Tag: clones

clonewarsreturns:

When I saw this draw the squad meme I just pictured the troops from “Deserter” Having this initial reaction to Rex getting shot :’D Jesse is doing his best, Kix got an aed, Hardcase panics, Cody (tho he wasn’t there but you know he prob freaked finding out) began compressions, and Obi wan straight up is like “sERIOUSLY?! Anakin is NEVER going to let me command his men again!!” Honestly if anyone finds more draw the squads and wants me to draw one PLEASE send it to me!! i’d love to do it!! Good practice for drawing the clones xD

thebrokenscript:

C: Cody | a-z challenge with @ssaunitchief

Cody hated coming to Kamino.

The longer the war dragged on and the more men he watched die, the more he despised the ocean planet and the all too clean facilities and the long necked Kaminoans with their datapads recording every little detail about every little thing about them. He kept his eyes focused dead ahead as he passed through the facility despite the fact that he had his helmet on, and knew they couldn’t tell where he was looking.

Call it a precaution, call it habit, keep your head down and do what you’re told and don’t ask questions and you won’t put yourself at risk for their attention and cold, heartless stares as they marked you down as a problem. He didn’t breathe until he stopped outside a darkened room that held rows upon rows of cradle like pods.

This was what he hated the most, however, he thought as he stepped into the room where the newborns were kept. For all the things the Kaminoans did to them, this was the part that broke his heart the most.

He was probably breaking some protocol, entering the nursery where a seemingly endless number of infants slept in varying degrees of silence, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as he pulled his helmet off and set it down quietly on the table by the door.

They were all so small, he thought, making his way down the rows. So fragile and young and peaceful, and yet in less than a decade they would be fully grown men with blasters in their hands marching to their deaths.

Further down one of the rows, a cry went up, almost as if the infant had heard Cody’s thoughts. Heart twisting, he made his way down the row until he was at the pod where the crying infant was. It screamed, kicking and red faced, tears rolling down its face.

Expression drawn, Cody reached one hand into the pod, brushing a finger against the infant’s chubby cheek. The wailing subsided and the baby opened its eyes, staring up at Cody with watery golden eyes before it made a happy sound, and grabbed at his finger with a tiny, uncoordinated hand.

A faint smile crept onto Cody’s face as the tiny hand just barely wrapped halfway around his finger. It was a small wonder, how little the baby was. He couldn’t quite believe it, let alone believe that he had ever been so small. Gurgling laughter escaped the infant as it kicked its feet, reaching for Cody with its free hand.

With bated breath, Cody carefully pulled his finger from the baby’s grasp, then reached into the pod and gently picked it up, shifting slightly to cradle it in his arms. He made sure to keep the blanket between the baby and his armor to cushion it. The baby seemed delighted, a wide, toothless smile on its face, and its hands balled in tiny fists that jerked sporadically.

After brushing the reminiscent tears from the baby’s cheeks, Cody slowly rocked the baby in his arms, humming quietly. The baby continued to laugh, grabbing at his face and hand. Affection warmed him as he let the baby take his hand. A quiet chuckle left him at the sight of the endless fascination that lit the baby’s face. At least, until the baby tried to stick his fingers in its mouth.

“Ah- no, sorry kid, can’t let you do that,” he murmured, curling his fingers just out of reach. “Can’t tell you where these have been. Don’t want you getting sick.” The baby made a sound of protest that was quickly interrupted by a wide yawn. Cody’s gaze softened as he watched the baby’s eyelids begin to drop and its motions begin to slow. Before he knew it, the baby was asleep.

Cody watched it for a moment, continuing to sway as it slept peacefully, blissfully unaware of what the future held for it. Uselessly, he knew, he prayed that it might stay that way. That this child and every other one in the room would never face combat. That he could win the war so that they would never know everything he did.

Brow creasing in a tiny frown, he lifted the baby up slightly to press a gentle kiss to its forehead. For protection. For luck. For peace. He held onto the baby for a few moments longer, unable and unwilling to give it back to Kamino, and then his comlink beeped, signaling that it was time to leave. With a heavy heart, Cody gently placed the baby back in its pod, thankful that it didn’t wake upon leaving his arms.

Careful to avoid looking at its identifying number, he made his way out of the darkened room briskly, almost desperately, grabbing his helmet and shoving it on as he left. It was better if he never knew what happened to the baby. It was easier to depart with the last memory being one of an infant sleeping soundly in the only safety it or any other clone would ever know.

That was what he preferred to remember, and so that was what he kept in his heart as he left the planet. A moment of peace and family and comfort. A moment where someone came to comfort them when they cried instead of having to learn to hide their tears behind their helmets because nobody cared.

He continued to pray that the war would end before those children had blasters put in their hands and the horrors of war put in their minds.

Cody hated coming to Kamino.

Clone R&R Headcanons

tiender:

shaarabey:

  • Clones don’t get paid. Instead, they get issued credit vouchers to use out on the town. 79′s and a few other establishments accept these.
  • The medics in each unit work together to give a presentation reminding everyone about protection and consent and sexually-transmitted infections, complete with pictures and species-specific information. If anyone has any questions or “asking for a brother” potential situations, please come ask; we don’t want another situation like Sling over here who sprouted purple spots all over his legs and told us he karking didn’t know how it happened. Thanks, vod.
    • These quickly devolve into good-natured pandemonium with some people trying to embarrass the medics with ridiculous questions (“Hey doc: the condom goes over the twig and berries, right?”). The medics roll their eyes and take it on the chin, because ridiculousness is better than a silent lecture hall during question-time, but Force help these mir’shebe afterwards.
  • The water pressure in the showers is literally the greatest thing. No sithspit weak-stream trickle or (thank the Force) the sonic showers the cruisers have. Conversely, the towels are blindingly white, thin, scratchy, and generally unsatisfying.
    • For many battle-tested clones, the smell of industrial cleaner is associated with safety.
  • If someone wants a paint job—tattoo or armour—now’s the time to do it.
    The more artistically inclined among the troopers do touch-ups on the
    LAAT/i noses too.
  • Some clones from deployed units get heated with the Coruscant Guard because they’re not real troopers, when’s the last time you had to drag your vod away from the heat because his shin’s just not there anymore and he’s screaming like a dying mynock—((take a walk, brother, we’re all on the same side here.))
    • If you’re not a raging besom, maybe one of the Guardsmen will let you borrow from their Lost-and-Found of civilian clothing. (Some of those may or may not have been pilfered from careless birthborn officers.) These clothes are usually used as costumes or props in talent show competitions held between units or platoons.
  • Playing Two Truths and A Lie about crazy osik they’ve seen Jedi do
    • “They threw me off a wall, Cody. No warning, off a fucking wall—I thought I was gonna die.”
  • Some like the on-base holofilm theater, sitting unbothered in the dark, watching some half-decent romcom so they don’t have to think about that upcoming assignment on Bothawui.
    • “Why don’t they just talk to her about their feelings?” “I dunno, Resol; you asking me to fuckin’ explain birthborn psychology to you? Buggered if I know.” “No, but couldn’t they both just—” “To the drongos up front: shut up; some of us are trying to watch!”
  • Shrieks of “Kandosii!!” and “Kote!!” from the meshgeroya / limmie field (the older batches prefer the former term, the younger ones the latter). Matches between pilots and ground-pounders can get…interesting.
  • Since they have the downtime, units typically do their Remembrances now. Saying (or singing) the names of all their dead vode can take a long time (General Koon’s troopers’ list is currently pushing 7.8 standard hours), so soldiers take half-hour shifts, scrolling past name after name (some, only numbers) on the screen. The room’s acoustics make their voices echo, swirling the dead around and around the living.
    • No one’s ever really gone; they’re just marching far away.
  • R&R eventually makes the troopers restless, so they’re glad to leave when a new assignment comes down. When they’re out of atmo, some look back at the glittery planet, wondering if it’s the last time they’ll see Triple Zero.
  • Clones might not get paid, but they have a preternatural ability to get hold of credits. The quartermaster is a very popular man during R&R for his ability to sell GAR supplies under the table.
  • Packing up to leave means trying to stash as much contraband as possible for trade or consumption during deployment. ARCs are especially suspect.
  • Sitting in the windows of tapcafs and people-watching, marveling at all the different species with all the different faces (so many different faces! how do civilians keep track of them all?)
  • A much annotated and updated list of Free Or Cheap Places To Go That Won’t Throw Us Out, Don’t Fuck It Up For The Rest Of Us.
  • Wearing armour because it’s easier to hide in your helmet when everyone stares.
  • Not wearing armour because it’s easier to dance in, even if everyone stares.