Here’s one of my Jedi OCs (Jedi Master Harrna Shuchi) I commissioned from @sevlikesallart !!! She looks so good!!
Here’s his commission post! You should totally commission him, he’s a great artist (obvs) and also! it’s to help him take care of his foster kitties! who are Good and Cute!
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: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Characters: Original Clone Character(s), Original Clone Trooper Character(s)
Additional Tags: oh god how the fuck do i tag this, tracker wants to look out for his brother, verb has Opinions and Not Everyone Likes That
Series: Part 6 of Harrna Shuchi and the 473rd
Summary:
“Okay, but seriously,” Tracker leaned in slightly, almost as if he had managed to sober up slightly “You’re that pissed off about being assigned to a Jedi? Where else did you think you’d go?”
Verb didn’t answer, instead taking another sip of his drink as his brother watched him critically. Tracker scoffed, shaking his head as he sipped his water.
Once, a long time ago, Angel had warned Burner that there was an extremely fine line between apathy and anger.
At the time, Burner hadn’t really understood what he meant. Apathy and anger were far apart in his mind, the former being more associated with some of the younger cadets who had yet to find the spark in them that got their blood boiling for a fight with some seppies, the latter being better suited for his own C.O., Verb, who wasn’t happy with how things
Nowadays, with his fists curled so tight that he swore his nails were about to breach the soft meat of his palm, Burner understood what Angel meant more than ever.
Burner’s anger was something that always built within him, going from a low heat to a heavy simmer to the point of boiling over, his frustration with something as small as someone sleeping in his bunk without his permission quickly evolving into full-blown anger within seconds of interaction.
It left him with a less-than-spotless behavior record, fights breaking out left and right, especially with other certain repeat offenders (that all too often reminded of either himself or of ghosts long dead), and it led to several “regulations” being put in place within the 473rd involving antagonizing and threatening each other. It also led to most members giving him a rather wide berth, which didn’t bother Burner one bit.
And that was where his apathy lay.
Apathy was a strong word for it, maybe, but it was the closest one he felt for the bundles of static within his chest during sleepless nights. Few people liked him, even fewer tolerated him, and while that probably should’ve stung, should’ve pissed him off, he could never find it himself to care. They’d all die soon, for some stupid reason, fighting in a war for a Republic that never cared for them, never would.
It was easier not to care than to let them get close enough for it to hurt when that happened. Sometimes, on those same sleepless nights, he would find himself briefly wondering if he was angry about it, if all his temper issues were brought on by the terror and frustration of knowing that they were little more than replaceable droids to most, but the static in his chest gave no answers, only serving to fuel his tiredness and subsequent crankiness the next day.
His fists curled tighter. Anger, coiled up and ready to strike at a moment’s notice once it finally got to be too much to keep inside. Nails pressing harder and harder into the static beneath his skin, reminding himself he was there, that just because he stopped caring didn’t mean he stopped feeling entirely.
Cam’s breathing was shaky as he made his way back to the tent that Phoenix Company had come to call their barracks. The battle had been a big one, one of the biggest Cam had seen during his rather short time with the 473rd, and while it made for incredible and raw footage, it also left a lot of wounded, his brother Keeper being at the top of his mental list.
There were so many injured, and so few supplies until the next day, Cam had actually broken a golden rule, skipping his post-battle check-in with the medics so that others who needed medical attention would be able to get it.
He hissed when he stepped in a way that caused his side to burn and shoot fire through his nervous system, clutching it with one hand lightly as he entered the barracks, hoping, praying it would be empty, but to his dismay, Curio, Hotshot, and Lucky were all there, playing some watered-down form of sabacc with missing cards and lower stakes. That was fine, as long as they didn’t bother him before he got to his bunk--
“Hey-o shiny Cam!” Hotshot called out, causing Cam to wince slightly “You wanna come join our game?
Cam glanced at the three, and managed to work up a mostly-convincing smile, pulling his hand away from his side as casually as possible.
“Nah, I’m good. Tired, though. Will you guys be able to keep it quiet enough for me to get some shuteye?”
“Sure thing, kiddo,” Curio said, returning a genuine smile “Just try not to snore so loud that we end up having to take our game elsewhere.”
“Oh please, we all know Lucky is the snore-monster around here.”
“It’s cause he’s so quiet during the day, you know,” Hotshot said, slinging an arm around Lucky and not-so-subtly trying to steal a glance at the other pilot’s cards “Keeps it in all the time, his body lets out all the noise while he’s asleep!”
“At least the stuff coming out of my mouth is more than just hot air.” Lucky retorted, though there was no heat behind it, and it was enough to make Cam laugh. His breath caught instantly, hand flying to his burning side as he leaned against the nearest bunk for support. Cam let out a rather undignified whimper, pressing his hand harder against his side in an effort to stop the pain, but all it did was intensify it.
The three older clones were around him in an instant, light touches and concerned murmuring crowding the space around Cam. They were talking, Cam knew it, but he couldn’t quite hear it over the sound of blood rushing through his ears, over the pain in his entire being. Finally, two quick, unavoidable questions made it through.
“Why are you bleeding?! Have you seen a medic?”
He was fairly sure it was Curio who asked that, but he wasn’t sure. It was starting to get hard to pay attention, and when he finally looked down at his side, Cam dimly realized that his already dark blacks were now stained a dark crimson in a large, probably concerningly so, patch. He felt hands pull off his helmet, start peeling away his armor, and he heard a voice call for Stutter.
His last conscious thought was a question: Who would be angrier, Stutter or Keeper?
(The answer was Keeper, who had spent a whole day watching Cam’s bedside from his own, and berated Cam for not following the one damn golden rule as soon as he had woken up.)
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
Characters: Original Clone Character(s), Original Clone Trooper Character(s)
Series: Part 7 of Harrna Shuchi and the 473rd
Summary:
Just a bit of an introduction to the newest additions to the 473rd: Rainbow Squad!
As he opened his eyes to the bright Coruscanti sunlight, Curio felt like death had come for him. Okay, maybe not that bad, but he still felt like death had come in the middle of the night, beat him to a pulp, plugged his sinuses and brain with cotton, and baked him in an oven for an hour and a half.
In short, he felt like shit. He felt so much like shit that not even the gentle reminder on the sticky note beside his casualwear to come out and get breakfast got him to crack the dopey smile it usually caused. Instead, he sniffled, groaning softly as he got dressed before walking out to greet the charming red twi’lek he had come to call his boyfriend, otherwise known as Renen.
As soon as he stepped into the kitchen, Curio knew he should’ve been smelling whatever delicious food Renen was cooking, but due to the aforementioned clogged sinuses, he could not. It didn’t stop his stomach from revolting at the thought of food, though, causing him to breath steadily through his nose, which (unfortunately) caught the attention of his wonderfully and annoyingly attentive boyfriend.
Renen smiled for a moment, before it was washed away with a look of concern that Curio would’ve given anything to wipe away with a deep, dipping-involved kiss, but even that seemed like a really gross idea to his sickness-addled brain.
“Woah there, my dear,” Renen said softly, placing a single hand on Curio’s chest as the clone attempted to move forward “No offense, but you look like an open autopsy. Are you sure you’ll be alright to get back by yourself?”
“How do you know what an open autopsy looks like?” Curio asked, avoiding the second question. Renen gave a soft laugh, and Curio swore it sounded like bells.
“I don’t, but I imagine its what you look like right now. You still have a week of leave left, correct?”
Curio nodded, and Renen pressed a soft kiss to the clone’s temple, gently guiding him to the spare bedroom in Renen’s apartment.
“Then stay here, I will call your captain, tell him you are in no condition to return to the barracks. I’ll take care of you, my dear. Alright?”
“Yeah,” Curio said softly, absolutely weak for the red hand softly carding through his hair as he laid down on the guest bed “Am I banned from your room until I get better?”
“Oh, you better believe it. I love you, Curio, but if you get me sick, I’m going to kick your ass.”
“Love you too...” Curio muttered, practically purring as Renen’s cold hand pressed against his hot forehead, slowly falling back to sleep in the safety of his boyfriend’s apartment.
coughing, curling up, and “i dont have time to be sick”!
The sound of harsh coughing was something that had become almost commonplace aboard The Guardian over the past few days, entire platoons of troopers catching some dumb virus from their most recent campaign on some backwater no-name planet that, apparently, had strategic value.
Okay, so maybe Doubles was a bit sore about it. How could you blame him? Stutter was busy busting his ass trying (and failing) to keep the virus from spreading, and Curio was sicker than a dog and quarantined away because of it. Doubles huffed, backing away from the punching bag he had been beating on rather mercilessly for the past 20 or so minutes in an attempt to keep himself from directing that towards a certain sergeant whose name began with a “B” and ended in an “urner”.
‘Speak of the devil...’ Doubles thought bitterly as he watched Burner walk into the training room, not even bothering to look at Doubles as he took up a place at one of the other bags. That was just fine by Doubles. It would hopefully keep them both out of trouble.
At least, that’s what Doubles thought until he heard a disgusting and wet cough from Burner’s part of the room. He groaned internally, slowly turning around to see Burner hunched over on himself, using the punching bag as something to lean on at least somewhat. Doubles could’ve walked away right then and there, probably should’ve, but...
He sighed, slowly making his way over to his sick brother, making sure to get withing eye view before placing a hand on Burner’s shoulder. The sergeant tensed, more wet coughs escaping him before he turned to glare at Doubles.
“The fuck you want?” He growled, and Doubles got a good look at Burner’s much-to-pale face and somewhat hazy eyes. His glare held nowhere near its usual amount of heat.
“C’mon, you idiot,” Doubles said, forcing Burner (who offered way too little resistance) to sling himself across Doubles shoulders “Stutter would kill me if I saw you like this and didn’t take you to the medbay.”
“Fuck you...” Burner said, but there wasn’t much heat behind it, and it really just served to bring on an even nastier coughing fit than before.
“If you get me sick, I’m breaking your nose.” Doubles muttered.
“No mistake, sir,” Stutter signed, looking both wary and weary as he did “You coughed up half a lung this morning along, and unless you want this things to spread and faster, you need to stay with the other sick.”
“Stutter, I don’t have time to be sick.”
The medic leveled a gaze at Whiteout that could’ve stopped a rancor in its tracks with ease, and Whiteout slowly let himself back down onto the bed he had been attempting to escape. Okay, so maybe his chest felt like it was filled with cotton and every time he coughed it burned and maybe, just maybe he had been swaying on his feet slightly earlier, but he couldn’t be sick. He shouldn’t have been.
“Captain, I have several other patients to look after, most of them having already been taken off the roster for duty until their health improves. I’ve been cleaning up bile and spit and other bodily fluids I don’t even want to discuss for almost three days straight. I am the only member of medical staff that caught it early and is not having to deal with the side effects at all. The battalion has been put out of rotation until the virus clears.”
Stutter looked Whiteout right in the eyes, despite the captain’s attempts at avoiding it, and finished signing with harsh, punctuated, emphasized movements that made Whiteout’s already buzzing head spin.
“If there’s anyone around here without time to get sick, it’s me. You have all the time until everyone else stops being sick. So, shut the hell up, stop trying what very little patience I have left, comm Harrna, and get your ass into quarantine. Now.”
Whiteout had wanted to argue, really, but the thought of a bed, maybe a cooling pack, or, hells, some of that stuff the medics had rubbed on his chest once when he got an infection during officer’s training to help clear his lungs, well... His body’s need overwrote his mind’s decisions, and he did as the medic had ordered.
goldgreenie replied to your post “i know its like midnight where i am but i am in a Writing Mood but not...”
id love more abt flowers mayhaps? or like smth based around their task/job (like the medic hastily patching someone up/lecturing abt taking care of wounds so they dont go bad, harna + her padawan or them + their troops?) whatever it is im excited to read!!
hell yeah! thanks for the prompt! it’s Medic time!
Little warning for slight descriptions of injuries (minor, but still described)
Mandoa Translations
Jagyc'kovid - Dickhead
The moment he saw Doubles walk into the medbay, cradling his hand and muttering, Stutter knew it was going to be one of those nights. The nights where tensions ran high, words were flung, and Keeper really earned his name as he snitched about it all to Whiteout or Harrna. Doubles would be his first patient, but, more than likely, not his last.
With a heavy sigh, the medic stood up, stretching out his hands slowly to prepare them for the task ahead. Knowing Doubles, he would be promptly followed by Burner, possibly with either a nasty bruise or some other easily-fixed injury, which meant Stutter would have to be quick unless he wanted a repeat of the medbay brawl from his first day aboard the Guardian.
As the two met halfway, Doubles already had an excuse on the tip of his tongue, opening his mouth to give it, but Stutter knew his brother too well.
“Burner, Sting, or Venom?” Stutter signed, cutting off Doubles before he could say anything. Doubles opened his mouth, probably to argue, but with a single raised eyebrow, all that came out was a huff.
“Burner,” Doubles muttered, sitting on the edge of one of the (thankfully) many empty beds “Jagyc'kovid picked a fight, got me to punch, and moved out of the just in time for me to punch a wall.”
“Ouch,” Stutter signed sympathetically “Is he going to end up in here soon, or was I completely wrong about what my night’s going to look like?”
“I think I broke his nose, so, soon.” Doubles said, extending his hand for Stutter to examine. The medic eyed him, sighing through his nose and examining the injured hand. His knuckles were split open (again), but his hand didn’t seem to be broken (somehow). It was obvious it hurt like hell, though, if the look on Doubles face as Stutter gently felt the hand was anything to go by.
“Nothing’s broken,” Stutter signed, letting go of the hand and taking a step back “Bacta and bandages. Or just bandages, if you insist on trying to be a pain in the ass.”
“That bacta has good use elsewhere, vod. You know it.”
“I also know your knuckles are gonna be tender as hell if I don’t use bacta, and you refuse to use painkillers. It’ll be fine.”
Doubles huffed, but didn’t argue further. Stutter rolled his eyes, going through one of the smaller, already half-empty first-aid kits to retrieve a small amount of bacta and a roll of bandages. He began his work in silence, slathering small amounts of bacta to knuckles (only glancing up when Doubles hissed and flinched away) before wrapping them gently in the bandages. A simple fix for a simple problem.
Well, a simple problem that was made complicated, because his stupid brother couldn’t stop picking fights every five minutes. Stutter sighed as he smoothed the bandages down, looking Doubles in the eyes with his best impression of Harrna’s scolding face. It must’ve been pretty good, because Doubles actually looked somewhat apologetic.
“He’s the one who picked the fight with me, vod,” Doubles said, looking down at his freshly bandaged hand “He was saying shit about me, you know I can’t stand for that. I had to defend my honor.”
“You mean your pride?” Stutter asked, one eyebrow cocked up. Doubles glared at him.
“Does it matter?”
“You know it does, Doubles. You can’t launch yourself at someone every time they insult you, you’re gonna end up getting killed, or worse.”
“Whatever,” Doubles grumbled, shoving Stutter further away from him as he got up to leave “Thanks for wasting the bacta, I’ll get out of your hair before Eileena sends Burner your way to double check her healing job.”
“Doubles,” Stutter signed, but to no avail: Doubles had turned his back on him, effectively ending the conversation. Stutter scowled. He was not going to play that game tonight. Stutter whistled to get Doubles’ attention, the usual method of doing so, but when his brother refused to turn around, Stutter snapped.
“D...D-Doubles!” He shouted aloud, which actually made the other clone freeze in his tracks, whirling around to stare at the medic, wide-eyed and mouth agape. Neither he nor the medic had entirely expected that, but it happened, and it worked to get Doubles’ attention. Happy with that fact, Stutter switched back to his preferred mode of conversation: his hands.
“I’m serious, vod. You’ve seen what they do to people who don’t behave. You, Curio, and I barely survived under Krell. Now that we’re finally safe, it’s like you’re actively trying to throw that away! Harrna’s doing her best to protect both you and Burner, but she can only go so far. If you end up doing something like this, and someone else finds out...” Stutter had to stop signing, his hands beginning to shake from frustration. Doubles looked up and down Stutter, before quietly replying.
“I know. I’m sorry.”
“You should be.” Stutter signed, once he finally managed to get his shaking hands back under control. His comm beeped, and it was a simple message from Eileena. Burner on his way. Hope you’re ready for him. Stutter sighed again, looking up wearily at his brother.
“Guess that’s my cue?” Doubles asked, shifting from foot to foot slightly, and Stutter gave him a curt nod. Before Doubles could turn around though, Stutter whistled to get his attention again, though this time he was listened to.
“I’m serious, Doubles. You and Burner need to both be more careful. You have people who care about you, and not just because they’re the ones in charge of taking care of your wounds, and are tired of having to take care of your wounds.” Stutter signed, carefully considering his words this time before moving his hands. Doubles didn’t say anything for several moments, before sighing and nodding.
“Goodnight, vod.”
“For you, maybe. I’ve still got Burner to deal with, not to mention anybody else that may plan on having a fight tonight. But, goodnight to you anyways, I guess.”
And with that, Doubles left. Only a few minutes later, Burner entered the medbay, and one of those nights officially began.
