Here are the 2025 212th Appreciation Week Prompts Lists!
Event: June 15th-21st
Standard
Day 1- Clone Culture/Traditions
Day 2- Adoption/Accidental Acquisition
Day 3- Padawans
Day 4- Lightsabers
Day 5- Hurt/Comfort
Day 6- Clone Life
Day 7- Touch
Hey Mods, what's the difference between Clone Culture/Traditions and Clone Life?
We're glad you asked! Here's how we see it!
Clone Culture/Traditions encompasses things such as choosing a name, choosing paint, how they remember fallen clones, what being "brothers" means to the clones, etc.
Clone Life on the other hand covers things like training, specialties, fighting, The Terrible Food, the mundane day to day of the GAR.
But these aren't the only valid interpretations! We look forward to seeing what everyone does with them.
AU Prompts
Day 1- Time Travel
Day 2- Canon Divergence
Day 3- Soulmate
Day 4- Mandalorian Clones
Day 5- Dragons
Day 6- Wings
Day 7- Eldritch Clones/Lovecraftian
NSFW prompts below the cut!
Day 1- Sparring Into Sex
Day 2- Post Battle Sex
Day 3- Cock Warming
Day 4- Commander Cody
Day 5- Bed sharing
Day 6- Free Use
Day 7- Sex Pollen/Fuck or Die
Seventeen enjoys retirement in Temple, watching over their Jedi and the troopers who found their own homes there.
Notes: part of my top surgery countdown (the others are in the queue) but also for Day 1 of @212thappreciation week 2025! The prompt was "Clone Culture"
Original Work: 12 Things You Didn't Know About Trapper by @elismor
Clone Wars: Clone Trooper Trapper | Rating: Not Rated
Summary:
Twelve things you didn't know about Trapper. Period. There's no plus one.
Notes: @wanderingjedihistorian asked if I'd like to record this with her for @212thappreciation week 2025 and I of course jumped on it! This is for Day 6: Clone Life 🧡
Thank you to everyone who participated in this year's event!
We will continue to reblog late submissions and accept things to the collection for another few weeks, so if you didn't quite manage to finish something for a specific day, you still have time to participate.
Day 7 of 212th Appreciation Week (and I'm zonked. this is the most productive I've been since Trump became president)
today's prompt is 'Touch' and ngl this little piece was the most fun to write. started out being for Day 1 and the 'Clone Culture' prompt because clone armour and all but my gal is so touch starved it was meant to be.
description: Sennari doesn't know what it is to be treated like a true brother. she's gone through something terrible. good thing Waxer and Boil have experience with this kind of thing... right?
length: 1.6k
no warnings! enjoy!
The silence pressed in on her. After weeks of restless nights waking to the sound of a distant explosion, of patrols moving out and returning, shouts from medics haunting the rocky corridors, the silence aboard the Negotiator deafened her. Ninety-Four had to bite her cheek until she tasted tangy blood on her tongue to keep the open stares, the wide-eyed looks from crawling under her skin as they moved through the lower level of the venator.
“Ignore them.” The stiff trooper muttered under his breath, shooting a particularly gaping trooper with two orange circles on his shoulder bells a dark eye.
She clutched the brown robe tighter around her chest. They destroyed her old blacks, and what little armour she had left had been scrubbed clean. All the dust and stains from Syrac were gone but the scrapes were still there, she counted each of them as she lay waiting to be discharged, leaving it all behind to be scrapped, repurposed. Anything. Ninety-Four didn’t want to remember what she survived, she didn’t want any part of that old self, trying to leave as much of her behind on the blocky rock formation.
Sennari. Not Ninety-Four anymore. A poison spreading through the galaxy.
The upper floor had been quieter, full of uniformed clones instead of troopers too absolved in their tasks, hurrying down the corridors, to notice the two of them. The trooper leading her, Gearshift, barely said anything to her, and he stood perfectly content by the door. Another silent presence, constant in the back of her mind as she sat perched on the edge of someone else’s bunk, staying the swarm for now. Sennari had studied him as they walked, his undercut bedraggled and the shaven sides started to grow out, the black strands shot with grey. Gritty stubble lined his square jaw, the beginnings of a goatee sprouting beneath his lip more grey than black. He seemed to stand taller than the others, his shoulders broader as if he spent more time training than on the field, and he had a jutting scar sloping down his forehead, the tip breaching his thick eyebrow.
It made Sennari wonder how many scars she had waiting, her fingers itching to probe her entire body, search out the permanent reminders of her failure so she knew where to avoid looking. Half praying the bacta worked enough to wash them away and fearing what memories clung to the ones that stayed.
The door trilled a light chime and Gearshift straightened, his back to Sennari as every nerve tensed in her body, clutching her legs tighter to her chest as he opened it and two more troopers stood waiting on the other side. They filed inside, shrinking the already cluttered barracks, and the bald one stared around wide eyed for a second taking it in. As if being here were a privilege and Sennari just didn’t understand. The other, a thick moustache circling his mouth, set half a bundle down on the opposite bunk.
“It’s old.” He explained, his voice rougher than sand, hair cut to regulation. “Won’t get a new shipment till the next round of shinies.”
The bald one spread his half of the bundle out atop the scratchy blanket, both their backs kept to Sennari, both wearing identical orange striped armour with the triangular collar, the painted spauldrons. Contrasting to the distinct white gears stamped into Gearshift’s.
Sennari’s grip on her legs loosened as she peered between them, recognizing the plastoid pieces laid out. A snowy white set, breastplate and all. The bald one blew off a crumb of dust before setting down a knee plate, stacking the boots neatly by the edge of her bunk.
Gearshift shooed the two out the way and they took his place by the door, letting him assess the pieces. “Left rerebrace.” He pointed to the missing spot plainly.
“Couldn’t find one.” Moustache shrugged, leaning against the doorjamb, arms crossed over his chest. “Guess we run out of those pretty quick.”
Gearshift hmphed, jutting his chin in the barest nod and Sennari watched wordlessly as he snapped off his own and completed the set without a second thought. A streak of orange splitting the white.
“She’ll have to repaint when she gets reassigned.” The bald one pointed out but he didn’t seem surprised by the act.
“If.” Moustache corrected, eyeing Sennari sideways. “You good down there, kid?”
“Stop it, Boil.” His brother smacked his arm. “You’ll scare her.”
The clone - Boil - huffed. “I am naturally terrifying.”
“Out.” Gearshift snapped, finished assessing the gear and Boil straightened, Ninety-Four’s fingers relaxing around her ankles, but he stretched a hand out before they left. “Waxer.”
The bald one paused, exclaiming softly as if remembering and took a folded strip of material from a pocket at his belt. “It’s a bit crude.” Waxer apologized, flashing Sennari a small smile. “Cale made it based on Davijaan’s pinup, he’s great with a needle apparently so if she wants her blacks adjusting, just say the word.”
Gearshift huffed a ‘good job’, taking whatever the troopers talked about, and smoothed the material out on the bunk beside her. Ninety-Four merely blinked, watching the two strangers, watching him. She pinched herself. No, Sennari.
“That’s Waxer.” Gearshift shot a thumb at the bald clone as she inched to the edge of her bunk, frowning at the strip of material he lured her out with, then threw it at the other one. “This is Boil, we’re all Ghost Company.”
“We heard you needed a new set.” Waxer smiled, gesturing to the carefully laid out armor.
Ninety-Four barely heard him. Another pinch, another reminder. Instead, she laid a shaky hand atop the material, her brow furrowing until she realized what the trooper made her and her breath hitched, fingers clenching around it. He’d obviously made it from an old set of blacks, she’d recognize the feel of that material anywhere, the right level of stretch and pull, but it had been improved at the back, something elastic worked into both hems so it could be adjusted to fit comfortably. A slight curve identified the front, an extra layer of material worked into it to create a cushion, and something stiff reinforced the back. Ninety-Four – pinch, pinch – released the breath as she ran her fingers over it again and again, suppressing a choke so hard it hurt.
“It’s the least we could do, you must’ve gone through hell down there.” Waxer said softly and he stiffened as Gearshift shot him a warning look.
The least we can do… her fingers clenched around the makeshift breastband, squeezing it to her palm and she so desperately wanted to say something, anything, but she could barely force a breath around the choke clamping down her throat, let alone words.
“It’s okay.” Waxer told her and his fingers itched at his side, slowly lifting to pat her arm hesitantly. She inched closer to him, a silent consent for him to settle a hand on her shoulder comfortingly. “You’re welcome, vod.”
Vod. That word again. It rippled through her like skittering icicles. A word that belonged to her brothers, not to her, never to her. She didn’t earn it, she wasn’t a brother at all. Just a mistake. Another soldier meant to live and die for this war. A poison.
Only you didn’t die, did you? Sennari shuddered, nails biting into skin. You survived when everyone else didn’t.
“Everything okay, trooper?” Waxer felt her shudder under his grip and Sennari turned to stare at his gentle hand on her shoulder, the touch so simple, so small and yet meant the entire galaxy to her.
Waxer wound his hand tighter round her shoulders when she stared that second too long, drawing her closer, and Sennari’s hazel eyes skittered around the bunk frantically, her body stiffening. Nobody touched her like this, not once, she didn’t know what to do.
“Relax.” Waxer encouraged, the corner of his lip perking. “It’s a hug, it’s supposed to be comforting.”
His brother snorted over by the door. “Doesn’t look very comforting.”
Waxer shot him a scornful look. “I’d like to see you do any better.”
Boil’s chest puffed, as if taking the challenge, and he came to sit on Sennari’s opposite side but as soon as his hand lifted a frown curled his brow, as if he didn’t know where to go next. They didn't exactly hand out hugging instructions in basic training.
“That’s what I thought.” Waxer smirked proudly.
“Stow it.” Boil shot over the top of her head, his hand falling to her shoulder in an awkward pat and he grimaced in what Sennari assumed was his attempt at a smile. “I would like to join you in acknowledging the difficulties of your life.”
Gearshift slapped a hand to his worn features, rubbing it down as Boil’s hand continued to pat her shoulder.
“You’re hopeless, you know that?” Waxer’s shoulders deflated, and he shot his brother a flat look at the same time Boil glared at Gearshift.
“I don’t see you helping.”
His gaze flashed to Sennari who panicked at first, wedged between the two clones, their arms pressing against hers, her nails shot white she gripped the band so tightly, but then something bubbled in her chest. Something warm, light and kind of fluffy. A new feeling. It filled her as they bickered like an old married couple and she hid the growing wobble to her lip by pressing her face to Boil’s chest.
“Help.” Boil mouthed over the top of her head, his arms hovering around her awkwardly.
“Start with hugs.” Waxer whispered encouragingly, miming wrapping his arms around her.
Boil frowned, “With what?”
“You are the worst at this comfort thing.” Waxer sighed and grabbed his brothers’ hands, yanking them around Sennari in a terrible imitation of an embrace.
Sennari didn’t care, she swallowed it down eagerly. As if she’d been lost in the desert for weeks, scorching in the blazing sun, and he were her only source of water. Sennari drowned in it, in the warmth, the awkwardly soft touch as he gingerly stroked his hand up and down her arm.
today's prompt is 'Clone Life' covering the mundane day to day life within the GAR and by god did I enjoy writing this lil snippet.
description: don't make bets with Boil, things go sideways quickly.
lengths: 1.7k
no warnings! we're all happy days for once!
“Gearshift!” A flustered trooper by the name of Peel caught his attention as he stepped inside, blocking his path. “Weren’t expecting you.”
Peel still wore his armour, though his helmet was nowhere to be seen and his regulation cut had started to grow longer, a few curls dangling down his forehead, his square face grinning awkwardly.
Gearshift blinked once, taking in his appearance, a trickle of water dripping from the armour plating up his arms and he took a patient breath. “Who?”
Peel cocked his head. “You lost me.”
“Who’re you covering for?” He rested a hand at his hip. “Crys or Boil?”
Peel blew out a ridiculous breath. “Don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“You been taking acting lessons from ...?” Gearshift queried and the man deflated.
“That bad?”
“Worse.” Gearshift confirmed, “What’s going on?”
Peel considered another lie and then forgot it completely as Gearshift crossed his arms over his chest, peering deeper into the man’s clear features. “We might have a bit of a crisis.”
“We can’t have a crisis.” He told him blithely, “My schedule is already full.”
“The section officer left Crys in charge of cleaning the gunships.” Peel explained as he fell into step beside Gearshift, heading over to the obvious disaster unfolding. “And he kinda bet Boil he couldn’t wash all the gunships before Switch got back and…”
Kark. “Boil!” Gearshift yelled and heard a rattle as a bucket fell over, his boots splashing as he stormed through a puddle of dirty water. “What the kriff have you done?”
A dozen puddles lay all over the hangar, growing steadily in size as he rounded a nearby gunship and came to find his unruly squad mates dripping head to foot.
The moustached trooper stuck a finger out, pointing to the stunned bottle blond stood next to him. “He bet me I couldn’t do it!”
Crys slapped his arm down, a betrayed frown creasing his forehead. “Snitch.”
“Where’s Waxer?” Gearshift asked, sensing the headache already and rubbed at his temple, staring down Boil until he answered. Waxer was usually around to stop this kind of mistake from happening.
“Why?” Boil asked, confused, at the same time as Crys told him he was with the Commander.
“Because he’s about ninety percent of your impulse control.” Gearshift snapped, turning to Crys and holding out a flat palm. “Hand it over.”
Crys crossed his arms, giving him an empty look. “Hand what over?”
“The Boil tax, give.” Gearshift waved his fingers, hurrying him on.
Grumbling, Crys took the credits from a pouch at his belt, begrudgingly dropping them in Gearshift’s hand and he pocketed them quickly. He knew better than to make a bet with Boil, the trooper couldn’t turn down a challenge if his life depended on it, he had a competitive side that rivalled General Skywalker’s. The Boil tax was supposed to deter anyone from making a bet. You wanna lose your money, that’s your choice, but at least spare some for the rest of us.
“You better clean all this up before Switch gets back.” Gearshift ordered, jutting a finger at both troopers. “You know what he’s like.”
“Who left you in charge?” Boil sneered and regretted it as soon as the smirk pulled his lips. “Oh, we might have a problem then.”
The two stepped aside to reveal the broken water hose still spewing water across the deck.
The headache waved innocently behind his eyes and Gearshift. This is the last time he gets left in charge. “Did you at least clean the ships?”
Boil grinned proudly, “Polished and shining.”
Gearshift glanced at the neighbouring ship as the puddle about his feet grew, not a speck of grime dotting the hull, the latest round of blaster scorches scrubbed clean off and he even managed to get in the little gaps lining the blast doors. No one ever bothered cleaning those, it was too finnicky a job and a waste of time.
“Not bad.” He complimented. Credit where credit was due after all, leaning back to glance down the line of gunships and seeing them all equally shining. “I’m actually impressed.”
“Ugh, sergeant?” Peel cleared his throat. “The hose?”
Right. His squad mates parted to let him through and he bent down beside it. The nozzle had somehow got stuck open, a torn scrap of synthleather stuck in the mechanism, the water dribbling out. He clutched it between thumb and forefinger, lifting it for a better look, careful not to aim it directly at himself when a burst of water shot from the hose, drenching Crys and knocking him back into the open belly of the gunship.
“Sorry!” Peel yelled from the mains, his gloved hands on the hose crank. “Wrong way!”
Gearshift curbed the smile trying to pry onto his lips as Crys stood up, tiny clinks of dripping water echoing off the durasteel and when he shook out his hands a stream flew against the wall.
“Personally.” Boil slapped a friendly hand on his shoulder. “I think you deserved that.”
Crys thought differently, frowning at his brother, and he retrieved a bucket from near the wing, stepping back to tip the contents over Boil’s head. He slapped his hand on the upturned bottom for good measure, the plastoid echoing and now Gearshift did smile.
“Cool bucket, Boil.” Gearshift joked. “You gonna paint Numa on that one?”
Boil tipped the bucket back to glare at him, skating his foot across the wet floor and showering Gearshift. He lifted his hands, blocking his face, the smattering of water sloshing across his chest, his arms, seeping into his exposed blacks.
A moment of calm, broken only by the tinkling of water, passed as the three regarded each other, glancing at each individually as identical looks of sheer mischief gradually lowered over their shared features and simultaneously burst into a water fight. Gearshift dove behind a wing to avoid the first shot, a bucket rattling against the floor, and retrieved a sponge from where it had fallen, stealing his chance to dash out from behind the wing when Boil wasn’t looking. He caught him in the back of the head with a joyful cry, unable to avoid the spray Crys shot his way and his damp hair whipped his cheeks as he spun.
“Peel!” He yelled, waving at the other trooper by the mains and he threw back a thumbs up, hands clenching over the crank.
Gearshift dropped into a roll across the damp floor, ignoring the way his blacks slid over the puddles, soaking him further, and grasped the idle hose where it lay. He aimed it just as Boil grabbed a half full bucket of water, spraying him back against the ship and the bucket rattled to the floor, water spilling out across the deck.
“What the kriff is going on here!” Trapper yelled, narrowly avoiding a sponge to the face, staring at the three of them despairingly, his gaze softening a little in surprise when he spotted Gearshift but only briefly. “Sergeant?”
“Nothing to see here, kid.” Gearshift grimaced, dropping the hose and taking the hand Crys offered him.
Crys hauled him up and he released a genuine laugh when his foot slipped on the damp floor, Cry’s tight grasp of his arm steadying his.
“Right.” Trapper grumbled, swiping the sponge from the ground at his feet and giving it a squeeze, water dripping over his glove. “Nothing at all.”
A splitting whistle drew their gazes and Peel jogged back to them. “Switch is coming.”
“Well, we tried.” Boil excused, leaning an arm against a wing and Gearshift watched it slide down the slick surface. “Switch is not going to be happy.”
“He’s got company.” Peel added quickly and panic flickered across his plain features.
Quickly, Gearshift bent to fiddle with the hose, ramming the nozzle so it looked like it had been shut and clearing the tear of any blockage before settling it back on the durasteel, waving the others off and Trapper followed him over to the mains.
“You’re gonna fix this problem by causing a bigger problem?” He hissed, glancing back over his shoulder as Switch’s voice echoed to them, his panic growing as the section officer spotted their unique little disaster zone.
“Crys.” Switch yelled, stamping over, his boots kicking up tiny sprays in the puddles. “I told you to clean the gunships, not drown them!”
The Commander picked up the broken hose, inspecting the nozzle, and even from behind his straight stance, the diagonal lines on his thigh plates were easily recognizable and Gearshift flexed his hands around the crank ready.
“I’d run, if I were you.” He warned Trapper and the trooper wasted no time hesitating.
Gearshift twisted the crank as far as it would go, the synthleather buzzing as a great stream of water rushed through it, shooting through the broken nozzle and blasting the bonnet from Cody’s head, the shock knocking him back a few steps. The hose fell from his hand as he did, flailing about wildly until Waxer stamped his foot on the winding leather and yanked back the crank to stop the gushing water.
Boil and Crys fought to contain their laughter as Cody steadied himself and Gearshift leaned casually on the crank, one hand resting on his hip lazily as the commander’s head snapped around the hangar for the culprit. His bucket landed with a thud at his feet, bouncing twice before settling.
“Gunships are practically spotless, Commander.” Gearshift grinned, waving the hand at his hip towards the line of larty’s. “Take a look.”
“Gearshift.” Cody practically growled, water dripping off his scarred features and he ran a hand through his damp hair. “I thought I left you in charge?”
Gearshift’s own black locks dribbled water into his increasingly soggy blacks and he pushed off the crank, threading his fingers through it, bending slightly to ring it out on the durasteel before grabbing Cody’s helmet and walking up without a single care in the galaxy.
“You did.” He smiled sweetly and offered his helmet, meeting his scathing look when he took it. “I wouldn’t do it again, if I were you.”
dividers by @saradika For @212thappreciation Week Day 6 Prompt: Clone Life
When the day is through / I could lay on the grass all night, counting the stars with you
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Rating: General Audiences
Archive Warning: No Archive Warnings Apply
Category: M/M
Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars - All Media Types
Relationship: Clone Trooper Boil/Clone Trooper Waxer (Star Wars)
Characters: Clone Trooper Waxer (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Boil (Star Wars)
Additional Tags: Old aged clones, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Divergence, Old Age, old clones, Happy Ending
Language: English
Words: 324
Summary:
In another world, they don't get to have this. In another world, those poor bastards hold onto each other as long as they can, but it's not enough. Waxer knows those worlds have to exist, because the depths gave him this one, and he can't imagine a world where he gets so lucky twice.
@waxerboilmonth Waxer*Boil workshop: "Take me home?"
@212thappreciation 212th Appreciation week: day 7: Touch
@clonefandomevwnts 212th Bingo: Free Space (Old Age)
@ProwlingThunder Waxer/Boil ship bingo: Modern au, different timeperiod, small displays of affection, free space
@julybreakbingo July Break bingo: Location: Waiting Room, Survival or Escape
Summer Bingo: Established Relationship
Obi-Wan goes looking for his men and finds them have a cuddle pile in the barracks. He gets invited to join, he's hesitant at first, but relents after Cody and Helix convince him.
The thing about clones is that they are touchy people. If you walked into the barracks after a hard battle like this one, you would not be surprised to see troopers in a pile in the middle of the floor. That is if you are a clone and not a nat-born, except Obi-wan knew about the cuddle piles because Cody told him one night over some reports.
Obi-wan could not find his Commander, or his Lieutenant and Scout, or most of his troopers. They had been in hyperspace for a day before Waxer and Boil grabbed a grumbling exhausted Cody away, and he has not seen them since.
He walks to the troopers barracks pushing the button to open the door. What he sees warms his heart, in the middle of the room is a pile of mattresses from the bunks and on those is a pile of troopers.. Cody is in the middle of the pile, Waxer and Boil on either side of him, Helix covering his legs and the troopers he was looking for. Obi-wan smiles upon his men and slowly backs out, sure that his men would not want him.
He stops when he hears Cody rasp, "General?"
"Yes, my dear?" Obi-wan whispers, not wanting to wake the others.
"Would you like to join us, sir?" Cody asks, his voice still rough with sleep.
"It's just Obi-wan here, Cody," he replies. Cody just raises an eyebrow at him. "I shouldn't...." He trails off when he sees Cody kick Helix.
Said man grumbles something unintelligible looking between Cody and him. "Of course we would want you here sir. Now get over here before we wake anyone else,” he grumbles as he settles back down.
Cody gives him a look that says 'you asked for it.' Sighing, Obi-wan removes his outer robes and leaves them on the outside of the mattress pile. He sees Cody had moved to make room for him between him and Boil. Boil looks a little peeved from being moved, but as Obi-wan moves to lay down, the look disappears.
It's been awhile since Obi-wan has had casual touch like this, as well as his men. He lets himself sink into the feeling of touch from his men and the feelings he is getting from them in the force.
After the disastrous mission, they were in hyperspace for a week. Helix has let him out of the medbay on orders to stay on light duty, in his greys, and not talk too much.
Now here he stands next to Waxer and Boil, overlooking training of the men that were with him on the mission. "Waxer, start having them spar,” he rasps, voice still rough.
"Of course, Cody," Waxer says lowly before yelling, "Alright, get into pairs."
They do as they are told. As they start Cody walks in-between the fights, stopping some to give advice.
One particular fight he has to stop, he ends up with a foot to his injured side. He can't stop the strangled wounded noise that comes from him as he drops to a knee. He knows all fighting has stopped and Waxer and Boil are at his side.
"Cody, Cody are you good?" Waxer asks, as Boil checks his bandage.
Nodding, Cody takes a few deep breaths and then stands, schooling his face. He turns to the pair that he wanted to stop. "You're kicking too far out, keep your leg bent," he tells the kid that accidentally kicked him. He turns to the other kid. "Widen your stance, you're off-balance."
Waxer puts his hand on Cody's shoulder, knowing the man was in a great deal of pain - he knew it, these men know, they were with him. "Cody, go get some meds. We'll stay with them," Waxer whispers so only he could hear.
Cody nods, turns and walks away, leaving them in their care.
------
Waxer sighs as he runs a hand down his face. The kid that had accidentally kicked Cody looked guilty. "Kid, it's not your fault," he reassures him, but as he looks around the room he could see them all with the same face. "It's not anybody's fault in this room. The Commander knew what he was doing and would---"
"Has done the same and will do it again," Boil interrupts, punching Waxer's shoulder. "Now get back to it." They all nod, and the two go back to the front of the room.
"I'm going to contact Helix. We both know Cody won't go." When he gets a nod from Boil, he pulls up his comm, inputting Helix's number.
It rings for a few seconds before Helix answers. "I'm busy, what do you need Waxer?" he gruffly says.
"Helix, there was an incident in the training room with Cody and a shiny," Waxer reports.
"Kriff, and you're telling me this because you sent him out to get meds, but you know he won't come," he states.
Waxer and Boil both hum in agreement. "Thanks, I'll go find him." Then he hangs up.
------
Helix is pissed. He told him light duty, that meant paperwork or being on the bridge, not in the training room with a group of shines. He storms off to go look for the man.
He heads straight to the man's quarters, knowing he would be there.
He presses the button to open the door but gets a harsh beep in return, so he puts in his override code. Finds said man on his bed, face scrunched up in pain.
"You di'kut, I told you light duty, that meant doing paperwork or on the bridge, not in the training room with a bunch of shines," he angrily tells him as he checks his bandages and injects him with a pain killer.
As the pain fades from Cody's face, he helps him sit up. "Had to show them that I was fine, just got too close to a match as I was walking through giving pointers," Cody rasps.
"But why were you there to begin with? Waxer and Boil would have been fine." Helix is not sure why Cody decided today of all days to do something like that.
"Because they were the men I surrendered for, and I'm sure they were on the mission to rescue me. How does that make me look in the eyes of my men?" he whispers brokenly.
Helix pulls him in for a gentle hug as he cries. "It shows them that you care for them. We all know you do, me, Waxer and Boil know quite well." They stay like that for a while until Cody stops crying. "Did you eat anything?"
Cody shakes his head, says, "No, but I don't think I can eat anything."
"Well, why don't we head to the mess anyway?" Helix says, pulling away and pulling him up without waiting for a response. "Come on, up you get."
------
Cody doesn't say anything as they make their way to the mess, just following Helix. They make their way in, Helix gets his food and hands it to him, then gets his own food and guides him over to an empty table.
They sit and eat for a bit before someone sits on either side of him. He does not need to look to know that it is Waxer and Boil. "Waxer, Boil," he greets them.
"So what's on the menu today, boss," Boil asks jokingly.
"Good, Helix found you," Waxer says softly.
Cody grunts as he eats his soup. He tunes out the conversation around him, focusing on eating.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Clone Trooper Boil/Clone Trooper Waxer (Star Wars)
Characters: Clone Trooper Waxer (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Boil (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Hardcase (Star Wars), CT-5597 | Jesse, CT-6116 | Kix
Additional Tags: Slice of Life, deployment with hooligans, WaxerBoil Month 2025 (Star Wars), Shenanigans, waxer is in an uncharacteristically bad mood, and boil is in cahoots, Podfic, Podfic Length: 0-10 Minutes
Summary:
[Audio length: 04:57]
In which roles are reversed. No plot, just vibes.
Podfic of Enemy Mine by elismor_aswell.
For @212thappreciation Week Day 6 Prompt: Clone Life
today's prompt was 'Hurt/Comfort' and I struggled a little so kinda fell back on Kenobi again cause I find him easy to write. this piece is set during the Zygerria arc (and I actually intend to use it for my wip because it turned out better than I thought) where my OC goes with the Jedi instead of Rex.
description: captured. imprisoned. beaten. you find comfort where you can.
length: 2.4k words
warnings: injury, blood, electrocution (sry if I missed anything!)
Bent on her side, short, pained breaths leaving her thoughts fuzzy, each rise and fall of her chest sending jolts through her back, the slightest twitch jarring the angry red gashes decorating her back. The lashes burned through her whole body as if someone lit the skin on fire, her brows permanently knitted together and a fine sheen of sweat blanketed her, nails scratched along the steel shelf beneath her.
The uncomfortable slab she called a bunk did nothing to ease her, her body draped along it at an awkward angle, shock collar digging uncomfortably into her neck, to keep her back angled up and she feared ever rolling over in her sleep. If sleep ever came. Every time Sennari thought the dull throb was about to lull her into her dreams she’d suck in a sharp breath, a twitch of her aching body or the slow dribble of blood leaking out one of the gashes would mingle with another, casting a ripple of stinging pain to ignite her nerves all over again, jolting her wide awake.
“Can you hear me?” the slow whisper permeated the haze of her mind and Sennari blinked through heavy eyes, struggling to focus on the unnervingly bright blue gaze piercing into her. “Trooper, can you hear me?”
Slowly, she forced her head into a nod, trying to summon years of training, months of grueling work to isolate the pain in her mind, shove it down, clear her gaze. “General Kenobi.” She forced between her teeth. “Is everything alright, sir?”
“I should be asking you that.” His voice softened, lighter than a cloud. “You shouldn’t have intervened.”
A wince broke it off as the barest force slid her back on her bunk, grazing her skin, pulling at the gashes, and her vision scattered with dark spots. Shock collar clinking against the metal.
“Sir?” She breathed shakily.
“It’s alright.” He assured her and she registered the rustle of his clothes as he moved, prying open her eyes and suddenly the blue invaded her gaze, the General resting along her bunk beside her, offering out his arm. “Can you move?”
It took Sennari a second to understand what he wanted, struggling to lift her clouded head off the slab and he draped a makeshift pillow made from someone’s robes over his arm, helping gently set her head down atop it and she released a long breath as it eased the tension between her shoulders.
His hand hovered over her shoulder, gaze locking in hers, forcing her to keep her eyes on him, keep them open, a question rising within them and she nodded her permission. Drawing her arm down, away from her side, he angled himself up, careful not to jostle her head, and although he never touched her she sensed his hand floating above her open wounds. A chill ghosted across her scorching skin, her shallow breaths evening out as a cool numbness washed down her spine, flooding through her blood, relaxing her entire body and she buried her cheek into his arm.
A grateful sigh slipped her lips, her eyelids drooping but she propped them open as the General settled back down, his blue eyes studying her features. “Neat trick.” She whispered, relief swelling through her, releasing the knots in her shoulders and a wave of exhaustion quickly replaced it, her body entirely limp against the slab.
“It won’t last long, I’m afraid.” He regretted, “I could never truly grasp the art of healing.”
“Don’t know what you’re talking about.” All Sennari felt was a dull throb echoing on her back. “I feel fresher than a daisy.”
Kenobi’s breathy chuckle fluttered across her cheek. “Try and rest.”
A soft sound drifted from her lips, “Right back at you, sir.”
“You need it more.”
“Nuh uh.” Sennari tried to shake her head against his arm but the twitch sent a shiver down her spine, the shock collar tilting, her brow curling as it prodded the first gash. “Don’t think I haven’t noticed, sir.”
Kenobi frowned at her, the quirk of his brow casting a shadow across the piercing blue. “Noticed what?”
“The bags under your eyes.” She ran her hazel eyes over them, apparent even in the darkness of the stifling prison barracks. “You barely slept since Umbara.”
“Always the observant one.” Kenobi’s chest rose and fell in a silent sigh and he tenderly picked a slick strand of dark hair from her face. “I had hoped the Council would grant us leave following the campaign, but…”
He brushed some of the sweat from her face, pressing the back of his hand to her forehead. “But then Kiros?” Sennari finished and he nodded. “Lemme guess, we were the closest?”
A clang rang out as one of the guards hit the edge of a bunk with his baton, metal ringing against metal, and Sennari heard several sharp intakes, a few sobs. “No talking, scum.” The Zygerrian scolded monstrously and Sennari tilted her head, watching his shadow pass by, venom piercing her hazel eyes.
“He does that again, I’ll shove his stick somewhere uncomfortable.” Sennari hissed silently, releasing a select few curses and the General’s brows rose.
Kenobi rested a hand atop her shoulder, the warm touch easing the sudden tension knotting again, threatening the numb down her back, a shiver cascading down her spine.
“Calm yourself.” He hummed, drawing back his hand and forcing Sennari to take a deep breath, an unusual understanding sinking into his gaze. “Save your strength.”
Grinding her teeth, Sennari tried to relax but the shadow grazed along her mind, tempting free memories she locked away a long time ago and her fingernails scratched at the bunk as she tried to adjust her position and nudged the gashes again.
“Easier said than done.” She bit out.
Static ripped through her body, throwing hazel eyes wide as the shock collar bit into her neck, an electric hiss tearing down every limb and she cried out.
The slaver popped out from nowhere, teeth bared savagely, fangs flashing in her sketchy sight as she arched her back away from him. Spots danced across her vision, hot sickly breath filling her ear as the slaver growled another warning, his words lost as pain sizzled through every nerve in her body and Sennari saw different fangs, a different whip. You’re a poison infecting this galaxy.
Sennari gasped loudly as the sting vanished, her body trembling with an old fear and she collapsed. Fingers entwined with hers, soft robes knotted in her grip, a steady hand grasping the back of her head protectively as an explosion rattled in her ears and she twitched sporadically, trying to find the source of the clanging, the smoke filling her nose.
It only made things worse. Pain rippled down her spine, splitting right to her core, her thoughts buzzing with the sound of metal screeching as the flames warped it, of a blaster bolt searing her vision and flesh burning. The calming words in her ear did nothing to assuage it, her mind distorting, vision blurring things together until darkness swarmed her, wrapping her up in the tightest blanket and she blacked out.
A second passed in the void, barely the beat of her heart, but when she snapped her eyes open with a sharp breath she knew hours must have drifted by. The pain ebbed into a dull throb, the gashes stinging down her back, forcing the sharp burn in her flesh to the forefront of her vulnerable mind.
“You’re safe.” A steady voice reassured her and Sennari struggled to pry herself from the lingering shadows cornering her mind to focus on it.
A warmth flickered in her mind, sweaty body pressed against something, fingers knotted around her hand, others stroking down her hair in soothing motions and once the pounding in her ears settled she heard the quiet whispers, the quiet assurance.
Sennari squeezed her fingers, the hand holding her squeezing back, grounding her, drawing her to the present, away from the menacing cloud warping her thoughts, chasing away the darkness and she blinked heavily, staring into nothing until the fold of beige robes registered in her mind, her other hand knotted in the soft cloth, the knuckles white as if she clung to him for dear life.
Tears muddied her eyes, her fingers squeezing tighter with each ripple of static down her back, tearing gasps from her throat. “It hurts.”
The voice shushed her gently, the hand stroking along her hair faltering for a second before continuing. Sennari didn’t know why she said it, she loathed how pathetic it sounded on her tongue and ignored the white-hot fire piercing her blood as she buried her face deeper against his chest, gritting her teeth so hard her jaw ached.
Why did I do it again. Sennari didn’t know if the words left her tongue or trickled through her mind, the tears burning in her hazel eyes as bright as the gashes along her back and she shuddered beneath the memory of a different whip, a different slaver. You’re a poison…
The fingers gripped her harshly, pulling her back from the edge and she choked on a breath.
“This is not Syrac.” The voice told her bluntly, her heart thudding boldly, the sporadic shake of her body stilling and she waited for the punchline. “Syrac is gone.”
It’s gone… I failed…
Tighter again, she squeezed but her hand still shook. They’ll punish me if I fail…
Sennari tensed as the hand left her hair, her body waiting for the lash stroke, seizing up in preparation and fingers trailed down her jaw, gently gripping her chin to lift her head.
Auburn hair, blue eyes, a beard. “General Kenobi?” She shuddered, her voice hoarse, her mouth drier than the desolate dunes of Tatooine.
“Stay with me, trooper.” The voice ordered, the instruction washing over her, steadying her, and she recognized it now, her feeble mind put the pieces together.
Not Syrac. Kadavo. “What…” Sennari forced herself to swallow, to work some moisture back into her barren mouth. “What happened?”
“Never mind that.” His fingers left her chin, stroking down the side of her face, trying to wipe the sweat from her brow. “You just stay with me.”
His fingers still laced around hers, his jaw clenched, and she tried to loosen her grip, stiff fingers unwrapping from his robes, shame warming her cheeks but he only grasped them tighter, her body flush with his.
The Zygerrian. A gasp slipped out, shock collar cold and mocking around her neck, the static inflaming the burning skin, sending a tremble through her and she remembered Kenobi’s arms threading around her, pulling her away even as her back arched into him.
“You need to relax.” Kenobi soothed, holding the side of her face, forcing her to look up at him as thudding agony rippled under her skin, building with each tremble of her limp body. “You’ll only make it worse if you don’t.”
“I can’t.” Sennari sounded so pathetic, her head lolling against his chest, features screwed tightly and fresh sweat popped on her forehead.
“You’ve never let me down in the past, Sennari.”
“There’s a first for everything.” She whimpered and amusement flashed in the Jedi’s gaze.
“Cody will have my head if I let anything happen to you.”
A shiver prickled her blood, her brow twitching. “Think I’d like to see that.”
His chest fluttered in a silent chuckle and Sennari’s shoulders loosened. “You’ve certainly made a lasting impression on him.”
“Be honest, General.” Sennari grunted, “I’m a headache he can’t get rid of.”
Another chuckle, another knot unwound. “You wouldn’t have it any other way.”
This time Sennari smiled, a chuckle rising in her lungs only to morph into a grimace as it prickled her wounds the wrong way. “Damn straight.” She forced between gritted teeth.
“Easy, trooper.” Kenobi soothed, brushing the damp hair back from her face. “Do not strain yourself.”
The tension passed, Sennari’s eyelids drooping exhaustedly but she still managed a smile. “Have you met me?”
“And you admonish me for exhausting myself.”
“You’re my commanding officer, sir.” Sennari reminded him weakly, “You could just order me to stop.”
“I could order you to rest, as well, but you would disobey both as easily as breathing.”
Her smile grew, “So, you have met me.”
The Jedi stroked his hand up and down her arm as another tremor jolted through her, easing her through the torment as stinging jitters coursed through her blood, wiping her mind of any cohesive thought and leaving her blankly staring at the General.
“Can I ask you something, sir?” She breathed once the shudder subsided, the question popping to her mind unbidden and she continued once he nodded, desperate for any distraction. “Why did you stop wearing your armour?”
For a long moment, Sennari thought he wouldn’t answer, a comfortable silence drawing between them and she struggled to keep her mind conscious, a murky haze curling in the corners of her mind, beckoning to her. His voice snapped her back to the present, cutting through like the clearest bell.
“I had hoped this war would be over by now.” He admitted solemnly, a deep sadness hanging off his words and Sennari wished she could take the question back. “The longer it drags on, the harder it becomes to keep fighting.”
Sennari hoped he didn’t hear her sharp inhale, hazel eyes stinging at the grave admission and she despised the way it resonated within her. Every day her brothers struggled to keep their heads up, their eyes forward, slowly struggling to fight back the hopelessness. Learning her own General shared a similar struggle, Sennari’s hopes darkened.
“It’s a choice.” Sennari replied, her voice small, unsure, but the way his hand stilled on her arm spurred her on. “For the clones, our armour is more than just an extension of ourselves, a way to differentiate us, it’s a choice we make when we already have so few.” Sennari let the statement hang between them, revealing an entire chasm with her words she didn’t dare fall.
“Just like the choice to fight.” Sennari paused to suppress a shrill twist down her back. “To keep fighting, instead of just…”
She trailed off, the shrill growing to a sting and she pursed her lips tightly, pressing her forehead to his chest so he couldn’t see the pain twisting her features.
The final word passed breathlessly from him, burrowing between them and he didn’t need her affirmation to know, his hand resuming its comforting path and Sennari gave out to the weakness numbing her body.
Instead of just surviving.
dividers by @saradika For @212thappreciation Week Day 5 Prompt: Hurt/Comfort
Cody does not know how long he was out for, but as he wakes up he can feel the pain in his side. Then he remembers the mission, the ambush, the men - they were shines - surrendering himself to protect those men.
He shudders as he remembers those awful words. "Stun them." And how he tried to fight back against the hands holding him, then he, too was stunned.
As he takes in his surroundings he can feel the cuffs on his hands and the chain in the middle of them. He dreads what that means. As he looks around, he can see the chain leads to the ceiling.
He hears footsteps come to his cell. As the door opens he hears the same cold voice bark out, "Get him up!" Then he is pulled up by the chain.
He yells out as one of his arms is pulled out of place. Then they start asking questions that he can't really hear over the ringing in his ears, but he thinks they are asking about a base.
He doesn't know how long they keep up the torture. All he knows is the pain over the shouted words. But all that falls away as a new sound reaches his ears, blaster fire.
-------
Waxer was pissed, they have to get to Cody. The men he was with said that he took a few hits before he surrendered when they threatened to hurt his men. He was the only one missing.
Finally as he goes down the quarter of the separatists’ base they tracked him to, he hears it. A pain filled scream and then shouts of questions he doesn't care to make out. All he cares about is Cody’s screams, and that just makes him angrier.
He holds up his fist to stop the men with him. "General, I found the Commander. Permission to proceed, sir?" he says into his helmet comm.
"Granted Lieutenant. Be careful, we'll be there soon," the General tells him.
They move forward, taking down the guards as they go. Cody's screams get louder as they move closer to his position.
Waxer bites down on his anger as he storms the cell, taking down the men in the room around Cody. Just as he takes the last man out, Helix runs to Cody, gently taking his weight off his arms. "Help me get him down." He grunts as Cody sags into him more. "Cody, I need you to stay awake for me."
Cody grunts in reply, coughing as he tries to talk.
Waxer helps to get him free. As he is about to guide his arms down he notices that one is dislocated. "Cody this is going to hurt quite a bit, your arm is dislocated,” he warns softly.
When Cody nods, Waxer and another trooper guide his arms down. Cody screams as his dislocated arm goes down.
"I know, I know, I'm sorry," Waxer tells him. He helps Helix guide him to the floor.
"Waxer, come in," the General comms him, breathless.
"Yes, General," Waxer replies
"Do you have him?" the General asks.
"Yes, sir. Helix is looking him over now, but from what I can see... it’s not good," he informs the man.
"I ran into a bit of trouble, so I sent the men with me to you."
-------
Cody is aware that they’ve come for him and he tries to speak, but can't. Knows that they help him down, and can hear them speak to him and others in the room. He can't stay awake for them, despite Helix telling him to, because he's just in so much pain.
When he wakes again, it is to the bright white lights of the medbay, the beeping of the monitors and a gentle weight on his uninjured arm. He looks to that side to see Waxer's hand on his arm and his head on the bed, asleep.
There is a shuffle on his other side and he turns his head to see Boil looking at him with tears in his eyes. "Cody...." he croaks, then he reaches over and hits Waxer on the head. The man bolts upright, looking at Boil with a frown. "Cody...." Boil says again, and Waxer gets the hint as he looks at Cody, face falling.
Then Waxer is standing, bellowing, "Helix, he's awake." After, he sits down looking at him. "Cody, don't do that again."
"I..." He stops, clears his throat and tries again. "I had to protect my men."
Before either men can protest, Helix comes over. "And you should not be talking, Cody," Helix reprimands sternly, then his face softens as he says, "We almost lost you in that base, Cody. These two have not left your side once since we got back." He goes about his duties tending to him, around the two men at his bed.
Cody feels heavy again as Helix gives him more pain meds. He hears someone say, "Go back to sleep Cody. You're safe now." He turns his hand over and he feels Waxer put his hand in his, as he drifts off.
Chapters: 1/1
Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars - All Media Types
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: CC-2224 | Cody & Clone Trooper Wooley, CC-2224 | Cody & Clone Trooper Crys & Clone Trooper Longshot & Clone Trooper Wooley
Characters: CC-2224 | Cody, Clone Trooper Wooley (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Longshot (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Trapper (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Crys (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Waxer (Star Wars), Clone Trooper Boil (Star Wars)
Additional Tags: Alternate Universe- Dragons, Clones are dragon shape shifters, Strategy & Tactics, CC-2224 | Cody is So Done, 212th Attack Battalion Shenanigans (Star Wars: The Clone Wars)
Series: Part 16 of Here There Be Dragons
Summary: One of the best parts about being open about their shifter abilities was the fact that the clones could test out ideas for new tactics.
For @212thappreciation Week Day 5 AU Prompt: Dragons
