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the-bad-batch-baroness · 4 months

Text

The Last Notch

Fives x Fem!Reader

Summary: In a dystopian Star Wars universe where clones aren't just soldiers, but also pleasurable objects used to help finance the war, Fives starts to question his role in the Erotic Bingo lottery system when he meets you and discovers something more fulfilling than sex.

Pairing: Fives x Fem!Reader

Characters: Fives, Jesse, Hardcase

Tags & Warnings: NSFW, 18+, dystopian!AU, implied/referenced sexual content, NO SMUT, strong sexual themes, explicit sexual language, clone sex workers, erotic bingo/lottery system, kink mentions, clone objectification, culturally-reserved reader (also read as demi-sexual), misunderstandings, angst, happy ending, POV switches between the reader and Fives

Word Count: 8.5k

Author's Note: I began this bingo card with Fives and I'm ending this bingo card with Fives. This fic has been sitting in my drafts since I first received my bingo card back in May, and I was so excited to revisit the idea. It's a little out there, and may not be everyone's cup of tea, but the underlying themes are really good and it's actually super sweet. As always, please enjoy 💚

@clonexreaderbingo Square: Regret

The evening air is crisp and the sky is clear as you make your way home from work. It's only been two weeks since you defected from your home planet and began a life on Coruscant, so you aren't used to the planet's large size, crowded public spaces, and endless winding streets. You thought you were going the right way, but something doesn't feel right. You don't remember seeing that purple neon sign on your walk home last night, but there it is, flashing at you.

You sigh and rub your tired face. You're lost, again. However, this time, the street is darker and the walls are a little more enclosed. A bit of anxiety creeps in as you take a few wary steps forward, then hesitate when the idea of turning around crosses your mind. You're not sure what to do. There aren't any kiosk maps around, and even if you did find one, you don't know if it will help you find your way home. The only thing you do know is that you won't find it by standing still.

Thus, you continue onward, trying to remember the landmarks leading to your apartment even though every corner looks the same. It's not until you come to a four-way intersection of lengthy streets that you begin to feel real panic. Your breath quickens as you turn in a circle, looking down each path with no inclination to step towards any of them. If you can just get to higher ground, or find someone to ask directions from, you'll be able to get home, but there's no one.

"You look lost," a man says.

You startle and turn around to look at the man, but you say nothing in response.

"I can help you get home," he says.

Something in your gut rings an alarm bell, alerting you that this man has no intentions of helping you find your way. You don't know what his real intentions are, but they aren't in your best interest. You take a cautious step back, and he takes a step towards you. You just want to go home. That's all you want to do. You hate this planet, you hate your home planet, and you hate this stupid galactic war that has led you to this exact moment where you might die in the streets.

"Please," you say with a shaky voice. "Leave me alone."

"But you're lost, little one," the man tilts his head to the side and steps closer. "Don't you want to find your home?"

"I–" you stammer and take a bigger step back. "I can find my own way home, thank you."

The man chuckles. "Oh, but I don't think you can."

You want to cry. In fact, you might just break down right here in front of your would-be kidnapper because you don't know what else to do. If your feet could move, where would you run? Where would you go? You don't know where anything is, let alone a police station, and running into a Coruscant Guardsman would be a miracle at this point. Out of your brain's options of fight, flight, freeze, or fawn, your brain chooses to freeze, which is the dumbest thing it can possibly do right now.

"Please," you plead. The tears get stuck in your throat as a sob threatens to escape. "I–"

"Hey!" another man shouts from behind you.

You stiffen as you feel a firm hand rest gently on your shoulder.

"She said, get lost," the man growls.

You watch intently as the creepy man scrunches his face with indignation before he backs away and disappears into the shadows of one of the streets. You want to release a sigh of relief, but some other man you don't know is touching you, and your body hasn't ditched the freeze mode yet. You're too afraid to turn around and see who the mysterious hand belongs to, so you remain standing still, stiff as a board, hoping he'll go away, but he doesn't.

"Are you alright?" the man asks as he removes his hand and walks around into your view.

You glance up at the man speaking to you and look into his soft brown eyes. His face carries a worried expression that feels warm, and he tilts his head to the side while awaiting your answer. You study him for a moment. He's well-groomed, with short, curly dark hair, a neatly trimmed goatee, and he's wearing normal casual clothing. You're not sure if you can trust him yet, but there's something very calming about his relaxed demeanor and soothing about his deep voice.

"Yeah," you finally breathe, then swallow hard. "I think so."

"Good," he says with a crooked smile. "What're you doing out here all alone? This isn't exactly a safe area."

"I got lost," you explain. "I just moved here recently and I'm still not used to how big this place is."

"That's understandable," he says warmly. "Well, welcome to Coruscant. Where'd you move from?"

"Onderon," you say.

"Onderon?" he repeats in surprise, then takes a more rigid and guarded stance. "A Seppi planet?"

You sigh and roll your eyes. This isn't the first time you've been heckled for hailing from a Separatist planet, and it most likely won't be your last. "Just because the leaders choose to align themselves with the Separatists, doesn't mean the citizens feel the same way," you explain. "There's a reason I defected."

The man raises his eyebrows at your annoyed tone, then casts his vision towards the ground. "I didn't realize…" he pauses. "I guess I never thought about it like that."

"Not many people do," you whisper. "Judging people by where they come from is cruel."

"I'm sorry," the man says as he rubs the back of his neck. "You're right. The Republic is all I've ever known…" he pauses, "and I've never stopped to think about the civilians on the other side."

You give the man a half-smile. "Thanks."

"Hey," the man says. "Why don’t I walk you home. It’s late and I’d hate for you to run into any more trouble."

You ponder his offer for a moment. "That's very kind of you."

"It's the least I can do after sticking my foot in my mouth," he explains. "Take it as an apology."

You chuckle. "Then I accept your apology."

The man smiles and reaches out his hand. "I'm Fives."

You smile, shake his hand, and offer your name. "Nice to meet you, Fives."

When you give Fives your address, he snorts and makes a comment about you being really lost. You want to be annoyed at him, but you can't seem to muster the gumption. He's too delightful for you to be mad, so you sigh in defeat and follow him as he leads you to your apartment. Coruscant isn't so scary now that you have an escort, and a very strong looking one at that. You can't imagine anyone even thinking about approaching you with him by your side.

Fives keeps the conversation light-hearted and casual as you stroll together along the neon-lit streets. You talk about everything from your first childhood pet all the way up to where you work. It's not an extravagant job, but you work as a barista at a small caf shop that doubles as a holo-bookstore. He asks you questions about your job and why you like it, and you answer that you are a plain and simple woman. You like the quaint atmosphere the caf and holo-books provide.

An indistinguishable expression flashes across his face and you wonder if you said something wrong. You shouldn't care if he's bothered by your simplistic lifestyle or not, but you're enjoying his company. You don't have many friends on Coruscant to begin with, and you want him, at the bare minimum, to like you enough to keep in touch. You've never been good at making friends, but with him doing most of the talking, he's making it easy for you two to get to know each other.

When you finally reach your apartment, you share a moment of awkward silence in front of your door. You're not sure if you should ask him inside and offer him something for his trouble, or if you should part ways here. On Onderon, it would be disrespectful not to offer your hospitality to him after he saved your life and walked you home, but you're not sure about the customs on Coruscant. You're afraid he would mistake it as an opportunity to take advantage of you.

"Thank you for walking me home," you say.

"It was my pleasure," Fives says.

You pull out your key card. "Well, good night."

"Hey," Fives begins as he rubs the back of his neck. "I know this may be sudden, but would you like to get a drink sometime? With me?"

You turn away from the door and look at him with surprise. Of all the things you thought were going to happen tonight, this was the least expected. "Oh," you say nervously. "I appreciate the offer, but I don’t drink."

"Soda?" Fives asks quickly. "What about soda? Or water?"

You let out a small laugh. "Sure, I like soda."

"Great!" Fives exclaims. "How about tomorrow night, around 19:00?"

"Works for me," you say with a small smile. "Where are we meeting?"

"At 79’s," Fives says. "I can give you directions."

"The clone bar?" you ask in confusion.

Fives chuckles. "Well, yeah, I am a clone."

Your eyes grow wide. "You’re a clone?"

"Yeah…" Fives furrows his brows, then raises one. "You’ve never seen one before?"

"No," you say, feeling a bit embarrassed.

"Well, that’s a first," Fives remarks with amusement. "You really didn’t know?"

"I’m from Onderon, remember?" you say. "We don’t exactly get clones on our planet."

"I guess that makes sense," Fives says.

"Besides," you add, "you're not wearing any armor and the only clones I've ever seen had armor and helmets on."

"That's fair, too," Fives says. "I'm on leave, so I like to relax a little and ditch the kit."

"If you don’t mind me asking," you begin. "I’m not trying to be rude, but, how will I find you at the bar? You know, since you all… look alike."

Fives laughs, tilts his head, and points at the Aurebesh tattoo on his temple. "This. This is me. Fives."

You feel a little dumb for not noticing it earlier, but you blame it on the poor lighting. "I can remember that."

"Then I'll see you tomorrow?" Fives asks.

"Yes," you answer. "I'll see you tomorrow."

Fives smiles, takes a few steps away from your door, then turns back to face you. "Good night."

You smile at him, then swipe your card to unlock your door. "Good night."

You walk into your apartment and let the door whoosh shut behind you. Releasing your held breath, you turn around, place your forehead against the cool door, and smile. It's been a while since you felt like this, and you have to admit, you're a little bit scared. Your last relationship ended because of the war, differing opinions, and your sexual preferences. It's not that you don't want to have sex, or that you don't find men attractive, but it takes you time to feel safe to do so.

It's a huge turn-off to a lot of men. Sex is the only thing that men think about when they see a woman, and there aren't many who will willingly be in a relationship with you, knowing that they'll have to wait until you're ready to even touch you sexually. Most just leave after you explain it to them, so you're not getting your hopes up that Fives will accept it either. He seems like a decent and nice man, but the thought of him rejecting you like the others has you hesitant to try again.

You sigh and back away from the door. There's no use in worrying about it now, because you'll have plenty of time to overthink it all tomorrow while you're at work. Instead, you take care of your nightly tasks like making dinner, showering, putting your most comfortable pajamas on, and snuggling under your blankets to watch your favorite holo-show. It's the one that makes you laugh and keeps your mind from thinking about the life you left behind, and the people you miss.

However, as much as you try to pay attention to the holo-show, your mind keeps wandering to Fives. You think about his smile and the way he laughed. That's what you notice about people. You don't care if they're hot, sexy, or attractive, but only if their smiles are warm, their eyes are honest, their minds are humorous, and their hearts are soft. Those are the qualities you look for in a partner. And now here you are, lying awake, wondering what else you'll learn about him.

The morning arrives soon enough, and you feel exhausted from your lack of sleep. You tossed and turned like a secondary school girl going through her first crush, but your body doesn't bounce back like it used to, and you're feeling the consequences of your choices. Nevertheless, you're giddy to get the day started and get to work. The sooner you go to work, the sooner you'll get off of work, and the sooner you'll be able to go on your date with Fives at the clone bar, 79's.

That place makes you wonder. You've heard a lot about 79's since you came to Coruscant, and not all of them are good. While living on Onderon, you didn't frequent the bar scene, but then again, Onderon bars are upscale to begin with, so you don't know if the bars on Coruscant are similar or if they are more like the bars on Tatooine that you've read about, full of cheap booze and degenerates. You consider doing a little more research beforehand, but you decide against it.

Before leaving for work, you pack a small bag with a change of clothes for your date. It's a bar, but you don't want to be too flashy if it's like Tatooine, and you don't want to look too frumpy if it's like Onderon. You think back to the way Fives was dressed when you met him, and ultimately decide to go the casual route. Not too classy and not too frumpy, just comfortable. However, you do pack your lucky earrings and small bottle of perfume so you don't smell like caf all night.

Your shift goes as expected, with your routine customers coming in for their usual orders. You love that about your job, getting to meet new people and learning all sorts of things about them. But, perhaps your favorite part of the job is offering holo-book suggestions. The shop doubles as a holo-bookstore, where patrons can drink caf and read, so the holo-book side of things is just as important as making their caf correctly. As an avid reader yourself, your suggestions are always on point.

Once your shift is over, you hang your apron up and make your way to the back to change. Your co-workers say a few remarks and ask you a couple questions about your excitement and you explain that you're meeting a man for a date at 79's. Your co-workers exchange a few surprised and knowing glances and you can't help but notice. You're unsure why they're reacting like that for just a date, but then again, you're still new to the area, so it might be a bit of missing context.

After you're dressed and happy with your hair, you make your way to 79's. This time, you are determined not to get lost, and mapped out the route ahead of time to be extra careful. If he's in the bar waiting for you, then he won't be out on the streets to find you if you get lost. You're not sure why you didn't offer to exchange comm numbers the night you met, but you blame the scary life or death situation for rattling you completely out of your mind which made you forget.

As you get closer, you notice the large, bright, orange neon sign with the 79's logo in the middle, and you're taken aback by how big the place is. The bars on Onderon, even the high-scale ones, aren't this big. Its size alone makes you feel nervous. You don't like bars to begin with, and here you are, waltzing right up to a giant one full of men that you don't even know. You begin to wonder if all of your senses left you when you agreed to this date, but you can't back down now.

The door slides open and your senses are bombarded. The smell of booze is thick in the air, the music is loud, and the bar is filled with clones. Your eyes widen and you suck in a quick breath. This was not what you were expecting, not in the slightest. You stay frozen by the door, sidestepping lazily when someone walks in after you, too afraid to go in any further. There's half-naked women, half-naked men, pole dancers, a stage, and every other kind of strip club vibe.

You whip around to leave, but bump into a clone in your haste. He only has the bottom half of his armor on, with just the black bodysuit covering his torso, except the sleeves are rolled up. The armor doesn't look like the Coruscant Guard that you're used to seeing. Instead, it has blue markings and big leather flappy-looking things that cover his thighs, with holsters and black pouches draped over them in a criss-cross. You step back in surprise but don't say anything.

"Well, hello there, sweet little thing," the clone says with a cocky smile as he looks you up and down.

You feel uncomfortable with his eyes roaming over your body, and you're glad you chose casual modesty over anything revealing, but you still want to bury yourself in a pile of blankets to keep him from staring at you like some sort of snack. The clone's resemblance to Fives is uncanny, except he's bald, with a giant GAR logo tattoo covering most of his head and face, and a five o'clock shadow. You knew they were clones, but you didn't realize they looked that much alike.

"Uh, hi," you finally muster the courage to say, trying not to let your nerves escape through your voice.

"Don’t think I’ve ever seen you in here before," the clone says as he steps closer to you. He gently runs a finger under a lock of your hair. "What're you into? I can show you around to all the good spots."

"I'm meeting someone," you blurt out and pull your face back to let your hair slip from his finger. "For a date."

"Oh, apologies," the clone says, and backs off his advances. "Who're you looking for? I can bring you to him."

"Fives," you say. "I'm here for Fives."

"Fives?" the clone says in surprise. "Well, aren’t you a lucky girl, to be requested by Fives."

You knit your eyebrows together in confusion. "Requested?"

The clone studies your perplexed expression for a second, then shrugs. "Never mind. Come on, I’ll bring you to him."

You nod and follow the clone through the bar, trying not to look at the debauchery happening all around you. But, you end up catching a few glimpses that make you wish you could bleach your eyes. People throwing credits at scantily clad clones twirling around poles, people doing way more than just kissing in the booths, clones taking shots from women's cleavage, lap dances that are anything but dances, and you think you saw someone having actual sex. It's a nightmare.

Finally, you see Fives, sitting in one of the booths. You recognize his goatee and the Aurebesh tattoo on his temple. Although, at this point, you're not sure what to say to him, since you've been hurled so far out of your comfort zone you may never recover. Nevertheless, you smile at him and he smiles back at you, gesturing with his hand for you to sit down. You take a seat across from him in the booth, but squirm when you think of what you saw people doing in these booths.

The clone that escorted you leans over the back of your booth, cages your head with his hands, then smirks at Fives. "Trying something new tonight?"

You jump.

"Get lost, Jesse," Fives growls.

Jesse straightens up, raises his hands in defense, and walks away.

"Don’t mind him," Fives says. "He's harmless."

"He seems…" your voice is shaky, "nice."

"Do you want something to drink?" Fives asks, changing the subject. "They’ve got an assortment of non-alcoholic beverages."

"Sure," you say. "I’ll just have the soda."

"Got it," Fives says as he gets up from the booth. "I’ll be right back."

You sit alone in the booth and contemplate your life choices that led you to this moment. You're not sure how you, a respectful young Onderon lady, ended up in a vulgar place like this. 79's is nothing like the bars on your home world, and you're very disappointed. What does this mean about Fives? Is he into this lifestyle? Or does he come here just because he's a clone and it's a bar meant for clones? Maybe you're overthinking it and he likes caf and holo-books just like you do.

"So," a clone says as he slides into the booth to fill the empty spot left by Fives. "You’re Fives’ special hook-up, yeah?"

"I beg your pardon?" you huff. "This is a date, not some sleazy hook-up."

It's another bald clone, but this one has blue lines tattooed on his face, no five o'clock shadow, and no armor, at all. He looks like he just came down from the poles and you really didn't want to see that tonight. You're beginning to wonder if the bald clones are the weird ones and the clones with hair are the normal ones, because out of the three you've met so far, Fives is the only one who seems to be somewhat ordinary, and also the only one with a full head of hair.

"Jesse told me otherwise," the clone says, disregarding your earlier remarks. "So, how’d you worm your way into that spot?"

"Spot?" you repeat in confusion. "What are you talking about?"

"Seriously?" the clone says with a quirk of his brows. "You do know who Fives is, right? One of the top ten clone names in Erotic Bingo? Master of every position humanly possible? He’s only got the longest line of people waiting to scan him on their bingo cards. So how’d you cut the line?"

"Erotic…" you're stunned, mouth gaping and eyes wide. "What?"

"Come on," the clone says. "Erotic Bingo? The lotto system? You know, where you can win credits by having sex with clones? Do you live under a rock or something?"

You feel sick. The room begins to spin as all of the words this clone has spoken to you swirl around in your mind, setting off every klaxon in response, shouting at you to leave this place immediately. You've been duped. You've been lied to. Your image of Fives and his soft, sweet smile shatters into a million pieces. You feel stupid, like you should've known it was too good to be true. Sex. It's a drug, and they're all addicted to it. That's all you are to him, a sexual object.

Fives comes back from the bar with your soda and a Corellian ale for himself, and frowns when he sees the clone sitting across from you. "Hardcase," Fives says with a warning in his voice. "That's my seat."

Hardcase smirks, and slides himself out of the booth. "Whoops," he says. "Guess I mistook her for someone else. She's all yours."

Fives rolls his eyes and gives Hardcase a whack with his shoulder to get a move on, then sets down the drinks before sliding himself back into the booth. He smiles and grabs his ale, lifting it to toast with you, but his smile slowly dissipates when he sees your panicked expression.

"Are you okay?" Fives asks. "Did Hardcase say something to you? I'm sorry. He really can't control himself half the time."

"I…" you stutter, trying to find the words in your parched throat. "I have to go."

"Go?" Fives asks in confusion. "Go where? You just got here."

"Home," you answer as you try to hold back your tears.

"I don’t understand," Fives says. "What's wrong?"

"This," you say. "All of this."

Fives shakes his head, bewildered by your words, unsure of what to say.

"You're just like everyone else," you say as you get up from the booth. "All you men ever want is sex. You think women are cheap and gullible, and will rollover for you in bed. Well guess what, Fives. I’m not cheap, I’m not easy, and I’m not going to be another notch in your bedpost!"

"What…" Fives' jaw slacks. He scrambles to get up from the booth to go after you. "Hey, wait! Please, let me explain!"

"Just stay away from me!" you turn around and shout, tears threatening to fall from your eyes. "This was a mistake… You're a mistake."

Fives sighs as he watches you leave. That last remark hurt, but at this point he thinks he probably deserves it. The one time he actually wants a relationship, he botches it up four ways to Benduday. He pinches the bridge of his nose and rubs his forehead before making his way back to the booth. He sits down and slinks back so his feet can touch the opposite side, and watches the condensation slip down the side of your glass of soda, the ice clinking as it melts.

"Ouch," Hardcase says as he leans over the back of Fives' booth. "That was painful to watch."

"This is your fault," Fives says without turning around to look at him.

"I'm not the one that invited that kinda girl to this kinda place," Hardcase says, before pushing himself off the booth and turning around. "And they say, I'm the dumb one."

Fives groans, even though he knows Hardcase is right.

He's not sure what he was thinking when he invited you to 79's after you said you don't drink alcohol and you like quiet atmospheres. Everything that 79's is not. Perhaps it was out of a sense of familiarity. Then, to top it all off, you got the wrong impression about the date, but he can't blame you for coming to that conclusion when he's the one who invited you to a borderline whore-house of a bar. The more he thinks about it the more he realizes why you were so upset.

Fives fiddles with his Corellian ale, aimlessly twirling the base of the glass bottle against the table. As he takes a sip, Jesse slides in across from him.

"What do you want?" Fives asks.

"I take it your hook-up didn’t work out," Jesse muses as he takes a sip from his own beverage.

"It wasn’t a hook-up," Fives says.

"Sorry," Jesse waves with his hand sarcastically. "I meant your special hook-up."

"It wasn't a hook-up," Fives repeats, the irritation in his voice growing.

"What?" Jesse asks. "You were on a date or something? That’s cute."

Fives huffs. "What if I was?"

"Then I’d ask what you did with the real Fives," Jesse laughs.

"Don’t you ever get tired of it?" Fives asks. "The Erotic Bingo? Meaningless sex?"

"Nope,” Jesse says and takes another swig. "We’re toys. Toy soldiers for the GAR and sex toys for everyone else. Novelties. Created to be used, abused, and thrown away."

"That’s rather grim," Fives says.

"It’s our reality," Jesse retorts. "What did you think you were going to do? Date, settle down, have kids, and live a normal life?"

"I could try," Fives says.

Jesse snorts. “In ten years time, you’ll be old enough to be her father. How gross is that?”

Fives grunts.

"Listen," Jesse says as he puts his drink down and gets serious. "I wish it was different. Maker, I wish it was, but it’s not. This is the life of a clone. We’re only in our prime for a short time, so we have to do what we can before we're old and flaccid."

Fives sighs. "I get that, but–"

"Don’t think about it too much," Jesse interjects. "You’ll just make yourself depressed."

"Hey, you know what?" Jesse says. "There's a woman at the bar that needs to cross off "Dueling Arcs" on her card. You in? Might help you forget about your date."

"Not interested," Fives says dryly. "Echo's somewhere around here. I'm sure he'll do it with you."

Jesse chuckles. "That chick’s got you by the balls, huh?"

"Piss off," Fives sneers.

"Suit yourself," Jesse shrugs. "Careful though, I'd hate to take your place in the Top Ten Most Erotic Clones."

Fives rolls his eyes. He used to enjoy that title, now all it does is remind him of what he can't have, you. The Erotic Bingo lottery system was created soon after the war began. Apparently, the clones gained a cult following after civilians began to figure out that clones were attractive. The senate and the GAR realized they could bank on this new found interest, and created an Erotic Bingo lottery-type game that would benefit the clones, civilians, and the GAR's funds.

The Erotic Bingo game is pretty simple. People all over Coruscant can purchase the bingo cards at any lottery kiosk on the planet. The bingo cards have a range of prices that correspond to the difficulty of making multiple bingos or getting a blackout. The cards are labeled from 'D' tier being the easiest and cheapest, in terms of purchase and payout, to 'S' tier being the hardest and most expensive. The more bingos made and the more expensive the card, the better the payout.

The Erotic Bingo cards have a wide range of sexual activities from tame vanilla intercourse, mutual masturbation, and oral sex, all the way up to the most degrading and disgusting kinky sex imaginable. Usually, only the 'S' tier cards contain the extreme activities, but on occasion, an 'A' tier card will have one or two. Some common squares are: "sex with a shiny", "dueling arcs", "suck a sergeant", "commander facial", "69 at 79s", "barcs and arfs", and "medic masturbation".

The clones don't get much of a choice in the Erotic Bingo game. They can refuse an offer to fulfill a square, but most don't. It's the only way a clone is allowed to make any credits. When a clone scans their identichip into the bingo card, they automatically receive their kick-back as a direct deposit when the bingo card is returned. If a bingo was not achieved, then there's no kick-back. So, in reality, it's in a clone's best interest to fulfill as many squares as possible.

Many of the battalions have fully leaned into the Erotic Bingo game, making it a part of their culture. The 212th basically runs a gentlemen's club. They don't perform a lot of 'S' acts, but they do get a lot of repeat customers. The 104th is all about the animalistic kinks, like breeding. They call it the "Wolffe Den'' and it's exactly what it sounds like. Then there's the Coruscant Guard and their "Dungeon". For those interested in whips and bondage, that's the place to be.

The 501st, on the other hand, doesn't have a particular theme, but dabbles in a little bit of everything. A person can rarely find an unwilling participant in the 501st, but any square dealing with a commander has to go somewhere else, considering Rex is a captain. It's the only type of squares the 501st can't do. The Jedi disapprove of the entire system, and refuse to take part in any of it, but they didn't have a say in the system's creation and neither did the clones.

The GAR even built a hierarchy system of the "Top Ten Most Erotic Clones," which is where Fives landed himself after filling out countless bingo cards. And as Hardcase pointed out previously, he has a waiting list a mile long. For shinies, it's a right of passage to scan their names on a bingo card, but for higher ranking, popular clones, it becomes a full time job when they're on leave. It fills their every waking moment, and at least for Fives, it's dulled his libido.

Fives began to question the whole Erotic Bingo lottery system after he saw Tup come back to the barracks late one night, crawl into his bunk, and refuse to speak to anyone for days. Only Kix knew what happened and Fives never asked. Sometimes, attractive young clones get pulled aside to fulfill Erotic Bingo cards for the upper echelons of Coruscant, like senators. Tup ended up in that category, and Fives wasn't surprised at Tup's reaction, since senators buy the 'S' tier cards.

He doesn't want to do it anymore. He's tired of the meaningless, trivial, and almost chore-like sex, with not a single emotional bond ever created in the process. Everyone, literally, comes and leaves, like he's an object they can use to get themselves off, then either toss him out or come back to reuse him again. He's a walking dildo without a vibrate feature. And yet, the game is so ingrained in the clone culture, that backing out is considered taboo and he could be shunned.

After he met you, he wanted to be done with it. All of it. The sex, the Erotic Bingo game, the credits, the titles. He was ready to throw it all away just to have someone like you in his life. Someone kind, sweet, endearing, and funny. There was an actual spark when he talked to you. His heart fluttered and his body felt things it hadn't felt in so long. He just wanted to get to know you, but he screwed it up, and you left 79's hating him. He wants a second chance and to try again.

Fives downs the rest of his Corellian ale and grimaces at its disgusting warmth, but why waste the credits. He places the empty bottle on the table and decides to head back to the barracks to turn in early. There's nothing left for him to do at 79's tonight, so there's no point in staying. He glances at the bar on his way out and sees that Jesse found Echo. He wishes he could cheer them on at their endeavor, but he can't. Watching them only tightens the knot in his stomach.

Back at the barracks, he lies down on his bunk and thinks about how he's going to approach you again. However, his thoughts keep being interrupted by the sounds of breathy grunting from several of the bunks. Normally, he would zone it out, or maybe start masturbating to it, but not tonight. The only thing on his mind right now is you, and somehow touching himself to the image of you in his mind seems wrong after what happened. So, he is forced to listen until they finish.

Regardless of what is going on around him, he's still thinking about you. He runs all of the events through his mind, over and over again, trying to figure out why he didn't ask you out on a date somewhere else. Even an old diner would have been better than 79's. All of the signs were there that you would be repulsed by his sex-working lifestyle, but he chose to ignore them, and he doesn't know why. Maybe he was anxious and wanted the safety net of 79's to calm his nerves.

Fives groans and rolls onto his stomach, squishing his face into his pillow. Overthinking this is doing absolutely nothing to help him, and neither are the erotic sounds echoing throughout the barracks. He pulls the pillow out from under his face and presses it over his ears, trying to muffle the sounds so he can think properly without his dick getting in the way. Finally, he realizes that all he has to do is undo the misunderstanding and he should be able to win you back, hopefully.

You wake up this morning feeling worse than you did the morning before your date with Fives. With all of the crying you did last night, your face is all red and puffy. You try splashing some cold water on it, but it doesn't do you much good. Perhaps a bit of make-up can mask your broken heart. Although, you're not sure what you're so upset about. You've only known the man for barely two rotations and you're crying over him like you've been together for years.

There's no use wallowing in your own sorrow, so you do what you always do when life discourages you. You put your big girl panties on and go to work. At least your customers will be a good distraction for you. They won't try to have sex with you. Besides, it's only your third week on Coruscant, and there are plenty more men where he came from. Then again, if all the clones are in on the erotic-bingo-whatever-thing, then maybe there aren't as many fish in the sea as you hope.

Either way, you're sure you'll find someone to love you for who you are, and not just for your anatomy. But you can't shake the disappointment that you wish it was Fives. He checked all of your boxes and you really wanted it to be him. Even after you stormed out of 79's, all you could see when you closed your eyes was his smile. It was genuine. You quickly shake the thoughts away before you start going down the rabbit hole. You saw who he was, and that's the end of it.

Just as you predicted, your mind is in a better place when you start working. Your regular customers come in and get the same orders as they usually do, and you chat with them while you make their specialty drinks. They ask you how you are doing, and you give them a generic answer so that they won't pester you. You would rather talk about them right now, and not yourself. Keeping your mind occupied with others helps you stay focused on the task at hand.

However, you nearly drop the latte you're holding when you see a clone standing outside the large transparisteel storefront. Your heart starts racing, but you tell yourself it's just a coincidence. There are millions of clones on Coruscant. It could be anyone. You watch him out of the corner of your eye when he enters the shop, and that's when you see his goatee and the Aurebesh tattoo on his temple. You take a deep breath as he approaches the ordering counter.

"What are you doing here?" you ask while crossing your arms.

"A cup of caf and a credit for your time?" Fives asks as he puts a few credits down on the counter.

"I'm not a stripper," you huff. "I can't be bought."

"I know," Fives sighs. "And that's not what this is."

"Then what do you want?" you ask.

"To have a cup of caf and talk," Fives says. "That's it. I promise."

You roll your eyes and swipe the credits off the counter, then pour two mugs of regular hot caf. You call back to your supervisor to let them know that you're going on break, then pull your apron over your head and hang it up. You pick up the two mugs and signal Fives to follow you to one of the corner tables, then set the mugs of caf down opposite each other. You pull out one of the chairs and sit, then cross your legs, lean back, and fold your arms over your chest.

"You've got fifteen minutes," you say.

"I'm sorry," Fives begins. "For what happened at 79's."

"You lied to me," you accuse.

"That's not true," Fives says calmly. "I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to get the wrong idea."

"What other idea was there?" you ask. "You had me meet you at a strip club where I got bombarded by half-naked clones asking me how I made it on your 'hit list' for Erotic Bingo. What did you think I was going to think?"

"I… I don't know," Fives grimaces and glances away. "I just…" he pauses. "I just wanted to talk and get to know you. I swear. There was nothing else."

You lean forward, set your elbows on the table, and place your chin over your clasped fingers. "There's always something else," you say. "It's all you men ever want. All you care about is sex and I don't want it."

"I don't want it either!" Fives exclaims, then hushes himself when he remembers he's in a public place. "I don't."

"They all say that in the beginning," you huff. "Then they get you all emotionally attached and try to force you to do what they want. Well, I don't buy it for one standard second."

Fives sighs and smooths his index finger around the rim of his mug. "You know, I thought you would be different."

You furrow your brows at his words.

"You talked about not judging people based on where they came from," Fives explains. "Well, I didn't get a choice in being created, or being a soldier, or being a kriffing pleasure object. You get to leave your past behind and make a new life, but mine has to stay with me, right?"

"Fives…" you say.

He's right. You're judging him the same way he judged you when you told him you were from Onderon. It's true, the clones didn't have a choice in where they came from as much as you didn't have a choice in where you came from. He's throwing your own hypocrisy back into your face and you're mortified. The roles are reversed. You both thought of each other as different from the rest; what you were searching for, but ignorance and misjudgment clouded it.

Fives sighs and gets up from the table. "I guess we both lied."

"Wait, Fives," you say to try and stop him. You get up from the table and reach out to grab his arm, but you pull your hand back before making contact.

"Thanks for the caf," Fives says, then walks out the door.

You slump back down into the chair, mouth gaping in shock, feeling dazed by the whiplash you just endured. Regret washes over you and you can't believe what just happened. He came all this way, to your comfort zone, to try and apologize and explain himself, but you refused to hear it. You could kick yourself for the awful way you acted towards him. He was wrong about you and you were wrong about him. It was all just a giant misunderstanding. Maker, you're an idiot.

You scramble out of your chair and race towards the door, pushing it open and looking down the street towards where he went. You can still see him, casually walking further away. You can't let him go, not yet. You can still fix this. Everything can still be salvaged. You only need to apologize and start over. It's so simple, yet why didn't you realize sooner? You run down the street, trying to catch up with him. It might already be too late, but you have to try. You have to.

"Fives!" you yell as you get closer.

Fives turns around and his eyes widen in surprise.

"Wait!" you yell, finally closing the distance. You stop in front of him and pant at the exertion. "I'm sorry. You were right. I judged you before I even got to know you. I'm so sorry." Tears start rolling down your face.

"Hey, it's okay," Fives says, and he chances to wipe away one of your tears. "Don't cry. Please?"

"It's just… so hard," you say in between sniffles. "I'm so far away from home. I barely know anyone. The planet is so big and I'm so small."

"Shhh," Fives soothes. "It's okay. Sit here." Fives ushers you to sit down on the sidewalk against the wall, and he sits down next to you and listens.

"I just… I wanted a friend," you cry into your knees. "I wanted you to be my friend, and then all the sex stuff scared me, because it's not who I am. I don't care about it. I don't want it. I don't need it. I've had people leave me over it."

Fives sits silently next to you and waits for you to finish.

"I'm sorry," you say as you wipe your face with your sleeve. "I don't know what came over me, and I feel so stupid for crying after everything I said."

"Apology accepted," Fives says. "And you're not stupid."

You sigh. "One of us has to be."

"Then it's probably me," Fives admits.

"Can we both be stupid?" you ask with a small laugh.

"Sure," Fives smiles. "Hi stupid, I'm Fives."

You burst out laughing, and all of a sudden, every fear and reservation you have about Fives melts away. He really is just a nice guy that did the best he could with the hand that he was dealt, just like you did. It's amazing how two complete strangers, from different corners of the galaxy can somehow meet by chance and click together like puzzle pieces. Your heart feels warm and full of life, and you can't help but smile at the way he makes you feel; complete.

"You know," Fives says as he taps his knee. "I'd love to be your friend, and ditch the Erotic Bingo game while I'm at it."

"Really?" you ask, hope brimming in your tear-stained eyes.

"Really," Fives says with a smile. "I want connection, and the bingo game can't give me that, but you can."

"What about sex?" you ask. "I can't promise you that I'll ever want it."

Fives chuckles. "I've had enough sex to last me four life-times. Trust me. I can go without it."

"Are you sure?" you ask.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Fives says. "Just let me know what's okay, and what's not, and we'll go from there."

You smile and lay your head against Fives' shoulder. "This is okay."

Fives smiles and lays his head atop yours. "Okay."

Soon after you agreed to be friends, Fives did indeed ditch the Erotic Bingo game, much to his brother's displeasure. He wasn't completely shunned out of the culture, especially by his own battalion, but there were plenty of clones that disagreed with his choice and they weren't afraid to show it. Fives was strong though, and he suffered through it like a champ, even convincing a few of his closest brothers to ditch the game as well and seek out more meaningful connections.

Now, it's been a year since your fateful encounter with Fives and both of you have thrived. Your friendship quickly bloomed into a beautiful partnership. Without an ability to make any income, you helped support Fives' needs with your own job. It became easier once you were promoted to shift manager and began earning more credits. The extra credits also afforded you to find a bigger apartment, so that Fives could move in with you. It's been a lot of fun having a roommate.

When he's not off-world fighting the Republic's war, he's home with you, relaxing on the couch and watching holo-movies with you. Sometimes, you'll start a holo-series, then he'll get an assignment and have to leave. He'll beg you on his hands and knees not to watch it without you, and you don't, most of the time. Other times you'll start a pillow fight, or make brownies, or just talk and laugh at stupid jokes until your sides hurt and tears start rolling down your cheeks.

You can't believe that in such a short time, Fives has become the center of your world. He's your best friend, and he's never once asked you for sex or kisses or touches or anything else that you weren't ready for. He's completely content with what he already has with you and always waits until you initiate an act first. Even then, he will ask you a few more times before reciprocating, just to be sure it's what you want and not something you feel pressured into.

Today it's early evening, and you both just finished a delicious dinner that you made together. You're working on putting the leftovers away in the conservator and Fives is standing in front of the sink washing the dishes. You stop what you're doing for a moment and watch him. You're not sure when you finally fell in love with him, but you know you are; it's unmistakable. You walk up behind him, wrap your arms around his middle, and press yourself tight against his back.

Fives smiles at the warm gesture, but keeps scrubbing the plate in his hand with the sponge.

"Fives?" you ask.

"Mhm?" Fives hums.

"I think I'm ready," you say.

"Ready for what?" Fives asks.

"To make love," you say.

Fives stops scrubbing the plate. "You think?" he asks over his shoulder. "Are you sure?"

You stand on the tips of your toes and place a soft kiss at the nape of his neck, just at the base of his hairline. This is the first time you've kissed him and you can tell it's having an effect. A few of the hairs stand on end after you remove your lips and it makes you smile. He probably wasn't expecting it, and to be honest, neither were you. But the way he was standing there, doing the dishes, stirred something in you that you've never felt before. You nuzzle your face into his back.

"I trust you," you whisper against his shirt. "With all of my heart."

Fives places the dish down in the sink with the sponge resting on top, and dries his hands with the dish towel. He turns around to look at you, studying your face to make sure there are no hints of reservation or anything that would raise a red flag that you are feeling pressured to say this. Sensing nothing, he wraps his arms around your back and pulls you gently against him, barely allowing your bodies to touch, then tilts your chin up to lovingly stare into your soft eyes.

"Cyare, are you sure?" he asks again. "I don't want it if you don't want it."

"I want it," you insist. "I want… I want to be the last notch in your bedpost."

Fives smiles and kisses your forehead. "It's reserved just for you."

Masterlist

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freesia-writes · 8 months

Text

Tech + Vel Chapter 28: Resonance

I have to post the fanart by @nika6q instead of the header for the story this time, cause it's SO DARN PERFECT! I love seeing how everyone envisions her. I could cry. <3 You'll see the context of the scene down below. :)

During the Clone Wars, the Bad Batch is tasked with a variety of missions across the galaxy. An unexpected addition to their team throws a wrench in the mix, particularly for Tech, who finds a particular connection with this disillusioned Padawan-turned-mechanic named Vel throughout the events in this action-adventure romance. COVER ART BY @zaana!!

Master List of Chapters

The feeling of his lips on hers and the intoxicating delight of his affection was all Vel could think about for the next number of days. She'd been yearning to revisit it at any chance they could get, but they'd been sent on another mission, and Tech was right back into "work mode", executing his duties with flawless precision and efficiency. She had plenty to do as well, even being coerced into joining them in the reconnaissance stage. After days of lurking about the Coruscant underworld, Hunter had cornered their target, calling the rest of the team to close in.

Then the weasel escaped.

How, Vel couldn't figure out, and Crosshair made sure to interrogate Hunter about it later, but for now, the Rhodian was scuttling down an alley toward a parking lot of speeder bikes. Tech and Vel were closing in quickly on either side, narrowly missing him as he shot off into the Coruscant traffic lanes. They each grabbed a bike as well, Vel whispering a silent apology to whoever the unfortunate owners were, and darted after him.

Careening around corners and weaving between other ships, Vel shortened the distance between them, navigating expertly amid the cacophony of the night sky. If she was being honest, she was slightly smug about the opportunity to show off her skill on a speeder bike. It hadn't come up in their conversations or missions, but she had significant experience from a somewhat adventurous adolescence. Tech was an admirably adept pilot, but speeders were different than full-sized ships, and she yearned to outperform him in something other than the occasional mechanical fluke.

Tech was close behind, scanning possibilities from behind his visor and simultaneously paying attention to the erratic twists and turns of his quarry. Angry honks and yells followed the racers as they narrowly missed a crash every few seconds, each taking increasingly dangerous risks to try to outwit the others. A quick review of the layout of the sector they were currently in gave Tech an idea, and he peeled off and disappeared from view.

Hair whipping behind her, Vel leaned further down, coaxing the little bike faster and faster. Her jaw was set in determination, the wide galaxy-colored eyes of the Rhodian fueling her need to capture him... to prove herself... She wobbled for a moment as she fetched her blaster from her thigh holster, cursing as a hovertrain temporarily blocked him from view. Twisting the accelerator even harder, she shot past the train, seeing her chance to corner him in a convergence up ahead.

But at the last minute, Tech came out of nowhere, dropping in front of the Rhodian with perfectly-executed timing that caused the alien to jam on the brakes, skidding sideways and smacking into the building before falling onto the ground in a dazed stupor. He was struggling to pick himself up from his splayed position when Vel landed close behind, running to ensure he didn't get away this time. But Tech was on him in an instant, having leapt from his own speeder in an impossibly lithe movement, broken with a smooth roll that brought him to the Rhodian's side before he could reach his feet.

The squawks of complaint were useless as Hunter caught up, taking the target by the electrocuffs and steering him firmly away, leaving Tech and Vel in the dark alleyway. Pulling off his helmet, Tech leaned against the parked speeder bike, pulling out his datapad and immersing himself in it immediately. The glow from the screen illuminated the light sheen of sweat on his forehead, and the accentuated rise and fall of his chest told of his exertion.

Vel thought she had put on a good show, but Tech's unmatched skill and agility, prowess and power, grace and calculation... It all rushed through her mind, casting a wave of tingles through her. He seemed so business as usual, as if he didn't just perform some kind of superhero move while making it look as simple as if he were brushing his teeth. Whether it was the adrenaline still coursing through her veins or the long-simmering attraction she held for him, she bit her lip as she gazed at him with an undeniable desire.

Tech was oblivious, fingers tapping deftly on the screen as he re-crossed his legs in front of him, butt resting on the speeder seat. Vel's approach would have startled him if he weren't always aware of his surroundings, although his awareness didn't always extend to the nuances of the emotional climate. She walked to him slowly, eyes roving from his angular features to the gaps between his armor plates, thrilled and terrified by the growing heat in her core. He looked up finally as she stood beside him, emanating an inexplicable hunger and intensity that caught his attention. He furrowed his brow, shifting to his feet and facing her fully.

"Is everything alright?" he asked pertly, tilting his head and sending another spark of affection through her.

"Yeah..." she said breathily, swallowing hard at the perceived risk of putting herself out there. "It's just that... you were... are... really amazing."

He rested a hand on his hip, jutting it out to the side as he appeared deep in thought, as though her words were puzzling to him. He searched the ground for answers, brown eyes roving here and there as he pondered what could possibly be so impressive. Vel took a step closer, bringing herself into his personal space, and placed a tentative hand on his chest plate.

"It's... really hot," she continued, eyes shifting sheepishly off to the side. Her gaze was averted, but her body ached for his, leaning forward imperceptibly to almost rest against him. When she finally turned her face back to him, she lifted a hand to his cheek, relishing the sharp inhale of surprise from his beautiful mouth. "You're really hot," she said with a smile, lips slightly parted as she memorized every detail of his irresistible face.

"What are you doing?" Tech said suddenly, causing Vel to pull back in shock and, though she hated to admit it, a good amount of hurt. She stared at him, eyebrows drawing together as she clasped her hands anxiously.

"I... uh... Geez, Tech. I was trying to kiss you... Didn't you like it the last time?" her words came in a flood of embarrassment at his interruption. "I mean... I'm sorry, not to be accusing or anything... I'm just... I'm just confused."

"Ah," he said, realization dawning upon him, although there were still some mysteries to it. "But... It does not seem like a fitting time for physical affection... We are on a mission, and the setting is neither leisurely nor romantic."

An exasperated sigh cushioned her words as Vel shook her head with a smile. She could be quite compartmental in her own thinking, although not to the extent that he was capable. "I'm sorry," she repeated, stepping closer one more time. "If it's jarring or unwelcome, I totally get it. I just.. um..." She fidgeted with her fingers, looking down at them, "I just find it really attractive. Your strength and capability. I know you think it's no big deal, but... it makes me feel things." She laughed at the last phrase, agonizing in the awkwardness of having to explain it but wanting to make sure her motivation was understood.

Razor-sharp comprehension glimmered in Tech's amber eyes, accentuated by the magnifying effect of his goggles. He cleared his throat, a tiny smirk touching the corner of his lips. For someone who was so quick to share calculations and expertise, receiving a genuine compliment was still a bit of a novel experience for him. His strength and capability were... expected, baseline. His only value in a galaxy at war. But perhaps that was not entirely true.

"I am sorry for... surprising you," he took a stab in the dark. "I did not perceive any of my actions to be particularly noteworthy. But... I appreciate your... admiration." His voice had a husky tone to it now, catching Vel's attention, and she studied him intently, hoping it meant what she thought it did.

"It's okay," she said softly, in a simple vulnerability that Tech somehow found magnetizing. Something shifted in his brain, and he took a look around the alley they'd been left in, assessing a great many factors before determining his course of action. He lowered his chin slightly, moving forward purposefully and placing his hands on Vel's waist, and pushed her backward, up against the dark wall of a building.

Fireworks were exploding in her heart, her mouth going dry with shocked delight. The look on his face was... inexplicable. It was a flickering flame finding dry kindling to feed its appetite, alight with a warm glow and radiant heat. She opened her mouth to speak, not really having any idea what she was going to say, but the press of his lips on hers took away the need to decide.

His kiss was harder than before, his body heavy against her with his legs staggered between her own. It felt possessive... commanding... overwhelming in the best way. He turned his head, meeting her mouth again and again, lingering more and more each time until he finally opened his lips a bit, gently sucking her lower lip in one smooth movement. Her body was on fire, mind swirling in utter bliss, and Vel wrapped her arms around him, pulling his plastoid frame as close as she could.

Tech kept going. Kissing, turning, cupping her face, kissing her again. He tried his open-mouthed technique again, sending a shiver down her spine. His breathing was growing heavy again, as was hers, in the few gasps of air she was able to suck in through her nose. His passion was like ocean waves on the shore, rolling in steadily and gracefully, crashing into her with waves of bliss before receding. Again and again. She never wanted it to end, completely losing herself in the taste of his mouth, the scent of his sweat and armor. A tiny noise escaped her lips, a soft moan of euphoria, and her hands splayed across the hard plates on his back.

He pulled away, assessing her face immediately, alerted by her noise. The sudden departure of his intense presence opened Vel's eyes in surprise, and she looked at him quizzically. And sheepishly. Was that a turnoff for him? Had she done something wrong?

"Do you want to stop?" Tech asked, as frank as if he were asking if she wanted a glass of water.

"Never," she sighed, smiling stupidly at his flushed face. "That was a happy sound. You're incredible."

"You appear to think a great number of ordinary things are incredible," he murmured, and she truly couldn't tell if he was joking or not. Either way, it was ridiculous and endearing, and she laughed freely, turning to bury her forehead against his shoulder. His following words were even more heartwarming.

"It bodes well for me that you are so easily impressed."

artwork by @vimse! <;3

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cacodaemonia · 19 days

Note

Ooh, for the wip game: To Live Like a Ghost

(Or wip of choice if anyone already asked about that one) 😘

Aw, hey, thanks for the ask! To Live Like a Ghost is a wip I've had in my head for over a year now but I kept getting stuck on it. I think I finally figured out what was messing me up, though, so once I'm done with some things I'm working on now, I want to revisit it.

Anyway, it's a canon-divergent AU where the war ends very soon after Geonosis, so the clones and Jedi don't have much of a bond, and suddenly, the clones are just. Not soldiers anymore. They don't really know how to live 'normal' lives, the Republic is trying to figure out what to do with them on top of everything else going on, and there are of course all the cadets to think about. So it's going to start out fairly grim when Waxer and Boil meet each other on a civilian job several months after the war ends, but if you know me, you know it will get better. 🧡

One of the main things I wanted to deal with in the fic is just how much it sucks to be poor—how that puts so many constraints on literally everything in your life.

I haven't looked at the chapter and a change I wrote months ago, but let's see...

"Speaking of him," the Twi'lek says, leaning forward and lowering his voice as he looks at Waxer. "Is it true that he did some kinda Sith mind control thing with all of you? As part of his plan to take over?" Waxer's stomach clenches. His dream from this morning is close again—prickling like ice right under his skin. Curling his fingers around the edges of his tray to keep them still, he says, "He... It was—" The speakers overhead crackle and Waxer startles. A droid's voice says, "All passengers, we will be arriving in Quermian space thirty-three minutes ahead of schedule. If you are disembarking on Quermia, please gather your belongings and proceed to boarding ramps one through three on level zero. If you are transferring to ships bound for Emmer, Troiken, or Cholganna, please gather your belongings and proceed to boarding ramps four and five on level zero. Thank you for traveling with Trans-Perlimian StarLines." Stiffly pushing to his feet, Waxer accidentally jostles his tray with a loud clatter. Grabbing it, he steps back from his seat and offers a jerky nod to the group of nat-borns. "S-sorry, I'm heading for Troiken, so I have to get my pack now. Uh, have a... nice day." "What's a clone doing on Troiken?" one of them calls as he's turning away. Pausing, Waxer glances over his shoulder just long enough to say, "I got a job on a crew building roads and trails in the wilderness."

#asks #wip

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ladywren7 · 8 months

Text

Gaslight Gatekeep Girlboss Hera part FUCKING 3!!!!

One thing I'm really loving about Ahsoka is that not only is this show revisiting everything we know and love about these characters, but it's also giving us new little aspects of them we never really got to touch on in rebels or in clone wars.

Like Hera clapping back at literally every man who tries to stand in her way is so badass. Like yes she slayed real fkn hard in rebels but to the level where she's openly snapping back at Senators and questioning their loyalty??? Literally God teir girl bossing happening right now.

Like um, bitch ass Senator #2 excuse me but WHAT show are you from???? oh. That's right. RESISTANCE!!! He more than deserved to have his ass handed to him by the one and only General Hera Syndulla like my man ur lucky to even be in the same proximity as her now shut tf up.

AND THE WAY SHE LOOKS AT HIM LIKE BRO U AINT SHIT KILELD ME! Like every time I think she can't possibly get more girlboss period slay she does and goes and absolutely destroys people most wouldn't even make eye contact with like there is no fear cause she knows exactly who tf she is and what tf she stands for.

"Did you...fight in the war? Or did you just sit back and watch how it turned out."

FUCKING LEGEND

#hera gaslight gatekeep girlboss syndulla #star wars #star wars rebels #ahsoka tano #ahsoka series #ahsoka show #ahsoka spoilers #star wars ahsoka #hera syndulla #random rants with a fangirl #ahsoka shitposts

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jeudibeudibea · 7 months

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howdy pardners, allow me to nerd out bigtime for you all.

i finally (mostly) finished the designs of my clone trooper OCs. i present to you Dorn Squad, of the 107th Special Tactics Division!

these guys are based off of old lego clone characters i had growing up :) i started writing a fanfic some time in middle school but sadly permanently deleted it, never to be seen again, so all of their original names and identifications were gone, as well as the tales of their and their Jedi companions' adventures! as far as i remember, they spent most of the war hot on the trail of a mysterious lightsaber-wielding rogue agent, who wanted nothing to do with either the Republic or Separatists, but was considered a threat to the GAR's operations. or, rather, Palpatine's grand plan.

in order from left to right, top to bottom:

officers: Captain Decker (CT-4303), Lieutenant Cooper (CT-3366), Sergeant Moor (CT-7983)

NCOs: Corporal Spring (CT-4937), Corporal Drift (CT-8731)

Troopers: Private Tene (CT-2859), Private Bale (CT-1195), Private Coil (CT-6378), and a basic Teal Company grunt design.

i will follow this up with the additional designs and a lore post for these particular characters soon :)

here is the colour palette so far (minus the greys and blacks):

i know the blue is pretty similar to Howzer's troops from The Bad Batch, and i tried to make it a bit distinct from that. Howzer's blue is a bit more saturated and slightly less green, from what i can tell. overall, though, i like the slightly desaturated accent colours! i think they turned out well and still work great together.

i didn't have much of a reason behind the first designs, which is why some are far simpler than others. i didn't actually start out making these for specific clones, i just was drawing helmets lol, but i revisited them a few days ago and started assigning them to the squad, and changed the designs somewhat to fit their personalities :)

i always liked the endless possibilities of characterising clones through their armour designs ever since i noticed Echo and Fives (RIP my boy) each had little Z-6 rotary cannon drawings with "For Hevy" on their Phase I 501st armour, and Waxer (RIP) had a drawing of Numa on his helmet. the state of their armours kinda say a lot about them individually, and makes it all the more sad when they erase all of it come time of the Empire (and TRAGIC when they regain control of their own minds and start to question Order 66).

idk, i like them so far! i have to actually do another squad from the 107th, Ash Squad of Grek Company (these guys are green lol i like to mismatch my legion colours). and then i will complete the profiles of the helmets, and start working on the armour designs as well!!!

#star wars #clone wars #pixel art #aseprite #star wars the clone wars #clone troopers #clone trooper oc #star wars oc

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toomanybandstocare · 1 year

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{Caring Hands}

Program: After months of heartbreak and worry, your roommate takes you out for a night to your old stomping grounds- 79s. A bar that used to hold such fond memories of spending blurry night with your friends of the 501st legion by the side of your riduur, Rex. tonight, it seems the magnetic pull between the two of you is determined to bring you together for one last chance.

Pairing: Ex! Rex x Ex, GN! Reader

Side Pairing: Fives x OC! Kiva

Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Second Chances

Length: 3956w

Warnings: Pet names (Lover, Cya're, Cyar'ika, Riduur), Drinking to the point of being tipsy/drunk, Heartbreak, Swears, Barely edited

Captain's Notes: Hi guys!!!! It's been awhile. Life has been a force (hehe, no pun intended), but I've been really enjoying my rewatch of the Clones Wars series. And I am simply in love with so many of the clones/boys. They make my heart very happy and fuzzy. It's been nice to revisit one of my favorite shows from my childhood, and the fact that Rex is still my favorite character (other than Ahsoka) makes me feel happy and at home.

Camp Resolute's Masterlist

Camper Tags: @staygoldwriting

The soft green and muted yellow lighting envelop you in an intimate atmosphere of buzzing excitement. Music thrums through the air as the 79s’ clientele swirl around the dance floor or wrap themselves around this evening’s partners in booths. As the war invades every nook and corner of the galaxy, the GAR’s unofficial bar offers its services for wayward individuals who look for a semblance of normalcy. A chance to forget the lingering, stale breath of unknown destruction breathing down everyone’s necks. Time stands still at the mercy of drunk shouts of excitement.

“You know,” Kiva drawls as he drags his cocktail’s straw across his lower lip, “going out to bars and clubs is more interesting if you actually speak to people”. His deep, teasing chuckle shudders through you more than the deafening bass.

“You know,” you hum as the tingling sensation of your fifth drink courses through your veins, “going out to bars and clubs is more interesting when you aren’t surrounded by your ex's brothers. Who happen to share extremely similar physical features”. Your voice drips with whiskey and venom.

Leaning onto your white knuckled fist, you down the last few sips of your liquor unable to pull your eyes away from the booth in the alcove corner just past the bar. The unmistakable colors of the 501st and 212th battalions flash under the pulsing lights as troopers recline in the booth or lean over the seat backings to join in on the conversation. Your attention flitted between your roommate and the CO table when the two of you sat yourselves at the bar at the beginning of the night. When you caught sight of hidden smirk and mischievous glint in his amber eyes, you ordered the first round of shots. Your eyes stung from neon lights that lit up the bar area of the tenders to see their work and as you watched Rex pull the beautiful Twi’lek close to his side. His hands palmed her soft curves and pulled her as close as possible. Bile rose up and bit the back of your throat as you threw back another drink.

As alcoholic cloudiness eases into your system, a sigh pushes past your lips and you turn your gaze to Kiva. His dark eyes look past you as a small half smile grows on face. Blinking at him, you follow his gaze. Leaning against the section divider of the CO table, Fives animatedly speaks to a friend from a different battalion whose armor is decorated in a scratched gray paint.

“You know,” your voice light and airy with its teasing melody, “going out to bars is more interesting if you go speak to people”. You jab your elbow into his arm and signal to the bartender for another drink.

“I’m not going to leave you here, heartbroken and drunk,” his tentacle tresses bounce around as he shakes his head, “Especially, alone. It’s a remarkable phenomena that you’re still able to form a coherent thought at the rate you're consuming spotchka shots”. Taking a sip of his drink, Kiva eyes you, “Besides, I don’t even know him”.

A bubbling giddiness washes through you as you look from Kiva to Fives to your fresh drink in front of you. Tracing a slightly trembling finger around the glass, you take a deep breath. Just because your trooper romance didn’t end how you had hoped doesn’t mean the same will happen for Kiva. Especially if he’s interested in sweet Fives.

“His name is Fives- CT-27-5555, if you want to get technical. But, only his twin is allowed to call him that, so don’t even think about it until he says you can use it” your voice is warm and quiet. It drips with whiskey and sweetens the soft smile you share with Kiva. His shocked expression causes a flurry of giggles from your lips. “He’s an ARC Trooper in the 501st. Too charming for his own good, but he knows exactly what to say at any moment,” you share as you watch Kiva’s lovestruck expression fall back onto your former friend. Taking a slow sip of your drink, a wave of conflicting emotions tumble through you. If you stepped one foot too close to that booth, all eyes would be on you. As much as you wanted to help Kiva, you knew that the night would only end abruptly if you inserted yourself back into the group.

“Doesn’t mean he’s into guys though,” Kiva nervously deflects with a wave of his hand and the last sip of his cocktail.

“Every time I would run into him, he would find a way to ask about you. I don’t think we’ve had a conversation that didn’t somehow include your name since he met you at Hellkai’s birthday party,” you carefully use the leg closest to him to start pushing him off the barstool.

“Wha-what,” Kiva stammers as he slightly stumbles out of his seat.

Before he can protest, you throw both your feet on top of the stool and cross your legs. “I’ll be here when you’re ready to leave. Either with me, or with Fives. Just let me know, and I’ll crash a couch somewhere. Now go have an interesting night,” you exclaim and shove him in the direction of the clones.

With every step Kiva took, the fleeting feeling of happiness seeped out of you. Although you see the nerves bouncing in Kiva as he weaved his way through the mass of tipsy dancers, you know he’ll be in caring hands. When he clears past most of the crowd, you see Fives stand up a little straighter and beam past the other trooper’s shoulder. Like a missing piece of the picture, Kiva finds his place next to Fives. A twist in your stomach tingles as he rests a hand on the back of Fives’ neck. With ease, Fives rests his hand on the small of Kiva’s back, and the tingles flame inside you. When their gazes meet, the coil snaps in you and you tear your stinging eyes away from the touching scene. Good for them. They both deserve happiness.

“You alright there, mesh’la?” a gentle hand rests on your shoulder. With a jolt, you snap your head and are met with a concerned clone. Your breathing becomes heavy as you open your mouth to send him away, but the sight of scratched blue armor with a medic symbol on the shoulder causes your throat to constrict.

“Hey, hey,” Kix slides closer to you and rests his other hand on your cheek, “It’s okay. Just too much to drink tonight, huh? How about some water then? Wait, you- you look familiar.”

“I’m fine,” you croak out and swing your body away from his caring hands to face the bar. You keep your shaking hands around your whiskey glass and watch the iceball water down your only ally in the bar.

“Wait a minute,” his timber voice hummed closer as he slid into the now open stool, “It is you. What- what are you doing here?”

“Don’t worry, Kix. I’m not here to ruin anyone’s fun. Just trying to have my own,” you bitterly chuckle.

“That’s not what I meant,” Kix rests an arm on the bartop and shifts his body closer into your personal space. His usually soft eyes flood with concern as he takes in your appearance. “I- we haven’t seen you in months, mesh’la. Thought you moved planets- kriff, even to a different system. Rex wouldn’t let up any info, so we all thought it was an emergency”.

You’re barely able to keep the choked sob locked behind your grimace as your heart pounds in your throat. The truth trying to break past your loyal lips. Shrugging, you keep your eyes locked on the flowing lights that twinkle behind all the glass bottles. The cold synthetic material of your glass balances on your lip before you throw it back.

“Enough,” Kix hisses and grabs your wrist to pull the cup away. His look of disbelief causes a twinge of guilt to register in your haze.

“Come one, mesh’la. Let’s get you home,” Kix carefully wraps his arm around your waist and pulls you up.

Panic stabbing into your skin, you throw some credits onto the bar and try to drag your feet to stop him. “Kix, what are you doing?” you hiss.

“Making sure nothing bad happens to you. Why were you alone over there? You must have seen us in our usual spot,” Kix looks at you in confusion as the two of you work your way through the throng of dancing bar goers.

“Because,” you try to quickly clear the situation before you are recognized by any other clones, “there’s a reason that Rex didn’t want to talk about me”.

You try to wriggle out of Kix’s hold once you see Kiva and Fives wrapped in each other’s arms. “Seriously, Kix. Leave it alone. You’re doing more harm than good,” you practically beg.

“What are you talking about? Look, even if you and Rex are in a bit of a tricky spot, I can guarantee that you’re his endgame. The man won’t stop talking about you,” Kix sends a genuine smile your way and rubs his thumb in soothing circles on your side.

“Hey, I wasn’t expecting to see you here,” Fives calls both of you over. Kiva straightens up in Fives’ embrace as he watches the two of you walk towards the booth.

You frantically shake your head and try to think of a plausible excuse to get out of this. What was once your safe haven for nights out now spits you deep into enemy territory.

“I thought I said to keep it easy on the drinks,” Kiva chuckles uncomfortably and moves to your other side, “Time to go home, huh?” Slipping his arm around your waist above Kix’s own, Kiva turns to say something to Fives.

“Wait, no. Do you have to,” Fives castes the two of you a sad look. “I didn’t even know you were plantside, and now you try to scurry out in a rush? That’s just rude,” Fives jokes.

“Come join us, mesh’la,” Kix coaxes you, “All the guys have missed you and would be thrilled to catch up. We’ll just get some sodas for the rest of the night”.

“You’re joking. No way in haran that me and Jesse are letting you go home before we start the games,” Fives reaches for your hand as you shake your head so hard, it nearly causes you to tumble over.

“Fives, cya’re, it’s time we go home. This one can’t even stand on their feet,” Kiva tries again and successfully makes one step closer to the exit. Which is one step closer towards Fives and the entrance to the CO booth.

“Cyar’ika, let’s get them in a seat then,” Fives leans into Kiva’s chest to whisper something in his ear. You feel the excited tremble on Kiva's side and another wave of guilt washes over you.

“Guys, come one. I’m fine. Definitely not my worst night out, so I can get home with no issue. Kiva, why don’t you stay here,” you pull away from the group and notice the growing number of glances you’re all attracting.

“Why are you trying to run from us? I thought we were your friends,” Kix’s voice is dry with confusion and hurt.

“We can hang out another time. I promise. I’m just tired. You said it yourself, I’ve had enough for tonight,” you frantically try to deescalate the growing unease in the area as you sway and twist through the crowd.

Not even caring about bumping into other patrons, you focus your attention away from the twisted expression on Kix’s face and the shouts of recognition from the CO table.

You use your elbows to move others out of your way, but the dull, plastoid armor does nothing but bite back at you. Blaster boots and high heels trip you as you lose yourself in the crowd once more. Your heart jumps in time with the rhythm of the song blaring. Sweat sits heavy on your skin as you break free and try to find sight of the exit.

Hallow pants wrack your body from the close proximity of other patrons, but you find the neon blue exit sign for the door. Taking the first step, you continue your trek to fresh air as you narrowly push past another clone and jostle the drink in his hand.

“Watch it,” the gruff voice mumbles.

Two words in a bitter tone are all that cause your blazing body to turn ice cold. He’s supposed to be up in the booth.

“Sorry,” you breathe out.

With a weary look from the corner of his eye, the clone’s stoic expression is broken by shocked realization. “Cyar’ika,” Rex’s voice rumbles.

“I’m just on my way out, so don’t worry about holding back. Okay? It’s all good. Have fun tonight,” you mutter breathlessly and sway a step forward.

“Hey,” Rex gently demands your attention. He twists his body to face you completely and holds out his free arm to catch you from falling.

“Are you-,” Rex looks at you with tense, uncomfortable eyes, “Are you okay? You look-”.

“You don’t get to ask that anymore,” you growl behind gritted teeth. Pushing his arm out of your way, you continue your trek to the exit. You are so close. Just a few more bodies to get past.

“Wait a minute- kriff,” Rex exclaims and gently grasps your arm.

“Stop it,” you hiss, “You’re going to make a scene. Just let me go. Let me go, again.” The final word sits heavy in the air, and Rex’s grip tightens around you for a moment.

“Take this,” Rex mutters, “I’m walking this one home. Too much to drink”. Without a moment to register who he was speaking to, Rex pulls you along to the exit. Not even casting a glance to make sure you could keep up with his determined strides.

Stumbling behind Rex, you can’t find the strength to pull your arm out of his careful hold or tear your glossy eyes away from his figure. With each step closer to the entrance way, you choke back the dry sobs that well inside you. You had hoped that the last time you were with Rex in the 79s that it would be a happy memory. Instead, the galaxy decided to throw the two of you together for one last spat.

The cool night time air soothes your burning cheeks. Speeders and cruisers fly past the entry line of rowdy soldiers and excited patrons as they wait for entry. Coruscant’s cityscape lights up the starry night with synthetic warmth from billboard to skyscraper.

“Same place,” Rex asks softly.

Not answering his question, or allowing yourself to meet his pertinent gaze, you feebly pull your arm out of his comforting hand. “Please, stop,” your hollow voice responds.

“Cyar’ika,” Rex says in exasperation, “Come on, you shouldn’t be out like this. Let’s get you back-”.

“Stop,” your hoarse voice pleads as you begin walking back to your apartment. Memories of walking home with Rex after a night out with the 501st should bring you happiness. You didn’t want them to be tainted by the lingering heartbreak of tonight if you could help it.

The racing sounds of nightlife mutffle your hearing, so a stab of fear strikes you when you feel yourself being suddenly tugged into the side alley of 79s.

“Enough,” Rex growls into your ear. He leads both of you out of sight and behind some of the bar’s shipment crates. With careful hands, he lightly pushes you into the wall and stays pressed up in front of you. Just enough room for you to push him away if you really wanted to. Just enough room to intoxicate your senses with only his presence.

Running his hands over his cropped hair, Rex watches you with a glint of frustration in his eyes. “I tried to be nice,” he starts off in a low voice.

“I didn’t fucking ask. I told you I was leaving,” you bite back. Your finger nails dig into the palm of your hand.

“Will you let me speak,” he snaps. His chest plate rising and falling in heavy breaths. “You were the one kicking up a scene in there and out front. What are you doing here?”

“You don’t own this bar, Rex. Anyone can come and enjoy a night out,” you seethe.

“I may not own this bar in a legal sense, but this is the closest place us clones can call home. You know that. Why not some other bar? I told you- we’re done. We had a nice run. But we need split ways,” he rumbles. With each painful word, his face moves closer your own. Hard, amber eyes lock with yours as mixed emotions flash across the surface to show peeks of the soft look of adoration underneath. The musky scent of his cologne mixes with the whiskey on his breath to make you feel dizzy. “That includes where we spend our nights out. Now I’m going to have to bat off Kix and Fives for who knows how long”.

“That’s what you wanted. Not me,” you lash out. His eyes widen slightly at your volume, and you jab his chest plate with your finger before he can regain control of the conversation. “I didn’t want our relationship to end. I didn’t want you to let me go. I didn’t even get a say in the matter. And, I certainly didn’t ask you to be nice”. Your voice steadily grows in volume as your body trembles in anger. “You're a soldier. You made where your loyalty stands, so fucking clear. If this is your choice then you have to own up to the consequences of your actions. So dealing with your squad’s questions -- my fucking friends, who I haven’t see because I for some fucking reason respected your request for space -- about why I haven’t been around or why I was so desperate to leave tonight, is your own fucking fault. Kriff, for someone who is haran bent to follow orders and lead by a good example, you’re an awful person”.

Rex takes a step away from you. Hurt melts away his anger, and he looks down at his boots. Fists flexing by his sides.

“This isn’t you,” you quietly sob, “I know you. I know the real Rex. Your boys know you, and they see something’s wrong”. With shaking hands, you softly hold his armored hand in a careful clasp. “Why won’t you let me in? Let me help you. All I have wanted in our relationship is to be by your side and support you”. You take a daring step closer to him, and when he doesn’t pull away, you wrap him in a tight embrace.

The cool plastoid feels grimy to your skin. They couldn’t have been plantside for more than a few hours. Desperate to taste a sense of home and normalcy after the latest dire mission. Tentative hands drag across the fabric of your shirt and press you further into his chest plate.

Rex flexes his fingers to gently pull your body as close as he can with armor still sitting heavy on his shoulders. Pressing his face into the curve of your neck, he breathes you in to try to ground him. It’s always been you. Your face is the first image that would grace his vision when he closes his eyes each night. Memories of small acts of love keeps him grounded when news of a lost brother is announced. The echo of your laugh overpowers the crashing bomb shells on the battleground. No matter where in the galaxy he travels to, Rex can only think about you and how you have cared for him. He couldn’t risk that being taken away from him. He couldn’t risk anyone trying to use a GAR officer’s riduur as leverage.

“Enough,” Rex’s broken voice pleads into the crook of your neck. He closes his watery eyes and pulls you closer when you tenderly trail your finger across his back plate. Even with GAR issued armor and regulation protection, Rex knows your caring hands will be his downfall.

“Rex,” you gasp in his ear. Your voice light like the cool breeze that causes both of you to shiver. “Rex, I-”.

“Don’t,” he begs, “Don’t say it”. He drags his nose across the column of your neck, and both of you feel slight dampness where your bodies connect. Placing a gentle kiss in the dip of your neck, Rex shakes his head and pleads, “Cyar’ika, if you finish that sentence I will never be able to walk away from you. Not even when I’m called back to base for training or briefings. Especially, not when I know I face death like a familiar acquaintance everyday”.

“But, you didn’t face death today,” you hold him closer. The two of you are trying to mold into each other. Either to rekindle a lingering flame or to imprint a final memory of each other’s body to forever remember. “You face your lover today. Your lover who only asks one thing of you”.

Rex shudders a pained breath that sweeps across your skin. His lips trail everywhere as he can’t find the strength to pull himself away from your hold. “I can’t stay, cyar’ika. And, I can’t put you through the constant pain of not knowing if I’m alive,” his words break with a sob. “I’m trying to protect you. I don’t get to make many choices for myself or my life, but I have the choice to protect you. I will always choose you, your safety, and your happiness over my own. My runi is tied to yours, and I am bound to you for darasuum”. Overwhelmed by emotions, Rex moves his head to lean his forehead against yours. Tears freely stream down his face as he bares himself in front of you.

“You are my happiness, riduur,” your gentle affirmation is met by a pained whimper. “Without you, I am nothing but a body. My runi is tied to yours, and I am bound to you for darasuum. Come home, lover”.

“I don’t want to keep hurting you,” Rex whispers. His amber eyes glisten as he watches your own eyes trickle with tears.

“Then come home where you belong. By my side. I don’t ask you to give up your brothers or stay away from the battlefield. Let me know that when you come planetside on leave, that you’ll come home to me and let me care for you”.

Unable to tell where one body starts and the other meets, the two of you keep each other in a searing embrace. Tears stream together as you press closer to his face. Nose bumps cause choked chuckles to fall. Heavy breaths fan across chapped lips just millimeters away from meeting in the middle.

“Please,” your soft plea ghosts over his mouth. Your invitation tastes of home cooked meals and warm caf in the morning.

“Always, cyar’ika. I will do everything in my power to come home to you,” Rex promises and places a gentle kiss on your growing smile, “I’m so sorry I left you, riddur”.

One hand slips just underneath the hem of your shirt to feel the familiar planes of your body as Rex rests his other hand on the nape of your neck. Unable to fight against the force pulling the two of you together, Rex dips down and presses a chaste kiss to your beaming smile. Another falls soon after, slightly longer as he traces the curve of your bottom lip with his tongue. And another when you look at him in adoration that pulls a soft sigh. A new sound to allow himself to reimagine when he misses you. Ready to come home to caring hands.

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somestorythoughts · 9 months

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Eldritch Clone Troopers Again

I’m gonna revisit the Clones-Become-Something-Other idea but this time it’s not because of the Jedi.

The galaxy is, to put it bluntly, really fucking big. There’s a lot of weird not-understood-by-any-or-many stuff in it. And sure, the Force is all-encompassing and omnipresent, but that doesn’t mean everyone understands it the same. That doesn’t mean it’s the same everywhere.

Imagine if, by the end of the war, there’s at least 5 different kinds of Other/Eldritch SOMETHING going on with the troopers because they just keep running into the batshit weird stuff.

What doesn’t kill you changes you and all that.

And the changes spread somehow. Spread like a song, from veteran to shiny, from battalion to battalion. The shinies change to match their brothers, brothers who do not find something to change them find themselves matching their brothers. Like a disease some say, because they’re scared and they don’t know what’s happening and change can be terrifying and it’s up to their brothers to say it’s alright, we’ve got you, metamorphosis isn’t easy but it will pass. The changes spread like a song and when they hit other battalions that have their own song they don’t go further there, because they’ve already got their favorite tune and it’s not about to change, so they compare songs and cheer or tease about each other’s lyrics and melodies, and maybe trade tips, but they don’t trade songs.

No one knows who changes first.

Maybe it’s the Wolfpack, and oh they will never hear the end of the jokes, jokes that must be either run with or hated, because a hurricane brought on land forced them to shelter in an abandoned temple for long enough to be noticed. Those people were shapeshifters once, skin changers and berserkers, and their deities (deities are not representations of the Force but they’re the next best thing, beings made of the Force without being the Force made Flesh, and thus not bound to mortality, though they are not everlasting) remember and miss the days when they had worshipers who took the forms of animals and sang in chorus.

Each member of the Wolfpack can take the shape of a canine. Give it some time, and it seems like every canine in the galaxy is represented somewhere by a clone trooper. There’s bleedover between their two skins now, eyes that are not a human’s but not their creature’s either and thus don’t fit into either face, teeth too sharp and too many for a human and paws with just enough fingers to grasp. These troopers have a taste for raw meat now, for the hunt, and sometimes they laugh and chase their brothers around Coruscant and sometimes they hunt droids and generals, and sometimes they bring down creatures three times their size and feast. They howl and bark and cry together, a sound that shouldn’t harmonize but somehow does, and together they sing.

The 501st and the 212th will never agree who’s fault this was or who gets the credit, depending on who’s talking. It surprises no one that they change together, it would have been more of a shock if they’d each become something separately. They can’t agree on what it was that changed them either. They agree only on the planet. Maybe it was something in the water, which was drinkable but ran golden in every light, maybe it was the ruins, whose stones made their jedi wobble without knowing why, maybe it was the planet itself. The planet that was awake, and watching, and listening. The planet that felt the beat of the troopers’ feet when they danced and tasted the blood they shed and who knows the logic of a planet?

They’re growing now, these troopers. Growing thorns in place of nails and flowers in place of eyes, and their blood flows thick like sap. There’s green on their lips now, chlorophyll that tolerates the rations but practically purrs in the sunlight, and whenever there’s the slightest chance the troopers strip down as much as they dare and soak in the sunlight, relish in the heat and light on their green-tinted skin and the ferns that curl along their scalps, the petals growing around their wrists and the algea growing between their toes that relishes the cool of water. They love to dance in the sunlight and their footsteps sign their names where they step, leaving new leaves and budding flowers in their wake.

The 327th plays host for one month to a flock of something that isn’t a phoenix or a firebird, but those are the only words they can think to apply. No one knows how they got on the ship. But their general says they’re peaceful and friendly besides, and radiating light in the force like a star (and aren’t they made of fire in the same way, they are not candleflame or forest fire or lava but starfire) and they make the cold of space warm, so the men grow to relax around them and are sad to see them go. They don’t take all of their warmth with them.

Spill their blood and it’s scalding hot, searing rock and metal and burning holes through fabric, raising blisters on the skin of anyone who doesn’t match their boiling heat. They could shower in icy water and fill the room with steam, indeed water sizzles when it lands. One trooper, with too much time and the right material, finds out that yes he can fry an egg on his hand and that’s a funny story but it’s also the least of what they can do, because these men can dance in a forest ablaze and fear neither heat nor smoke, can walk over lava and stare into suns, the suns that their eyes resemble because they’ve turned into stars. These troopers burn and shine and to compare them to distinct lights is much less of a metaphor than it was before.

Coruscant latches her teeth into the Coruscant Guard and there’s nothing they can do about it. That planet is a different kind of war than their brothers are facing but they’ve got casualty lists nonetheless and it takes no less persistence and skill and luck to survive it. There’s darkness in the city, pushing at the light of the Temple, and there’s light in the Guard but it’s the darkness that seeps into their blood, pulsing through them with each beat of their heart and each inhale.

It’s hard to look at the Guard now. They’ve become creatures of blood and shadow, muscle and bone, and death is just a word now because they know their bodies like no one else and they can simply knit themselves back together. The shades in place of their skin cover but do not hide the flesh beneath, the roll of organs, and where their eyes should be are pits or flickering streetlights or something moving that can only be glimpsed. Their minds seep along each other like oil on water, touching without merging, and it doesn’t make them safe it doesn’t fix the problem, but it keeps them from ever being alone, keeps any more of them from dying at the hands of those they protect, and that’s no small thing. The Guard tends not to speak much, but they tap constantly, tap and drum their words and tunes and the constant pulse of their shared heartbeat, their shared blood.

The SCUBA troops are the ones that bring the ocean into play. They catch the notice of an old god-goddess-divinity in a deep ocean, someone that isn’t really awake but instead the divine equivalent of half-asleep and half-dreaming and, much like a human just awake enough to not properly be asleep, makes a vague change to their dream without thinking about it.

These troopers don’t walk so much as flow; somehow they always look like they’re moving through water. Gills carve through their skin and salt water feels like coming home but fresh water is almost as good and aside from their gills only a few of them become like fish, only a few find their fingers webbed or learn they can grow tentacles at will, but all of them can swim through any water like they were made for it, can see through it clear as day, can laugh and dance on a ship in a thunderstorm without fear. And oh their dreams, they find their brothers in their dreams, bring them out of the choppy dark of nightmares and into the soothing calm of sweet dreams, they dream of things that are long gone and things that might be and things that could have been but never were, things that are known and things that cannot be understood.

Slowly, they grow to see the changes in their other brothers, their family, and it’s always a shock but it’s a good kind, oh you’ve changed to tell me how, how do you find it, it’s like unexpectedly meeting an old friend you haven’t seen in years but in minutes you’re sharing everything that’s happened since you met. And these changes, they don’t make the troopers force users but they give them a bit of awareness, enough to see who’s changed, to see the fingerprints of the force in the galaxy.

Some of them return to Coruscant and the Guard’s constant armor is as almost as much to keep them in the “proper” shape as it is to protect them and they above all know how to hide, so it takes sometime to see those fingerprints of change on them but they do and oh you’ve changed too what on earth did you run into to make that happen you’re supposed to be safe from the craziness here and one of the Guards laughs. It sounds like choking and cracking bones and hysteria.

Palpatine dies within a week. The war ends soon after.

When the clones rejoice, there are those who can change their skin and those with flowers for eyes, those burning with plasma and those who bleed uninjured and those who could walk the depths, all side by side and celebrating together as family does. Some of them are singing songs with harmonies that can’t be matched, some are dancing in a way that leaves clover behind them, some are shining in effusive joy, some are drumming out their pulse in accompaniment to the singing, and some are dreaming this for the little brothers awaiting them on Kamino. See your brothers in joy, see what you can become, we’ll be there to get you soon.

#so yeah #the thing with the corries is inspired by Corrie Red on ao3 which I recommend #Eldritch clone troopers #eldritch #Clone Troopers #clone wars #star wars

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