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dystopicjumpsuit · 10 months

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Martyrs and Kings - Chapter 1

A Clone Walks Into a Library

Rating: T (rating varies by chapter; mature content will be tagged)

Pairing: Kix x archivist/historian OFC

Wordcount: 3.3k

Warnings: slight angst; mentions of canon character deaths; office politics are canon in the GFFA

A/N: Finally migrating this story over from AO3. I'll be posting a chapter on Tumblr every few days until I'm caught up, but if you'd like to read ahead, here's the link to the story up to chapter 8.

Summary: Clone medic Kix is a man displaced in time. Captured by Separatists and put into cryostasis when he learned the truth about the clones' inhibitor chips, he awakens fifty years after the end of the Clone Wars. The Republic is gone. The galaxy has changed. And now, the last clone trooper searches for answers with the help of a New Republic historian.

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Republic City, Hosnian Prime

32 ABY

The man gazed up at the imposing building in front of him, squinting against the harsh sunlight. The air was chilled despite the brightness of the day, and his breath swirled in clouds around him. He stood, seemingly oblivious to the pedestrians that bustled past as airspeeders whizzed through the skylane behind him. Few noticed the man, but those who did felt a strange sense of unease, of slight wrongness, as though he did not quite belong in the setting. Whether they observed this or not, the pedestrian traffic instinctively steered away from him, leaving a wide bubble of space around the stranger.

He stood, unmoving, for some time, locked in a silent debate with himself, until at length, he reached a decision. With a sharp nod, he walked into the building.

It was cold in the New Republic Galactic Library. Maree readjusted the shawl that she always kept in her office for mornings like this, then wrapped her hands around her mug of tea as she scrolled through the morning’s holomessages. Most of them were from colleagues complaining about the temperature. Most recently, the head maintenance droid had sent out a dispassionate mass response explaining that the sprawling complex’s central climate control had been automatically adjusted due to the spring equinox. Maree’s eyes lit with amusement as the indignant replies began to pop up in her inbox.

New Republic efficiency at its finest, she thought. Everything had to be automated. It didn’t matter that the outside temperature was still well below freezing; the equinox had passed, and so they were moved to the spring climate schedule. No doubt the decision had come from a droid that had no problem functioning in the cold. It would probably take weeks of complaints and committee meetings by the time the issue was resolved, and by that point, Republic City would likely be in the middle of a full and magnificent spring, rendering the problem null.

She nearly laughed as she skimmed through her messages and saw identical leave requests from two of the department’s interns who thought they were being subtle about their burgeoning romance. Ah, young love. Who was she to stand in the way? She quickly approved the requests, then moved on to carefully review the latest research directive from the New Republic Judiciary. Finally, she could longer put off reading the last message in her inbox. Despite herself, her heart began to beat a little faster as she opened the message.

To: Dr. Maree R. Finnall From: NRGL Department of Outreach Subject: Decision on Expedition Proposal Submission Submission Number: ORE-R-72-00066T5 Dear Dr. Finnall, It is with great regret that we must inform you that your recent expedition proposal has been rejected. As you are aware, the current political climate in the Outer Rim is somewhat tenuous. . .

The message went on, but there was no need to finish reading it. Force knew she’d received it often enough to know what it said. Maree turned off the holoprojector with a small sigh. She took a sip of her tea and grimaced when she found it had gone cold.

Taungsdays, am I right?

She crossed to her small kitchenette and dumped the tea down the sink. She briefly considered making another cup, but it would likely share its predecessor’s fate, so instead, she moved to gaze out the massive window. Glacial air flowed off the transparisteel, but the view was worth the discomfort. The early morning sun sparkled off the thick layer of frost covering Republic City, transforming it into a glittering wonderland. Beyond the city’s magnificent towers and spires, she glimpsed the deep azure of the western ocean.

I love it here, she reminded herself. It wasn’t exactly a punishment to stay on Hosnian Prime. Surely the benefits outweighed the disappointment of yet another rejected proposal.

The soft chime of her office door startled Maree out of her reverie.

“Come in,” she called.

The door slid open to reveal one of the library’s receptionists, Eidani Olphes. Maree didn’t know her well, but she passed the younger woman at the library’s front desk every morning when she arrived at work, and Maree always tried to be friendly with the support staff. She remembered her own early career when senior faculty were often dismissive and condescending, and she had vowed never to be the cause of anyone feeling so small and unimportant.

“Good morning, Eidani,” she said with a warm smile. “What can I do for you?”

“Dr. Finnall, I have a gentleman here who is visiting Hosnian Prime to research the Clone Wars. Do you have any availability to meet with him this morning?”

Maree’s interest was piqued immediately. She couldn’t remember the last time she’d gotten such a request from a private citizen.

“As a matter of fact, I’m free now,” she said. “Is he here?”

“Yes,” Eidani replied. “TJ-60 asked him to wait outside your office.”

Eidani fidgeted a little as she spoke, and Maree wondered if the man had made her uncomfortable. Maree commed her droid assistant, fully prepared to ban the visitor from the library if he had harassed the young Devaronian.

“Teejay, please show the gentleman into my office.”

“Right away, Dr. Finnall,” came Teejay’s monotone reply.

Maree heard the outer office door hiss open as Teejay directed the visitor to her office. Eidani turned around as soon as Teejay opened the door and watched his approach with a wide smile and undisguised interest. As the visitor walked into view, Maree realized she had misread the young receptionist’s reaction.

Force almighty.

Maree had never seen such a gorgeous man. He was tall and athletically built, with golden brown skin, curly black hair, and a neat beard. His nondescript clothing entirely failed to disguise his powerful frame, and he moved with the relaxed confidence of a man with absolutely nothing to prove. The beard emphasized his high cheekbones, but his eyes were the most arresting. They were a warm, luminous brown that reminded her of sunlight glinting through amber. Something about his face tugged at her memory, and she wracked her brain trying to remember if she’d met him before.

“Hello again,” Eidani giggled. “This is Dr. Finnall. She’s our Clone Wars expert.”

His solemn gaze flicked from Eidani to Maree, and she nearly blinked at the intensity in his eyes.

“Maree Finnall,” she said, shaking his hand.

“Kix,” he replied.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Kix.”

“Just Kix,” he said.

He had a lovely voice, smoky and dark and beautifully accented, and Maree briefly wondered if he had any flaws at all. She hoped she had a better sabacc face than Eidani.

“My mistake,” she said. “Please call me Maree.”

“You specialize in the Clone Wars?” he asked.

“To a degree. My scholarship focuses on the military history of the late Galactic Republic and early Imperial periods,” Maree clarified. “The Clone Wars are, of course, a major part of that era. How can I help you?”

He glanced at Eidani, who was staring up at him with a worshipful expression.

“I, er—I’m looking for some fairly detailed information,” he hedged.

Maree took the hint.

“I see,” she said. “Please come in. Thank you, Eidani. I’ll notify the front desk if we need your assistance again.”

“Of—of course!” Eidani gushed. “Please let me know if you need anything. Anything at all!”

“We will keep that in mind,” Maree smiled.

She shot a meaningful glance at Teejay, who immediately began to usher Eidani out of the office. Maree closed her door and turned to Kix, who was looking around the room with interest.

“Nice office,” he said.

“Thank you. Please make yourself comfortable,” she replied, gesturing to the soft, padded armchairs that were strategically placed around the room. “May I offer you a cup of tea?”

“No, thank you,” he said. “I don’t want to be a bother.”

“It’s no trouble at all,” she said. “Let me know if you change your mind. For now, can you tell me what specific information you are looking for?”

He selected a chair that was oriented so that it faced both the window and the door of the office, she noticed. Maree’s mother was the same way; she hated the vulnerability of having her back to an opening. Mindful of Kix’s hypervigilance, Maree picked up her datapad and settled into a chair on his left, leaving plenty of space between them, as she prepared to take notes. From this angle, she could see the edge of a tattoo peeking out from his hairline. It looked like aurebesh, but his hair covered too much of it to be sure. It was intriguing, and she had a sudden and distinctly unprofessional urge to brush the hair away from his face and take a closer look.

“I’m interested in the late months of the wars,” he said. “Everything after the Battle of Anaxes.”

She tapped the information into her datapad. He observed her closely as she worked. She wasn’t accustomed to such scrutiny, and she found it slightly distracting. She felt a bit like a bug that was being dissected and studied.

“I can prepare an overview,” she said, “but that is still quite a broad area as there were so many simultaneous campaigns. Is there any particular battle or unit that I should focus on?”

“The 501st Legion,” he said in a clipped tone.

“General Skywalker’s legion. A fascinating unit,” she said. “Are you interested in their actions in the Imperial era as well, or only those preceding the fall of the Galactic Republic?”

“Both,” he said. “Is there a way to research individual soldiers in the battalion?”

“Yes, if you send me a list in advance,” she replied, “though it may take me a few days to compile the records. Will you be on Hosnian Prime long?”

“As long as it takes,” he said.

“I see. Perhaps we can meet on Primeday morning?” she suggested. “That should give me time to collect the combat reports at least, and once we’ve had a look at those, we might have a better idea of where to direct our research efforts.”

“What time on Primeday?” he asked.

“Any time you like,” she said. “I’ll have Teejay clear my schedule so I can be at your disposal all morning. I do have appointments in the afternoon that I won’t be able to reschedule, unfortunately.”

He looked startled. “Oh, I don’t want to take you away from your work for that long.”

“This is my work,” she said. “And I am delighted to meet someone who shares my interest in this particular field. Not many do. Consider yourself warned; you are far more likely to get tired of me than I am likely to run out of things to talk about.”

“I doubt that,” he said, meeting her eyes squarely.

“Let me know if you still feel that way after I send you so many reports and articles that I crash your datapad,” she said.

He smiled for the first time since she’d met him, and it made him look younger and even more handsome, if such a thing were possible. She found herself smiling back at him even as she told herself not to indulge her interest. Not only was the man a client, but he was at least a decade younger than Maree—much closer to Eidani’s age, in fact.

“I should forewarn you,” she said. “This period of history—it’s a difficult one. Most of the stories do not end well.”

“Trying to scare me off, Doc?” he asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Not at all,” she said. “I just want you to be prepared. There’s a reason most historians choose other periods to study. It’s a hard time to confront.”

“I understand,” he said, and something in his eyes told her that he truly did. “I will see you on Primeday.”

Kix exited the library feeling decidedly ambivalent. He stepped into the frigid air, which had failed to capture any heat from the bright sunshine during the time he’d spent inside the building. Still, he took a deep breath and felt the sting of it in his lungs.

He had been nervous when he entered the library. He’d spent over a year with Sidon Ithano and his crew, throwing himself into their skirmishes with a ruthlessness and ferocity that startled even the notorious pirate’s crew. But the violence failed to distract him from his own thoughts. He’d been consumed by grief and rage, overwhelmed by feelings of failure and guilt and the futility of everything he and his brothers had suffered and sacrificed. And worst of all, the knowledge that all of his brothers—every single one of them—were long dead.

He had never felt so alone.

Every time he looked in the mirror, his fallen brothers’ faces looked back at him. So he avoided mirrors as much as possible. Growing a beard helped disguise the resemblance, but he still couldn’t stand to meet his own eyes in the reflection. When he decided at last to uncover his brothers’ fates, the ship’s Twi’lek mechanic Reveth had warned him that nothing good would come from digging into the past.

“It ended bad,” she said. “I don’t think it could have ended worse. Don’t do this to yourself.”

They had been lying in bed. It hadn’t taken them long to seek each other’s company after Kix joined the crew. They both needed comfort—needed to forget. Just for a moment. He was haunted by his memories, and she by her hopeless, despairing love for the ship’s mysterious captain. They found oblivion in each other’s beds, but nothing more.

“I have to know,” he said, no longer able to bear the uncertainty.

And so, he took a temporary leave from the Meson Martinet crew and traveled to Hosnian Prime in search of someone who could give him the answers he needed. The New Republic Information Bureau had directed him to the library, explaining that the facility maintained an extensive staff of archivists. At least one of them would surely be able to help, the information droid had assured him. When Kix had arrived at the entrance to the library’s vast structure, he’d hesitated, remembering Reveth’s warning before he’d departed the Meson Martinet three days earlier.

He’d shaken off the voice in his head, squared his shoulders, and gone inside. The pretty young Devaronian receptionist at the front desk hadn’t been able to answer his questions, but she had located an archivist who could, leading him through the labyrinthine facility with an ease that spoke of many such trips. She had been friendly and outgoing, peppering him with questions that left him tongue-tied, so he responded with mostly monosyllables or silence. His reticence did not seem to affect her at all—quite the opposite, in fact, and by the time she had located the archivist, she had escalated into full-blown flirtation. It had been a relief when the office droid had requested him to wait outside the office until the archivist was free to speak with him.

When he’d been admitted, he braced himself for another verbal onslaught, but the archivist was very different from the bubbly receptionist. She was older, for one thing. Her elaborate hairdo was threaded with silver, and a few fine lines crinkled around the corners of her eyes, evidence of decades of laughter. Her greeting had been friendly while maintaining a professional reserve, and he was struck by her low, melodic voice.

And Maker, she was beautiful. Kix had found himself staring as she introduced herself, taking in the graceful contours of her face. She was dressed in elegant, flowing robes, and he had felt a moment’s self-consciousness about the shabby plainness of his own garb. But she had given him a kind smile, and despite the chilly air of the library, her small hands had been warm when she had clasped his in greeting. He clenched his fist lightly when she released him, trying in vain to hold onto that warmth.

Her office was a comfortable, cozy room that seemed more like a home than a workplace—at least in Kix’s opinion, accustomed as he was the the harsh sterility of Kamino, the endless gray of the Republic Star Destroyers, and the chaotic violence of the battlefield. There was a large desk, which he had expected, and an assortment of soft, mismatched armchairs set around the room, which he had not. The expansive view from the enormous window naturally dominated the space, but she had decorated the room to suit her own taste as well. Several paintings hung on the walls, a few sculptures were tastefully displayed through the room, and there was a vase of fresh flowers on the desk. When she offered him tea, he noticed a small kitchenette, and he wondered exactly how much time she spent in this room.

As she settled into the chair next to him and began discussing his request, he felt his anxiety spike again. He wasn’t sure how he was going to explain his interest in the Clone Wars without giving away his identity. It was something of an open secret in the Outer Rim that Sidon Ithano traveled with a clone trooper—though there were those who insisted this was merely another rumor designed to fuel the Crimson Corsair’s intimidating reputation. In general, Kix kept to himself, and he was reluctant to disclose his origins to anyone, let alone a government representative. To his relief, she did not interrogate him about his motivations; instead, she directed her questions to how she could best assist his search. Her soft voice made him want to lean in closer when she spoke, and as they conversed, he felt his tension begin to disperse.

She had a way of drawing him into the conversation without pressuring him for personal details, and he deeply appreciated her tact. It was not easy for him to talk to people, whether they were strangers or friends. Not like it used to be. He was not the same man he’d been before the Separatists tortured him for information and shoved him into a cryo-cycle stasis pod.

During the Clone Wars, he had been fun-loving and easygoing. He’d been popular with his fellow clones and with the civilians he encountered—in fact, the bubbly receptionist from the library would have been exactly the kind of partner he would have sought out during a night out at 79’s. And most importantly, he’d had a group of brothers who were his best friends. Hardcase; Tup; Jesse; and the Domino twins, Echo and Fives. They had fallen, one by one, replaced by shinies, until it was just him and Jesse left of the original group—and Captain Rex, of course. The best commanding officer a clone could have asked for, and the closest thing Kix had ever had to a father.

Finding Echo alive had been a miracle, and it was entirely due to Rex’s instincts. But the man they had found on Skako Minor had been so different from the ARC trooper who’d been left for dead at the Citadel that he had felt there was no longer a place for him in the 501st, and so Kix had lost Echo a second time. That loss was what had pushed Kix to take up Fives’s investigation. What he had found had horrified him deeply. He had tried desperately to alert the Jedi to the sinister plot, but the Separatists had found him first.

And now, fifty-one years later, he was a stranger in a strange galaxy, begging an alluring historian to tell him how his brothers had died.

---

Chapter 2

Tagging: @blueink-bluesoul @secondaryrealm @spicy-clones

#Yes that is Hong Kong standing in for Hosnian Prime #martyrs and kings #tcw fanfic #clone medic kix #sw tcw fanfic #star wars tcw #tcw kix #sw fanfic #post stasis kix #dystopicjumpsuit writes

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gundamcalibarney · 2 years

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[ Just a Dude and his Stand ]

@standswap-september oh worms in a can Standswap brainrot hit so hard that i made this fanfic.

Standswap AU where things are swapped from the get-go instead of caused by a Stand (or mayhaps, a look into another in preparation for the other).

Note 1 : that this takes place roughly before the events of the Yellow Temperance & Rubber Soul/Michelle and 「 I’m Looking Through You 」 encounter.

Note 2 : a small warning but y’know how Jotaro threw himself into jail for beating the shit out of people? Yeah that’s here but not in graphic detail.

///🌊🌟🌊///

1988, Singapore, a Hotel at Night

After Thomas got his ass beat and thrown into jail for the apparent murder of a man in a bathroom (he was told that he was a Stand user but murder is still murder) the night fell still and quiet aside from the occasional street noise.

Midoro slept peacefully on the other bed provided while his grandpa and Mr. Mahir were in another room to themselves which makes sense since they’re both the smartest people in this little revenge tour group.

But alas sleep could not come easy to Josei as he continuously shifted and turned in bed and the blanket came on and off him but nothing seemed to put him at sleeping comfort. His eyes even started to sting a little whenever he kept them open for like what? More than 10 seconds?

The normally sky lit sky didn’t show much as light pollution and the dreaded sky halo blocked any good view much to his chagrin so star seeing wasn’t a go to sleep option at the moment.

So there Josei laid in bed with a tight but strained grip on his pillow with his thoughts, at first they were mainly annoyances at the lack of a good sky and the stupid light pollution then to that Joestar legacy and his mom getting sick because of some blonde asshole which made his blood boil and his spine tingle with rage.

Because what’d his mom do to get something that could potentially kill her? How’d Grandpa be able to stay fit and yet his mother had to be bedridden because of hers?

Sighing to himself he sluggishly turned in bed once again, now wasn’t exactly the best time to wish ills upon his grandpa as there would be little direction if his gramps wasn’t around (besides, it’s Grandpa why would he wish the worst of serious ills on him?).

However his mind drifted to another, he had his own Stand.

One that made him put himself in jail because of it.

One that broke through steel like paper.

He brings his hands up to face to see the bruises and scars he’d endured from the trip to Singapore and honestly it felt really weird to have a moment of calm like this, Josei remembered why his knuckles were so battered.

The force [ Wayward Son ] brings upon his enemies was nothing short of terrifying if it had been able to tear through bars and keep a shark up in the air with it’s fists alone and by god the barrages it was able to pull off with speed and strength that broke bones, that scared him if he were being honest.

Four men from what he assumed to be some street gang lay on the ground, genitals ripped off and teeth scattered across the ground and streaks and of crimson all over the pavement.

Yet his fists weren’t the ones bloody, he looked on in horror as the screamed and soon after he put himself in a jail cell in fear of it’s abilities.

There were times that the Stand had acted on it’s own, the fist that flew to his grandfather’s gut the few moments where the two had locked eyes and he could identify that there was something else behind those gold ringed eyes and even the periods where it wouldn’t even respond to him.

If Stands are the manifestation of one’s soul, then what was 「Wayward Son」 ?

The soft sounds of the crashing waves enter earshot for brief seconds and his heart sinks, it was as if the Stand had heard his thoughts. Of course it (or was it a he?) heard him, it’s technically him so it would make sense if he heard them too.

He could feel the hardened stare of the Stand from behind. At first he simply wanted to ignore 「Wayward Son」, he really wanted to drift into the comforting darkness of sleep but the gaze presses on and he wasn’t sure if he found that frightening or not.

Josei finally relents and looks back to see 「Wayward Son」, its gold brows seemed to have softened a bit but that black sclerad eyes still held that glare and its weird brim wasn’t in a way that made that glare seem ever darker.

The boy takes a deep breath in as he runs twirls a lock of hair with a finger.

“So maybe i was struggling to sleep and maybe i ended up thinking a bit too much.” Josei groaned as quietly as he possibly do.

Though the thick gold brows stayed in that resting angry face the eyes themselves seem to soften a bit, fists weren’t as clenched as they were on the usual.

“This whole thing y’know is just new to me y’know.” Josei settles himself in a cross seated position, a finger then points towards the Stand. “You especially since i put myself in the slammer cause of you.”

Eyes momentarily go towards the finger that went at its chest, it’s eyes now narrow and gave him a look back which meant he somehow offended it. He wondered if Mr. Mahir would’ve at least told him about this but he assumed that the constant battles prevented him from exactly getting an answer.

“How are you me?” Josei questions almost accusingly.

He wondered if it was weird to ask his soul given form a question like that, because obviously it was according to Mahir and yet it felt so oddly different from him, from the cold gaze to it’s dark silhouette if it weren’t highlighted with the blue and gold (it actually kind of looked like batman).

「Wayward Son」 plopped a hand to his shoulder, grip tight and while it’s dark eyes still narrow they radiated a different sort of anger.

Okay yeah maybe he shouldn’t exactly overthink it but how was 「Wayward Son」 him in a sense? But how could he not? When you’re told that you have a ghost and that ghost was basically you how else should one take that information?

How much of himself did he really know now that 「Wayward Son」 exists and almost looks like the exact antithesis of him?

Another ghostly (but weighted) hand goes to his other shoulder, prompting Josei to look eye to eye with his Stand.

First it points a thumb it’s own chest, then jabs a finger into Josei’s.

Josei took it as a way of it saying ‘You are Me, I am You we are the same being’ which might possibly be exactly what it meant, some things still felt like they added up despite Mahir, Midoro’s, or his stupid grandfather’s words.

「Wayward Son」then proceeded to violently pushed him back into a lay, shoved the pillow in between his arm and threw the covers back over his body before its form dispersed into a beautiful purple coloured sea of stars that he wanted in the sky when he first attempted to sleep.

The young Joestar let out a yawn, 「Wayward Son」 probably had the right idea. His nerves seemed to calm down when the Stand showed those stars, his lids began to get heavy and his head fell back onto the pillow as he finally drifted off to sleep.

///🌟🌟🌟///

The Morning routine was mostly quiet between him and Midoro, as the two got dressed the teen with yellow spectacles then piped up.

“So what were you talking to Wayward about?” Midoro asked.

Josei froze at the question, “Your concern is?” he raises a brow.

“I heard you summon him last night.” Midoro stated. “You seemed to be conversing with him on something yes?”

He guessed that it counted as a conversation, not exactly a long one but one nonetheless. Josei hummed in confirmation as he slipped the purple sleeveless varsity over his shoulders.

“Couldn’t get to bed as quickly as i’d thought.” he affirmed.

“Hard time sleeping? Yeah i get where your coming from, guess the two boat journeys and the plane crash tired me out caused me to get to sleep faster.” Midoro joked, putting on his silver cap.

How a plane crash and two boat sinkings didn’t tire him out was a mystery, perhaps the adrenaline kept his nerves at a constant tenseness?

“Anyways are you up for ice cream, really need a calmer if i wanna get through this intact.” Midoro offers. “Mr. Joestar gave us a couple dollars so we can at least buy something cheap.”

Ice cream did sound nice and after these hectic few days and what he assumed is going to be the days after now, he also most certainly needed it. Though there was almost the beckoning force of another that practically and silently screamed that yes, ice cream sounds like the best thing today could offer.

“Chocolate ice cream will do.” Josei sighed with a smile.

He found it strange that this was the one way that told him that he and it weren’t too different as he had originally thought.

#moth’s writing #jjba #jjba fic #standswap #standswap september #Star Platinum #Jotaro Kujo #sentient stands go BRRRRRRRRR #a short story for practice for Standswap Story Mode #i’ll most likely do a bit of crossposting cause while Tumblr is a site #it’s also not predominantly a writing site #Mahir is Magician’s Red #Thomas is Silver Chariot #(no his name doesn’t come from the steam locomotive)#「Wayward Son」 is basically ‘’aren’t you tired of being nice? don’t you wanna go apeshit?’’ for Josei #but is also the reverse when it’s needed to be the opposite #jjba mothswap #edit: WHOOPS I MIGHT HAVE SLIPPED WITH HONG KONG CURRENCY

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