Ok so it has been well over a year since I've written anything or been involved with the Lucky Batch so please leave me some writing tips<3
"I swear to Maker, if you skip one more briefing, I will feed you to Loth Wolfs." hissed Raffle as he dragged Skip by his ear down the hallway of the Republic base the Lucksters were currently stationed at. "Kriffing hell Raffle! Let go of my ear! You're gonna- ow oW OW" "You wouldn't be getting dragged by your ear if you just went to a briefing, you di'kuit." Ignoring his vods protests, Raffle finally made it to the briefing room, where he shoved Skip into the room ahead of him, finding the amused faces of his brothers, who had seen Raffle storm off less than three minutes ago. Jackal and Foxy snorted when the very offended trooper slunk off to the corner to sulk, Kenhla quickly regaining the squad's attention. "Oh, a newcomer, welcome!" she joked and was met with a stuck-out tongue.
Once the batch had retreated to their barracks, still amused by the small scene from earlier, Skip asked, "If you're gonna drag me to meetings can it be by a different part of my body next time?" Jackal had snuck up behind Skip and pulled his little bun. "That work?". Raffle, who Pepper was scolding, smiled. "That's a great idea Jackal thank you." "All I do is shoot down D-1s. I don't get why I have to go to those meetings." Skip muttered, knowing full well why he was supposed to be there. "Maybe in case Jackal has another one of those 'emergency landings' again." piped Ryder on top of his perch on Goose. Now it was the pilot's turn to be offended. "Would you rather be a giant fireball in the sky?" "I'd rather stay on the same ship for more than a month." Jackal gasped, pretending to be overdramatic. "How dare you!". "I gotta agree with Ryder" Cypher cut in, who had his back turned, looking at his data pad. "Cypher turn around." The trooper did and was promptly met with a pillow to the face from Jackal. Foxy, who had been silently laughing at the situation, burst into laughter from the confused look on Cypher's face. Snapping out of his confusion, Cipher grabbed the pillow just thrown at him and the one on his bunk. Foxy bolted off the bunk he was sitting on to find cover. Jackal barely dodged a pillow by diving behind Goose, only for Ryder to tumble on top of him with the pillow. "Pillow fight!" yelled Skip as he ran up and whacked Raffle behind the head. The entire squad scattered throughout the barracks; before long, pillow stuffing flew through the air. Eventually, all the pillows were in less than optimal throwing condition, and someone (Thumbs swears it was Rane) pulled the mattress off a bunk and chucked it into the fray.
The following morning Kenhla, accompanied by her Padawan's Luna and Brisk, arrive at their squads' barracks only to find them utterly destroyed. The remains of pillows were scattered around the room in the form of wads of fuzz and scraps of cloth. Mattresses were pulled off the bunks and spread around the room, with the clones fast asleep. The trio stood still for a minute, wondering what must have happened for the space to be in this state. Finally, Luna was the one to break the silence. "Master, why the hell weren't we invited?".
Me, writing Lucky Batch fics after all this time? More likely than you think.
This one is on @namesmox oc, Skip! I just wanted an excuse to have Kenhla call him Skipper :)
Skipper
The ship crashed in the middle of the battle, fire and blasters exploding around him as it dived straight into the ground. The world had gone black for a moment, the air sucked out of his lungs, and Skip barely had enough time to recover consciousness and wriggle his way out of the wreck before he could finally understand what the shouting was all about.
“Round them up from the left!” The General shouted, sprinting in his direction after three battle droids disappeared hurriedly behind the foliage, a strange device in their grasp. “We’ll go after the bomb!"
The what—?
“Skip, with me!”
It was automatic: he shoved down every flaring pain that he might’ve felt and got up on his feet in a flash, catching up to Kenhla as she ventured into the jungle. They pushed through giant leaves and trunks, leaping over obstacles and dead set on capturing the enemy's weapon.
It was quick, very effective: he shot two of the droids down with a few blasts, and the Jedi cut down the other with a swift stroke, mindful of the explosive charge in their hands. She caught it just as it dropped to the floor, a relieved sigh escaping her lips as she secured it in her hands. Mission accomplished.
She turned to give him a nod of approval and a grin but stopped abruptly when she noticed Skip’s limp and the blood dripping down his forehead, the victory washed away by concern. His jaw was clenched tight and his breathing was erratic from the adrenaline and strain pumping through his body; the grip on his blaster was stronger than it needed to be, a contrast to the way his feet wobbled in the soft soil.
“Skip, you okay?” she asked, quickly getting closer to him to check him over.
The clone didn’t respond, his attention caught on a bright blue bug making its way up a tree on their left.
The togruta frowned, snapping her fingers to try and get him to respond. “Hey, hey, Skipper, look at me.”
Skip dragged his eyes from the creature to the Jedi in a puzzled daze.
“How many fingers am I holding up?” Kenhla lifted a single digit.
He squinted and leaned forward, his body tilting a bit to the side. “Three…?”
“Yeah, ok,” she sighed, dropping her hand. “You’re definitely concussed.”
Skip blinked slowly and opened his mouth, closed it, and then repeated the process again before finally organizing the words scrambled in his head. "I am perfectly fine."
"Of course you are." Her look was skeptical, obviously not believing him. "And you're probably also going to tell me that you jumped from the ship without any issue as it landed safely while I was at the front."
“It was only a mild crash,” Skip clarified, his finger wiggling in her direction before clumsily sliding ahead. “And I’m fine, General, we can't just—”
“Jackal was piloting, and you most definitely got shot down.” Kenhla raised an eyebrow and pointed at a rock. She knew there was no way he would have left the gunner's nest willingly in the middle of a battle. “Sit down, we’re waiting here for Pepper.”
“But sir, I'm—“
“You are going to sit your shebs down on that rock and wait for the evac,” she interrupted, handing him a device and giving it a little tap. It was calling the medic before he could stop it, and the togruta gave him a pointed look as she started walking ahead. “That's an order, trooper. I’ll give Raffle our coordinates."
He looked at her as if to argue again that he was fine, but he knew her words were final and flopped down to where she’d instructed him to sit, resigned.
“Fine,” he conceded, tiredness weighing down on every muscle. Through a clouded gaze he extended his hand towards her, wriggling his fingers. “But at least let me check out that bomb.”
“Not a chance, Skip.”
———
Hi guys! I hope y’all are doing okay!: @namesmox @lusiawonder @monako-jinn-stories @cosmicghostie @oo-hazel-oo @generaltano @letsunity @longearedowlfromouterspace @maygalodon
it's been a long time since i posted any writing, but i wanted to share a little fic that i wrote as a very belated birthday present for the amazing @cosmicghostie. it's got a bit of angst, a bit of fluff, and some quality brotherly bonding time between thumbs (my oc) and sparks (@cosmicghostie's oc)!
i'm linking some other lucky batch fics for those interested in reading more about these two bros!
a little thumbs fic by @just-another-dreamerr
some sparks backstory by @just-another-dreamerr
a wee brotherly bonding fic by @cosmicghostie
a day in the life of thumbs fic by yours truly :P
and finally, the lucky batch masterlist (there are so many good ones on here)!!
i'm also tagging lucky batch because i miss y'all!
Thumbs watched as the most recent addition to the batch sat slumped against the wall of the hull, one leg drawn to his chest and the other lazily stretched out in front of him. It was the most relaxed he had ever seen his newest brother. His curly hair, slightly shorter than Thumbs’ own, swayed slightly in the breeze that blew in from the lowered ramp, his eyes reflecting the distant city lights that flickered like stars on the dark horizon.
Thumbs hadn’t gotten the chance to speak to his stoic brother since he had been suddenly sent to the batch. His vod was quiet, but he knew it wasn't for a lack of things to say. As the squad’s strategist, he of all people understood that it was a purposeful silence – a clandestine tool used to sever himself from the other batchers like an infected limb, sparing them from a part of himself that he must’ve believed was dangerous – and Thumbs wanted nothing more than to stitch this wounded mentality back together.
Which is why, while the rest of the batch were out on a supply run, he decided to finally approach his new brother.
“Hey! It’s Sparks, right?”
The clone in question remained arrested in place and for a second Thumbs wondered whether or not he had even heard him.
He was about to ask again when Sparks tilted his head slightly, silently observing Thumbs from his position on the floor. After performing what appeared to be a brief visual analysis, he turned back towards the open ramp, nodding his head in response.
Thumbs smiled. Progress.
“So you decided to hang back?” Thumbs asked, keeping his tone light in an attempt to ease his obviously-skeptical brother. Undeterred by the lack of response, he continued.
“Yeah, I get it. I know we all seem pretty crazy right now, but I promise that once you get to know us…” He paused, reconsidering the truth of his statement. “Well, you’ll probably think we’re even crazier.”
Sparks huffed in what seemed like amusement, the sound bringing immediate warmth to the frigid air around them. Thumbs grinned, taking the welcome gesture as an invitation to sit beside him.
The two sat in silence for a while, listening to the songs of nearby insects hidden from sight, before Sparks finally spoke.
“Why are you here?”
For a moment, Thumbs thought he was referring to his choice to sit next to him, before realizing he meant the reason he wasn’t out on the mission with the others.
“Ah, I don’t know,” Thumbs shrugged. “Didn’t seem like they needed me on this one.”
Sparks’ gaze flicked towards him briefly before focusing back on the vast space in front of them.
“You’re the strategist?”
“Yeah,” Thumbs sighed. “In theory, at least.”
“Seems weird to place a strategist with this batch.”
Thumbs knew he was right – Sparks was only confirming what he himself had thought many times before – but the comment still twinged at something buried deep within him that had never been vocalized.
“I… chose to be here. And I don’t regret it. Not for a single second.”
He immediately regretted his brusqueness as Sparks’ posture once again constricted, his mouth drawing into a thin line. So much for keeping the tone light.
The uncomfortable silence that followed was thankfully interrupted when a small animal appeared at the base of the Clover’s ramp. Thumbs watched in awe as Sparks beckoned it with a few tender snaps, the furry creature immediately obeying and snuggling up to his side. With an unexpected softness, Sparks ran two fingers down the creature’s spine, chuckling when it chirped in response. However, just as suddenly as the animal had appeared, it slipped away again, scurrying back into the night.
“Huh,” Thumbs said, having observed the strange encounter in silence. “Never seen one of those before.”
Sparks shrugged. “They’re pretty common. Saw a few the last time I was here.”
“Oh.” Thumbs cataloged the new piece of information. “You’ve traveled a lot then?”
Sparks nodded stiffly.
“You should tell that to Cypher. He loves talking about that kinda stuff.”
“Yeah, maybe.”
Thumbs fiddled with the hem of his shirt, unwilling to let the conversation slip away again, but unsure how exactly to proceed. So, he asked the first question that came to mind.
“What’s your favorite planet?”
“Favorite planet?” Sparks repeated incredulously.
Thumbs cringed, suddenly feeling as small as the padawans under Sparks' intense stare. For him, navigating conversations could sometimes be like navigating the battlefield – but just like in war, he had no choice but to march on.
“I think mine’s Lothal. I’ve only been there once, but it was beautiful. No water in sight – just solid earth and sun.”
Anyone who grew up on Kamino knew that the promise of stable land beneath one's feet was a privilege.
“I’m not sure I have one.” Sparks responded after a few seconds, casting his gaze back towards the floor. “But maybe someday… Someplace quiet. With lots of trees.”
His answer came as a surprise. The two of them were soldiers, forever burdened by the weight of armor, and until now, Thumbs believed that Sparks had allowed its harsh plastoid edges and carefully engineered curves to seep into the man beneath. It was a reality for many of those who were consumed by the brutality of war.
But no, he wanted quiet. He wanted to be surrounded by trees; a dream that his very name, sparks, threatened to burn.
He wondered where he got the name Sparks at all…
Thumbs was brought out his thoughts when something fell from his back pocket, clanging loudly onto the durasteel floor.
He scrambled to pick the items up before sheepishly glancing back at Sparks, who had one eyebrow raised questioningly.
“They’re… knitting needles,” he supplied.
“You knit?”
Thumbs nodded, once again surprised by Sparks’ genuine curiosity. Back with his old trainer, his not-so-secret hobby had become the brunt of many unpleasant jokes. He tried not to let it bother him but he eventually found himself knitting less and less, tired of the negative attention. He still kept his needles with him though, a good luck charm of sorts, waiting for the day they would be useful again.
“Well, I used to at least. Not much any more.”
“Why not?”
Thumbs hesitated, not wanting to get into the series of events that forced him to abandon the one activity that brought him joy during the war. He opted for a half-truth instead.
“Well, I... I don’t have any yarn.”
Sparks hummed in response; if he had any doubts about the truth of his batchmate’s statement, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he leaned over, picking up a screw that had come loose from one of the cabinets in the hull.
Thumbs watched as his brother repeatedly turned the small piece of metal between his fingers, and couldn’t help but wonder what he was thinking about. So far, all he knew about Sparks was that he traveled a lot, had an affinity for trees, was scarily good at befriending wild animals, and was obviously reluctant to open up to any of his brothers – something that he was determined to change.
“So, what was your old squad like?”
Thumbs, eyes clouded by the fog of curiosity, didn’t catch the way Sparks froze, his spine straightening and fists clenching at his sides.
“I mean, I bet no one there kni-”
“What, now you want to talk about my old squad?” Sparks interrupted, his voice quiet, but laced with bitterness. “How about we talk about yours? Why are you really here, strategist?”
Thumbs recoiled, startled not so much by what Sparks had said, but by how he said it. Something profoundly mournful had flashed across his features before disappearing behind a wall of hostility, like lightning lost in the echoes of thunder.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry. It’s a bad habit, my brothers are used to it.”
Sparks scuffed his shoe against the floor of the hull.
“I’m not your brother.”
The statement was meant to sting, but Thumbs knew that something else was simmering beneath his apparent anger. He stood, knowing that despite his own instincts, right now what Sparks really needed was space.
“You should try to get some sleep before the others get back,” he said quietly, before heading back in the direction of the bunks.
Thumbs didn’t expect a reply, but spared one last look at his brother before exiting the hull. He watched for a moment as Sparks unconsciously rubbed his hands together, failing to suppress a shiver that coursed through his body.
Must not like the cold, Thumbs thought, before turning and closing the door behind him.
‧⋆ ✧˚₊‧⋆. ✧˚₊‧⋆‧
The next morning, Thumbs woke slowly. Getting up was a struggle, his limbs sore from sitting on the durasteel floor the previous night. Rubbing the sleep from his eyes, he looked around and found that the rest of the batch had returned from their mission, many of them now asleep in their own bunks.
He smiled when Pepper and Foxy passed, returning their friendly waves with his signature thumbs up. Thumbs was grateful to be surrounded by such a supportive batch; he just wished he could’ve gotten through to its newest member.
He knew it was hard, joining a new squad, especially Clone Force 37. They were chaotic at the best of times, disastrous at the worst. But despite their outward ferver, everyone onboard the Clover lived with the weight of their memories – images of relentless training sessions, unforgiving battles, and now-absent friends appearing whenever they dared to close their eyes – and Thumbs knew that for Sparks it was no different.
But he had looked so lost, staring out at the sky the night before, trapped on the teetering threshold of past and present.
And there Thumbs was, asking him about his favorite planet… Stars, he was useless.
The strategist had flopped back onto his bunk, one arm thrown over his face, when a pair of footsteps, quiet but firm, made their way towards him. He didn’t move, assuming it was just another squadmate heading towards the hull, when suddenly the footfalls stopped.
He lifted his arm, finding none other than Sparks standing over him.
“Sparks, I-”
Thumbs’ apology was cut off as a lump of something, something strangely soft, was thrown into his lap.
He looked down and found himself staring at a bundle of bright yellow yarn.
The smile that appeared on Thumbs’ face could’ve outshined any sun; its only competition was the one that materialized on Sparks’ own features as he turned to walk back towards the ship’s hull.
Thumbs didn’t stop smiling even as he pulled out his needles, casting onto them for the first time in years.
It was like not a day had passed since the last time he had knit, his hands moving like magic as they maneuvered the yarn, each stitch falling into their respective place. After a couple hours, the soft material began to take form and soon all that was left to do was weave in the stray strands.
Thumbs looked down at his creation feeling happier than he had in a very long time. He hoped that the pair of bright yellow gloves would help keep his newest vod warm, even when the world felt a bit cold.
The nightmares flooded his mind again. The red flashing lights, the blaring alarms, the yells from all the men around him. The sight of CT-2019’s ship exploding, the silence when CT-1882 tried to comm him. The fear that flooded his senses when CT-1882 commed General Lyle to tell him the bridge was damaged washed over him again. The horror he felt when his escape pod was the only one to leave the venator as he watched it explode. The utter loneliness of realizing that everyone he’d spent his life with, everyone he’d fought by from the beginning, suffocated CT-0017 in his sleep.
Ryder wakes up with a jerk, his body trembling and covered in sweat as he tries to breathe normally. His heart is racing, and he takes deep, shuddering breaths as his mind processes the nightmare.
Ryder climbs down from his bed as quietly as he can, but he doesn’t realize that someone else is awake as well. As Ryder silently leaves the room, Jackal crawls out of bed to follow. Ryder moves quickly, much to Jackal's surprise. It’s like he’d rather be anywhere but here, and Jackal knows that’s probably true.
He’d been trying to fall asleep himself when he’d heard Ryder above him. Mumbled words about needing to escape, calling for General Lyle, CT-1882, and CT-2019. He knew that those were people from Ryder’s original battalion, the ones that had died on Ryder’s last mission with them.
Jackal had almost gotten up to make sure Ryder was okay during the nightmare, but before he could, the clone had climbed down from his bunk and left the room, causing Jackal to be even more worried.
Jackal isn’t sure how to approach him, not wanting to scare him or make him feel cornered. He wants Ryder to feel safe, to know that he has someone there for him.
As he enters the hangar after Ryder, Jackal watches as he went right up to the speeder they’d given him. Ryder pauses, taking a deep breath as he seems to debate getting on.
“Can’t sleep?” Jackal asks, startling Ryder slightly. Ryder looks at him for a second before turning and climbing onto his speeder.
“Yeah, something like that,” he replies.
“Where are you going?”
“I…don’t know…” There’s a moment of silence, Jackal questioning if he might be pushing too much, but decides to ask another question.
“Mind if I join you?” Ryder looks at him again, studying his expression. Jackal was battleworn, like most of them in the Lucky Batch. He’d seen enough pain to last more than a desired amount of lifetimes. He’s lost his own brothers, and was no longer a part of his own original battalion.
“Sure,” Ryder finally answers, and Jackal climbs on behind him.
“So, you just going to fly around until we find somewhere or run out of fuel?”
“Yeah, that’s what I usually do,” Ryder says before starting the speeder. “Uh, just a heads up, sometimes I can be a little…reckless.”
“Reckless flying? Ha, sounds like me,” Jackal jokes, and Ryder gives a huff of amusement.
“Just try not to fall off,” Ryder says before he starts to fly out. At first, Jackal wasn’t sure whether Ryder was being serious, as he went slow and was gentle with his movements. But once they were out of the hangar and into traffic, Ryder proved he wasn’t joking.
Jackal instantly grabs onto Ryder, holding back a startled yelp as Ryder speeds through the flying lanes. Lights and colors flash by as they maneuver around tight corners and busy lanes. Jackal is sure Ryder’s speed is much faster than what is regulated, but that doesn’t matter to him. He’s too focused on not slipping off as Ryder points the speeder nearly straight up and flies up the side of a building.
“Kriff, Ryder! If you didn’t want me with you, you could have just said no! You don’t have to try and get me to fall off!”
“Sorry,” Ryder chuckles, leveling the speeder out as they reach the top, “but I did give you a warning.” Jackal just huffs in response, letting go of Ryder as they slowly fly over the top of the building. He takes a moment to look out over the city, admiring the lights of Coruscant’s night.
Ryder also gazes around, letting his mind be filled by the sounds around and below him, instead of the sounds of his nightmares. He lets out another deep breath, closing his eyes to try and find peace in the city.
“Hey, uh…you okay?” Jackal asks, noticing Ryder’s mood shift. Ryder peers around at Jackal before flying over to another building. He knows Jackal is trying to help, and he’s grateful for that. He just doesn’t know if he’s ready to say it out loud.
“I think…I think I need a little bit more time before I can talk about it,” Ryder responds after another minute. Jackal nods, resting a hand on Ryder’s shoulder.
“Well, Ryder,” Jackal says, smirking as he uses the clone's newly acquired name, “we’re here for you. I’m here for you. And I’m your new bunkmate, so I will listen to anything you need to say, and I will help you with everything I can.”
“Thanks, Jackal,” Ryder says, turning slightly to give him a small smile.
“Now, is there a favorite place you like to fly to? Maybe a spot that really helps you?”
“Well, seeing General Jinn always helps.”
“Ah, you mean Heather? Yeah, my partner Urania is good friends with her. She tells me about some of their fun adventures and shenanigans. I have to say, I’m a bit surprised someone like you is with someone like Heather.”
“What do you mean?” Ryder asks, slightly offended by the comment.
“Oh, I just mean, you’re kind of quiet, not really…adventurous? She just seems a bit more ‘hey let’s do this crazy, probably not good, idea’ and you seem more ‘hey, maybe we should consider the consequences first,’ if that makes sense.”
“I mean…I was more like her before the…” Ryder trails off, a shudder taking over as his nightmares burst to the front of his mind again. He grips the handles on the speeder tighter, and speeds up as if he’s trying to outrun the memories.
“Hey, it’s okay,” Jackal says, gripping Ryder’s shoulder. “We all have a past. I wasn’t always a pilot, you know. I used to be a medic for the Wolfpack. But, things happened, and I ended up here as a pilot. And yeah, I miss the boys, more than anything. But I also have a new family here. I’ll never forget my past, but I’ll use it to grow. I’ll remember it and the people who taught me the important things. I’ll cherish the memories I have, and know the bad happened for a reason.” Ryder listens closely, absorbing Jackal’s words carefully. He knows he’s right, but he can’t help but feel like his past is too painful.
“Ryder,” Jackal says, more serious now, “you’ll never be the man you once were. I don’t know if you’ve accepted that, but if you haven’t, you need to. You’ve gone through too much, changed too much. But that doesn’t mean you can’t keep changing. Let your past help you become the man you want. I, for one, think you’re going to become an incredible guy. Well, not that you aren’t already, but you know what I mean.”
“Yeah, I do,” Ryder chuckles. “Thanks, Jackal. That really helps, and means a lot.”
“Hey, it’s what brothers are here for. You’re my vod, and you can’t get rid of me,” Jackal says, giving Ryder a wide grin.
“Are you saying I should try and get you to fall off?” Ryder jokingly asks, but Jackal just grins even wider.
“Oh, you’ll know what I mean soon enough,” Jackal responds. “Just be careful if you ever bring Heather around, I can’t promise to be on my best behavior.”
“I’ll definitely remember that.” They laugh before falling silent again, each one falling into their own thoughts as Coruscant passes by. They’re in a quieter part of the city now, the place Ryder always imagines moving to with Heather after the war. If she wants to stay here, that is. If not, he’d follow her anywhere she went.
Maybe they’d stick with Jackal and Urania as well, perhaps flying off planet to live in a shared home, raise their families together, if they had them. The thought made Ryder smile, imagining building such a close bond with a brother that they choose to spend their lives together. Already, Ryder was feeling safe around Jackal. He felt like he could talk to him, and so he did.
“I had a nightmare. It’s a recurring one. About the venator,” Ryder began to explain.
“I assumed so, I heard you mumbling names and warnings.”
“Yeah. It’s just all…I can’t stop thinking about it. It’s like it happened yesterday.”
“I know what it feels like, for something to stick with you for so long, to feel so new, even after it’s been months.”
“I’m scared,” Ryder admits, making sure Jackal can’t see his face.
“Scared? Of the nightmares, or something else?”
“I just-I don’t want to go through that again. I don’t want to lose you guys like that.”
“Ryder,” Jackal says in a firm tone, “as the pilot of the Clover, I promise you will not have a bad venator experience again. And as your self-proclaimed new best and favorite vod, I promise you won’t lose me, or any other Lucky Batch member.”
“As much as I appreciate the promise and dedication, I won’t believe it until I see it.”
“Wow, way to be a pessimist,” Jackal says, rolling his eyes with a laugh.
“I'm just saying, it’s a war, and we don’t know how long it’ll go on for. We don’t know what will happen, who we’ll lose.”
“Well, you won’t lose me. I swear to the Maker on that,” Jackal says. “And if I’m wrong, if that swear is broken, you can have Grizzer after I steal him from Fox.”
“You’re going to steal Grizzer?” Ryder questions, not believing that Jackal will actually do it.
“Yup. That’s one of my bucket list items. Steal Grizzer from Fox and never give him back.” Ryder huffs, shaking his head at Jackal’s bizarre idea.
“Well, good luck with that, I guess.”
“Oh, you’re helping me,” Jackal says.
“No way, I’m not messing with Fox, or any of the Coruscant guard.”
“Oh come on, it’ll be fun!”
“Nope.”
“I’ll convince you.”
“No you won’t.”
“You’ll be helping me and you won’t even know it.”
“Lies.”
“I’ll prove you wrong.”
“No you won’t.”
“Want to bet on it?”
“Actually, yeah I do. If you steal Grizzer with my unknowing help, I’ll let you fly my speeder for a standard month.”
“Deal, and if I don’t get your unknowing help, I’ll let you fly the Clover for a standard month.”
“Deal,” Ryder says, turning to shake hands with Jackal. Jackal has a mischievous glint in his eyes, and Ryder can tell he already has a plan forming in his head.
“It won’t work.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes I do. And even if it does, I’ll just say you cheated.”
“Cheated? How would I cheat on manipulating you to unknowingly help me steal a massif?”
“I don’t know, but I’ll find a way to prove you did.”
“Yeah, alright, whatever you say, Ryder.” They both chuckle, peering out into the city. The sky is becoming brighter, and they haven’t realized how long they’ve been out.
“Maybe we should get back, I think it’s daytime,” Jackal says.
“Yeah, there’s just a slight problem,” Ryder says, looking down at the gauges on the speeder.
“Please don’t tell me what I think you’re going to tell me,” Jackal says.
“We’re almost out of fuel.”
“How far do you think we can make it before it stops?”
“I don’t know, let’s find out,” Ryder says. He steps on the gas again, and after a few seconds the speeder stalls before it stops.
“So, we got a few extra feet.”
“I guess we’re walking then,” Ryder says, jumping off before Jackal groans and climbs off as well.
“I’m not helping you push that,” Jackal states, walking ahead of Ryder.
“Hey! You were the one who asked to come along with me, so you get to help.”
“But you’re doing perfect! Look at you! All strong and-ow! Hey!”
“Well, if you’re not going to help, and if you’re going to walk in front of me, I might ‘accidentally’ hit you.”
“Fine, I’ll help,” Jackal grumbles, going to the other side and helping Ryder push the speeder back.
Once they reach the hangar, it’s almost midday and the rest of the Lucky Batch is waiting for them.
“Where have you guys been?” Ballast asks as they walk in.
“Out in the city. Ryder decided to use up all the fuel before heading back.”
“You asked if I was going to fly around until we ran out, and I said yeah that’s what I normally do,” Ryder says.
“Yeah, but I wasn’t being serious,” Jackal counters.
“Well I was.”
“Raffle has been looking for you,” Boots interrupts as he walks over.
“Better be prepared for the fly swatter, he’s not in a good mood,” Cypher adds.
“I’m telling him it was your idea,” Jackal whispers to Ryder as they head in to find Raffle.
“Yeah, well I’m telling him you’re planning on stealing Grizzer.”
“You wouldn’t dare,” Jackal says, narrowing his eyes at Ryder. They share a tense moment, staring at each other before they both break into a run.
“RAFFLE! IT WAS RYDER’S IDEA!” Jackal yells through the halls.
“JACKAL’S GOING TO TRY AND STEAL GRIZZER FROM FOX!”
“DON’T LISTEN TO HIM, HE’S LYING!”
“NO I’M NOT, I HAVE IT ON RECORDING!”
From down the hall in his room, Raffle sighs and puts his head in his hands. He doesn’t have the energy for this today. When they both burst into his room, he just mumbles to them about going to find something else to do, that he’d deal with them later. The two then look at each other before running off again, and Raffle can’t help but hope they’re not going to get up to any mischief.
Ahhh I wrote this when I should have been writing two other things, but I had this idea and I wanted to make it! This includes some snip-it’s of headcanons about me and @maygalodon’s characters that we have formed together!
Ryder and Heather belong to me, Jackal and Urania belong to @maygalodon, Ballast belongs to @radbatch, Boots belongs to @lusiawonder, Cypher belongs to @stereotypicalpicnicmat, and Raffle belongs to @lynnpaper
@letsunity = CT-2002, Pepper, the “Medic” of Clone Force 37. He got his name after eating pepper spray that one time. He LOVES stickers.
@maygaladon = CT-1313, Jackal, the ‘special’ specialist and Pilot. He’s knowledgably in very specific things and crashes more often than General Anakin Skywalker.
@foxlock= CT-3425, "Foxy", the over-enthusiastic sharpshooter of the team. Likes to make people laugh with his antics, but has been known to be the moody one of the bunch. Quiet around new people. Sarcastic. May have "accidentally" shot at General Skywalker after someone had dared him to. Also, Foxy is a hopeless romantic. Be prepared for elbow nudges and eyebrow wiggling.
@radbatch = CT-5050, Ballast, the Mechanic. He’s a blast, mostly because half of his inventions explode.
@monako-jinn-stories = CT-0017, Ryder, he’s the weapons specialist. He provides the best weapons and teaches his batchmates how to use them. He got his name because he refuses to walk anywhere. He’s always riding something, whether it’s a speeder or a walker, he’s never using his own two legs.
@oo-hazel-oo = CT-1800, Thumbs, the moral support/unlicensed therapist. Provides emotionally assistance, shooting a thumbs up every now and again.
@lusiawonder = CT- 8201, Boots, who does his very best and is the sharpshooter.
@longearedowlfromouterspace = CT-0123, Jack, the jack of all trades who tries his darn hardest and ‘accidentally’ makes things go on fire.
@lynnpaper = CT- 2531, Captain Raffle, the only braincell left in the batch,
@just-another-freaking-dreamer = Jedi Knight, Master Mirkenna Whiro, the Jedi who can’t Jedi so bad that they got Clone Force 37, the batch that won’t die.
Goose the Homicidal Droid.
Our colour is turquoise, the emblem is a three leaved clover. We were too incompetent to make it right,
the weight down in the deep of you: a lucky batch fic ☘️
(guys!! i finally wrote a thing!!! feat. why ballast's name is ballast and why jackal loves throwing his prosthetic arms so much. hope you enjoy!!!)
A ballast is the secret, vital core of a ship: the weight down in the deep of you that keeps a vessel upright in dark water. - Catherynne M. Valente, The Girl Who Soared Over Fairyland and Cut the Moon in Two
The sun hung low and hazy in the sky and most of the clones of the 37th battalion were still sleeping in their camp when a terrifyingly loud, terrifyingly explosive sound erupted from nearby the ship.
“What the kriff--” Jackal moaned, jolting awake. He held his head. He hated loud noises at the best of times; and it was even worse to be rudely awoken by one.
“Was that an attack?” another voice sounded. It was Ryder.
“I don’t know, di’kut,” Cypher responded groggily. “Why don’t you go out and look?”
Several of the Lucksters stumbled out of their tents into the cool morning air and looked around. It didn’t look like they were in immediate danger, but there was some smoking coming from Ballast’s workstation.
On closer inspection, the entire workstation--as well as much of the dark, sandy ground--was covered in soot and ash. The greatest amount was collected on Ballast’s face. At least he’d had the sense to wear goggles.
“Oh, hey boys,” Ballast greeted his batchmates cheerily as they came over. “Just a faulty wire. Sorry if I woke you. I’m going to see if there’s any replacement parts on the ship.”
He walked off, whistling a sprightly tune as he went. His brothers shared glances between them, shaking their heads.
“Does anything rattle that guy?” Rane wondered aloud. Jackal glanced toward Ballast’s retreating frame, a small smile gracing his features.
“You don’t know the half of it,” he replied, a faraway look gracing his features as a memory overtook him.
The air was so thick with blaster fire, it was nearly impossible to see. This was not ideal for the clones of the 37th Battalion, who wound their way through a massive and labyrinthine Separatist facility. They were on mission from the Jedi council to retrieve a particular set of data for the Republic. The security around the facility was so great that they needed all hands on deck to help keep them at bay while others infiltrated the facility, which was why Cypher and Ballast found themselves winding their way through the dark hallways along with Jackal and Ryder. Jackal and Ryder were used to the front lines, but Ballast and Cypher were not usually in the thick of things like this. They’d been raised and trained for battle, but their talents typically had them supporting the other soldiers in other ways.
Now, they found themselves hunkered down in a side hallway while droids bore down on them from either side and they wouldn’t have time to retreat back the way they came before the droids caught up to them. Jackal held his head, struggling with the noise of the blasters. Ryder pat himself down wildly, trying to find which of his weapons still had any fuel left.
The familiar clicking of empty blasters sounded from Cypher’s pistols. “This is bad. This is terrible, disastrous, catastrophic!” he shouted over the noise as he hunkered down in the hallway.
“Keep it together, Cypher,” Ballast said, his voice steady despite the hammering in his chest. He’d never been in a position like this before, but he knew they all needed to stay calm if they were going to make it out alive. Still, he was painfully aware that they were outnumbered and outgunned. Glancing around, he noticed a control panel on the opposite wall. They could use that to short the circuits and get the doors shut to cover their retreat. But they didn’t have enough ammo left to cover him while he worked on it. His heart pounded furiously, his stomach was in his throat, but he forced himself to take a breath and clear his mind. There was a solution. There had to be, and he would find it.
A blaster bolt came frighteningly close to their position of cover and Jackal threw his arms up over his head, his metal prosthetic hitting Ballast in the process. Wait….there it was! The solution!
“Jackal!” Ballast hissed to his brother. “Your prosthetic. We can use it to short that panel and get the doors closed!”
“You want to use my arm?”
“I’ll make you a new one!”
Jackal’s eyes went wild for a moment before settling with a fierce determination. “All right,” he said, tugging on his prosthetic with his other arm. It came free in his hand and he passed it over to his brother. “But this had better work!”
“Yeah, I hope you know what you’re doing, Ballast!” Ryder cried, firing off a couple more of his few remaining shots. It wouldn’t be enough to last them if it didn't.
“So do I,” Ballast replied through gritted teeth as he whipped out a couple of tools from his pockets, opened the sockets of the prosthetic, and set furiously to work.
What felt like an eternity but was really only a few moments later, Ballast handed the prosthetic to Ryder. The fist was closed except for the pointer finger, which was extended. “You’ll have to be precise with this shot!”
“Wait, wait, wait!” Jackal cried, reaching for the prosthetic. Ballast was worried he’d changed his mind about using it, but he merely folded down the pointer finger and extended the middle finger.
“Really? Right now?” Cypher cried, but before anyone could say anything else, Ryder sucked in a breath and launched the prosthetic at the control panel.
The metal of the prosthetic alighted with sizzling electricity as it interacted with the panel. The boys held their breath for those agonizing seconds; the last thing they saw was the control panel fizzling and Jackal’s prosthetic dropping to the floor before the doors before them shut.
“It was the middle finger that did it,” Jackal voiced before they retreated back the way they had come.
Later that night, Ballast sat with a cluster of parts in his lap, working by the light of their campfire. He was determined to make Jackal’s new prosthetic even better than the last. Before long, he heard approaching footsteps and looked up to see Jackal coming over to join him by the fire. He sat down next to Ballast, who in turn shielded his project from Jackal’s eyes with his arm.
“Hey, let me see!” Jackal protested, craning his neck to try and sneak a look.
“It’s going to be a surprise!” Ballast replied, playfully knocking his brother in the shoulder.
“Alright, keep your secrets.” The two of them grew quiet as they gazed into the gently flickering flames.
“What a day, huh?” Jackal finally voiced. “You know, we managed to draw enough of the droids’ attention that the others were able to get the data we needed.”
“So I heard. Glad your sacrifice turned out to be worth it,” Ballast grinned. Jackal just shook his head, growing serious.
“How did you do it?”
“Oh, well, I had to recalibrate some of the motor functions so that when it hit the panel--”
“No,” Jackal interrupted Ballast before he was subjected to a long-winded explanation of mechanics. “How did you stay so calm? How weren’t you scared out of your mind like the rest of us?”
Ballast looked back at the fire. “I was,” he said after a long moment.
“Wait, really?” Jackal looked at him incredulously. “Didn’t seem like it.”
“When I’m working, there’s always a chance that something is going to break, misfire, explode….like a ship on rough water,” Ballast began to explain, his voice soft. “You can’t always predict the way the weather will turn, can’t control the wind or the waves, but you can control the way you carry yourself through it.” He allowed himself a small smile as he looked over at his brother. “Giving in to that fear wasn’t going to help any of us. I just wanted to be strong for us.”
Jackal smiled broadly back at Ballast, placing his remaining hand on his brother’s shoulder. “Well, thank you. For always being the weight to carry us through. And hey,” he added, “maybe you should make a few more of those prosthetic arms. I kind of like that tactic.”
“I think I can do that,” Ballast grinned. Jackal chuckled.
“Just try not to let them explode, yeah? At least, not on purpose.”
“Now, where’s the fun in that?”
@monako-jinn-stories @just-another-dreamerr @lynnpaper @lavenderstaars @foxlock @maygalodon @letsunity @oo-hazel-oo @generaltano @cosmicghostie @lusiawonder @the-lucky-batch @burnthashbrown27 @stereotypicalpicnicmat @mango-peachjuice @namesmox and other lucksters i missed!
So fellow lucky batch members, is this our new armour? (I added polka dots to the gauntlets, but i’d think each of them has a pattern they’d paint on their gauntlets-The dots also give a cute little touch to their gear)
