clone-medic-patch

[clone-medic-patch]

Clone medic oc's with medical specialties, you say? 👀

Might I introduce you to my OC Patch?

He's a rehabilitation specialist with the 104th, working somewhere between physical therapy and occupational therapy, helping his brothers adapt to new ways of doing things after significant injuries. He also has some CBT/DBT training as a part of his specialization, and uses both this and his own experiences to help his vode when they're having a hard time.

He's really great at improvising and problem-solving for things like, "How do I put on my armor with one hand?" or "How do I compensate for losing half my visual field until my prosthetic eye gets here?" and even "How do I sit through an eight-hour briefing without spontaneously combusting?" He also does consultations by comm, and will help troopers from other battalions when he's not too busy with the 104th.

Thank you so much for your clone medic meta post! It's such an in-depth and valuable resource. However, now all I can think about is Clone Dentist. Clone who after medic training specialized in dentistry. All the clones having to go to Clone Dentist for their dental check ups. Clones in the Clone Dentist waiting room waiting for the dental check-up. The clones all going to the Clone Dentist. It's possesed my soul and haunts my days. I dream about Clone Dentist now.

LOL

You don’t understand.

I yearn for clone dentist. I NEED clone dentist. I’ve been secretly sitting and waiting for someone to make an oc dental tech clone this entire time. Or any specialty really. I would be EXUBERANT 😂

I am waiting patiently for someone to draw Crown or Bridge or Cap or Flossy or Molar or whatever the hell you want to call them.

Please I beg

#clone medic patch #I love hyperspecific clone oc's #clone medics with medical specialties for the win! #I love Shaw #teef clone

[clone-medic-patch]

Happy Halloween!

Patch is handing out fidget toys to trick-or-treaters for Halloween! Send an ask and see which one you get!

#clone medic patch #clone trooper oc #Patch is a rehab medic which is somewhere between PT and OT #and OT's get all the fun fidget toys :D #happy halloween!

[clone-medic-patch]

Cold Hands, Warm Heart: Chapter 3

Chapter Summary:

Based on the OC-tober prompt: Midnight strolls and a full moon.

One week after the Malevolence attack, Commander Wolffe is tasked with the heart-wrenching responsibility of rebuilding the 104th. Finding Patch still awake, he learns more about his brother's limits.

“Patch? Didn’t know you were awake.” Wolffe commented quietly, moving to join the medic near the shipboard window. 

Sitting on the cold steel floor of an eerily quiet rec room, Patch’s face was only just illuminated by the light of a nearby planetary moon, casting dark shadows on the medic’s face. 

“Couldn’t sleep.” Patch responded quietly, and Wolffe politely ignored the way his hands were shaking. It had only been a week since the Malevolence attack; a week spent in-limbo while they waited for a new ship to be assigned, as well as a booster shipment of shinies, and a few well-chosen transfers from other battalions. 

It wasn’t easy, rebuilding a battalion from nothing.

But that was the task set before him, and as much as Wolffe hated to ask… there was never going to be a good time for this conversation– a good time to discuss moving on. 

So reluctantly, he sat down next to the medic with a tired groan and asked, “Have you thought about the CMO position yet?”

 At Wolffe’s question, Patch gave a ragged inhale, and his lip trembled. Swallowing thickly, it took him a while to form a single word. What words were there, for a situation like this?

“I-I don’t know. I don’t know if I can– if I’ve got what it takes.” Patch shook his head, voice quiet and small. 

Wolffe reached out to rub his shoulder. “You do, vod. You’ve got the training and the qualifications. If you need help with the paperwork, I’m sure the 501st’s CMO would be able to…”

Patch’s breath picked up, voice shaking as he continued. “I-I’m just… I don’t– I don’t know– I don’t know– I don’t–” Patch broke off, starting to spiral. He shook his head again, almost frantically, and pulled on the straps of his gauntlets, knowing full-well that they were already too tight.

Patch knew the 104th needed a lead medic. He knew this. He just– he couldn’t do this–

His breath hitched– he’d been crying a lot lately, but to be fair, they all were. Rocking a little from where he was sitting, his vision blurred and the once-peaceful view from the window felt like a threat, all too similar to the view from their escape pod, just one week ago.

Wolffe’s eyes widened, and he realized that he’d drastically underestimated the situation. Patch had taken the Malevolence hard– they all had, but for a medic to survive when their brothers– their whole battalion had died… 

It also didn’t help that he’d been having nightmares since it happened, and flinched every time an airlock hissed. Hopefully that would go away in time.

Pushing that thought aside, he gathered the shaking medic in his arms, letting their foreheads touch. “Alright, vod. Shhhh… don’t need to make a decision today. This doesn’t need to fall on you. None of it should.” He rubbed Patch’s back, not fighting it when a few tears came to his own eyes.

“...it’s not fair…” Patch’s voice was muffled in Wolffe’s blacks, hoarse and broken as he buried his face in the other’s arms.

“I know, Patch… It’s not.” Wolffe rumbled, letting his gaze wander to the moon and the stars as they took what little comfort they could in what they had left.

#clone medic patch #clone trooper oc #swtcw fanfic #swtcw fic #commander wolffe #oc-tober #oc-tober fic #grief #post-malevolence angst

[clone-medic-patch]

Chapter Summary:

Some days just feel empty.

The two-year anniversary of the Malevolence attack happens while Patch is on assignment with the 501st, but he doesn’t have to suffer alone.

Written for OC-Tober! (read the tags!)

Foggy Morning:

Patch drifted into awareness feeling like he was sinking in a deep fog. Exhaling slowly, he felt like the weight of the entire Resolute was on his shoulders, crushing him to the ground. 'It's going to be one of those days,' he realized drearily.

He’d had enough forethought to avoid scheduling anything, today of all days, so with a lack of prior engagements, he let his mind sink into that terrible emptiness, still preferable to the wall of grief he was trying to avoid.

Two years ago to the day, the Malevolence attacked, leaving Patch stranded, suffocating and helpless in an escape pod. Even with his current struggles, it was still preferable to the fate of his vode. He still didn’t know if his batchers had made it to their escape pods, if they’d suffocated in the vast emptiness of space, or if they’d gone out with a bolt of blasterfire from one of the droid’s search shuttles. All he knew was that they were gone… and he was not. 

Blunt’s absence that day had been a gift; one of the few times that Captain Ozzel’s last-minute mission postings came in handy, but in the end, he’d died too, leaving Patch as the last living member of his batch. 

Curling in on himself a little tighter, Patch listened to the relative quiet of the morning. Most troopers had already made their way to the mess hall, but he could hear Tup muttering to himself while putting on the last of his armor, probably running a little bit behind.

“Hey Patch,” He called quietly, mindful of anyone still sleeping. “I’m headed to the mess hall if you wanna join me. If not, I could probably bring something back on my way to training.” 

Prying his eyes open felt like a monumental task, but Patch did it, responding tiredly. “I’m alright, thanks kid.”

“Sure thing! I just wanted to check, since you’re usually up before me.” Tup nodded, giving Patch a curious look, to which Patch shrugged half-heartedly before closing his eyes again, wincing slightly at the reminder that he’d slept in his armor again.

Tup left not too long after that, and Patch spent the next few hours drifting in and out of consciousness. His breathing was slow but effortful, in time with the crashing waves of his psyche. He heard his comm go off a couple of times, but moving, even to check his comms, seemed like an insurmountable task.

If Blunt were here, he would’ve yanked the mattress out from underneath him hours ago, Patch thought self-depricatingly, and the first set of silent tears came to his eyes, blurring his vision. 

Lost in thought, he didn’t notice the other troopers coming back from training until Tup and Dogma were right next to him, armor clattering against their bunks. 

“Patch? Are you still asleep?” This time it was Dogma asking, sounding cautiously concerned. 

Patch shook his head wearily, still half-hidden by his weighted blanket. “No, ’m awake.” He could practically hear Dogma’s frown deepen in worry.

“It’s past noon, vod. Did you eat anything this morning?” Tup joined in, hesitantly approaching Patch’s bunk.

Patch’s silence was worryingly telling, and Dogma spoke again. “Are you feeling okay, Patch?” 

When he finally responded, Patch’s voice was raw with emotion. “Not really…”

“Oh, uh, are you feeling sick? We can go grab Kix if you want?” Tup offered, concerned.

Huffing slightly, his lip twitched in the barest sense of amusement at their concern. “No, vod. It’s ok, just… today’s a hard one for me.” Finally, he forced himself to lower his blanket slightly, turning to face them. 

He rubbed at his face, suddenly aware of the tear tracks on his cheeks, and avoided eye contact. Open personality or not, he always felt bad about putting his issues on anyone, especially a vod’ika.

Tup looked a little lost, surprised by Patch’s demeanor, and Dogma, who was a little more familiar with Patch’s issues, eyed him sympathetically. “Oh… is there any way we can help? Maybe a hug?” 

Finally Patch looked up at them, giving Tup a broken smile before nodding shakily. “Sure, kid... a hug would be great.” 

Within seconds, Patch found himself with an armful of gangly trooper. Leaning into the hug, he felt his tears start to well up again, but didn’t pull away even when they started to fall. 

After a good minute, he pulled away, finding that Dogma had retrieved a hydro-pack and a ration bar. When he noticed Patch’s eyes on him, he offered the hydro-pack to him, along with a couple tissues.

“… thanks, Dogma, Tup.” Patch said, nodding to each of them. He didn’t feel better, not by a long shot, but he’d shifted into a sitting position during his hug with Tup, and that was at least an improvement. 

The logical part of his brain commented that he’d feel a little better after he’d eaten something and gotten some much-needed blood sugar, so he forced himself to choke down the ration bar that Dogma offered him. 

“Do you… want to talk about it?” Dogma suggested awkwardly after he’d eaten a bit, and Patch couldn’t help but smile. Emotional stuff didn’t come easily to Dogma, but he knew how to put in the effort. 

Shrugging, Patch stumbled through a response. His mind always seemed to work slower on these days, like he was plowing through a thick fog. “Yeah… it’s, just… two years ago, today, was the Malevolence attack… I’ve been pretty busy recently, so it hit me all at once, ya know?” 

He straightened up in his bunk, popping his back with a wince. Dogma gave him another concerned look, but knew better than to suggest that he take off his armor. 

“You sure you don’t want us to call Kix? For moral support, not medical stuff.” Tup offered again, and Patch knew better than to refuse. 

“Sure, kid. If he’s not busy.” Force knows, Wolffe was already going to scold him during their weekly holo call for spending the morning alone. 

With that thought in mind, he finally reached for his comms to look through the backlog of messages he’d missed that morning. 

Predictably, there were a few from Wolffe, first a remembrance, “Mhi su'cuyi, gar kyr'adyc, Mhi partayli, gar darasuum,” followed by a check-in, and one more when he hadn’t responded. 

There was also a brief message from another medic he’d gotten to know during his time in-training on Coruscant, just a brief, “Thinking of you today, vod,” that thawed a little bit of the icy numbness in his chest.

He typed out a short response to both, promising to comm the rest of the Wolfpack later that day. By the time he’d finished, Kix had showed up, offering him a sad smile as well as a holovid projector. The two medics had recently started watching an absolutely terrible civvie sitcom, after Kix had admitted to having zero time for any real hobbies, but yelling at fictional characters ended up being pretty cathartic, and Patch could honestly use the distraction from his thoughts for a little while.

Later, after the bunks had been rearranged and they’d watched more than a few episodes, Patch felt like his brain was finally starting to piece itself back together again. Admittedly, when he got into slumps like this, his poor self-care skills only made it worse, and the holovid snacks that Fives had dropped off midway through the second episode had helped more than he thought they would.

Shaking his head in amusement at a particularly terrible scene, Patch sighed to himself. “Scoot would’ve loved this vid, completely unironically too.” 

Kix smiled in response, a brief searching look on his face before he asked, “What were they like? Your brothers… if you feel like sharing?”

Patch huffed, bittersweet amusement filling his tone as he thought about his batch. “They were troublemakers, for one. Gev alone was probably responsible for half my gray hairs, with his shenanigans and complete lack of impulse control. Pel acted all quiet and innocent, but he had the worst luck of any vod I’ve ever seen, and we were always bailing him out of some situation or another. Scoot was far too clever for his own good. When we were cadets, he came up with this game where he’d attach himself to one of the service droids and slide around Kamino in his socks. I don’t know how many times I had to patch up his socks, and the others when they got into it too. It’s actually how I got my name.”

He paused to take a breath, choking up a little bit as he continued. “... and Blunt… I was always the buir of the group, growing up, but Blunt was the one who took care of me. He wasn’t afraid to call it like it is, or to tell me to ‘go the kriff to bed,’ when I’d been in medbay for too long… I miss them every day…”

Kix had been listening quietly, and squeezed his hand once he was finished. “They sound really great.” He said softly.

Patch swallowed, nodding tearfully. “They were.”

Tup and Dogma had lowered the volume to give him space to speak, and when Tup offered him another hug, Patch didn’t refuse. Dogma’s gesture wasn’t as obvious as a hug, but he did scoot a little closer, offering Patch his support as they got comfortable once again to continue watching the holovid. 

Later on, after Patch had quite enough of the crick in his neck, he decided to shed a few pieces of his armor, and then a few more. By latemeal, he was still vulnerable, but almost lighter, both physically and mentally, and when Wolffe commed him that evening, he was able to assure his ori’vod that he hadn’t been alone.

#clone medic patch #clone trooper oc #swtcw fanfic #swtcw fic #clone oc #clone trooper dogma #clone trooper tup #clone trooper kix #patch is having a bad day #depression #grief #take care of yourselves! #patch wears his armor more than he should because of aviophobia-related anxiety #big sad #two years after the malevolence attack #oc-tober prompts

[clone-medic-patch]

Chapter Summary:

“What. Is. That?” Patch asked as he entered the cadet barracks to see Gev hugging a very large, orange… thing.

Cadet shenanigans with Patch and his batchmate Gev! Written for the OC-tober prompt "Pumpkin Patch."

Author's note: I like to think that the nicer trainers would bring random junk to show the cadets, for enrichment purposes. The Kaminoans weren’t big fans of this strategy, though, because of the high likelihood of hitchhikers and invasive species, but the trainers kept it on the down-low… most of the time. This fic is heavily inspired by that one comic of two alligators finding a pumpkin and adopting an opossum, lol.

Pumpkin Patch:

“What. Is. That?” Patch asked as he entered the cadet barracks to see Gev hugging a very large, orange… thing.

Caught like a deer in the headlights, Gev nearly dropped whatever it was before steadying himself enough to place it on the ground with a small heave. Patch’s squad may have just finished their latest growth-spurt, but they were far from full-grown. 

Getting no answer to his question, Patch crossed his arms. “Did you steal it from the trainers storage–”

“No, I didn’t steal it! I… creatively acquired it?” Gev offered sheepishly, and Patch heaved a sigh, which was only doubled by his batchmate’s next words. “And I’m going to hatch it!”

“What.” Patch blinked disbelievingly.

Gev’s words tumbled out faster than Patch could keep track of them. “You know how we were learning about different species during flash-training? Well, lots of species come from eggs, and ‘53 was telling me that some species sit on their eggs, and they get cool monsters and stuff, and I figured that I’m bigger than lots of those species, so if I sat on the egg–”

“That’s not how it works.” Patch groaned in annoyance.

“Yes it will!”

“It’s not even an egg!” 

“Yes it is!”

“No it’s not! Eggs don’t look like that.” Patch responded, exasperatedly.

“If it’s not an egg, then what is it?!” Gev countered, giving Patch a knowing look when he predictably fell silent.

“See? It could be an egg! You don’t know!” He crowed triumphantly when Patch came up empty.

“I do know! Eggs are smooth, not bumpy!” Patch should know what eggs looked like; after all, he was going to be a medic some day… just, not yet.

Gev shook his head emphatically, not noticing as a small crack started to form on the orange object he’d brought to the barracks. “Well, maybe some eggs are bumpy… and orange. Some eggs are weird!” 

 “Not that weird, vod! You should put it back before the trainers notice you stole it.”

“I told you, I didn’t steal it. I found it!”

“Did you find it in the trainer’s storage area?”

“... maybe?”

More yelling ensued as the crack got bigger and bigger, until a mid-sized rodent poked its head through the orange shell, shocking the two cadets into silence. Wide eyes looked at the rodent and then back at each other, until a wide grin appeared on Gev’s face

Taking a deep breath, he shouted with glee, “I told you!!!”

Patch sighed to himself, feeling much older than his ten standard years of age. He was never going to live this down.

#clone medic patch #clone trooper oc #swtcw fanfic #swtcw fic #cadet shenanigans #clone trooper gev #cadet days #gev means 'stop that' or 'pack it in' in mando'a #patch is buir friend #patch has the one brain cell in his batch #OC-tober #they're di'kuts your honor #oc-tober prompts

[clone-medic-patch]

Fic Summary:

Two times Patch hesitated to take off his armor and one time he didn't. A fic on healing and vulnerability for OC-tober, based on the prompt "Warm Sweaters and a Hot Drink."

Cold Hands, Warm Heart:

“Come on, Patch! We’re celebrating! Are you sure you wanna go out dressed in the same thing as always?” Fixer pleaded with his brother. 

The 104th was on a rare shore leave that matched up with Patch’s down-time; rehab training took up a good chunk of his time, so it was rare that he’d get a full day to spend with his visiting vode. 

Patch huffed, shaking his head. “I already let you put that weird civvie product in my hair.” Plus, he’d heard enough horror stories from the Guard that his chest tightened warningly when he thought about being that vulnerable around anyone other than his brothers. 

It was better than it was off-planet; most things were, if Patch was being honest, but he never felt truly safe or settled without his armor. Not after the Malevolence, where that option had been taken from him, along with nearly every one of his brothers. So he shook his head, hoping Fixer wouldn’t push it.

Giving him a look that belayed understanding of his real reasons, Fixer nodded, fixing Patch with a sympathetic smile. “Alright, vod. But if you ever change your mind, I know for a fact that this shade of blue looks great on most vode.”

Patch chuckled, getting up from his bunk with a small groan. “I’ll keep that in mind. Let’s hit the road! Can’t keep the Commander waiting!”

______________________

“Udessir vod’ika! It’s okay– we’re in the barracks… you’re safe.” Patch soothed, speaking calmly to the shiny in the bunk above his. 

Fil, a new addition to the 501st, had joined maybe a month before Umbara and had a pretty rough start even before that, according to Kix and Coric. Patch gritted his teeth in anger; most vode were pretty supportive of differences, but they’d all been raised in the harsh mindsets of Kamino where even small differences could get you, or your squad, noticed in the worst ways, and some troopers never shook that mentality. 

Luckily, Fil had been transferred to the bomb squad before anything too bad could happen, but after Umbara and his run-in with Krell’s lightsaber, the kid’s quiet dreams had taken a turn for the worse. 

“I-I don’t– I saw–” The shiny’s voice shook in a choked-off sob, and Patch’s heart broke for the kid. 

“Shhh… it’s okay, kid. You wanna bunk with me tonight? The barracks are a little chillier than I’m used to.” He offered, lips quirking into a small smile when the vod’ika nodded shakily before scrambling down from his bunk and next to Patch, a little clumsy without the prosthetic on his arm. 

“S-sorry for waking you, Patch, sir.” Fil stuttered as he shuffled his feet, but he was easily settled by a comforting squeeze.

Even that was a good development, and it made Patch’s heart swell as he wrapped his arms around the shiny, happy to see him reaching out. “Just Patch, vod’ika. And I don’t mind.”

Fil shifted around for a little bit, struggling to get comfortable, and Patch realized in a moment of self-recrimination that he hadn’t taken his armor off. “Oh, kriff– Sorry kid, I’ll take these off in just a second.” He said, starting to unclasp his arm-guards and chestplate, ignoring a twinge of anxiety in his chest. 

“Sorry– ” Fil apologized again before cutting himself off. It was something they’d been working on, and even Patch himself was guilty of apologizing more than he needed to. But, to be a good example to the shiny, he pushed down an apology of his own and gave Fil a half-smile even when his shoulders tensed up and his own hands, cold with sweat, shook slightly as he slid back under the blankets without the top half of his armor. 

Running himself through a few breathing exercises, which Fil followed before drifting off again in record time, Patch took a while to settle back in his own skin. He ran a gentle hand through the vod’ika’s short curls until the pull of sleep finally took him once again. 

________________________

T aking a deep breath of the crisp Alderaan air, Patch reveled in the rare quiet morning. He was always more of an early-bird, compared to most of the Wolf-pack, something he’d forgotten during his… hiatus on Coruscant, but he’d shared more than one cup of tea with their general in the early morning light. It was a tradition he was happy to repeat now that he was back with his brothers for good. 

As far as shore-leave locations went, they’d definitely hit the jackpot. Just enough snow for the more adventurous troopers to go hiking or cause some mischief, and the barracks they’d been given were practically a hotel, in Patch’s opinion. The heavy comforter he’d used last night was probably the most extravagant thing he’d ever touched, and he’d fallen asleep within seconds of his head hitting his pillow. 

Looking back at his gear-kit, Patch’s eyes caught on the gift from Blu he’d received last night. The younger medic, although no longer a shiny, still loved working night shift, enjoying the quiet atmosphere and the opportunity to catch-up on flimsiwork, or engage in his hobbies when it wasn’t too busy. Patch still remembered teaching him how to knit, although the vod’ika had far surpassed him by now, as shown by the cable-knit sweater he’d gifted Patch.

“You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to…” Blu had hedged as he handed him the gift. “... I know you’re not much for civvies. But we’ve missed you, and it’s good to have you back, and I heard that Alderaan’s supposed to be cold…” 

A soft smile bloomed on Patch’s face; he was really proud of the competent medic Blu had become in his absence, and it was nice to know he’d been missed. Giving the sweater another considerate look, he noticed a pair of nondescript civvie pants underneath it and huffed in amusement. Apparently Fixer couldn’t leave well-enough alone, and had thought to donate them to Patch’s cause. 

So with a beleaguered sigh, Patch traded in his armored-blacks for soft yarn, not far off from 501st blue, with a bold medic symbol on the front. The weight of the homemade sweater almost reminded him of his weighted blanket, and as he settled in with his cup of tea, Patch breathed a sigh of contentment. 

Deployed or not, it was good to be home.

#reblogging at a slightly more reasonable time of day lol #clone medic patch #clone trooper oc #swtcw fanfic #swtcw fic #hard knocks 'verse #patch has aviophobia #anxiety #ptsd #nightmares #patch is a good ori'vod #clone medic blu #oc-tober prompt from @soclonely #ct-2255 #shiny oc #clone trooper fil

[clone-medic-patch]

Fic Summary:

Two times Patch hesitated to take off his armor and one time he didn't. A fic on healing and vulnerability for OC-tober, based on the prompt "Warm Sweaters and a Hot Drink."

Cold Hands, Warm Heart:

“Come on, Patch! We’re celebrating! Are you sure you wanna go out dressed in the same thing as always?” Fixer pleaded with his brother. 

The 104th was on a rare shore leave that matched up with Patch’s down-time; rehab training took up a good chunk of his time, so it was rare that he’d get a full day to spend with his visiting vode. 

Patch huffed, shaking his head. “I already let you put that weird civvie product in my hair.” Plus, he’d heard enough horror stories from the Guard that his chest tightened warningly when he thought about being that vulnerable around anyone other than his brothers. 

It was better than it was off-planet; most things were, if Patch was being honest, but he never felt truly safe or settled without his armor. Not after the Malevolence, where that option had been taken from him, along with nearly every one of his brothers. So he shook his head, hoping Fixer wouldn’t push it.

Giving him a look that belayed understanding of his real reasons, Fixer nodded, fixing Patch with a sympathetic smile. “Alright, vod. But if you ever change your mind, I know for a fact that this shade of blue looks great on most vode.”

Patch chuckled, getting up from his bunk with a small groan. “I’ll keep that in mind. Let’s hit the road! Can’t keep the Commander waiting!”

______________________

“Udessir vod’ika! It’s okay– we’re in the barracks… you’re safe.” Patch soothed, speaking calmly to the shiny in the bunk above his. 

Fil, a new addition to the 501st, had joined maybe a month before Umbara and had a pretty rough start even before that, according to Kix and Coric. Patch gritted his teeth in anger; most vode were pretty supportive of differences, but they’d all been raised in the harsh mindsets of Kamino where even small differences could get you, or your squad, noticed in the worst ways, and some troopers never shook that mentality. 

Luckily, Fil had been transferred to the bomb squad before anything too bad could happen, but after Umbara and his run-in with Krell’s lightsaber, the kid’s quiet dreams had taken a turn for the worse. 

“I-I don’t– I saw–” The shiny’s voice shook in a choked-off sob, and Patch’s heart broke for the kid. 

“Shhh… it’s okay, kid. You wanna bunk with me tonight? The barracks are a little chillier than I’m used to.” He offered, lips quirking into a small smile when the vod’ika nodded shakily before scrambling down from his bunk and next to Patch, a little clumsy without the prosthetic on his arm. 

“S-sorry for waking you, Patch, sir.” Fil stuttered as he shuffled his feet, but he was easily settled by a comforting squeeze.

Even that was a good development, and it made Patch’s heart swell as he wrapped his arms around the shiny, happy to see him reaching out. “Just Patch, vod’ika. And I don’t mind.”

Fil shifted around for a little bit, struggling to get comfortable, and Patch realized in a moment of self-recrimination that he hadn’t taken his armor off. “Oh, kriff– Sorry kid, I’ll take these off in just a second.” He said, starting to unclasp his arm-guards and chestplate, ignoring a twinge of anxiety in his chest. 

“Sorry– ” Fil apologized again before cutting himself off. It was something they’d been working on, and even Patch himself was guilty of apologizing more than he needed to. But, to be a good example to the shiny, he pushed down an apology of his own and gave Fil a half-smile even when his shoulders tensed up and his own hands, cold with sweat, shook slightly as he slid back under the blankets without the top half of his armor. 

Running himself through a few breathing exercises, which Fil followed before drifting off again in record time, Patch took a while to settle back in his own skin. He ran a gentle hand through the vod’ika’s short curls until the pull of sleep finally took him once again. 

________________________

T aking a deep breath of the crisp Alderaan air, Patch reveled in the rare quiet morning. He was always more of an early-bird, compared to most of the Wolf-pack, something he’d forgotten during his… hiatus on Coruscant, but he’d shared more than one cup of tea with their general in the early morning light. It was a tradition he was happy to repeat now that he was back with his brothers for good. 

As far as shore-leave locations went, they’d definitely hit the jackpot. Just enough snow for the more adventurous troopers to go hiking or cause some mischief, and the barracks they’d been given were practically a hotel, in Patch’s opinion. The heavy comforter he’d used last night was probably the most extravagant thing he’d ever touched, and he’d fallen asleep within seconds of his head hitting his pillow. 

Looking back at his gear-kit, Patch’s eyes caught on the gift from Blu he’d received last night. The younger medic, although no longer a shiny, still loved working night shift, enjoying the quiet atmosphere and the opportunity to catch-up on flimsiwork, or engage in his hobbies when it wasn’t too busy. Patch still remembered teaching him how to knit, although the vod’ika had far surpassed him by now, as shown by the cable-knit sweater he’d gifted Patch.

“You don’t have to wear it if you don’t want to…” Blu had hedged as he handed him the gift. “... I know you’re not much for civvies. But we’ve missed you, and it’s good to have you back, and I heard that Alderaan’s supposed to be cold…” 

A soft smile bloomed on Patch’s face; he was really proud of the competent medic Blu had become in his absence, and it was nice to know he’d been missed. Giving the sweater another considerate look, he noticed a pair of nondescript civvie pants underneath it and huffed in amusement. Apparently Fixer couldn’t leave well-enough alone, and had thought to donate them to Patch’s cause. 

So with a beleaguered sigh, Patch traded in his armored-blacks for soft yarn, not far off from 501st blue, with a bold medic symbol on the front. The weight of the homemade sweater almost reminded him of his weighted blanket, and as he settled in with his cup of tea, Patch breathed a sigh of contentment. 

Deployed or not, it was good to be home.

#clone medic patch #clone trooper oc #swtcw fanfic #swtcw fic #hard knocks 'verse #patch has aviophobia #anxiety #ptsd #nightmares #patch is a good ori'vod #clone medic blu #oc-tober prompt from @soclonely #ct-2255 #shiny oc #clone trooper fil #why do I always post things at stupid o'clock? #oc-tober prompts

[clone-medic-patch]

Patch Fic Snippet!

This is a snippet from my fic, “A Series of Hard Knocks” featuring my OC Patch.

Warnings for panic attacks, PTSD and mild self-injurious behavior.

For context: Patch was stationed with the 501st on a temp basis after Umbara, but still has a lot of trauma from the Malevolence attack, which is the main focus of this fic snippet. Also, Dogma was semi-pardoned for killing Krell in this fic, and has been doing community service in medbay since then.

Enjoy!

Patch always heard klaxons in his dreams. Wailing sirens, flashing lights, and shuddering ships were familiar to his subconscious mind. Maybe that’s why he didn’t wake up to the Resolute’s evacuation drill until Tup was shaking his shoulder, shouting, “Come on, Patch. We’ve gotta go!” 

Reality crashed into Patch like a tidal wave, threatening to pull him under. Before his mind could process his surroundings, he was already standing, following the other troopers as they exited the barracks. Brain jolting in horror, his breath caught in his throat, and he could feel himself tremble with every blaring siren.

The flashing lights in the hallway were what brought him to a stuttering halt. Letting out a choked whimper, he leaned against a wall. His knees gave out underneath him, breaths coming in quick and shallow. Patch squeezed his eyes shut, gripping his empty forearms hard enough to hurt, entire body shaking. 

Part of him knew he needed to get moving, that he couldn’t get left behind, but his armor was back in the barracks, along with every one of his favorite coping strategies, and his shaking limbs refused to support his weight. Hyperventilating, he could practically hear the escape pod groaning as the life-support systems broke down.

Meanwhile, Dogma was passing through the hallway near the barracks. It was his first week back in his own bunk, and it still felt wrong to be safely nestled above Tup, listening to the quiet snores of his brothers, so he’d been wandering the halls waiting for sleep to come when the drill started. Rounding the corner, he nearly tripped over Patch before he caught himself.

“What the– Patch?”

Shaking his head frantically, Patch sat crumpled on the hallway floor, lost in a flashback and muttering to himself, “No no no no no–!” 

Dogma gave the medic a look of confusion, closely followed by a jolt of alarm, remembering his quiet admissions during group sessions about destroyed Venators and dying escape pods. Even now, he could see the older trooper hyperventilating, nails digging into his forearms hard enough to draw blood.

“H-Hey, don’t do that.” He exclaimed, trying to get Patch to stop gripping his arms so tightly, but Patch didn’t even acknowledge his existence, still shuddering in panic.

Dogma shook his head, trying to think of a new approach. At this rate, Patch’s tight grip was definitely going to leave a mark. “Stop that– uh, here!” 

With a grunt of realization, he crouched next to the medic, unclipping his own bracers before starting to attach them to Patch’s arms to give him at least a little bit of protection. Thankfully, this seemed to jolt Patch back to reality, just a little, and he loosened his grip just long enough for Dogma to finish. 

For a moment, this seemed to help, and Patch’s breathing slowed a little bit as he ran a hand along the armor pieces. But then, to Dogma’s alarm, his breath hitched and a few tears started to fall.

“Hey, d-don’t cry!” Dogma’s hands froze as he watched, but this only made him cry harder, just barely audible over the warning klaxons. Dogma’s breath caught in his throat; he was incredibly out of his depth. 

Not knowing what else to do, he grabbed his comlink from his belt and tried to comm Tup. Tup would know what to do. He listened to it beep a few times, but the call refused to connect. ‘He must’ve left his comm in the barracks,’ Dogma thought with dismay. 

But Patch was still shaking, eyes filled with unshed tears, so he tried again, this time calling Hardcase. Hopefully medbay hadn’t been dragged into the evacuation drill. When the comlink chirped, Dogma gave an audible sigh of relief.

“What is it, Dogma? It’s 0200.” Hardcase groaned, still sounding half-asleep.

“Patch is crying.” Dogma’s voice was tense with nerves as he watched the medic. 

“What?! What happened?”

“I don’t know! Probably something to do with the evac drill. How— W-What do I do?”

“He’s crying right now? Like, in front of you?” Hardcase was sounding increasingly concerned, and not nearly awake enough for this. 

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” 

“Then give him a hug or something! Don’t just stand there watching him!” 

“A hug?”

He could practically hear Hardcase’s facepalm. “Yes, with your arms! Hang the kriff up and comfort him!”

Dogma’s eyes widened in trepidation. “Uh, I’ll try, but–”

“And get someone to turn the kriffing alarms off!” He heard Hardcase say something else, presumably to a medic in medbay, and then the comm call cut off, leaving him alone again. 

In the short time it had taken to call Hardcase, it looked like Patch had calmed down a little more, but his hands still shook visibly as he sat curled up around his knees, letting out a quiet hiccup every now and then. Dogma took a deep breath, bracing himself before wrapping a stiff arm around Patch’s shoulders.

Patch flinched slightly before leaning into the touch, so Dogma offered him a hand, which he gripped tightly. Hardcase must’ve called someone, because the lights stopped flashing and the alarms petered off, and finally Patch could breathe again. 

The medic opened his eyes, finally starting to register his surroundings. With an exhale of relief, he slumped into Dogma’s side. He looked up, blinking in surprise as he began to realize what happened.

“...H-Hey kid. Sorry about that.” His voice was hoarse, and his ears burned with embarrassment as he gave Dogma a sheepish look. He took a few grounding breaths, trying to look a bit less like he was falling apart at the seams. 

“It’s okay… a-are you alright?” Dogma asked, stiffening slightly.

Patch quirked his head to one side, mentally scanning himself before answering honestly. “No, but I will be… c-can we head back to the barracks? I’d like to grab the rest of my armor before Kix or Coric drags me off to medical.” He could already feel his forearms burning, but he made a noise of surprise when he noticed that the bracers on his arms weren’t his own. 

Dogma nodded, fumbling for a moment before standing up, giving Patch a hand. “Sure, uh– can you stand?”

Giving a grunt of affirmation, Patch took Dogma’s hand gratefully. He sniffled, trying to avoid getting any more tears and snot on Dogma’s loaned armor, if he could help it. “Yeah, ‘m good.”

With slow steps, the duo made it back to the barracks. Dogma was quick to help Patch locate his armor, awkwardly offering him a tissue when he sniffled for the 3rd time. “Ugh, thanks vod’ika.” 

Dogma nodded, looking like he wanted to say something. “What is it, kid?” Patch asked, still feeling a little guilty at putting him in that situation. Even now, he was reliant on Dogma helping him put his armor back on. He let out a sigh of relief when he could breathe again, safe in its familiar weight.

Biting his lip in frustration, Dogma looked away, breath trembling. “I-I can’t – Is there… I’m not good at this! How do I help you?” 

Patch blinked in surprise before letting out a huff of amusement. “You already have, vod’ika. You stayed, you found what worked, and you called someone who removed the triggers. Thanks for these, by the way.” He handed back the loaned armor bracers before reaching and grabbing his weighted blanket from his bunk to wrap around his shoulders.

“Oh…” Dogma blinked, realizing he had indeed done those things. He watched as Patch reached into his utility belt to grab a metal tin, helping him open it when his shaking hands gave him trouble.

Giving him a nod of thanks, Patch grabbed a mint before offering one to Dogma, which he hesitantly accepted. “Sorry for putting you in that situation, Dogma, but you did good.” 

Dogma shook his head in refusal. “Y-You don’t need to apologize. I just– I’m not good at this…” He repeated himself, looking down at his hands. This whole medic assistant thing was pretty daunting, especially for an early-graduated trooper like himself. If it had been the start of the war, there’s a good chance he would still be on Kamino.

“Heh, nobody is, at first. The first time I helped someone with a blaster wound, I thought I was going to throw up.” Patch cracked a grin, relieved when Dogma returned it. 

“Come ‘ere, kid.” He lifted one arm, raising the corner of his weighted blanket for Dogma to join him if he wanted. Dogma hesitated for a second before scooting closer to the medic, mirroring their earlier positions, if a bit less awkwardly. 

A few minutes later, Coric came into the barracks with a couple bacta patches and a look of concern, followed by a wave of troopers more than ready to get back to their bunks. The next day, Captain Rex came by and set up a system for Patch to be alerted before drills, to give him time to put on his armor and use his coping strategies beforehand. They briefly discussed having a designated evacuation partner, in the case of an actual emergency, but settled on simply alerting the other medics (and his closest bunkmates) to be ready to assist Patch in the case of an evacuation. 

Kix gave him another once-over after firstmeal, changing his bacta patches with an unnecessary level of concern before returning the favor and taking him off of duty for the next 24 hours. He still didn’t take off his armor, probably wouldn’t for the next couple days. But as he sat in his bunk, curled up under his weighted blanket playing sabaac with Fives, Tup, Dogma, and Jesse, he couldn’t say he regretted it. It was nice to be the patient, the one being taken care of, for once.

Full Fic:

#dogma’s reaction is heavily inspired by swdomesticverse and their au #links to the specific comic are on my main #clone medic patch #clone trooper oc #swtcw fanfic #swtcw fic #clone oc #clone trooper dogma #also posted on my main #panic attacks #self-injurious behavior #ptsd #patch has aviophobia #fic snippet #dead dove do not eat

[clone-medic-patch]

#new dad habits for patch just dropped #he refuses to ask for directions 😩

[clone-medic-patch]

It’s Patch!!!

Found this guy at goodwill, and with a fresh coat of paint, I now have a new friend!!! The red hand-armor originally belonged to his batchmate, Blunt, and the little bit of paint on his chin is meant to mirror his soul patch/goatee under his helmet 👉👈

Patch is also a great chore buddy! Sometimes I’ll bring him into whatever room I need to clean, and if I get bored or unmotivated, I’ll imagine him encouraging me, lol 😅

#his legs still need a little bit of work #but I was too excited!!! #clone medic patch #it’s patch!!!! #i’m screaming #clone trooper oc #clone medic oc

[clone-medic-patch]

Summary:

After the Battle of Khorm, Patch spent the next couple of days walking around in a blur. The last of his batchmates, dead. His commanding officer, dead. Even Commander Wolffe was down for the count, after a fight with Ventress landed him in medbay, minus one eye. With only one of his previous squadmates remaining, Patch comes to the sobering realization that he needs help. Thankfully, he is far from alone.

Prequel to A Series of Hard Knocks, focusing on Patch's mental struggles after the Battle of Khorm.

#clone medic patch #prequel to hard knocks ‘verse #Patch-centric #dead dove: do not eat #clone trooper oc #swtcw fic #swtcw fanfic #hard knocks ‘verse #Patch is not okay #more patch angst #suicidal thoughts #not exactly but just to be safe #depression #grief #commander wolffe #wolffe is a good ori’vod #plo koon #i cried while writing this #reblogging from my main

[clone-medic-patch]

a    set    of    thought    provoking    questions    based    around    character    development    .    send    a    blue    emoji    to    explore    more    about    your    characters    .

🦋          »        what    would    your    character    do    if    they    knew    they    could    not    fail    ? 💙          »        name    3    things    your    character    is    grateful    for    . 💧          »        when    was    the    last    time    your    character    did    something    for    the    first    time    ? 🐟          »        what    does    your    character’s    voice    sound    like    ?    do    they    tend    to    use    simple    or    worldly    vocabulary    ? 🦕          »        what    is    something    your    character    wishes    they    could    go    back    into    the    past    and    redo    ? 📘          »        what    is    a    memory    that    makes    your    character    feel    proud    ?    describe    the    memory    . 👕          »        what’s    in    your    character’s    handbag    /    briefcase    /    pockets    ? 🫐          »        is    your    character    proud    of    who    they    are    ?    describe    an    achievement    or    moment    they    are    proud    of    . 🧊          »        what    does    your    character    first    notice    about    another    individual    ? 🏙          »        what    does    your    character    value    more    ––    creativity    or    practicality    ? 🌧          »        describe    a    time    your    character    did    something    even    though    they    were    scared    . 💍          »        what    is    your    character’s    favourite    gift    that    they’ve    received    ? 🌊          »        how    old    does    your    character    feel    on    the    inside    ,    and    why    ? 💎          »        does    your    character    feel    they    have    passed    up    chances    that    they    presently    regret    ?    describe    what    they    were    .

#asks for patch?

[clone-medic-patch]

Summary:

Group sessions continue as Patch starts a new system to help the recovering troopers readjust to life on the Resolute. Dogma has the unexpected opportunity to practice his bedside manner. A Patch-centric chapter with some angst in the mix.

Chapter 14:

“Well, I still don’t get why the sinks in the freshers are so high! I swear I get splashed in the face every time I try to use ‘em in this kriffing hoverchair.” One trooper grumbled in annoyance, while a few others nodded in agreement. 

It was group session time again, and everyone was commiserating over the relative inaccessibility of the Resolute. With the commonality of droids onboard, at least they didn’t have to worry about stairs or steep inclines for the most part, but many were discovering just how little the Republic thought about things like accessibility. It was group session time again, and everyone was commiserating over the relative inaccessibility of the Resolute. With the commonality of droids onboard, at least they didn’t have to worry about stairs or steep inclines for the most part, but many were discovering just how little the Republic thought about things like accessibility.

“Also, who decided that the mess hall benches needed to be permanently attached to the ground. What if I wanna sit in the middle for once?” 

Patch nodded, taking notes in a datapad as they spoke. “That’s a good point. I’ll see if I can ask mechanics if they have any solutions, but it might have to wait until we get reinforcements at our next stop. If nothing else, maybe General Skywalker could put that lightsaber of his to good use and cut some hoverchair spaces into the mess hall tables.”

“There’s an idea!” Hardcase grinned, joining in the conversation. “I’ve only been out of the medbay a couple times, but when I went with Jesse to the mess hall the other day, I couldn’t even tell if they were serving green mush or brown mush, the counter’s so high.”

Patch nodded, changing the subject slightly. “Is everyone adjusting alright to sleeping in the barracks? No issues getting into or out of your bunks? Dogma’s been helping me set up a buddy system for anyone who needs it, so if you’ve got squadmates that are interested in helping out with the basics, send them our way.”

Hardcase gave Dogma a friendly nudge, wrapping his good arm around his shoulder before he could protest. “I’ve got the best buddy in the whole GAR! Dogma helps me remember meds and helps with dressing changes, and I bug him if he starts looking too bored or depressed. And…” He gave a cheeky grin, voice lowering into a stage whisper. “He gives the best massages in the 501st,” earning a couple chuckles from the surrounding troopers.

“Shut up,” Dogma grumbled, ears turning pink, but there was zero bite to his tone.

Patch nodded seriously, ignoring the room’s teasing tone. “Physical agent modalities like heat and massages are a common therapeutic technique for improving overall function. They’re also something I can teach; again, if anyone’s squadmates are interested in helping out.”

Another trooper spoke up, quieter than the others. “Sir, is it true that General Skywalker… also has a prosthetic limb?” He looked down at his own arm with trepidation, metal prosthetic as shiny as his armor.

Hardcase nodded before Patch could respond. “Yup! I’ve seen him tinkering with it himself. Usually, it’s covered by a glove, but it’s pretty neat! I offered to add some flame-throwers to the design, but he said it’d get in the way of all his jedi stuff.” 

Patch held up a hand before anyone could get any ideas. “I just want to say that any and all prosthetic modifications have to go through me before they are implemented, and they need to be checked by at least one senior mechanical officer. Is that clear?” He asked, tone leaving no room for argument. 

A few troopers groaned in defeat, but let the matter lie for now, at least until Nax offered his services as a senior mechanic. Finally, the excitement died down again so Patch continued. 

“I’ve actually been thinking about inviting the General to one of our sessions, maybe at the end, to share some tips and tricks for managing prosthetics, but I wanted to check with everyone first, given the circumstances.” 

Patch looked around the room, worried the suggestion would be taken badly, but to his relief the majority of troopers were nodding or smiling in agreement. Even a few of the shinies who hadn’t been with the 501st before Krell looked intrigued at the thought of asking their Jedi about their prosthetics.

Sev, in particular, looked like he was going to bounce out of his seat. “That’d be so cool!”

Another trooper, presumably Sev’s squadmate, snorted. “Sev, you don’t even have a prosthetic!”

Sev flipped him off, using his partially severed finger to do so, responding snarkily. “I give this many kriffs about your opinion, vod.” His joke even startled a muffled laugh out of Dogma, who was sitting nearby, before he could stop himself.

Sev shared a victorious look with Hardcase between fending off light-hearted jabs from his friend, and even Patch chuckled at the scene before him.

“Alright, if nobody’s against it, we’ll see if the General can stop by after our next session. You’re all free to go, but don’t let me stop you from spending time with your vode.” Patch nodded, releasing them to go do their various activities. 

The group sessions tended to vary widely in mood from day to day, but it was always nice to see the injured troopers enjoying each other’s company, and even Dogma had started to come out of his shell a little. 

His heart clenched as he thought of last time, with Dogma’s stuttering explanation of his visit to the Jedi temple, guilt bleeding through as he talked about believing Krell to the point of being tricked into killing his brothers, even aiming his blaster at Tup, and his shocked expression when nobody started berating him or attacking him afterwards, like he’d expected his ori’vode to immediately start hating him. The only reason he’d spoken up at all was because he felt like they deserved to know what he did before they trusted him with their own struggles. 

Patch shook his head; it was just like Dogma, to put other’s feelings before his own, including his need for privacy. But it had turned out for the better, with Nax and a couple others giving him their comm numbers at the end, telling him to call them whenever, even for something as little as a late-night snack partner. According to Tup, Dogma was still a little restless sleeping in the barracks, but that night, he’d fallen asleep the moment his head hit his pillow, not waking up for ten hours straight.

Patch exited the rehab room, walking over to Kix, who looked much better than when he’d last seen him. It had taken two days for Kix to obtain the required 10 hours of sleep before he could return to medbay (which turned into 16 hours of sleep between those two days, so he really couldn’t complain). Once his squad-mates realized just how tired he was, they’d started dragging him out of medbay the minute his shift was over, making sure he ate something and even trapping him in his bunk on occasion with some well-timed cat-naps.

“Hey Kix, how’s medbay looking? I heard we had a few more ready to be discharged to the barracks?” 

Kix nodded, sending Patch a grin. “Affirmative. Honestly, most of the recent transfers are pretty stable, so as soon as their squads are trained on transfers and they learn how to use crutches, a number of them should be able to leave medbay, with daily visits here. That buddy system’s really going to come in handy.”

Patch hummed in agreement, “Got the idea from your troopers, you know. You’re the one that originally paired Hardcase and Dogma, and both of them benefitted from the arrangement. I’ve actually been meaning to ask if you thought it’d be a good idea to open it up to the rest of the men as well, give them the opportunity to get support from someone outside their immediate circle.”

Making a noise of interest, Kix paused to think. “Wouldn’t that encourage codependency?” He grimaced as he thought of Fives and Echo, or himself and his batchmates, for that matter.

“I’m actually hoping this could help counter it, get some troopers to widen their circle of support. Was thinking we’d let Dogma devise a system for pairing troopers. He’s got a good eye for personalities, actually. He already seems to know who’s going to enable each other, or who’d work well, and he isn’t afraid to say it when troopers would be a terrible match.” He huffed in amusement. 

Kix nodded, sharing a look with Patch. When Kix had offered to train Dogma as a medic’s assistant (instead of just an extra set of hands), he’d looked so surprised at the offer. The fact that they saw him as an asset rather than a nuisance was still something he needed to wrap his head around. And yeah, Dogma could stand to learn a couple things about adapting to new scenarios, force knows that treating patients out in the field never turned out quite like it did in the simulations, but he already had a lot of the right instincts.

“Well, if you think it’ll help, then I’m all for it.” Kix cracked a grin. It was about time the 501st got some kind of mental health support.

Patch always heard klaxons in his dreams. Wailing sirens, flashing lights, and shuddering ships were familiar to his subconscious mind. Maybe that’s why he didn’t wake up to the Resolute’s evacuation drill until Tup was shaking his shoulder, shouting, “Come on, Patch. We’ve gotta go!” 

Reality crashed into Patch like a tidal wave, threatening to pull him under. Before his mind could process his surroundings, he was already standing, following the other troopers as they exited the barracks. Brain jolting in horror, his breath caught in his throat, and he could feel himself tremble with every blaring siren.

The flashing lights in the hallway were what brought him to a stuttering halt. Letting out a choked whimper, he leaned against a wall. His knees gave out underneath him, breaths coming in quick and shallow. Patch squeezed his eyes shut, gripping his empty forearms hard enough to hurt, entire body shaking. 

Part of him knew he needed to get moving, that he couldn’t get left behind, but his armor was back in the barracks, along with every one of his favorite coping strategies, and his shaking limbs refused to support his weight. Hyperventilating, he could practically hear the escape pod groaning as the life-support systems broke down.

Meanwhile, Dogma was passing through the hallway near the barracks. It was his first week back in his own bunk, and it still felt wrong to be safely nestled above Tup, listening to the quiet snores of his brothers, so he’d been wandering the halls waiting for sleep to come when the drill started. Rounding the corner, he nearly tripped over Patch before he caught himself.

“What the– Patch?”

Shaking his head frantically, Patch sat crumpled on the hallway floor, lost in a flashback and muttering to himself, “No no no no no–!” 

Dogma gave the medic a look of confusion, closely followed by a jolt of alarm, remembering his quiet admissions during group sessions about destroyed Venators and dying escape pods. Even now, he could see the older trooper hyperventilating, nails digging into his forearms hard enough to draw blood.

“H-Hey, don’t do that.” He exclaimed, trying to get Patch to stop gripping his arms so tightly, but Patch didn’t even acknowledge his existence, still shuddering in panic.

Dogma shook his head, trying to think of a new approach. At this rate, Patch’s tight grip was definitely going to leave a mark. “Stop that– uh, here!” 

With a grunt of realization, he crouched next to the medic, unclipping his own bracers before starting to attach them to Patch’s arms to give him at least a little bit of protection. Thankfully, this seemed to jolt Patch back to reality, just a little, and he loosened his grip just long enough for Dogma to finish. 

For a moment, this seemed to help, and Patch’s breathing slowed a little bit as he ran a hand along the armor pieces. But then, to Dogma’s alarm, his breath hitched and a few tears started to fall.

“Hey, d-don’t cry!” Dogma’s hands froze as he watched, but this only made him cry harder, just barely audible over the warning klaxons. Dogma’s breath caught in his throat; he was incredibly out of his depth. 

Not knowing what else to do, he grabbed his comlink from his belt and tried to comm Tup. Tup would know what to do. He listened to it beep a few times, but the call refused to connect. ‘He must’ve left his comm in the barracks,’ Dogma thought with dismay. 

But Patch was still shaking, eyes filled with unshed tears, so he tried again, this time calling Hardcase. Hopefully medbay hadn’t been dragged into the evacuation drill. When the comlink chirped, Dogma gave an audible sigh of relief.

“What is it, Dogma? It’s 0200.” Hardcase groaned, still sounding half-asleep.

“Patch is crying.” Dogma’s voice was tense with nerves as he watched the medic. 

“What?! What happened?”

“I don’t know! Probably something to do with the evac drill. How— W-What do I do?”

“He’s crying right now? Like, in front of you?” Hardcase was sounding increasingly concerned, and not nearly awake enough for this. 

“That’s what I’ve been saying!” 

“Then give him a hug or something! Don’t just stand there watching him!” 

“A hug?”

He could practically hear Hardcase’s facepalm. “Yes, with your arms! Hang the kriff up and comfort him!”

Dogma’s eyes widened in trepidation. “Uh, I’ll try, but–”

“And get someone to turn the kriffing alarms off!” He heard Hardcase say something else, presumably to a medic in medbay, and then the comm call cut off, leaving him alone again. 

In the short time it had taken to call Hardcase, it looked like Patch had calmed down a little more, but his hands still shook visibly as he sat curled up around his knees, letting out a quiet hiccup every now and then. Dogma took a deep breath, bracing himself before wrapping a stiff arm around Patch’s shoulders.

Patch flinched slightly before leaning into the touch, so Dogma offered him a hand, which he gripped tightly. Hardcase must’ve called someone, because the lights stopped flashing and the alarms petered off, and finally Patch could breathe again. 

The medic opened his eyes, finally starting to register his surroundings. With an exhale of relief, he slumped into Dogma’s side. He looked up, blinking in surprise as he began to realize what happened.

“...H-Hey kid. Sorry about that.” His voice was hoarse, and his ears burned with embarrassment as he gave Dogma a sheepish look. He took a few grounding breaths, trying to look a bit less like he was falling apart at the seams. 

“It’s okay… a-are you alright?” Dogma asked, stiffening slightly.

Patch quirked his head to one side, mentally scanning himself before answering honestly. “No, but I will be… c-can we head back to the barracks? I’d like to grab the rest of my armor before Kix or Coric drags me off to medical.” He could already feel his forearms burning, but he made a noise of surprise when he noticed that the bracers on his arms weren’t his own. 

Dogma nodded, fumbling for a moment before standing up, giving Patch a hand. “Sure, uh– can you stand?”

Giving a grunt of affirmation, Patch took Dogma’s hand gratefully. He sniffled, trying to avoid getting any more tears and snot on Dogma’s loaned armor, if he could help it. “Yeah, ‘m good.”

With slow steps, the duo made it back to the barracks. Dogma was quick to help Patch locate his armor, awkwardly offering him a tissue when he sniffled for the 3rd time. “Ugh, thanks vod’ika.” 

Dogma nodded, looking like he wanted to say something. “What is it, kid?” Patch asked, still feeling a little guilty at putting him in that situation. Even now, he was reliant on Dogma helping him put his armor back on. He let out a sigh of relief when he could breathe again, safe in its familiar weight.

Biting his lip in frustration, Dogma looked away, breath trembling. “I-I can’t – Is there… I’m not good at this! How do I help you?” 

Patch blinked in surprise before letting out a huff of amusement. “You already have, vod’ika. You stayed, you found what worked, and you called someone who removed the triggers. Thanks for these, by the way.” He handed back the loaned armor bracers before reaching and grabbing his weighted blanket from his bunk to wrap around his shoulders.

“Oh…” Dogma blinked, realizing he had indeed done those things. He watched as Patch reached into his utility belt to grab a metal tin, helping him open it when his shaking hands gave him trouble.

Giving him a nod of thanks, Patch grabbed a mint before offering one to Dogma, which he hesitantly accepted. “Sorry for putting you in that situation, Dogma, but you did good.” 

Dogma shook his head in refusal. “Y-You don’t need to apologize. I just– I’m not good at this…” He repeated himself, looking down at his hands. This whole medic assistant thing was pretty daunting, especially for an early-graduated trooper like himself. If it had been the start of the war, there’s a good chance he would still be on Kamino.

“Heh, nobody is, at first. The first time I helped someone with a blaster wound, I thought I was going to throw up.” Patch cracked a grin, relieved when Dogma returned it. 

“Come ‘ere, kid.” He lifted one arm, raising the corner of his weighted blanket for Dogma to join him if he wanted. Dogma hesitated for a second before scooting closer to the medic, mirroring their earlier positions, if a bit less awkwardly. 

A few minutes later, Coric came into the barracks with a couple bacta patches and a look of concern, followed by a wave of troopers more than ready to get back to their bunks. The next day, Captain Rex came by and set up a system for Patch to be alerted before drills, to give him time to put on his armor and use his coping strategies beforehand. They briefly discussed having a designated evacuation partner, in the case of an actual emergency, but settled on simply alerting the other medics (and his closest bunkmates) to be ready to assist Patch in the case of an evacuation. 

Kix gave him another once-over after firstmeal, changing his bacta patches with an unnecessary level of concern before returning the favor and taking him off of duty for the next 24 hours. He still didn’t take off his armor, probably wouldn’t for the next couple days. But as he sat in his bunk, curled up under his weighted blanket playing sabaac with Fives, Tup, Dogma, and Jesse, he couldn’t say he regretted it. It was nice to be the patient, the one being taken care of, for once.

#recently realized the comedic opportunities in a medic!dogma #dogma has the bedside manner of a rock #and we love him for it #clone trooper dogma #clone medic patch #patch angst #patch has aviophobia #ptsd #panic attacks #medic dogma #my fics #my stuff #swtcw fanfic #swtcw fic

[clone-medic-patch]

Summary:

Hardcase thought he knew what he was getting into, sacrificing himself for his brothers. What he didn’t expect was to survive, for Fives to pull him away from the explosions and bring him back down to Umbara. He definitely didn’t expect to be refused medical treatment and to be left fighting for his life. Kix says it’s going to be a long road to recovery, and he’s starting to wonder what “recovery” even looks like after something like this...

#hardcase survives umbara but has chronic pain #this is the first time I've really focused on one of my oc's in a fic so let me know if you liked it! #patch doesn't really show up a lot until chapter 10 but hopefully it's worth the read! #clone medic patch #rehab specialist patch #clone trooper hardcase #clone trooper dogma #arc trooper fives #clone trooper tup #clone trooper kix #rehab specialists would be similar to physical therapy or occupational therapy #burn wound recovery #post-umbara #umbara aftermath #clone trooper oc #clone oc #swtcw fanfic #swtcw fic #hardcase has adhd #autistic dogma #dogma has ocd #autistic tup #not really mentioned but it's a thing #also posted on my main #I'm currently writing like four fics simultaneously and I've never felt more alive #nothing motivates you to write fanfics like being told your usual fanfic site is down #having some formatting issues so it only let me link the first chapter -_-

[clone-medic-patch]

Patch thoughts:

It’s been a while since I’ve posted here, but I’ve been writing a fic with Patch in it, and I’ve had a lot of thoughts on his character development recently, so I thought I’d share! When I post the next chapter, I’ll probably post a link here as well!

Patch is an original 104th member (pre-Malevolence); he was in the escape pod with Wolffe (in his medic grays) when the Malevolence attacked, and has some related trauma 

Appearance: has a sole patch on his chin (like Waxer’s, but rounder), hair slightly longer than regulation (just a bit of grey); he’s slightly less active than his brothers, so he’s not a stick like most clones; (his metabolism is also starting to slow down, being one of the older clones). His armor has a grey stripe on the chin like his sole patch, and his paint is wolfpack grey, except for one of his gloves, which has a stripe of red paint.

Patch is very warm and affectionate around his brothers (great bedside manner), but can lash out in anger a little bit when he’s triggered; has dealt with depression in the past, but is doing a lot better nowadays

Has aviophobia (fear of flying/dying in something that flies), and definitely had a panic attack the last time he tried going on a Jedi cruiser

Was struggling mentally after the Malevolence, but it came to a head at the Battle of Khorm, when he lost his last batchmate, Blunt, and developed depression. During this time, his aviophobia got bad to the point that he had to be sedated anytime he went on a gunship.

Through some finagling, General Plo managed to get him reassigned to Coruscant, where he was stationed at the Coruscant Medical facility, and took classes to be a rehab specialist (although he’s still officially listed as a member of the 104th). The 104th, being a rescue battalion, is on-planet more often than most, so he still gets to see them fairly often.

Saw mindhealers at the jedi temple for a while, where he learned multiple grounding techniques to combat his aviophobia, including eating a mint, listening to music, and the occasional fidget toy (he likes the textured ones). He’s more than happy to share his coping strategies with his vode, and can use CBT strategies as part of his training as a rehab specialist (although isn’t certified as a mental health specialist).

After the Umbara campaign, multiple 501st troopers are needing PT/OT services, so when Rex sends out the temporary assignment request, Patch accepts (he’s doing better mentally now, and has been wanting to face his fears and hopefully join the 104th full-time soon, now that his rehab specialist training is done)

Doesn’t like taking off his armor because of Malevolence-related trauma, and only really does so to sleep; sleeps with a weighted blanket gifted to him by General Plo (bunks near Tup and Dogma when with the 501st)

Is on temporary assignment with the 501st (in my fic); hopes to rejoin the 104th afterwards, assuming he can handle living on a Jedi cruiser again

has a lot of old-man habits, and constantly acts like he’s 50-years old instead of barely 26 standards

#clone medic patch #this blog is only slightly dead #rehab specialists would be similar to physical therapy or occupational therapy #aviophobia #I promise patch isn't just bones from star trek #but i've already written one scene heavily inspired by him and it makes me happy #clone trooper oc #clone oc #OC Character Development

[clone-medic-patch]

i think ur cute

*the tension in Patch’s shoulders eases slightly and a few of the worry lines fade as he gives them a small smile in thanks* That’s really nice of you, anon, thank you. 

*gives his arms a stretch as he lets out a wide yawn* Medbay’s been pretty busy the past few days, haven’t had much of a break since our last mission... lost a few good vode... so I really appreciate you coming down here to cheer me up.

*spares a worried glance at the rest of medbay as he considers taking a short nap to recharge* If you wouldn’t mind, there’s a few others stuck in medbay who could do with some encouragement too. If you’ve got somewhere to be, I get it, but I hate leaving them alone with their thoughts after a battle like this...

#//patch cares about his vode but he also really needs to take a break #clone medic patch

[clone-medic-patch]

*gives them a sympathetic pat on the back* Don’t worry, that’s the last of it. Just make sure you don’t remove that splint until I say so, okay? 

*hands Shiv the ice pack from earlier* Icing it every now and then can help with the pain if you’re still against meds. Remember, 15 minutes on, 15 minutes off, and don’t put it right up against the skin unless you want to lose a finger to frostbite, tayli'bac?

"kriff..Patch ah...I may have...broken some of my fingers..." A clone trooper walks in, left half their head shaved with a mop of curly longer hair flopping to the right side. Their in their blacks and indeed their left hand index and middle fingers look dislocated if not broken. (I run @clone-trooper-shiv-rp if you are interested in playing ^^')

*looks up from his datapad with concern on his face* That doesn’t sound pleasant, how did it happen?

*takes one look at their hands, noticing the visibly broken fingers* Definitely broken. I’ll have to do a scan to see exactly where the breaks are. If we’re lucky, the breaks will be clean and we won’t need a medical droid to do surgery.

I don’t know if I’ve met you before, vod. What’s your name?

@clone-trooper-shiv-rp

#tayli'bac means 'got it?' or 'understand?' #clone medic patch #long post