was sitting in on a lecture being hosted by a guest speaker from the School of Sorcery in Fhirdiad. With Tancred sitting in his lap, listening closely.

And the teacher wasn't pleased.

"Young man," the speaker called out. "Could you please take your little brother out of here? This is a lecture for Academy students only."

Ferdinand looked up from his notes. "Brother? Apologies, but you are mistaken. I am an only child."

"Then why do you have a child on your lap?"

"He is the little brother of a peer," Ferdinand explained. "And he is in need of constant watching due to his health. He is well behaved. And skilled in magic. I can promise, we will both be model students in this lecture."

"Is he now?" The speaker came over and looked at Tancred, eyes narrowed as he assessed him. "Tell me, child. Do you know the difference between Black magic and Dark magic? And why both are listed under Reason?"

Tancred tilted his head, as if he didn't even see the mage in front of him.

The speaker scoffed. "I expected as much. Didn't hear a word, did he?"

"He did," Ferdinand assured. "He's just shy."

"'Shy'. Is that what we're calling it these days?"

Ferdinand glared at him. "I do not like your tone, sir."

"And I do not like having my time wasted." The mage walked back to the podium, waving his hand dismissively. "Take the boy and leave."

Ferdinand held his tongue and stood, balancing Tancred on his hip as he walked out. He didn't even notice a few of the other students following him. And he didn't spare a moment to those who snickered.

Tancred looked at him, and slowly began to sign. “Just because I can’t speak doesn’t mean I can’t hear.”

"I know that, Treasure," Ferdinand assured soothingly. "That man is just too full of himself. That is all."

"He's also very off about most of his basic theory," Tancred added. "Brother could give a better lecture."

"Is that so? Then perhaps we should ask Hubert to give a lecture sometime soon. Want to help me try to convince him?"

Tancred's eyes widened as he smiled in excitement.

He took that as a yes.

[neyswxrld]

this is heliv!

story

Heliv, also called Heli, grew up in a little village on a planet, that is overgrown with trees, bushes and weed, and has an incredible nature. She always only had her grandmother, who started to show her what it means to value the nature from a young age on and taught her various effects and healing powers of different herbs and plants.

When Heli was about seventeen years old, the Clone Wars began. It didn't take long, until the enemy troops invaded her home planet. During a shoot-out, her grandmother's house was caught in a heavy explosion. While Heli escaped with severe injuries, her only attachment figure died.

Soon after the incident, the Republic came to help, and the planet was freed from the separatist forces. Still, the fact remained that the young Togruta felt left behind in a world, that seemed too big and cruel for her.

As a reaction to that, Heli departed from the society and started to live a secluded, lonely life in a small cottage in the woods.

Now, almost three years later, she still takes interest in the nature and different medical plants and produces her own medicine. To earn herself some credits, she brings the medication back to the near village and tries to help the people there.

details

making of

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST:

@isthereanechoinhere96 @trixie2023 @freesia-writes

[starqueensthings]

FOREWORD | NEXT | AO3

We begin our journey with the protagonist. This chapter will read dry for those only here for our Clone Wars and Bad Batch favourites. Since it’s an introductory chapter, it’s strictly OC’s in this one… (squint real hard and you may find a glimpse of one our faves!)

WARNINGS: brief elusions to a traumatic past, but next to no detail provided (yet). Mildly graphic descriptions of medical injuries and surgery.

RATING: the entirety of this work will be classified as 16+ for mature themes, with sporadic chapters upped to 18+ for explicit encounters.

PLEASE ENSURE YOU’VE READ THE FOREWORD LINKED ABOVE FOR AN IN-DEPTH DESCRIPTION OF WHAT DEGREE OF CONTENT YOU CAN EXPECT THROUGHOUT THIS STORY BEFORE PROCEEDING.

The unusually abrasive whirring of his hip servos both alerted her of his arrival, and wordlessly reminded her for the umpteenth time that the congestion of her work schedule had rendered him irresponsibly overdue for an oil bath, though neither that irksome grating nor his return to her side proved urgent enough to pull her attention from the task at hand.

He slowed to a stop and hovered in the doorway of that rapidly darkening office, hinged hands clasped together in front of him while his round, glowing oculars patiently blinked at the obvious intensity of her concentration.

She allowed herself only a breath more to wallow in that den of self-pity and exhaustion, the raging tornado of unfinished tasks in her mind threatening to raze what was left of the mental space she’d intentionally attempted to preserve for finishing the three dozen neglected medical reports.

“Hi Lumi...”

She addressed her AZI assistant in a shamefully distracted mumble, fingers hovering over the buttons of her keyboard as she fought to orient her over-saturated thoughts into the holocomputer through the fidgeting funnel of her hands.

“Good evening, Dr. Kiore.” Correctly identifying her current aversion for distraction, her droid companion thankfully offered nothing more than his typical jovial salutation.

The last couple of weeks had seen this duo truly depart the somewhat turbulent infancy of their working relationship, and the wrinkles of unknown expectation and unlearned behavior had since-been ironed smooth with the steam of shared experience and consistent reinforcement. Free of the bravado that budding surgical residents wore atop their shoulders like robes sewn with the threads of overconfidence, Lumi had become a remarkable working companion to June. Not only did his programming ensure he had a wealth of easily accessible medical knowledge, but he wasn’t hindered by the limited cognition of the human brain, being able to accurately process and categorize large amounts of data while simultaneously completing a variety of other tasks whilst entirely free from the plague of exhaustion.

Much to her appreciation, he’d also managed to effectively catalogue her dynamic panoply of mannerisms, thus ensuring he could readily identify her preferred positioning during specific procedures, recognize the potent displeasure behind her eyes if (and when) the nurse droid failed to include certain niche tools on her sterile tray, and presently, her sheer desperation for an extra ten seconds of undisturbed focus.

“Okay,” she muttered to herself, collecting the hospital-issued datapad from the desk in front of her and ceasing its slumber with the prod of a finger. Her tired eyes danced across the seemingly infinite list of medical charts waiting for their turn at the forefront of her mind, and it was with another dejected sigh that she checked off only the top item before abandoning the device again.

Tense from yet another long day of stooping over an operating room table, the muscles in her neck immediately protested the duress of a stretch as she extended her arms over her head and flexed her aching fingers. Refusing to lessen the strain until a satisfying pop met her ears, she paused for a moment to relish in the pain successfully distracting her from that perpetual gnaw in her mind.

“Alright,” she proclaimed suddenly, sending her palms clapping together in a gesture of feigned motivation, and Lumi immediately took his cue to enter, head twirling about on his neck with glee. “I need you to go to room 8-E,” she instructed while pushing her desk chair backward several inches with a nudge from her sneakered toe. “CT-2658 needs a preliminary vitals scan and a thoracic x-ray. Once those are completed, transmit the imaging to his chart and locate an FX-9 to prep him for a thoracotomy. This morning I just caught the nurse droid replacing the valve in his mask with the wrong colour… If it gets changed again before he’s anesthetized, make sure it’s the yellow valve. No incisions until I or a 2-1B is present.”

“Right away, Dr. Kiore.”

“Oh, and he goes by ‘Bolts’. Avoid using his CT number unless you absolutely have to.”

Lumi acknowledged her final anecdote with a small bow of the head before he turned and zoomed back through the open door into the hallway beyond.

The budding ache behind her left eye intensified as she watched his small metallic form circle the Welcome Station, an oversized u-shaped desk perched in the middle of the expansive ward, before pivoting and vanishing down the hallway on the left, and the increasing need to activate the lamp on her desk meant it was nearing the time her stomach would begin to revolt against her negligence, that measly handful of mixed nuts tossed hurriedly into her mouth some hours ago having utterly failed to satiate even a fraction of her hunger.

But time had vanished… again, and June was confident there wasn’t a meal anywhere in the galaxy capable of freeing her from the constant overstimulation that working in the Grand Republic Medical Facility had imbued her with over the last fortnight. And so her fingernails drummed absently on the desk in front of her as another exhausted sigh escaped her nose, both gestures laying bare her body’s continued attempts at combating the gale of patient information whipping about her mind. Resisting the urge to momentarily abandon that pressing obligation and head to the staff room for a fresh caf, she granted herself only another moment of quiet, the mental weight of her extensive to-do list keeping her glued to the cushion of her desk chair despite the near-rabid craving for both caffeine and a snack. Nibbling absentmindedly on her thumbnail, she redirected her attention back to the holocomputer in front of her and opened Bolts’s medical chart.

The wounded soldier had arrived at the hospital in the very early hours of the morning, having been medically evacuated from a planet called Malestare in critical condition. The triaging doctor in the emergency room at the time had quickly diagnosed the soldier with a condition known as ‘Flail Chest’, and had directed him to the Surgical Department on the 8th floor immediately thereafter.

The accompanying trooper was the company’s medic, and was only able to provide snippets of the harrowing and incomplete story. When probed for information about the initial incident, he described witnessing a series of explosions “about a kilometer south” of his squad’s tactical position, though admittedly had a poor vantage point at the time of the incident. He’d barely managed to rendezvous with the limping remnants of his decimated platoon before being urgently summoned to stabilize the wounded– Bolts included.

“I had to dart his chest,” the panting Medic heaved to the emergency doctor downstairs, wiping sweat from his brow with a trembling hand as he watched his brother disappear behind a small crowd of scrub-clad nurses, each of them fervently ripping the remaining armour from that fragile form. “Twice. The catheter held for a while, but collapsed just as we were jumping to lightspeed. He– he needs to be intubated… quick.”

With hurried reassurances that CT-2658 was now in the best care, the medic was ushered back onto the shuttle and returned to the front lines while his brother was rushed upstairs for lifesaving care.

Dr. Pherto Pavot, a highly intelligent albeit moderately antisocial man, was a longtime colleague of June’s and had been laden with the duty of on-call trauma surgeon for the duration of the night shift. With the assistance of an FX-7 medical droid, he’d managed to both successfully intubate the patient and send him for x-rays by the time the morning surgeons began to trickle in for their shifts only a short time later.

June had barely tied her sneakers before leaping into action. Determined to get the ailing soldier into surgery before her day was through, she took every spare moment she could find between the myriad of other scheduled procedures to dip into her office and stare at the radiographic imaging Pherto ordered that morning.

Now, as the sun completed its arc across the expanse of the Coruscanti sky, reaching its rays downwards for the cold slumber of the horizon, she was barely able to overpower the persistent pokes of exhaustion.

“Blunt force trauma from an undetermined source to the thoracic cavity–” she typed, jaw clamped closed against a violent yawn as she plugged data into the Kaminoan medical report her colleague had initiated many hours previously. “–Right 3rd to 6th rib fractured laterally, floating. Basal intercostal catheter in situ. Slight left pleural effusion. Prognosis TBD post surgery.”

She sighed, eyes peering disapprovingly at the screen of her holocomputer where Pherto’s hurried notes failed to complement the detail of her own, and the detrimental, perfectionist urge to delete the entire report in favour or starting over was nearly as challenging to repress as the yawn that continued to plague her, though she refused both. ‘Sorry Kamino,’ she grumbled, acutely aware that attempting to pull another word from her brain might cause it to simply cease firing entirely. ‘That's going to have to do.’

With a deft swipe across the screen from the pad of her cold finger, she landed on the patient’s main profile page. Despite having resentfully expected to see that irksome negative space beside his designation number, the implication of that missing information instantly soured her already dwindling mood, sending her eyelids aflutter atop an exquisite roll of her blue eyes.

As an attending general surgeon, she did not technically hold any amount of authority over her colleagues, though that had yet to stop her from repeatedly begging everyone in the Hospital to make a habit of prompting soldiers for their elected moniker upon intake. Much to her frustration, all of them continued to ignore her relentless pleas; intra-hospital memos went ignored, verbal requests were casually dismissed, ingenuine agreements were immediately followed by inaction. Even escalating the issue to the Chief of Surgery with hopes that her request may transcend the Surgical Floor had proved fruitless, as he had promptly deemed the issue “unimportant for effective medical care, and superfluous data in an already cluttered medical chart.”

‘Easy for him to say,’ she had seethed to herself, stalking away from her superior with the raging, indignant cry of “I am not just a number!” still reverberating poignantly in her ears. While there hadn’t been a clone soldier brazen enough to shout that sentiment in her face since that… eventful… day, the nuance of his message had not fallen on deaf ears, and it quickly became a personal mission of June’s to ensure that her patients, a demographic that now predominantly consisted of clone soldiers, never felt like anything less than a person in need of medical care.

Returning the holocomputer to a dark-screened slumber, she sat back in her chair and finally permitted that unrelenting yawn to contort her features as it expanded her lungs and forced her eyes closed. The shiver that rolled uncomfortably down her spine acted as an unsavoury reminder of how late the hour had grown, and she pivoted her chair to face the window of her office, hopeful to catch that last sliver of beautiful autumn sun before it commenced its duty until morn.

Unlike her best friend Jacoba, whose earliest memories included running amok in her parents’ home with a stethoscope made of string and a pair of purple safety scissors, June’s childhood dreams did not entail ending up as a surgeon in the busiest medical facility in the galaxy. While convincing her to speak about her childhood typically proved more challenging than pulling teeth from a snarling massiff, those closest to June knew that her earliest memories were ones filled with nature: impossibly tall pillars of pine swaying in an everlasting zephyr; rolling hills adorned with an emerald carpet of clover and jewel toned flowers, the vibrancy of their exotic petals possible thanks to the extended daylight hours that only Wild Space was privileged. Acting as the apex to her childhood oasis, and perched at the end of a winding path of uniquely red clay, was a small log home; its stone chimney mercilessly emitting delicate puffs of fragrant smoke toward an impossibly large sky, and the hand-knotted hammock chair hanging from the rafters on the porch, swayed in time with the trees. It was a dichotomously sheltered yet wild upbringing, full of innocent and simple dreams; hopes and desires and plans that reached only the stars of Wild Space.

Back then, June was naught but a tiny mind, desperately hopeful to gain only that of which she was knew: a cozy home nestled between protective mountains, an overflowing rain barrel infinitely teeming with signs of micro-life, a bustling market of familiar faces, a treehouse on the edge of a forest too full of exotic flora and fauna for her to wander unsupervised, a soft blanket for a picnic, a spike to impale one of her favourite mini sausages and a roaring fire into which she could roast it…

Now, long-estranged from her family and far away from that place both geographically and mentally, life looked a lot different for Dr. Juniper Kiore. Robbed long ago of that blissful childhood naivety, she was now a hard working young woman of twenty-three with no plans to return to the home world she still deemed the galaxy’s hidden corner of paradise.

As another shiver rolled down her spine, she cast a quick glance toward the accompanying desk in that shared office; the clutter and detritus Jacoba was notorious for deserting atop that otherwise identical desktop patiently awaited its owner to arrive for her shift and plunk her purse down amidst the fray. X-Ray films from the hectivity of yesterday still clung to the backlit display board on the wall, the series of luminous images depicting a grotesquely cracked skull and the adjacent cranial hemorrhage, and a femur shattered beyond recognition.

Interpreting the permission of that first yawn as authorization to open the floodgates, June’s cheeks quickly expanded under the duress of a second yawn barely seconds after recovering from the first, forcing her eyes closed again. With an indecorous grunt, she cracked each of her cold knuckles, relishing in the way that discomfort pulled her farther out of the stupor of fatigue before she turned to retrieve the caf mug perched beside her keyboard.

“Bleh…” she grumbled instantly, lips flattening in disgust as she swirled the anaemic dregs around the bottom of the ceramic cup. There were unmistakable signs of the milk beginning to coagulate, collecting around the sides of the purple dish with each twirl of the wrist. ‘Isn’t this the mug I grabbed at lunch?’ she asked herself, eyes unfocussing under knitted brows as she struggled to piece together the hurried two minutes in which she’d dashed to the staff room for caffeine some half dozen hours ago. ‘Or maybe this is the caf from last night, and that’s the caf from today?’

Her gaze fell upon a second mug sitting daintily beside the potted plant only inches from her right hand, identical to the first in every way with the exception of a small chip along the rim, stained with a lip gloss that she was sure she hadn’t bothered to put on in several rotations.

She traded one for the other, repeating the swirling motions and watching the minute dash of milk collect in the centrifuge of dark liquid. Bringing the chipped rim to her nose, she took a gentle sniff.

“June—”

Every cell in her body, every hair on her skin, collectively seized in alarm, shoulders jerking upwards in a startled spasm while a sharp gasp slapped against the back of her throat. That panic only intensified as, what could only be described as a miniature tidal wave of the stale beige caf, cascaded over the rim of that chipped purple mug and landed with a splat on her left knee.

“Maker, you scared the shit out of me,” she gasped, pressing a hand over her pounding heart and stowing the cup heavily back onto the desk.

“Sorry.” Challa snorted from his casual lean in the threshold, arms folded over his chest. “When is Jac coming in?” he asked, gesturing with a small nod to the empty desk chair on June’s left side.

She stalled the answer on her tongue, stealing an extended second for another calming breath as her heart continued to smash against the inner walls of her chest. “She won't be here for another half hour,” June finally conceded, tipping her wrist to check the time.

‘18:56pm. No wonder I’m kriffing starving.’

He offered nothing but a small hum in response, that heavy, signature Twi-lek brow tense with unspoken complaints as if he wholly disapproved that he couldn’t simply demand the clock say what he wanted it to say.

Dr. Challa Shuk was a fiercely intelligent and highly celebrated doctor with an inherent knack for organization and a remarkably efficient, yet, consistently pleasant bedside manner; the combination proving a perfect recipe for the individual tasked with running the second busiest department in the hospital.

Seemingly overnight, the inception of the war had shifted the priorities and policies of the institution to accommodate for the Grand Army of the Republic, incidentally bringing with it the ever-present undertone of tumult and uncertainty for the staff throughout. Being the determined and capable doctor that he was, Challa rose to the occasion marvelously, shouldering the brunt of the responsibility and almost single-handedly converting the Surgical Floor from a slow-paced civilian center to a bustling combat medical zone. But, despite his unwavering commitment to both the Grand Republic Medical Facility and to medicine in general, his acceptance of the changing reality, and the shifts in policy required to ensure a smooth transition, were not widely accepted by his employees; many of the surgical department doctors were highly resistant to the procedural changes and the variation in their established routine that came with it.

June and Jacoba were the only caveats to this unfortunate behaviour, both of them still early enough in their careers to embrace the required alterations with barely a breath of skepticism. Their adaptability had earned them both significant favour with the Twi’lek Chief of Surgery, and a number of other rarely anointed perks: both girls had been gifted their own AZI-class medical assistant droid to which they were permitted to utilize for whatever means they deemed appropriate, both were allotted the unheralded freedom to implete their own surgical schedules (much to their colleagues dismay), and the duo had been presented with their own office, an offering typically reserved for those who’d transitioned toward a career in the field medical research.

But Challa’s favourtism of the pair had seemed to sour as of late, the jovial smiles he typically offered in response to their notorious shenanigans had melded into snorts of derision and subdued grimaces. Last Primeday had seen him stick his scowling face into their office and bark that Jacoba’s chair had developed an irritating squeak that needed to be rectified immediately; two days later, he’d summoned June into his own office and reprimanded her for having inappropriately cold hands, hissing that he was growing very tired of fielding continued patient complaints that their doctor’s fingers felt like icicles. While moderately affronted at the time, June merely shouldered the chastization, both unable to deny that her hands were always cold, and very aware that root of his bespoiled mood did not stem from the subnormal temperature of her skin…

“You weren’t about to drink that were you?” Challa inquired from the door, nose scrunched in disgust as he watched her snatch a kleenex from the box on the desk and dab at the stain on her pant leg.

She huffed and rolled her eyes, watching the unabsorbent paper square fail to remove even a fraction of that putrid stain. “I was thinking about it,” she retorted, crinkling the tissue and tossing it into the trash bin under her desk. “I was trying to sniff out how old it was when you gave me a damn heart attack.”

“How ladylike of you,” he teased, ignoring her reproachful glare. “And there’s no time for caf right now. I heard you agreed to stay late again tonight, so I need you on deck to tackle this case.” He shifted his weight to his feet and unfolded his arms, pulling his datapad from the breast pocket of his lab coat and prodding it awake. “I’m transmitting you the chart of your next patient,” he advised, violet eyes appearing neon whilst bathed by the illumination from the device in his hands. “It’s a simple laceration repair sent up from the emergency department, but it’s been sitting for a while and the FX-7’s are still tied up. See that it’s dealt with and discharged, and then meet me in my office.”

Her datapad chimed from the table in front of her, needlessly alerting the room that she’d successfully received the details of her next mission though she refused to acknowledge it, her sapphire eyes now narrowed skeptically at her boss. An abashed silence filled the space between them as he averted his eyes from hers, the atypical nature of his request not lost on either of them.

“A laceration repair?” June repeated with an unmitigated scoff, cocking an eyebrow at his obviously intentional silence. “From emerge? Are you kidding me?”

Her incredulity must have been the expected response, as he’d already reached to pinch the narrow bridge of his nose before she’d finished voicing her aggrievement.

“Eight battalions landed at lunch, June,” he declaimed over her final few words, eyes closed against a wave of barely-restrained impatience. “They’re beyond swamped down there. And like I just told you, this one has been sitting for too long already. I want it dealt wi—”

“But Rondi is the on-call trauma doc today,” June protested, gesticulating wildly towards the door as if Dr. Rondi Reid was eagerly waiting outside her office to accept the umbrageously trivial case being thrust under her nose. “And I’m only staying late to do the thoracotomy. I just sent him downstairs for prelim scan—”

“Jacoba will scrub in when she gets here,” Challa exhorted, dismissing her disgruntlement with a wave of his hand. “Besides, I have something important to discuss with you afterward and we both know that surgery would have you here all night.”

The ire bubbling in her gut rendered her apathetic to everything other than the injustice of the situation, and the pleading flash of his violet eyes was missed entirely as she clamped hers closed and choked out a dramatic whine.

“Challa come on,” she begged, lurching forward in her chair and interlacing her hands in a feigned prayer, “I’ve been staring at his x-days all day. I basically just redid his entire Kaminoan report because some people can’t be bothered with details, I know this case the best. That’s my surgery.”

“You will go where you’re needed, Kiore, and I won’t hear another word about it.”

The conversation was over, his statement drenched in a finality more potent than the stench of that day old caf. The rapidly darkening tone of his voice in combination with the uncommon use of her last name meant there was no point but to concede to his authority, and it was with great difficulty that she bit back the slew of arguments still poised for their turn on her tongue.

“Fine,” she grumbled, looking deliberately away from his stern expression and collecting the datapad from her desk. “But this ‘meeting in your office later’ better be a party in my honour for being such a kriffing team player.”

“Not quite,” he abjured following a frustrated albeit amused snort. “Now get to 18-S. And for everyone’s sake, leave the attitude here.”

June glared at his retreating figure, waiting until the tips of those magnificent, sand coloured lekku disappeared down the hall before throwing herself dramatically against the back of the chair, an insolent groan rumbling loudly in her chest.

“Laceration repair!” she hissed to the ceiling, the realization that a fresh cup of caf was now entirely out of the question pulling a false sob from her lips. “My thoracotomy… all damn day I’ve been prepping… ‘they’re swamped down there’… yeah, yeah… aren’t we all…”

It seemed no amount of grousing and groaning would appease the indignance still inflated in her chest, and her datapad continued to mock her with its innocent luminance as she tipped her head forward and roughly pulled her long dark hair into a ponytail. When she had affixed her mane firmly to the nape of her neck, June begrudgingly snatched the device from her desk and opened the holochart Challa had so graciously gifted.

DSGN: CT-5863 GEN: 1–B RNK: Captain (742nd)

ASSN SECT: 91st MRC DRCT SPVR: CT-411 STATUS: Active Duty

Assigned priority: CLASS D. OPEN WOUND: NON life-threatening.

Intake notes: subdermal lac. quadrant 6— full thickness separation, jagged edges from unknown source. PT reluctant to divulge cause of injury. PT uncooperative when offered NBA injection. Declined having accepted NBA from combat medic at time of injury. Advised to remove all vesture from waist up. Hema scan still outstanding.

“Oh fantastic,” June griped to the cactus on the desk, her mood now as prickly as it’s sharp little spines. “Refused a pain injection— twice, has been sitting here for Maker-knows how long, nobody remembered to ask his kriffing name, and I have no Lumi to transcribe for me. A glorious ending to another glorious day.”

She tucked the datapad aggressively into her armpit and stalked from the office, flicking her ponytail onto her shoulder as she went.

The bedlam of the open ward met her at the mouth of the hallway, that staggering din nearly forcing her eyes to narrow against the onslaught of noise as she made her way around the unusually barren welcome station. The dissonant harmony of a dozen monitors, shrilly beeping in the chorus of chaos, echoed around the white walls and attacked her eardrums with a gusto that she hadn’t quite become accustomed to yet. The deserted nature of that central hub was immediately explained by the sheer pandemonium lining the hallways, and every other step toward 18-S saw her ducking out of the way of a rolling FX-7 droid, hurrying to answer its urgent summons.

The egregious sound of violent gagging assaulted her ears as she passed room 12-N, shortly followed by the spectacular splat of what could only have been vomit hitting the floor. ‘Control your face,’ she reminded herself, upper lip quickly flattening in disgust as she back-peddled to that doorway and prodded the button that would summon both a sanitation droid and the nearest surgical student.

Room 18-S was the second last room of the south wing, and bore the classification of ‘Outpatient Room’, meaning it was only modestly equipped, and outfitted for only minimally invasive, single treatment procedures. The hoverbeds were never prepared for an overnight stay unlike those in the Northern and Eastern halls, and in place of the large diagnostic scanners that typically consumed all available real estate on those sterile grey walls, were lockers acting as safe storage for the overflow for other rooms, and containing a varied assortment of extra medical supplies, sterile tool packs, and maintenance equipment.

Doing her best to resurrect whatever was left of her dwindling patience, she stopped in front of the closed door of her destination. Praying to the stars above that whoever was waiting on the other side was neither vomiting on the floor like the poor chap in room 12, and didn’t feel the need to berate her about his heinously long wait, she knocked gently on that steel barrier and waited.

***

FOREWORD | NEXT

Tag list: @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @starrylothcat @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @freesia-writes @sev-on-kamino @littlemissmanga @523rdrebel @wings-and-beskar @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @drafthorsemath @jediknightjana @moonlightwarriorqueen @starstofillmydream @mooncommlink @wizardofrozz @trixie2023 @clonethirstingisreal @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @mythical-illustrator

[vimse]

For once I got something done in time for OC Sunday ✨

Okay, okay, okay. One of my fave tropes(?) that happens in a lot of the Bad Batch fics is the party/casino/gala/dress up undercover arc. I loooove seeing my clones in fancy outfits. And uh, I guess I wanted to see how Silvie would look like if she were to participate in a mission like that, and here's a (relatively) quick drawing of that! I think she would wear something simple, elegant, fluffy and absolutely sparkly.

[freesia-writes]

Welcome to OC Sundays! 💙 Each week, I'll post three random questions for you to answer for one or more of your OCs. Feel free to link the work(s) they appear in, too! We'll have a little showcase where you might discover someone that piques your interest and voila! Something new to read! 😁 As for the image? Random dude I found on Canva, with so much sass and so much cake that I had to include him. 🤣🙈 And apparently all of this is going to have a 70's vibe, LOL.

What would their favorite book be?

What’s your favorite trait about them? Yes, just one. ;) 

What’s a weakness of theirs that they might not be aware of?

[dystopicjumpsuit]

OC Sundays: Sgt. Dozer the Tooka (CT-2KA)

Want a Datafile for your Star Wars OC (or one of your pets)? Find out how to get one here! Or check out other OC Datafiles I’ve created here!

Transcript in alt text and below the cut.

GRAND ARMY OF THE REPUBLIC

Personnel Datafile Name: Dozer Rank: Sergeant Identifying number: CT-2KA Duty assignment: Emotional Support Officer, 501st Legion Status: Active

Service Record Prior service: Rodent Catcher, alley behind 79's, Coruscant mid-levels Commendations: Plastoid star for excellence in snuggling Qualifications: Close quarters combat - Expert; Tracking and reconnaissance - Expert; Napping - Expert; Purring - Expert Medical record: Fleas - treatment complete; Spay procedure - fully recovered; Emaciation - commanding officer insists that treatment continue despite patient being fully recovered Remarks: Remanded into custody of ARC Trooper Jesse following altercation with Coruscant Guard officer Grizzer. Volunteered for service in 501st Legion. Medical exam and treatment plan completed by CMO Kix. Intake approved by Captain Vaughn.

Please nobody tell Captain Rex.

---

I used this Picrew to create Dozer's artwork 😻

Ragu list:

@secondaryrealm @sev-on-kamino spicy-clones @wings-and-beskar @523rdrebel @merkitty49 @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @arcsimper5 @starrylothcat @clio3kantarella @cloneloverrrrr @goblininawig @ladytano420 @arctrooper69 @wolffegirlsunite @sunshinesdaydream @mandos-mind-trick @littlemissmanga @stunkbiggu @starqueensthings @clonemedickix @marierg @idontgetanysleep @moonlightwarriorqueen @dudewhynotthis @sleepycreativewriter @tcwmatchmakingau @littlemissbshine @multi-fan-dom-madness @heavenseed76 @wizardofrozz @bobaprint @sweetcream-coldfoam @banksys-rat @skellymom @pickleprickle @trixie2023 @mythical-illustrator @dickarchivist @cw80831 @kimiheartblade @meredithroseg @flyiingsly

[talesfrommedinastation]

OC Sunday up in here…and you know what? I needed another drawing of Belter fireman/ Tech’s new bff, Timon Chapelle. Read the story where they meet here.

I have NO IDEA what these two are plotting! Any ideas, put them in the comments, lol.

(Eagle eyed folks will notice Timon has the Lang Belta word for brother, ‘beratna’ in Aurebesh as his newest tattoo! I’d like to think he got it in honor of the clones)

Tagging those who’d like to see Tech somewhere plotting with a new (even taller) friend:

@audpaints @askwenjing @auntie-venom @autistic-artistech @shadestepping @deoxd @deezlees @dukeoftheblackstar @sued134 @supremechancellorrex @freesia-writes @just-shower-thoughts @littlefeatherr @luxris @vivaislenska @blitzink @nahoney22 @nika6q @notavalidusername @moosethren @marymunchkiin @merkitty49 @wwheeljack @wrenkenstein @eyecandyeoz @eelfuneral @eclec-tech @rememberthecant @thecoffeelorian @that-salmonberry-punk @yeehawgeek @ilikemymendarkandfictional @techs-stitches @isthereanechoinhere96 @ithillia @perfectlywingedcrusade

[malsfefanfics]

Out of curiosity, do you have a name for Marquis Vestra? I’ve always joked that his name should start with V so his initials are VVV.

I do have a name for him! For my writing, I've gone with the name "Iason von Vestra". There's actually a fun meta reason for that.

The names Iason and Medee are a play on Jason and Medea. Like Jason and the Argonauts.

Medee's maiden name, (Anavros), her family's heirloom (magic sandals named Anaurus), and the title of her Paralogue "Lament of Sister Rivers", comes from the river Anavros and Anaurus. The same river Jason is believed to have lost a sandal in when helping Hera cross the river. But there's a lot less familicide on Medee's hands compared to Medea.

Medea also warned Jason that he would die to the crumbling ruins of his only heroic achievement. Dying in his sleep being crushed by his rotting ship. In Iason's case, that crumbling ruin is named Hubert.

Love the idea of his name being VVV though. Absolute genius~!

[sev-on-kamino]

hi lovely! for the ofc nsfw ask game… 1, 4, 13, 18, and 25 for my lovely blizzard 👀 hope ur having a wonderful day!

Hi Nour! Having a great day so far, and I hope you are too. Thank you for sending these in 🥰 I love Blizzard, and could talk about him all day tbh.

NSFW OC Questions - Fun stuff below the cut! MINORS DNI!!!

1. Are there any names they like to be called in bed/names they call their partner? Any names they wouldn’t use/can’t stand?

- He loves sweet names, so call him “love” or “baby” and he’ll melt. He leans towards using those as well, but would also come up with one specific to his partner’s personality. There aren’t any that are totally off of the table, but he would be surprised if someone called him “daddy.” He wouldn’t know how to respond.

4. Are they more of a dom, sub, or switch? If applicable, are they a top, bottom, or vers?

- Blizzard is a pleasure dom. He’s sweet and encouraging, but firm and a natural leader. He’s a top, which often surprises people.

13. Morning vs evening sex—do they have a preference?

- He likes morning sex when the sun is barely coming up. That soft morning light on his partner’s skin gets him going so fast.

18. Their favorite actions during sex—chin-grabbing, hair-pulling, wrists being pinned, etc.

- Hip-grabbing. Pulling his partner down on top of him, or into his lap, or onto his face. It gives him such a thrill.

25. Share a sample line of dirty-talk

- “Oh, beautiful, you’re shaking with my fingers inside you. Are you ready for more? I wanna hear you say it in that sweet voice of yours.” -Blizzard, definitely 👀

taglist: @secondaryrealm @dystopicjumpsuit @dukeoftheblackstar @wolffegirlsunite @808tsuika @sleepingsun501 @starrylothcat @ladyzirkonia @sunshinesdaydream @wings-and-beskar @pb-jellybeans @clio3kantarella @staycalmandhugaclone @stardusthuntress @idontgetanysleep @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @anxiouspineapple99 @littlemissmanga @mandos-mind-trick @amorfista @kimiheartblade @freesia-writes @sinfulsalutations @523rdrebel @clonemedickix @multi-fan-dom-madness @mooncommlink @1vlouds @moonlightwarriorqueen @starqueensthings @dangraccoon @idoubleswearimawriter @wizardofrozz @trixie2023 @dreamie411

[neyswxrld]

downtime with heliv and ney!

this is my submission for @isthereanechoinhere96 's 400 follower celebration!

hello!

first of all: congratulations to 400 followers! i'm proud of you and it is well deserved!

since i am a big fan of your downtime with the domino twins comics, i decided i could just make my own downtown post, with no one less than heliv, the one and only!

(i went out of my house for that, twice. that is a new record.)

she visited the earth for the first time and i wanted to show you what she thinks about this planet, hehe. 🤭

(also, please ignore that i painted the scars in the wrong color 😬)

MASTERLIST

TAGLIST

@isthereanechoinhere96 @trixie2023 @freesia-writes

[mythical-illustrator]

Let's actually meet my Oc, I’ve talked about her in a few asks but mostly she’s been in discord 🫠 but I finally feel comfortable sharing her in her entirety with y'all.

So here we go on this fine OC Sunday

Meet Helena Hemlock.

Helena is my spider verse/ Star Wars crossover OC

She lives and works and protects Coursant.

Helena is an engineering assistant and a welder. She works for the Galactic military and mostly works on ships but recently got a job as a scientist/engineering assistant.

Though her boss seems to be coming undone at the seams.

She use to do underground street boxing for money. Hasn't seen or cared to see since her mom died and Dad dropped her off on her uncle's door step and left. He's much closer than she knows.

Lives with her Aunt who runs a weapons shop/gun range. She got bitten at 15 and her uncle died after a failed robbery.

A blurb from her introduction Spider Verse style:

Alright, lets do this. My name is helena Hemlock, and for the last 10 years I have been coursants one and only spider-woman, the only spider-woman in the galaxy actually to my knowledge.

I won't bore you with my sad life- to sum up Mom died, Dad left, went to live with my aunt, got bit by a freaky spider, gained superpowers, got into a lot of fights, lost my uncle...and well then I became an Ubran legend.

The one and only Krykna

Under the cut is more of her story and some WIP art I’ve got done for her.

Her story will have Star Wars villains taking the place of normal spider man villains

Doctor Ock- a Quarren scientist working for the Galactic military

Dr. Hemlock, taking on the role of Norman Osborn.

Palpatine as himself

The Couri guards as themselves

The ship for the story is Helena and Fox . She’ll be working pretty clone with the Coursant guards. Thorn is having a blast, Fox not so much. Really he just hates getting rescued by a vigilante

Thank you @sinfulsalutations for being civilian #2 to be rescued 😊

One day I might actually write her story and post it but for now -her story is getting told in art form so ...have some art

Art master list

Tag list

@anxiouspineapple99 @clonemedickix @sev-on-kamino @dangraccoon @523rdrebel @secondaryrealm @multi-fan-dom-madness @wizardofrozz @starrylothcat @dickarchivist @dystopicjumpsuit

[sinfulsalutations]

𝕨𝕖𝕝𝕝, 𝕚 𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕜 𝕚𝕥'𝕤 𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕥𝕚𝕞𝕖 𝕚 𝕚𝕟𝕥𝕣𝕠𝕕𝕦𝕔𝕖𝕕 𝕪𝕠𝕦 𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕥𝕠 𝕕𝕒𝕟𝕖𝕒 𝕡𝕣𝕠𝕡𝕖𝕣𝕝𝕪 𝕒𝕟𝕕 𝕡𝕒𝕣𝕥𝕚𝕔𝕚𝕡𝕒𝕥𝕖 𝕚𝕟 𝕠𝕔 𝕤𝕦𝕟𝕕𝕒𝕪…

meet Danea L'appe! Art by the fantastic and lovely @mythical-illustrator

This lovely twi'lek grew up on Ryloth, raised by two trade workers. She worked at their business growing up and never had a formal education, but taught herself how to read and write out of a pure love for knowledge and understanding. Almost all her time not assisting her parents or helping out clients was spent with a book tucked underneath a counter or practicing her handwriting on a carved piece of wood.

Danea is quite shy and socially awkward, and one of those introverts who will find one person in a new situation and latch onto them for an indefinite amount of time. Bright-eyed (probably from all the caf), kind, and diligent, she wants to be a scholar and has gotten a scholarship to the University of Coruscant to do just that.

Tech is her ultimate sweetheart in my WIP professor!Tech au, and their story has much more to tell and there is lots more to unfold. However, I also have a WIP including her and @mythical-illustrator clone trooper OC, Carpal.

There is so much more character-building and general information about her I'd love to share and create, so PLEASE don't be afraid to drop into my asks with any questions, headcanons, ideas, prompts, etc. I'd love to hear them!!

ragu list: @starstofillmydream @pb-jellybeans @corrieguards @badbatchbabe @ladytano420 @jediknightjana @sleepycreativewriter @shinyshayminflower @thebahdbitch @secondaryrealm @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @dukeoftheblackstar @meshlaxbunny @kimiheartblade @followthepurrgil l @wolffegirlsunite @star-burned @starrylothcat @sev-on-kamino @aconstructofamind @padawancat97 @littlemissmanga @starqueensthings @anxiouspineapple99 @freesia-writes @wings-and-beskar r @clio3kantarella @secretthegriffin @idontgetanysleep @523rdrebel @dystopicjumpsuit @mandos-mind-trick @sunshinesdaydream @clonemedickix @andrakass2 @jesjestraverse @crosshairlovebot @wizardofrozz @dangraccoon @lickylickylicky @thebomb-diggity @urmomsmattress @jedi-hawkins @who-would-want-a-broken-heart @ladyzirkonia @multi-fan-dom-madness @moonlightwarriorqueen @eyeluvmusic21 @imarvelatthestars