chopper-base
Star Wars Hot Spot
He/Him, tired adult, my cat is my only will to live-
Incorrect Quotes, Short Stories, One Shots, (some 18+) and a dash of RP. OH and can't forget the fact I would absolutely die for Fives and Crosshair(pfp by @sketchyjellyfish21) https://linktr.ee/chopper_base
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chimeralaboratory
there WILL be little guys here at some point
odn-digital
Untitled
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his darling
columnspillarssteps
relocated to @taboovithehomecoming
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Honestly, I didn't react to his death til like 2 weeks later when it finally hit that he might be dead. Like, my brain just went "Oh, he's fine" and refused to even THINK he was gone for good-
i am having an irrational fear at this point that tech might actually be dead… give me my man back
#the bad batch#star wars#tbb#the bad batch tech#tbb s3#the bad batch season 3#sw tbb#the bad batch spoilers#tbb tech#tech tbb
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HEY.
are you scrolling [tumblr] instead of sleeping?
idiot. clown. I cast sleepy spell on you. fuck you. sweet dreams ily
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Me: ya, well, god forgot to install my dick so...
Mason: god put your gender behind a pay wall.
Me: *wheezing*
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Did I work 6pm to 5am? Yes
Am I already back at work at 12:30pm? Also yes
...I need a fuckin nap-
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Take your time!!! You do all this for free, so you have no reason to rush💕💕 we appreciate you so fuckin much✨️💕
I know I have two requests that are sitting in my ask box. I see them and have some thoughts for both of them, it might just take a bit because of life. I want to do them justice and make sure there's enough, you know, detail.
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I motion we change it to the 501st blue. It'd probably look better
if this ask gets 100 likes you are legally required to dye your hair bright pink
is that right?
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My brothers apparently made a friend who is deaf and I had gone to visit and grab some things from my mom.
I know a bit of ASL so they asked me to help communicate with him.
It took me a whole 4 seconds to realize that we had overlooked one major thing...
The dude knows Spanish Sign Language. I was absolutely no help-
#twas a very short conversation 🤣#asl#american sign language#sign language#deaf#deaf community#spanish sign language
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Am i a broke ass adult?
Yup.
Am I gonna make a bad financial decision and buy the motorcycle?
Quite fucKIN POSSIBLY-
#help#my mental health was actually good before the motherfucker ran my last bike over#i havent been able to ride in almost a year#and its taking its fuckin toll-
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Am i a broke ass adult?
Yup.
Am I gonna make a bad financial decision and buy the motorcycle?
Quite fucKIN POSSIBLY-
#help#my mental health was actually good before the motherfucker ran my last bike over#i havent been able to ride in almost a year#and its taking its fuckin toll-
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When your clone merch outnumbers everything else you own-
...buy more
So, the question is....
How much Star Wars clone merchandise is TOO MUCH star wars clone merchandise?
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THIS JUST KEEPS GETTING BETTER🤣🤣
Crosshair: Where the kriff is my helmet?!
Hunter: Watch the language around Omega! She's sitting right there!
Crosshair: oh iM sOrRy. CaN I aScErTaIn ThE wHeReAbOuTs Of mY KRIFFIN HELMET!?!
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*foot cramps painfully*
Me: *uninterrupted cursing*
My friend: *from the living room* you good?
Me: MY FOOT IS COMMITING SUICIDE-
Mf: *laughing*
Me: GODDAMIT! 300lb OF MOTOCYCLE LANDING ON MY FOOT HURT LESS THAN THIS!
Mf: *wheezing*
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Me: *chilling on my break in my work truck*
My coworker: *comes up behind me in his truck and hits his lights and sirens*
Me: *proceeds to accidentally chuck my phone and drop my lunch*
Me: motherfuc- DIESEL, YOU ASSHOLE-
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I swear, I almost cry every time I see the finished product😭😭 Crosshair turned out so gooood!!! I love him so much😭💕💕💕
Commissions I’ve finished up recently! It was a pleasure working with each one of them! Commissions are still open if youre interested =} Pricing and info are pinned on my blog =}
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I am an adult man and i work with a bunch of adult men (seriously, there is not a single woman there currently-) But every time I call one of my supervisors or leads, every single one of them ends the call by saying "byyeeeeeee!!!" And it makes me so fuckin happy🤣🤣
We are professional when we need to be, but the rest of the time, no one can find the braincell-
Okie rule
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OHMYGOOOOOOOD!!!!!!! HE'S ADORABLE!!!!!!!!! CONGRATS!!!!!!!
I've missed a couple messages and tags and such, but I have good reason!
This little guy showed up very, very early Monday morning. Things are starting to calm down, but I imagine it'll be a little bit before I get some time to really pop back in here ☺️
Just wanted to share the good news with everyone!! Btw, his name is Galen. Can't imagine where I got the name from 😉
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*is absolutely speechless*
*cue the fanboy screeching*
He Soars
*banging my fists, chanting: winged Clones winged Clones winged Clones
Crosshair-centric, some mild body horror when discussing Echo because Techno Union. Also the Empire being assholes. Season 2 spoilers (The Outpost).
Crosshair had always hated his wings. They were large, dark, laborious things, with rough feathers that had cut him more than once until he learned to keep them away from his body. The copious, smothering down choked him in the night, suffocating him with heat and irritating fuzz down the back of his throat.
The Regs all had the same wings: something akin to the shriek hawks of their Template’s home. They were shiny, patterned in golden hues like the Clones’ eyes and shaped and sized to be useful in battle.
Clone Force 99 did not have the wings of the Regs. Hunter's were slim and cut, rounded with specialized feathers that made his approaches from the air lethally silent. Tech's were scooped and agile, designed for soaring and diving sharply while in flight. Wrecker’s were the only wings comparable to Crosshair's in size. But they were pure white with imposing flight feathers and capable of being beat with deadly force.
Crosshair's wings were useless.
A sniper with wings impossible to hide was not a very useful asset. So he learned early on how to make them work for him. He learned to stick to shadows and use them to hide, to lash out a wing and cut down a droid, to let his brothers crush his suffocating down by curling against him when the endless stretches of space got cold.
And then came Kaller and the order and the girl.
His brothers left.
The Empire deemed the Clones’ wings an annoyance. Their size was hard and expensive to accommodate for in their standardized barracks. Their down clogged the life support filters. And their feathers’ rustling impeded on the other troopers’ sleep.
A suggestion to have them removed was met with a counterpoint. Why spend the money on surgery? Just remove the Clones.
Cross watched Regs disappear from the ranks. His eyes catching the way their wings sagged, unstretched and unflown, atrophying in the grip of the new Empire. His own wings felt heavier these days, causing him to haunch over from their weight.
He was one of six Clones sent to Barton-IV to retrieve a shipment that had been held there. His squad ran into his wings on purpose, complaining under their breath about having no room on the transport and how he should be with the other beasts.
Cross shrugged it off.
It was far from the first time he’d been likened to a monster.
Clone Commander Mayday’s wings were the second worst pair Crosshair had ever seen, only beat out by Echo’s when they’d rescued him from Anaxes: nearly bald, half blown off, and bent wrong from being stuffed into a stasis chamber with no room for them. The smell of decaying feathers had emanated from the corporal. And Mayday and his brothers had the same stench.
Their feathers were molting, ragged as they clung on by sickly quills. Strips of fabric like that on their armor were looped and tied to fill in the bare spots. Even their color looked faded but Cross wasn’t sure if that had more to do with the dim light provided by the coilheater.
“What’s your name?” he asked Crosshair, the first person in too many cycles to do so. Cross hesitated. But this was a dead man walking, giving him a name that would likely die on his tongue within a tenday was harmless enough.
“Crosshair.”
The Reg nodded. “Follow me.”
They inspected their meager equipment. Mayday showed him all that was broken.
A large shadow passed overhead. The call of a monstrous bird.
“Ice vulture,” Mayday informed, eyeing Crosshair. “Vicious creatures. But you have to admire them. They find a way to survive.”
Then came the raid. Their hunt. The ice cave.
“No sense carrying dead weight.”
Mayday hummed. “'Less you need to to survive.”
Crosshair shot him a puzzled look.
“Them vultures carry dead weight all the time.” He shrugged. "Gotta eat."
The mine. The raiders. The avalanche.
“Mayday.” His voice nearly broke as he dug the commander out of the snow. He’d lost more feathers in the onslaught, fresh skin exposed and bleeding on the patches left behind.
The climb was excruciating. The wind sliced through them.
When they finally found enough of an outcropping to shelter behind, Cross folded his wings around them, for once, grateful for the excessive down. The rough feathers kept the snow and ice from building up. Their size big enough to protect them both from the blistering winds.
“I remember you, you know,” Mayday whispered against his neck. “The clone with the big black wings.” He huffed a choked off laugh. “Mean little thing. But I knew better. I’d seen you fly.”
A memory came forward, fuzzy, hazy in the whiteout snow. The training room on Kamino had been tall enough to allow them to practice aerial maneuvers. Crosshair’s monstrous wings had never fit in the crowded space with the Regs. But late at night, he’d sneak out to fly.
“The command cadet.”
He remembered now, getting caught one night by an older cadet in red. But the cadet had let him off easy, saying lightly that it was past bedtime. Cross had waited to be punished for sneaking out. But the CC cadet had merely left the training room to continue his assigned patrols.
“Bet you’d never dream this be how you found out ya belong here,” Mayday murmured, huddled in close to Crosshair, buried deep into the soft down of his wings.
Cross quietly inquired what he meant but Mayday had lost consciousness once more.
The storm stopped with the sunrise. An Ice Vulture circled overhead.
The climb was no less difficult. And Mayday’s exhaustion meant Cross was walking for them both. He used his wings, flapping them to help propel their steps.
It felt… good. Like he was made for this.
His wings had room, could stretch fully. The wind ran through his down and along his sharp flight feathers. It caught them occasionally, beckoned them to fly.
They reached the outpost. They collapsed and Crosshair begged for help.
The Lieutenant refused.
Mayday was going to die.
The shot. The chaos that followed.
But he was made for this.
He took out some of the troopers and command first, single shots. He was a sniper after all, even from the ground instead of in his nest. The Clones charged him and he switched it to stun.
Good soldiers follow orders. He had. Mayday had. They had. And they were still considered dead weight.
A stolen shuttle, Mayday hastily loaded in the back, the rest of the scattered imperials on their tail.
But he was made for this.
A sharp dive like that of scooped agile wings. A silent approach from behind like that of specialized feathers. A shot to their flank, percussive like beating pure white wings.
They fell from the sky.
He soared.
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