#because what else is is he going to do? tup is focused on dogma. and echo... echo really needs the help. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

greaterawarness · 3 years

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The One Where The Clones Go Ghost Hunting

Tup finishes setting up the last camera before resting his mobile one on his shoulder.

“So, why are we doing this again?” Tup asks while focusing the camera on Echo and Fives.

“Because Echo and I saw something here that changed our lives!” Fives says.

“Same thing happened to Hardcase when we took him to that strip club.” Jesse says with a snickering Kix as they walk past Fives. Echo rolls his eyes and steps more into frame.

“Look, we saw a woman walk right through a wall the other night. We just want to see if we can prove that what we saw was real.” Echo explains.

“So, ghosts. We’re hunting for ghosts.” Tup clarifies flatly.

“Ghost hunters if you will?” Fives says making Echo give him a light shove.

“Ghosts,” Dogma starts before Tup can turn the camera on him and Hardcase while walking into the house, “Do not exists.”

“Bro I’ll punch a ghost in the face. I don’t even care,” Hardcase says before holding up a paper bag. “Also, I brought the midnight snacks boys!”

“Dogma, if you don’t believe in ghosts then why did you come?” Fives sighs. Dogma stops as if to think about it.

“I like getting out of the barracks from time to time. Plus, I like proving you wrong.” He eventually shrugs before the front doors open again. Rex and Cody step through the doors looking less then enthused about being here.

“Captain, glad you could join us!” Fives says. The Captain mumbles something under his breath before giving a forced smile.

“Commander Cody, what a surprise. I didn’t know you’d be here.” Echo says. The Commander shoves his hands in his jacket pockets.

“Yeah, well, me and Rex had this bet whether or not Gregor could eat an entire tip-yip by himself and well… yeah now I’m here.” Cody mumbles.

“Always bet on stupid, boys.” Rex adds while placing his hands on his hips. Tup turns the camera back on Echo and Fives.

“So, you two believe in ghosts?” Fives raises an eyebrow. Tup turns the camera back to Rex and Cody.

“Oh, hell no.” Cody shakes his head.

“Not a chance.” Rex nods.

“Then why are you here?” Tup chuckles from behind the camera.

“Someone has to chaperone you kids.” Rex says matter-of-factly. Tup turns the camera back on Fives and Echo.

“Fair enough,” Echo says before rubbing his hands together as everyone gathers round. “Alright, we’re going to split up into three groups. Fives, Dogma, Tup, and I will take the upstairs. Jesse, Hardcase, and Kix will take this floor. Rex and Cody will take the basement. Everyone understand?” “Wait,” Kix says after exchanging a smile with Jesse. “Why don’t you take Hardcase, and we take Dogma?” “Okay… doesn’t really matter to us who goes where.” Fives shrugs. Dogma stares at the grinning Kix and Jesse looking very concerned.

“Tup has cameras put up throughout the house to try and capture everything. Each group will also have a camera of their own.” Echo goes on.

“Do not break these cameras!” Tup warns. With everyone briefed on what to do they split up.

UPSTAIRS: Fives, Echo, Tup, Hardcase

Tup follows his brothers up the stairs and into the master bedroom. Fives sits on the bed while carrying a recording device.

“I read somewhere that you can catch disembodied voices with this thing.” He explains. Echo leans against a wall near him while Hardcase stands to the side. Tup keeps the camera focused on Fives and Echo.

“Did you die here?” Echo asks. They wait in silence for a response. Tup shifts the camera on his shoulder while waiting.

“What’s your name?” Fives asks after a time. They wait again. Fives opens his mouth to ask another question when he’s stopped by a cracking sound. Fives looks up at the camera wide eyed. “Do you hear that?”

“Yeah, its sounds like, like… like Hardcase eating a fucking taco!” Tup starts before whipping the camera over to Hardcase who is stuffing his face with a taco. He chews loudly while putting his hands up in a WHAT fashion.

“Hardcase, maybe not a good time for that bud.” Echo sighs.

“I’m hungry!” He says with his mouth full. When Tup points the camera back on Fives and Echo, he adds off camera. “I’m a growing boy.”

Fives shakes his head while staring at the camera.

“Come on, keep going.” Echo insists. When it gets quiet again, they continue.

“Are you angry?” Fives goes on.

“Can you show yourself?” Echo asks. They sit and wait again. This time a low gargling almost growl makes them freeze. Fives holds his hands out in a don’t move motion before pressing his lips together and squeezing his eyes shut in frustration.

“Dammit Hardcase!” He yells. Tup turns the camera on Hardcase once again. This time he is slurping up what is left of his drink.

“Want some?” He offers after a pause. Echo rubs his face tiredly while Fives takes the bag of snacks and drink from Hardcase.

“We’re trying to do something hear, Hardcase!” Fives says while setting the goodies on a dresser.

“Well, I’m sorry! But it’s not like anything was happening anyway.” Hardcase crosses his arms.

“I mean, he does have a point.” Tup says nodding with the camera. Echo sighs while putting his hands on his hips.

“They’re right. Maybe we did imagine it.” Echo shrugs. Fives lets out a disappointing breath but nods.

“Yeah, we should get the others and…”

Fives is cut off by two shrill screams coming from downstairs. They all stare at Hardcase who holds his hands up with wide eyes.

“That wasn’t me!” He says. Echo and Fives look into the camera before all four of them run downstairs.

DOWNSTAIRS: Jesse, Kix, Dogma

When Fives leads his group upstairs and Rex and Cody disappear into the basement, Jesse, Kix, and Dogma meander around their floor.

“So,” Jesse says with the camera first pointed up at his face then nothing but blurry movement before the camera finally focuses on Kix and Dogma. “We’re just supposed to walk around videoing ourselves getting scared in the dark?”

“I think we’re supposed to ask it questions and try and catch it on this.” Kix says while holding up a small recording device Echo had given them. Dogma shakes his head.

“This is ridiculous.” Dogma sighs. Jesse zooms in ridiculously close to Dogma’s face.

“Why is that Doggy?” Jesse chuckles.

“Because they didn’t see a ghost. They spent the last few nights watching ghost movies and then were asked to house sit in an extremely old home that probably creaks and moans if you just looked at it.” Dogma says while crossing his arms. When Jesse can’t find a way to zoom out the camera, Kix steals it and fixes it. He aims the camera up at his face.

“Well boys, lets ask this ghost some questions,” Kix starts before clearing his throat, “If there are any spirits here tonight, please, answer me this one question… Who’s better looking? Me or Jesse?”

Jesse’s face appears in the corner of the camera.

“We have the same face, dumbass.” Jesse snorts.

“Yeah, but you’re uglier.” Kix says not missing a beat. Jesse gives a hurt gasp while Dogma laughs off camera. The camera blurs while Jesse steals the camera back. He points it at Dogma.

“Enough of this, lets keep moving.” Jesse insists. Dogma shrugs and walks further down the hall. They stop to stare at a painting when one the doors leading to the kitchen begin to rattle. Dogma freezes while staring at the rattling door.

“What is that?” Dogma starts to turn back to Jesse, but he pushes him forward.

“Go check it out!” He insists. Dogma slowly walks forward as the doorknob continues to rattle. He takes a deep breath before forcing the door open before Kix jumps out scaring Dogma. He doesn’t scream but he jumps and punches Kix in the arm. Kix and Jesse laugh and lean against each other.

“You’re jerks.” Dogma frowns.

“Couldn’t resist.” Jesse laughs from behind the camera.

“There are two doors to the kitchen. I snuck through the other when you weren’t looking.” Kix explains.

“Wow. This is me impressed right now.” Dogma says with a blank expression.

“Alright, I think we’re done here. Let’s…” Kix starts but stops when female screams make their blood run cold. They immediately run towards the noise meeting up with Fives, Echo, Tup, and Hardcase while they come down the stairs.

“Was that you?” Fives asks.

“No, I think it came form the basement.” Kix says. They tear open the basement door and run into the darkness.

THE BASEMENT: Cody, Rex

“This is stupid.” Cody sighs once Rex has closed the basement door behind them.

“Just keep moving.” Rex says while trying to get a good hold on the camera. He wasn’t a tech wiz and wasn’t sure if it was even on. He lifts it to his eye and chuckles at the night vision Cody. Cody reaches up and takes the camera from him.

“So, what do we do now?” Cody asks once they’re down in the dungeon of a basement. Rex walks over and sits on a crate. Cody leans against the wall, keeping the camera pointed at Rex.

“Wait until the boys say we’re good to go home?” Rex shrugs.

“I can’t believe Gregor ate that entire tip-yip.” Cody sighs. “To think I could be doing literally anything else tonight.” “What? You had something better to do?” Rex arches a brow. Cody zooms in on Rex’s face.

“Did you seriously just ask me if I had something better to do then sit in the basement of a strangers house in the dark?”

“Good point.” Rex nods. Cody zooms out. “So, you wanna go to 79’s after…” Rex and Cody get to their feet when footsteps come from the pitch-black back room. Rex grabs a crowbar while Cody sets the camera on a shelf so he can grab a large wrench. They walk slowly towards the back room. One of the paint cans next to Rex rattles suddenly making him jump.

“Okay… that was weird.” Cody says softly. Rex grips his weapon.

“You aren’t seriously considering that there is a ghost here, are you?” Rex asks him but doesn’t lower the crowbar.

“Look, maybe it’s not as crazy as it sounds,” Cody starts, “I mean I fought zombie geonosians!”

A low growl stops them in their tracks.

“Okay… so maybe it’s not as preposition as it first seemed but…” Rex trails off the closer they got to the darkness. Rex almost thinks he can see eyes staring at him before a lothcat leaps at them with a growl making both men give high shrill screams.

“Oh my fuck its just a cat!” Cody breathes relieved. Rex rubs his face trying to get his breathing under control. When the basement door bursts open both men jump close together and then quickly part when they realize its just the boys.

“We heard a woman scream!” Fives starts. Tup points his camera at them.

“Did you see it! Did you see her?” Echo asks. All seven men stare at Rex and Cody waiting for their response.

“It was…” Rex starts while turning to stare at Cody whose face is as red with embarrassment as Rex’s. He slowly turns his head back towards the boys. “… a ghost.”

“It was a ghost.” Cody nods.

“Well, did you get it on camera?” Tup asks. Cody and Rex both look at the camera sitting on the shelf pointed at the dark back room.

“Uh…” Rex says while Fives picks it up. He shakes his head and frowns.

“Rex, you never even turned it on!” Fives says making Cody and Rex sigh with relief and then quickly change it to sighs of frustration when Kix and Jesse arch a brow at them.

“We never got anything on camera but if Rex and Cody say they saw something then I feel like that’s validation enough.” Echo says. Fives nods but still looks disappointed they weren’t able to catch anything on camera. Dogma rolls his eyes before starting up the stairs with the others. Cody and Rex start to leave when Kix and Jesse step in front of them.

“So, you saw a ghost?” Jesse asks with a smug smile on his face. Rex clears his throat slightly.

“Yup, saw it right there.” Rex says pointing to the back room. Kix and Jesse exchange a look.

“It’s just odd to us that we hear two screams and… well what do ya know? Its just the two of you down here?” Kix says with a grin. Rex bites his bottom lip before reaching out and placing a hand on each of their shoulders.

“You know what I heard?” Rex asks softly. “I heard that I haven’t finished the watch bill for the next month. I would hate for the two of you to be stuck on watch for the next foreseeable future!”

Kix and Jesse stare at Rex for a moment.

“It’s crazy that you saw a ghost!” Kix says finally.

“Yeah, Captain I would be scared shitless.” Jesse adds before the two of them run up the stairs. Rex and Cody exchange a relieved look before going up the stairs themselves.

As they wrapped up the night, they gathered up all the cameras and gear and loaded it into a speeder. Tup looks through the bags making sure he grabbed everything.

“Hey, Dogma!” Tup calls out. Dogma stands halfway to the speeder and the house. “I think I forgot the battery bag by the stairs. Can you grab it real fast?” Dogma jogs back to the house and pushes open the front door. He spots the battery bag on the bottom step. When he picks it up, he starts to turn to leave when movement at the top of the stairs catches his eye. He glances up to see a woman in white staring down at him. She turns and glides across the floor before passing through a wall. His jaw drops. He turns and runs out of the house as fast as he can.

“GUYS!”

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firewoodwander · 3 years

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honey-gold — Tup/Dogma

Domestic holiday decorating fluff as part 2 of my clone haven gift exchange for the wonderful @parkkrys ! 🤍

No warnings, just fluff! Rated Gen

Read on ao3 or below the cut

Summary:

Dogma hums to himself as he sits on the living room floor unwinding coils and coils of fairy lights. Some are multicoloured, some are blue, some are even pink, but his favourite ones, as simple as they are, are the long strands they have of warm white. The ones that glow a yellow-amber that always reminds him of soft blankets and warm hands and even warmer, beautiful honeyed eyes.

“We don’t have to,” Tup says suddenly. He wrings his hands together as Dogma considers the two cardboard boxes he’s unearthed from the tiny, crowded attic above their flat. “If you don’t want to, we don’t have to—”

“Tup.” Dogma steps over a box and peers up into his face. He looks calm, somewhat amused, even, when he takes Tup’s hands in his and slips their fingers together to curl over their knuckles. “Just because I don’t do Christmas does not mean I don’t want to spend time with you putting up all the pretty things I know you love. It’s hanging some tinsel on the wall, not making me participate in dinner and… whatever else it is people do.”

Tup rolls his bottom lip between his teeth and tilts his head when Dogma brushes away a stray strand of hair with their linked hands. “I just… I don’t want you to feel you have to.”

Dogma smiles slightly and tugs him down to sit on the floor, curled towards each other and knee-to-knee.

“Do you know how much I loved going to your house to see you when it got to December?” he asks. Tup lifts a brow to look at him from under his lashes. “I did. I loved it. The later it got, the more everything was pretty and warm and nice. And my favourite part—lucky, I think, considering how much time we spent there—was your room. You’ve collected so many things over the years, and it was always covered with—”

“Lights,” Tup murmurs. “It was always covered in lights. I knew you liked them.”

Dogma squeezes their hands. “I did. It seemed… fitting. I think I… I think…”

Tup strokes a thumb over the back of his hand. “What is it?”

“I think I fell in love with you in that room,” comes out all in a rush, a voice small with embarrassment, colour rising to Dogma’s face as he stares fixedly at their feet. Tup feels his own cheeks flush with prickling warmth, bubbles rising in his chest that make him beam. “Lying on your bed with you, in-in the dark, there was that string of golden ones you had on the ceiling, and you looked so pretty when we turned out all the lamps and lay there with all the reflections glittering in your hair.”

“You know I did it for you, right?” Tup says. If he focuses he can feel his old mattress and sheets at his back, the radiating warmth of Dogma’s hand resting mere millimetres from his own and yet feeling that distance as keenly as if it were miles. Wanting to reach out and tangle their fingers like they are now, wanting to roll over and kiss the starry-eyed look from his face but never having the courage to ask. His best friend, warm and sparkling under the fairy lights. “I…” he swallows down the lump of nostalgia that forms in his throat. “You always looked so relaxed. Happy. I would think about you when I put them up.”

Dogma leans forward and presses their lips together, just a chaste kiss, cute and sweet, and still it has Tup’s heart fluttering like he’s seventeen again and pining. The way his scruff grazes Tup’s skin makes him shiver and melt all at once, just like it always does. Tup squeezes his hand and lets himself be pulled to his feet.

“Then come on. Let’s start with the lights.”

Of course, Dogma puts up a minimal protest when Tup puts on the Christmas songs. Tup knows he doesn’t mind—not when he can see him swaying along out of the corner of his eye—and Tup quite adores it too when he can grab Dogma’s hands and waist as he’s walking by and twirl him around the room to all his favourite songs. But the lights go up, and then the tinsel, as Dogma said, and Tup finishes it with little glittery stars and snowy pinecones he hangs from whatever is hook-like enough to take them. There’s a candle holder with a forest deer pattern on the coffee table, and Dogma is just inspecting the label on the candle when Tup finally brushes off his hands.

“Orange and cinnamon?” he asks. He frowns at the thing before lifting it and sniffing cautiously. “Is that supposed to work?”

“Don’t you like it?” Tup smiles. The empty boxes are kicked aside and he falls onto the sofa with a huff of breath, watching out of one eye while Dogma lights the candle and stares at it with suspicion.

“It’s surprisingly not bad.”

“There, see?” Tup rolls onto one side and holds his arms out to his boyfriend. “Now come on, I’m cold!”

Dogma frowns again and makes towards the thermostat, abandoning his candle and Tup, who pouts. “Cold? I can get you a jumper if you want? The heating was on not long ago…”

“Dogma,” Tup says. He lifts his arm up again. “I meant I want hugs.”

A soft look passes over Dogma’s expression. He turns back to Tup fully, his lips tilted in a lopsided smile, and reaches to take his hand.

“Sorry, cyare. I can do that too.”

“Good,” Tup smirks, pulling him down onto the sofa. He lands heavy in Tup’s arms and quickly rearranges himself, pressing him back into the cushions and covering him with his weight. Tup pushes his nose into Dogma’s neck and allows himself to be cuddled.

“Thank you for today,” he murmurs into his skin.

Dogma hums and tangles his fingers in the lengths of Tup’s hair. “I already said it’s perfectly fine, there’s no need to thank me.”

“No,” Tup says, grinning with giddiness just at the memory. “Telling me about it. When you fell for me.”

The arms around Tup’s waist and back tighten momentarily, hugging him closer to Dogma’s chest. “I wanted to,” he mutters. “You deserve to be loved.”

Tup bites down on his smile and plays the fleece of Dogma’s hoodie between his fingers. “You never let me forget.”

“Exactly.”

For a minute all is quiet, just the thump of Dogma’s heart under Tup’s ear and the even rise and fall of his chest. Tup snuggles even closer into him and buries his nose in his neck, the beloved smell of him mingling with the sweet spice of their steadily-burning candle.

“Hey,” Dogma says gently, nudging his shoulder just as he’s on the verge of dropping into a doze. “I have something to show you.”

“Hmm? Do I have to move?”

He chuckles. “Well, it’d be a darn sight harder bringing it to you.”

“Could always move the sofa with me on it.”

With a snort, Dogma slips down to kneel on the floor and leans in to drag a careful knuckle over Tup’s cheek. “Come on, cyare. I want you to see this.”

Tup rouses and blinks his eyes open to return Dogma’s smile. He stretches, yawns, and holds out his hands in a silent request to be carried.

“Oh come on, you lazy ars. Up you get.”

“Fine,” Tup sighs, though he levers himself up happily enough. He takes Dogma’s hand and lets him guide him out, through their freezing fucking airlock of an entrance hall and to their bedroom door. Dogma stops with his hand on the handle and—

“Close your eyes,” he says. Tup nods and holds a hand over his closed eyes, pursing his lips in quiet excitement. He’s guided into the room and positioned somewhere in the middle of the small floor. He hears the door click shut behind him, Dogma moving around, a click, and then warm hands landing back at his waist.

“Can I open them?” he asks.

Dogma laughs, gently pulling the hand away from his face. “Yes, yes you can look.”

When Tup opens his eyes again, he isn’t at first sure quite where he is at all. The room is dark—blackout curtains pulled tight and pinned for full effect—except for the dozens upon dozens of hovering, glowing golden twinkles that arc from wall to wall across the ceiling, bathing everything in soft light.

“Oh,” Tup breathes. He steps forward and tips his head back to stare up at them, his fingers brushing the fluffy throw blanket over the foot of the bed before he sinks down onto it. “Dogma.”

“Is it good?” he asks. “I did it right, didn’t I?”

“It’s wonderful.”

The bed dips as Dogma joins him. He lies back, lets their thighs brush, hears the sigh that leaves his boyfriend’s lips as he settles. Their fingers, inches apart on the covers, meet in the middle and curl together.

“Thank you,” Tup tells him eventually. The bed is soft, Dogma’s warm and sleep calls to him, but he stares up at the pattern of stars swirling above his head, not wanting to lose this feeling he never thought he’d have again.

Well, he supposes it’s not quite the same as it used to be.

“Thank you,” he whispers again, rolling onto his side to gaze lovingly into Dogma’s eyes.

“Of course,” Dogma breathes. “I didn’t know if there was a-a pattern, or anything, so I did my best.”

“How many years has it been since we last did this? It’s beautiful, ner cyare. Really.”

Dogma smiles. “I’m glad you like it.”

Tup leans down to kiss him. Dogma’s mouth is soft and pliant, and he kisses like every one might be his last; it sends a shiver down Tup’s spine, a small noise catching in his throat when he lowers himself onto Dogma’s chest, indescribably grateful for every moment they’ve had leading up to this. Them.

“You don’t know how happy I am that I can do this with you,” he says once they part, breathless and heart aching. Dogma reaches up to hold his face again, tucking a strand of hair behind his ear and grinning. The fairy lights shimmer in his eyes, make his gaze fall softly, so softly, it makes Tup weak.

“I know.”

#tup/dogma #clone haven gift exchange #clonecest #dogma/tup #tupma #togma #clone trooper dogma #clone trooper tup #writing tag

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ironmandeficiency · 4 years

Text

all’s fire in love & war

pairing: hardcase / reader

word count: 1911

summary: hardcase hatches a plan to win your affection that doesn’t quite go off without a hitch. you’re infuriated at his eagerness to endanger himself but also quite sentimental when the burn marks in the terrain simulation arena look suspiciously like a heart.

a/n: i’ve fallen in love with hardcase, all there is to it. idk whether him, dogma, or tup were at point rain but they were now. (this is also somewhat inspired by this art by @panthermouth )

read it on ao3

“hardcase! you were only supposed to detonate the droids, not the whole karking simulation arena!” fives was, quite understandably, furious. this was the third time in five days hardcase has pulled a stunt like this, which was far more often than normal. hardcase was giggling like a child that had eaten too many sweets, thoroughly enjoying the blazing inferno before him. the sprinklers went off like clockwork and it was honestly so strange to think that hardcase was actually considered an adult.

you were a civvie medic assigned to the 501st, and your time was divided between the resolute and the front lines. the clones seemed to worship the ground you walked on, which you attributed to the way you fought at point rain. it could also have a lot to do with the way you’d give contraband (read: candies) after their visits and the soft voice you’d use with shinies experiencing their first med bay trip.

his smile was the first thing you noticed about hardcase. its boyish charm and hints of trouble lurking beneath it working like a magnet pulling your affections to him. it was hard to find peace and quiet when he was around, but since you hated silence, it was great to hear his voice after a long day elbow-deep in blood and bacta.

you groaned as the sirens went off, not even bothering to throw your blacks on before slipping on your boots and going to assess the damage. you were in night clothes that didn’t keep much else covered besides the necessities, but you weren’t one to shy away when it came to your body. your state of dress was inconsequential to you at the moment because there was something happening that may need your presence.

the day of a medic was never over.

your feet were pounding on the durasteel floor of the resolute, partly hoping that you were woken needlessly for the sake of the men but also that you weren’t roused from a particularly pleasant dream for no valid reason.

another boom shook the ground slightly and you did not like the way the alarms seemed to get louder in protest to the second shock.

your entrance to the terrain simulation arena was loud and heavy from the near-spring you’ve been in since you left your bunks, your breaths being heavy and a smidge labored.

“what’s wrong, vod- holy kriff, we need a medic! medic!” you recognized the voice in seconds. the fact you could taste the explosion in the air did nothing to soothe the nerves that had built up at the arc trooper’s tone. there was no time for jitters or worrying, you had a job to do.

your feet carried you to fives’s side, quickly reassuring him with a hand in his shoulder. “i’m here, fives! what happened?”

“this pile of bantha fodder decided to go overboard and now he’s-”

“it doesn’t matter if i went ‘overboard’ on this,” hardcase did finger quotes around the accusational word with a sith-may-care grin, “it’s working! this was, uh, just a minor setback.” that is, if being impaled with droid metal could be considered minor anything.

fives could have killed him right then but somehow was able to grip his last remaining bit of self-restraint tight enough. the restraint didn’t weaken the desire to strangle his vod’ika but it sure kept him from acting on it. ‘we’re literally right next to a medic, if i killed him now she’d probably be quick enough to bring him back-’ the tirade was cut off with a groan from hardcase, the man slightly moving within the grips of five’s arms.

you had no idea what kind of plan (that fives was in on by the sound of his frustration) the brothers had concocted. the only thing you were focusing on was the embedded piece of shrapnel in hardcase’s side that was bleeding a bit too much for your liking. the fool didn’t even bother to have full armor on when dealing with his precious explosives and was seeming to have no issue whatsoever with being impaled by some sort of twisted metal far too mangled to identify.

the fire from the explosions were smoldering as you and fives lifted hardcase between you both, making a mad dash to the medbay. hardcase was determined to not be carried and so his legs would occasionally try to carry a bit of his weight; the pain was white-hot and with every step he attempted to make he tripped over his own feet. through the pain, he was still adamant that his injuries were a minor setback.

what was new information, however, was the tinge of fear in your eyes as you and fives gently laid him in a bed, fives being grilled with questions while you and kix both got to work. it filled him with guilt he didn’t have the hindsight to consider if things went sideways in his plan (which they did).

hardcase only intended on your presence being a precautionary one at most. he knew you’d be one of the first to respond to an incident almost anywhere in the ship and even though part of him didn’t like taking advantage of your caring nature, he made sure to act on his plan somewhere he knew you’d be the first to reach. there wasn’t a part of his plan that accounted for him actually being injured, let alone the frantic tone so unfamiliar to him as you shouted things to kix.

in the eyes of the 501st (and the 212th) you had no fear. back during the second attack on geonosis, you took up arms alongside them despite the multitude of regs clearly stating that civilian medics were prohibited from participating in combat. a member of the 501st had used his dying breath to give you his dc-15s and the moment his hand lost its grip on yours, you figuratively told the regs to kiss your shebs in the form of shooting every droid and bug in your way.

you were enraged but calculated while kicking ass (it still got hardcase a bit hot under his blacks when thinking about it), and when the battle ended you were immediately back into the medbay as if you never left your medical duties. there was no evidence that you had previously been fighting alongside the rest of them with the ease you slipped back into your duties, your voice returning to the soothing firmness of someone that cared about the men under their care.

this was also the day hardcase fell head over shebs for you, your desire to go above and beyond for clones of all the people in the galaxy standing out to the heavy gunner. it was in the way you’d happily listen to him ramble on about whatever his mind thought of next and actually contribute to what would normally be a one-sided conversation, even among his closest vod’e. you cared about who he was as an individual far beyond just his physical health and he ached to show you how much that meant to him.

safe to say, what was going to be a well-humored display of affection turning into an emergency trip to you and kix was not part of his plan. what’s worse is that he had become the reason your voice had lost its calming cadence, your words rushed and sounded like you were teetering on the edge of losing it.

why were you so worried about little ol’ him?

he wanted to ponder the implications more but he was knocked out, either by an anaesthetic shot or blood loss, he was too far gone to know which.

--------

kix has had the idea bouncing in his head for a while, but tonight’s events solidified his thoughts into one fact: hardcase was a kriffing idiot.

when fives told kix about the “plan” his vod’ika had cooked up to get the attention of his fellow medic, it took several deep breaths and the promise of alderaanian wine in his bunk to keep from doing something rash. only an idiot (which hardcase was established to be) would be blind to the extra care you held for the di’kut.

you’d always be sure to stash his favorite flavor of medbay candies away for when he came in for one thing or another (usually it was just to lighten the mood of less-crowded shifts) and listen to the word vomit that never ceased to come from his mouth even through sleep. kix isn’t the only one who’s noticed the lingering physical contact when it was completely unnecessary but it grated on him more than most, seeing as he was subjected to its naivety more than most.

the fact that hardcase thought he’d need a heart-shaped explosion to get your attention truly attested to his stupidity.

he was just glad that hardcase didn’t need time in a bacta for all the trouble this was. the largest piece lodged into his abdomen and -thank the maker- missed his organs. but even bacta couldn’t keep it from getting a pretty gnarly scar, something he knew wouldn’t bother his vod a bit. knowing hardcase, he’d boast about the thing to anyone who’d listen.

kix had sedated him not long after he was brought in. fives had been dismissed after kix had heard enough of the ridiculous plan that had landed hardcase in medical, and the privacy left kix with the perfect opportunity for a conversation with his fellow medic.

“y’alright, y/n?” he started off easy, knowing that your worry was bound to make you more sensitive than normal.

your breath was shaky as you exhaled, leaning against the bed hardcase occupied. “would it be bad if i said no?”

“not in my eyes, baar'ur’ika. i know you care about him an awful lot.” a playful smile graced his features, hoping to ease the tension he could sense radiating off you. it worked a little, your shoulders slumping out of the tense posture they carried minutes earlier.

“i do care about him, and that’s what makes it all worse! we’re fighting a war here, death is as common as a blaster!” you took a deep breath, trying to fight the way your voice gets weaker but failing. “ i don’t know if i could survive losing him, kix.”

kix continued to apply bacta to the smaller cuts hardcase sustained before continuing. “the fact we’re in war should encourage you to show him what you feel. us clones never know when we’ll die, and our last thoughts are always on the things that made us happy, that made this damned war worth fighting. i know for a fact that if hardcase died tomorrow, his last thoughts will be of you.”

yeah his words were meant to be encouraging, but they were a painful reminder all the same. maybe it was time to let yourself have a sliver of happiness within the death and sorrow that permeated the entire gar. you may not completely believe you deserve the happiness he would bring you, but hardcase surely deserves whatever happiness you could give him.

you didn’t know what to say in reply so you continued your work in silence. once the sedation wore off, hardcase would be free to leave. until then, you could stay beside him and wonder how the kriff you were going to explain your feelings to the idiot that won your affections with no effort.

#hardcase x reader #hardcase #star wars reader insert #star wars fanfic #star wars imagines #star wars the clone wars #star wars #clone wars #clone trooper hardcase #clone trooper imagines #jj writes #arc trooper fives #medic kix #hardcase is precious #hardcase imagine #kix is literally the best #hardcase is an idiot but we love him for it #blue striped man is darling

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myakkoh · 4 years

Text

wonders in a hunt

(Read on Ao3 here!)

Thank you and shout out to @blackkatmagic for letting me have permission to write this silly fic!

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You see, there’s a novel.

A novel that was only published two months ago, detailing the events of a Jedi and a clone falling in love while undergoing an adventure that changed their lives in order to save the entire galaxy. It tells of a tale that many have fallen in love with and are eager for more.

Unfortunately, this novel is also Mace Windu’s greatest headache at the current moment.

Why?

Well, let’s just say, there are details in the novel that are extremely similar to the same events he had undergone with his husband a year ago, especially with the part where they faced Palpatine, the Sith Lord who has been right under their nose the entire time. It’s not just the book that’s Mace’s problem, though.

It’s who made the novel. No one knows who made the novel, just that it's an anonymous author.

When Mace first got introduced to the novel, it was about a few days ago, when he decided to take a break with Fives. Said Padawan took out his datapad and began to silently read something on it, dark eyes glued to the screen, scanning it slowly, ever so slowly. Chuckles and giggles have escaped him, before Mace became curious and asked what it was.

That was his first mistake, and how it all began.

~~~~~

“A novel,” Mace repeats as Fives gives him a bright grin, tilting his head to the side as he reads the title. Heartstill, the title says on the cover, followed behind by a picture of two hands clasping together. He can see silver bands shining around fingers on both hands, the design strangely familiar.

“Yeah,” Fives says, the grin still in place, the Force rippling around his Padawan softly. “It’s surprisingly really good, and the main characters kinda reminds me of you and Cody.”

Mace raises an eyebrow, though he’s more bemused than anything. It’s nice to see that Fives is having something else to do other than their training and meditation. “Is that so?” he asks, hands the datapad back to his Padawan.

“Yes, Master,” Fives answers cheekily, then says, “You can read it if you want.”

“Oh?” Perhaps he should ask Cody if he read this novel yet; his husband did like reading.

Fives only laughs. “Better than having Cody steal all the blankets, Master!”

“I thought you can’t hear through the walls?” Mace asks with slight amusement as Fives immediately looks horrified at the implied meaning. It’s always fun to tease his Padawan, even if all he and Cody do is stay close to each other in bed these days, curling into each other’s warmth.

Small gestures mean more than the large ones, after all.

“Oh my kriffing god, Master, I did not need to know that!”

~~~~~~

He did not have the chance to read the novel until a couple of days later, when he managed to secure some peace for himself. Cody’s currently on a guard shift at the Jedi Temple’s entrance, and Fives is off exploring Coruscant with some of the other Padawans, clones, and a Jedi Knight.

When Mace settles down on the couch, he reaches for the datapad Fives lent him, flipping to the novel and relaxes as he flips to the first page, beginning to read what many have been calling a masterpiece.

A couple of hours later has him stuck in the middle of said novel, because Mace is staring at the same page for the past few minutes. Multiple reactions are running through his head to what he’s read so far. Throwing the datapad to the wall or ripping it up with the Force may have been a very near thing.

Mace hasn’t mentioned the leviathan to anyone but the council and the ones who’ve been there with him, which was only Cody. Granted, the name in the novel is completely different, but the vivid details, the careful explanations of their abilities- it’s similar to a leviathan. Knows the effects of being too close to one, what it does-

Grimaces at the crystal-clear memory of it, doesn’t shudder, but it’s a close thing, enough to make him put down the datapad and stop reading for a few moments. He closes his eyes and breathes, curls his hand into a fist before he lets go.

Several events he’s read so far in the novel are similar to what he and Cody had experienced in Dromund Kaas, far too similar for his liking. It’s... slightly disturbing, to read the same events that personally happened to him. Someone on the council may have written this novel.

He only reopens his eyes when he hears the doors to his quarters slide open, Cody’s aura flickering tiredly and fondly.

“You look like you went through Dromund Kaas again,” Cody observes with a tilt of his head, and Mace sends a small wave of wry amusement to his husband’s end of their bond. The clone commander only snorts, setting his bucket down and strips his armour before joining him on the couch.

Their fingers tangle together before they rest their hands on their legs, Cody leaning his head on Mace’s shoulder, and he can’t help but smile softly.

“The horror,” is all Mace says in response, dry. “But, no. Have you read Heartstill?”

Cody furrows his brows, twists his head to look at him carefully. “You mean that novel everyone seems to be raving about these days? I haven’t read it, if that’s what you’re asking, but I heard it was good. Why?”

Mace wordlessly motions to the datapad on the table in front of them. A few beats of silence, then- “That’s Fives’ datapad.”

“I’m quite aware.”

“Why do you have Fives’ datapad?”

“He lent it to me.”

“He lent it to you.” Cody’s voice sounds flat, though a note of resignation makes its way through their bond. “Is this because of the novel?”

“If you’ll read it, you’ll understand,” Mace informs him. “I feel like someone in the council wrote this.”

“Yeah, yeah. When I get the time to, then I will.”

~~~~~~

It takes a few more days before he manages to finally finish the novel.

Needless to say, Mace is more convinced that someone on the council has written this novel, considering they’re the only ones who have even read the mission report. It’s close, though. Very close. Too close for his comfort, really.

But who?

Thus, this begins the investigation of who has written the novel Heartstill. Needless to say, it produces a lot more headaches than expected.

~~~~~~

Obi-Wan doesn’t know what prompted Mace into thinking he wrote a novel. The sheer indignation rattles inside him as he stares at the Jedi Master in his doorway. “A... novel, you say?” he asks weakly, praying that his question will make the man go away.

One doesn’t appreciate it when someone interrupts their time to sed- take their husband to bed. Said husband is currently sitting at the kitchen table and looking over paperwork after their last mission together. Obi-Wan would like to have some privacy with Rex, thank you very much.

Mace only raises his eyebrow. “Yes, the novel Heartstill,” he says.

He blinks in surprise. “The one that’s currently raging around the galaxy? Rex told me it was a fascinating read. Why?”

When Mace doesn’t answer, Obi-Wan closes his eyes, lets go of his annoyance, and says, “Mace, please don’t tell me that you believe that I wrote that novel.”

“... perhaps.”

“I should be offended, you know I would never write a novel.”

“Indeed,” Mace notes dryly. “However, your mission reports say otherwise. It is fascinating to read about the adventures you and Skywalker have, especially when chasing after Grievous and getting stuck in a cave, and I quote, ‘After a few moments of shock, we were horrified to learn that Anakin have managed to release poisoned gas into the air, with mere moments left to live.’ Yes, Obi-Wan, rather dramatic.”

“I,” Obi-Wan says lightly like the negotiator he is, “have not written that in my life. Perhaps you should ask Anakin if he wrote that part in that particular mission report.”

“Perhaps I will,” Mace says, like he doesn’t believe him. How dare he. “Good day, Master Kenobi.”

“And you as well, Master Windu.”

When the doors close behind him, Rex looks up from the table, amusement lighting up in those perfect brown eyes. “Did you really write that in your mission report?”

“Rex, we are not going to talk about that.”

~~~~~~

“What.” Agen is more confused than angry that Mace would accuse him of writing a novel. He only tilts his head to the side, Mace giving him a flat look. “A novel?”

“Heartstill,” Mace answers, and- oh. That’s the novel that Dogma and Tup have been reading together during their free time, and honestly Agen doesn’t have enough patience to sit still for one novel, even if it does sound intriguing. “I take it you have never read it before?”

“Yes,” Agen says slowly, trying to make sense of what Mace is trying to say. Dogma’s aura flashes curiosity before fading away, and he focuses on the Councillor in front of him. Usually Mace would never bring something like this up unless it’s important. If it is, then he might not be able to help. He has no idea what Heartstill is even about. “Why?”

Mace slowly blinks at him. Ah. He immediately gets the message.

Agen doesn’t even know a single thing about writing a novel, and writing mission reports and normal reports are completely different. He can only look back at Mace and think that whoever wrote the novel that made Mace Windu chasing after the Jedi Councillors is quite a sentient.

“Master Windu, I heard that Master Ti is in the gardens with Tup and Colt,” Dogma says helpfully, takes Mace’s attention off of him. Mace nods a thanks to his commander and the doors slide shut.

After one long second, Agen turns around to face Dogma, and tilts his head to the side again. “What is Heartstill about?” he finally asks.

“A Jedi and a clone falling in love, sir. Why?”

And this is why he’s more partial to taking missions in the Outer Rim; Agen wouldn’t have to deal with anything like this. “How many weapons do we have left?” he asks instead, walks towards the couch and grabs one of Dogma’s blasters to clean.

“Sir,” Dogma says very slowly, carefully, like he’s about to step into a danger zone filled with landmines and slavers and droids. Agen rather likes that combination; the odds are good, especially between him and Dogma. “Please don’t tell me you’re planning to destroy another slaver base that belongs to Aruk the Hutt again.”

Agen deliberately chooses not to answer that.

~~~~~~

Shaak is smiling very dangerously, and Colt would like it to be known that his wife’s smile is beautiful and kriffing hot and it also means he should stay a few steps back because of what will happen next.

“Mace, old friend,” Shaak says with perfectly practiced innocence, something sharp dancing in her eyes. Colt swallows, and he really wants to grab her and steal her away to somewhere... more private. “Whatever do you mean by that accusation? I would never write a novel in my life.”

Mace stares her down, strong and unflinching. “Oh?”

“Indeed.” Shaak tilts her head to the side, a smile of an innocent predator, while Tup is watching the exchange with wide and fascinated eyes. Colt is also tempted to drag his brother further away so they don’t get caught in the soon-to-be-ensuing battle. “Have you tried, say... Kit? He really is good at writing those mission reports, wouldn’t you agree?”

The other Jedi Master looks rather exasperated and close to breaking something, even if his impassive expression doesn’t show anything. “Perhaps,” Mace says calmly. “You have a tendency to describe battles... interestingly.”

“Is that so?” This time, Shaak rises to her feet, and dips her head towards him. “Well, then you know that I’m not the culprit, my old friend.”

“Yes, I’m quite sure.” With that, the Jedi Master spins around and stalks away, and Colt can’t help but glance towards his wife. A look of triumph passes through her face, before settling into her usual, soft smile.

“Master, what did he mean by that?” Tup asks curiously.

“Oh, Tup. I just write... differently in my mission reports is all.” That smile should be illegal, and shouldn’t be making his heart squeeze tightly.

But by this point, Colt is a desperate man and he really wants to kiss Shaak senseless and make sure she knows that he loves her. From the sweet smile she sends him, Shaak knows it, too.

~~~~~~

“I did not write a novel.”

“Kit-”

“I did not write a novel,” Kit repeats again for the twelfth time as Mace stares at him. “I swear on the Force, I did not.”

The Force only ripples in response, as if offended Kit would choose it as a sacrifice to try and convince Mace. Disgruntled, Mace lets it go and sighs. After all, Kit has been repeating the same words over and over again ever since he found the Nautolan near the entrance to the Jedi Temple, delicately holding a bag.

His mission reports are similar to the novel’s writing, but also entirely different, and-

Wait.

“Kit, are those thermal detonators?” Mace asks with slight disbelief.

The Nautolan freezes before offering a hesitant smile. The grip on the bag tightens but doesn’t drop. “Yes.”

He suppresses the headache he can feel coming. Usually the Nautolan wouldn’t even touch a thermal detonator unless there’s a reason to. “Master Fisto,” he says, cautiously approaching the subject because obviously they’re going to be an occurrence, especially from the look on Kit’s face. “Who are they for?”

“Allow me to say that-”

“Kit.”

“-I heard that Master Kolar needed some more,” Kit continues breezily, and- oh. Oh no. Mace briefly considers taking Cody on another honeymoon to avoid dealing with this. He didn’t think this could happen, but... it really is happening, and he knows how Agen is.

Agen is oblivious to all courting attempts, and he’s not losing the bet to Depa that it’d take a few months for Agen to realize there is a courting attempt.

“I see,” he says steadily, then gives him a respectful nod. “Good luck for you and Agen. You will need it.”

Kit stares at him like he’s grown an extra head. “What- what do you possibly mean by that, Mace? Mace!”

Mace is already turning away. He needs to continue on with his... errands, not watch two of his fellow Councillors dance around each other.

“Mace! Come back here! What do you mean by that!”

He only walks faster.

~~~~~~

Adi raises her eyebrow. “Are you alright, Mace?” she asks in concern, because her fellow Jedi Master and Councillor looks ready to crush something close to him. She’s the only one in range of that, and she would like to have no broken bones, thank you.

Mace blankly stares at her. “You’re not the one who wrote Heartstill.”

“I did not write Heartstill,” Adi says, confused, and that’s new. Mace wouldn’t bring up a popular novel into the conversation. “But it’s a very good novel, I will have to admit that. Though the events are similar to the reports we received from you and Cody.”

From the unimpressed look he’s giving her, it seems that she’s right in guessing this is what it’s about.

“Well, Yoda wouldn’t be the one who wrote it, considering his grammar,” she says, and Mace closes his eyes as if he’s in pain from remembering said grammar. To be fair, all of Yoda’s reports are all filled with different grammar and sometimes, she has to enlist Eeth or Depa’s help in translating some of them. “Depa would have written something a little more exaggerated than the actual events.”

“That is true.” Pride and amusement flickers across Mace’s face before steeling itself back into his usual expression. “I suppose you might know where Master Mundi is?”

“Ki? He should be in his quarters.”

“Thank you, Adi.”

Adi finds herself more bemused than anything.

~~~~~~

Ki blankly stares at Mace, before he shakes his head in confusion. “What novel?”

Mace only rubs a hand over the side of his face.

(In all honesty, Ki is slightly terrified by the one-second murderous look in Mace’s eyes before it fades away and the Jedi Master stalks off with a quick farewell. Hopefully whoever wrote this novel that clearly annoyed Mace will live. Hopefully.)

~~~~~~

Eeth is very close to slamming the door right in Mace’s face and heading back to sleep. Look, when someone gets back from a mission that somehow led from peaceful negotiation to a full-blown civil war because of a single insult, they would be exhausted, too.

But Eeth is also a very dignified Zabrak (unlike Agen, who has a penchant to go straight into the violence and then offers sentients the solution of surrendering after knocking them around). So he obliges Mace and allows the other Jedi Master to enter his quarters, before taking a deep breath and surrendering his anger to the Force.

“May I help you, Master Windu?” he asks tiredly.

“How was your mission, Master Koth?”

“Fine,” Eeth answers flatly and resolves to setting the system settings to the off switch after this so he can get some sleep. “You already received my report, Mace. What else do you need, if it’s clearly not about my mission?”

Perhaps that’s a little too blunt, but Eeth has been running on three hours of sleep for the past two days and he really wants to sleep. Badly. One month of dealing with negotiations, a civil war, and then back to negotiations. He considers asking for one month of leave after dealing with that nonsense.

“Have you heard of Heartstill?”

Yes, yes, Eeth has heard about it. In fact, several of the clone troopers who have been with him on his mission had told him about the novel, detailing the romance of a Jedi General and a Clone Commander. Privately, he thinks it could deal with more outside forces that stops the romance from prevailing, but it sounds rather promising the way it is.

“I have,” Eeth says neutrally, tilts his head to the side. “Why?”

“I have my suspicions that someone in the council has written it, and I intend to find out who it is.” Mace looks at him with narrowed eyes, and he has to suppress a sigh. Of course Mace would think he would be writing it.

“I see,” is all he manages to say. “I had nothing to do with it.”

“Of course.” Mace pauses, then, because Mace is a bastard, he adds, “Agen is being courted.”

His mind immediately stops at that, because what the kriff. Agen? Being courted? The most oblivious of them in the Jedi High Council is being courted? Eeth closes his eyes, slightly concerned for the one who’s apparently trying to court his friend. Whoever has the sheer boldness to do that deserves luck. “And who is trying?”

“Kit.”

Never mind, Kit doesn’t need the luck. Agen is the one who needs the luck, seeing how Kit can flirt to no end, almost on par with Obi-Wan. “I’ll take the next two missions for someone on the bet if Kit manages to get Agen’s attention within the next two months via flirting.”

Mace is not outwardly laughing at him, but he is laughing and Eeth doesn’t appreciate it. “Alright.”

Eeth may or may not consider kicking Mace out of his room right there and then.

~~~~~~

Mace is very close to finding the culprit of the novel Heartstill.

There’s only one member left of the council that he’s yet to ask; Plo Koon. The said Jedi Master has been seemingly smiling every time Mace passed him, and that’s enough to cause suspicions. Enough to know that his friend is tricky enough to slip past his questions and straight past his defences.

Knows exactly how Plo will act, especially when they’ve known each other in the creche, and it’s slightly amusing to know that Plo might do something drastic. Like taking in two Zabraks from the Nightsisters, and training them when the Kel Dor has the time.

Feral looks up from his datapad to nod politely to Mace when he enters Plo’s quarters with the code his friend gave him a long time ago. Wolffe cleans his blasters while Savage naps close to him. “Master Windu,” Feral greets quietly, inclines his head. “Master Plo should be in the Archives.”

“Tell that jetii of mine to eat, sir,” Wolffe tells Mace. “He told me to babysit these two.”

Feral doesn’t blink an eye, obviously used to Wolffe’s words. “You know that we won’t damage Master Plo’s quarters.”

“Last time you said that, you and Savage managed to nearly destroy the kitchen when I was looking for my jetii,” Wolffe informs the small Zabrak dryly, Savage already opening an eye to stare at them. “So don’t bother. Sir, just make sure he ate and didn’t break his neck down there.”

“Of course,” Mace says, bemused. “May the Force be with you.”

Feral only gives him a soft smile as he leaves Plo’s quarters.

~~~~~~

He’s met with the sight of Agen, his hair untied, tiny black dots catching the light when the Zabrak inclines his head.

“Master Fisto,” Agen greets, silky black hair falling over his shoulders. Dark eyes skim the bags, and he can see Agen’s commander quickly scurrying away. Ah well, at least he can finish this up quickly and then take Agen for a run to the gardens after getting caf for both of them.

“Master Kolar,” Kit says cheerfully as he holds up the two bags in his hands. He knows how much Agen appreciates the gestures of resupplying him with weapons that the Zabrak needs. “These are the flash-bang grenades.”

Surprise flickers across Agen’s face, before his eyes soften, even if his expression doesn’t change. “You remembered.”

“So I did,” Kit easily says, politely waits for Agen to allow him to step inside the Zabrak’s quarters. Amusement curls at the edge of Agen’s tiny smirk, and all he wants to do is smile back and wait forever.

(Depa is a dignified Jedi Master; so if anyone says that they saw her take a holo of Master Fisto and Master Kolar standing together, they are a liar. She did no such thing.)

~~~~~~

Unsurprisingly, Plo is in the Archives. Again.

“Ah, hello, Mace,” the Kel Dor greets with a smile in his voice as Mace approaches him. Plo is already taking out a datapad with a soft hum, a talon clicking against it with an echo. “Did you know how interesting Zabrak poetry can be when being expressed out loud?”

“Pardon?” Mace asks in bewilderment, a beat little too late.

Why is Plo asking him about Zabrak poetry? Granted, this could have been discussed with the other Zabraks in the Jedi Order, given that Mace has little knowledge of it. Though... if he can just steer the conversation to the novel, then he’ll know whether or not Plo is the one who wrote it, and then make sure no one else is writing a novel based on actual events too close for his comfort.

“They have such wonderful sounds when conveying it. Such as this one here...”

This, Mace thinks with an oncoming headache as Plo continues to ramble about the poetry, is going to be exhausting.

~~~~~~

“Plo-”

“Oh, Mace, I’m not finished with explaining the messages inside the poems yet!”

“Did you write Heartstill?”

Plo emits amusement into the Force. “That’s not the topic right now, is it, Mace? Now, as I was saying, there are some hidden messages within each line for each sound they make...”

Cody is going to become a widower if Mace doesn’t survive this.

~~~~~~

Cody finally finds his husband in the Archives after a couple of hours, impassively staring at Plo Koon with an exasperated look, though no one can tell unless they know him or look very closely.

“Master Koon,” he says formally, dips his head in greeting when Plo waves a four-fingered hand to him. Mace’s slight relief rises in their bond, before fading away to exasperation and fondness for the Kel Dor. “Mace, there you are.”

“Cody,” Mace says as he rises to his feet from the chair, gives Plo a look, before the Korun offers his hand to him. “Something urgent?”

Cody only rolls his eyes and grabs his husband’s hand to lead him out of the Archives, away from delicate datapads and apparently Mace’s current headache. “Not really,” Cody answers after a fair distance away from the Archives. “But you haven’t answered my calls for the past six hours, and that was before you told me you were going to find Master Koon.”

Mace stops, slightly turns his head towards him. “Six hours,” his husband repeats.

“Yes, Mace. Six hours. I didn’t realize you liked debating with Master Koon for that long.”

“Yes,” Mace agrees, dry. Displeasure flashes in their bond, before Mace carefully tucks it away and lets it go. “I very much enjoy debating with Master Koon about Zabrak poetry.”

Cody pauses, turns to stare at his husband. “... why were you discussing Zabrak poetry?”

“That is a mystery I would like to know myself.”

~~~~~~

Humming, Plo opens the doors to his quarters and steps in, the sight of Feral and Savage curled up on the couch in front of him, the Zabrak brothers sleeping peacefully. On a chair nearby, Wolffe is reading his datapad, his head lifting to meet his gaze. He should get a holo of this.

“Sir,” Wolffe greets, sets the datapad down as Plo walks towards him. “Did you eat?”

“Yes,” Plo immediately says, and Wolffle closes his eyes like he’s going to do something rather drastic. The clone points to the kitchen, gives him a glare that makes him want to smile. “Wolffe, my dear...” He stumbles over the next word. “... partner, I did eat before going into the Archives.”

Woffle lifts an unimpressed eyebrow before his shoulders relax and the clone offers him a tight smile and a grimace. “Sorry, sir, watching these two are going to give me grey hair.”

“I have faith you will prevail, Wolffe,” Plo says, and- he knows that Wolffe will be able to handle it, knows that he can trust him with these kinds of tasks. Wolffe seems to know it, too, judging from the tilt of his head and the slow blink of dark brown eyes.

Breathes, and his chest tightens when Wolffe flashes him a sweet, tender smile, before it turns crooked with teeth. “You always do.”

“I always do,” he easily agrees, steps forward to gently tilt his head down to press his forehead against Wolffe’s.

He watches as Wolffe’s eyes flutter shut at the contact, and a comfortable silence surrounds them. Plo smiles behind his rebreather, and it’s calming, to stay like that with Wolffe, Wolffe’s hands catching his and tracing gentle shapes on his skin. It feels like there’s nothing that can stop him from feeling this much.

The Force hums with approval around them.

Wolffe slowly pulls away from him, dark eyes watching his every move. “Why was Master Windu looking for you this time?”

Plo pauses, and lets out a chuckle. “Heartstill.”

“You should have never written that novel, sir,” Wolffe says with an exasperated look, full of fondness and contentment and other emotions Plo doesn’t dare to say out loud. One look is enough for the both of them, enough to last them a lifetime.

It’s enough for them both.

“Ah, but Wolffe, where’s the fun in that?”

~~~~~~

Anakin stares at the message in front of him, before looking up to see his wife and boyfriend going through the senators’ fashion choice on their holograms. Both are laughing at something he can’t hear from where he is, before he looks back down at the message again.

Anakin, whatever you do, Obi-Wan’s message reads, do not claim that you wrote Heartstill. Or anger Master Windu.

Why would he claim that? Or anger Mace?

“Ani?” Padme calls, and he looks up to see his wife smiling that beautiful smile, and Fox with his really cute dimple. “What are you reading?”

“Obi-Wan’s messages to me,” he answers, sets the datapad down and joins them on the floor to stare at the new senator on the screen. Anakin reels back from the hologram of unbelievable taste, and wrinkles his nose. “Okay, what in the karking hells is that? Are they trying to copy Sidious’ fashion of puffy sleeves?”

“Yeah,” Fox says, his eyes bright and his smile sharp. “It’s really not that great, isn’t it, Ani?”

Fox’s use of his nickname makes him lean down and gently press a kiss on Fox’s cheek. The clone blushes, looks away, and Padme giggles and leans back against him. It’s nice, to have two of the people he cares about with him, and maybe they can plan out a wedding to include Fox to officially announce him as part of his and Padme’s married life.

It would make Fox happy, make Padme happy, and he wants that for them and more.

“What do you think about a wedding?” Anakin asks curiously. Fox’s head shoots up from staring at the hologram to stare at him, his cheeks flushing red at the mention of one.

“For Fox?” Padme’s smile is full of vicious triumph. “I think he’ll look good in blue.”

“I look best in red,” Fox tells them dryly, but he’s smiling, and Anakin can only count that as a victory, as a vow to the people he loves the most.

“You would look good either way, Fox,” Anakin reassures him.

They have a wedding to plan.

~~~~~~

Shaak slowly blinks. “I will bet two trips to the ice cream parlour for all the younglings and clones in small groups.”

“I will ask that if I win this, I get to have a month’s leave to travel with my Padawan,” Depa says as she drops a couple of credits into the pot. “He always did want to see the ancient Jedi Temples.”

“Try my cake for once, you all will,” Yoda adds. Everyone present (except for Kit and Agen, who are the subjects of the said bet) shudders at the memory of the bug-infested mud cake (Adi remembers seeing a frog leg sticking out of one of Yoda’s cakes once. It was slightly horrifying if you have to ask her).

Ki watches helplessly as his fellow Councillors place their bets, buries his face into his hands, and lets out a groan. How is he the only sane one left?

~~~~~~

Six days of investigation of his fellow Councillors later, Mace wordlessly hands the datapad (that has caused him several unnecessary headaches) back to Fives.

“Uh, Master, are you alright?” his Padawan asks, furrows his brows.

Mace only nods and firmly turns around, hears Fives following him. He’s going to lead Fives to the Archives to make him read the Jedi Order’s history. Maybe the entire history later, but he’s not so vicious to inflict that on his budding Padawan.

That novel is a headache and deserves to be treated as such after Fives gave it to him to read.

If anyone says that making Fives read the Jedi Order’s history is revenge, they are a filthy, filthy liar. This is justice at its finest form, and he’s going to make sure it stays that way. Preferably without Plo describing Zabrak poetry to him again. He still doesn’t know how he stayed there for six hours.

Now, for the bets on Kit and Agen... Mace is going to win it.

(Behind him, Fives shudders at the foreboding feeling of doom and hopes that his Master isn’t planning anything bad.)

((It’s only another couple of days later before Mace realizes that Plo didn’t deny anything and is left wondering if Plo wrote Heartstill or not. He still doesn’t have an answer.))

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wr1t3-my-wr0ngs · 4 years

Text

Good Soldiers- Chapter 2/4

Remembering Yesterday’s Tomorrow (In the Here and Now), Part 4 Cont.

After hours of thinking, he has a plan. Not a good one, but this is Umbara he reminds himself, no plan is a good one, only some that have fewer casualties.

If he's honest with himself, he's not sure if this will have fewer casualties or not.

It occurs to him that he could just kill Krell (he refuses to even think of him as a General), and save everyone pain. As an idea it's extremely tempting. But if this is real — and he still has his doubts, but if it is— he needs to be smart. Can't let his uncertainty in his reality keep him from action. Otherwise, he knows he will get nowhere, knows that not being smart will get him a court-martial, or worse.

So, no. Killing Krell isn't an option, not at this point.

Getting dressed is something of an experience. He's done it hundreds of times, knows the motions by heart — almost on autopilot, which is his saving grace as he deals with the competing signals that say this is normal and this is wrong. He'd forgotten what it was like to have knees that didn't hurt with every step, forgotten how much smaller he was. Not that he has any shame over how he changed with the years, not the hair loss, or the aches, or the extra weight. He got old, was one of the few clones who did, and there's a lingering sense of guilt attached to that, but not shame.

It's with reluctance that he slips off his ring and carefully adds it to his tags around his neck. But it's for the best, he's already planning to change things, and the last thing he needs is to raise suspicion. Nor does he want to lose it in the field, where the odds of finding it in the crushing darkness of the planet are close to impossible.

For all that it's a simple band of steal, after two years of wearing it, he feels naked without it on his finger.

It's both hard and easy falling back into the role of clone captain; he catches himself at times about to say something, only to realize that what he wants to reference hasn't happened. Not yet. But at the same time, details are right there for him to grasp. Rules and battle strategies and conversations he hadn't known he had forgotten sit at the surface of his mind.

But there is nothing that can prepare him for the torrent of emotions he feels when he sees them again.

His brothers: alive and loud, cracking rude jokes and swapping the latest gossip.

Hardcase, who died on this planet doing the right thing because the right thing needed to be done.

Jesse, who inspires such a mix of emotions that Rex has to studiously not acknowledge them because once he does, he knows he won't be able to hold it together.

Dogma, headstrong and loyal, who Rex never saw again after he was taken away. Heartfelt sorrow rises when he thinks of the fate of his little brother.

Fives and Tup, and the tangled knot of guilt, pride, shame, and remorse that they illicit. Emotions he can't even look at obliquely, or they undo him. Not even to compartmentalize and examine later.

He's glad he has his bucket and the fraction of privacy it gives him. Especially as he makes his way to see Krell. He doesn't need refreshing on the orders to prep the troops, remembers having relayed them before he had fallen asleep. The clock is ticking. But he needs to know that he can trust his memory, trust in the reactions, and there is no better person to start with then Krell.

Being in the same room as the Besalisk makes his skin crawl, and the idea of showing him any inch of respect chafes. He stands at attention anyway; he has a part to play and will be damned if he makes things worse by blowing his cover.

The conversation goes down almost exactly as he remembers, with some changes. For one, it happens earlier, which means since he hasn't actually learned that they have cracked the Umbaran codes, he has to phrases the suggestion of using the Umbaran craft as a hypothetical — that he thinks they may be close to a breakthrough. The idea is met with all the disdain of the first time, the same feeling that the men aren't worth the mud on the Generals boots, and that the Captain is little better.

He's on his way out of the command center when the Besalisk offers one last parting blow.

"CT-7567, next time, I expect you to remove your helmet when speaking to a superior officer."

His teeth clench, and he forces himself to spit out an "Understood, General" in the most neutral voice he can manage without moving his jaw.

His blood boils all the way to the hanger, the knowledge that his memories (if that's what they indeed are) are reliable makes for a poor consolation to the dehumanization of being reduced to his number.

He tries to distract himself by running the plan over in his mind, but it feels too much like counting a casualty report before the end of a battle, daunting and setting himself up for heartbreak. So he switches tracks and focuses instead on just the next part in his plan: Getting his brothers on board.

Jesse, Hardcase and Fives — he is reasonably certain — will agree once they know that his goal is removing Krell from his position and stopping this massacre. Tup, he's aware, will take a little convincing, but the rookie has a solid head on his shoulders. Painfully shy at times, with a habit of letting others speak for — and over– him, but willing stand for what he believes in when push comes to shove.

The wildcard is Dogma (and even through his anger and nerves, he takes a moment to laugh to himself at comparing Dogma to a wild-anything). Loyal and honorable Dogma, who may not be as much of a rookie as Tup, but is still painfully young and so profoundly dedicated to the cause, he refuses to see the dark truth of the war.

It's a risk involving Dogma at all, and Rex wouldn't be surprised if he's reported for insubordination before the battle even starts. But the same something that told him to lean in and kiss Ahsoka on Endor, that told him it was his time to die, the instinct that told him that waking up wasn't a dream, is telling him that Dogma is important.

With no one else to bounce his idea off of, no experience in this specific situation to draw from, all he has is this gut feeling and the knowledge that last time, Dogma did what Rex couldn't and that it's not impossible to get the trooper to recognize the truth before it's too late.

He rounds the corner into the hanger and spots them. Instantly his hands tremble, and his breath shudders and the emotions associated with his brothers (so well buried by his anger at Krell that he had momentarily forgotten them) lodge themselves in his throat. He takes a second to compose himself because there is no way for him to face his brothers with his bucket on without arousing their suspicion. Pulling off his helmet and tucking it under his arm, Rex briefly lets his hand linger over the spot where his wedding ring rests against his chest, eyes closed, and centers himself, before plunging into the busy room.

He arrives a little late in the conversation, but it seems to have progressed the same without him. It's a relief and makes waiting for an opportunity to present itself easier.

"— 100 megaton yield. We won't even make it to the delta."

It Jesse who notices his arrival.

"Any news, Captain?"

Rex shakes his head.

"Afraid not. We are to proceed as planned."

Hardcase groans.

"Great, another suicide mission. The Capital is too well armed."

"Why does it seem like he has it out for clones?"

Tup punctuates his words with a wave of his wrench, addressing the group at large.

"I think you're all over reacting. Obviously, General Krell knows what he's doing."

Rex seizes his chance.

"That's what worries me."

He considers that he may have over-seized his chance because it's not just Dogma looking at him with open shock; he has everyone's attention. Hardcase looks equal parts proud and stunned, Jesse looks like he can't believe what he just heard, Tup is suddenly engrossed in the mechanics of the ship he's working on (but Rex can tell he's listening, he's holding the wrench backward and not really doing anything), and Dogma...

Dogma looks scandalized, but also curious.

Which...is better then Rex had hoped for.

Its Fives that concerns him, with his squint-eyed calculating look, like the Captain is a puzzle that he only just realized he's missing the pieces too. Concerning, because Rex knows how far this particular brother will go to chase a suspicion or put a mystery together.

If nothing else, it serves as a reminder to watch his words.

Hardcase, unsurprisingly, is the first to recover his voice.

"Care to elaborate?"

Rex opens his mouth, then hesitates, glancing around. The hanger is many things, open chief among them, and hardly the place for this conversation. There are too many people, too many ears around for his comfort — wants to smack himself for letting it happen in the open last time.

"Not here."

He leads them to the barracks, where they all settle in, exchanging glances when they think he can't see them (Fives hasn't taken his eyes of him once, and it's unnerving to be under such close scrutiny by this particular brother). Rex chooses to rest himself against the wall, crossing and uncrossing his arms before sighing deeply. Not sure how to start despite things going, so far, as planned.

"Well?" Jesse prompts.

"This is just talk, understand? If I'm wrong, I'm wrong, and nothing will come of it." He's not, knows he isn't, but he's walking a fine line between plausible deniability and treason and is very aware which side his next words put him on.

Everyone nods, Dogma more to show his understanding then actual condoning of whatever is about to come out of his Captain's mouth, but Rex takes it as a good sign.

"I've had my suspicions for some time now that General Krell is no longer loyal to the Republic."

Chaos, absolute chaos, erupts as soon as the words leave his lips. He's not even sure who is saying what for a moment. Despite the pressing need for both time and discretion, he can't help the swell of fondness that rises as he takes in the scene: Hardcase's shouts that he knew it the whole time. Dogma and Fives who look to be gearing up for a fist fight, leaving Jesse and Tup torn between jumping in if need be to separate their brothers and staying out of it. Its familiar, and Rex never imagined that he would miss it.

It is also incredibly loud.

"OY!"

It would be laughable if the topic of conversation weren't so serious, with how quickly everyone settles down.

"Like I said, this is just talk."

Jesse snorts, leaning forward on his elbows.

"Big talk. What do you know?"

"I've been keeping an eye on his casualty counts, his strategies, his reports, and things don't add up."

Its a half-lie, he hadn't really heard or paid much about the General the first time, only the scuttlebutt that floated around the commanding officer's gossip network. But after Umbara, Rex had dug into the Generals history, read every report, counted every brother lost because of Krell, wondered how he could have been so blind.

"For someone who claims to be dedicated to ending the war in the name of the Republic, his strategies cost the GAR deeply in terms of both manpower and credits."

It goes without saying that the two, as far as the Republic is concerned, are essentially the same thing.

"That's what I've been saying!" Hardcase says from his bunk.

"But, " and Tup sounds horrified, looks it too. "The Generals a Jedi."

"They're still just people." Hardcase points out rather magnanimously.

From the corner of his eye, Rex can see Dogma shaking his head, eyes closed, a pained expression on his face.

He wants to go over, see how the trooper is doing because he knows what it's like to have your whole world view shaken to the core, but his attention is split as Jesse starts talking.

"So, what do we do?"

"It's obvious, isn't it?" Fives steps forward from where he had been leaning against the opposite wall, punctuating his words with his hands. "Krell has turned traitor and is killing brothers; we need to remove him."

Dogma shoots to his feet.

"What you're suggesting is treason."

"I'm being realistic."

The two advance on each other, voices rising with each passing second.

"You're planning a coup!"

"Against a General that knowingly sends his men out to die and undermine the entire cause of this army? Yes!"

Rex darts in, physically putting himself between the two, a hand on each man's chest.

"Fives, control yourself. Dogma, take a walk."

"Sir-"

"That's an order, Trooper!"

The air is tense as the two go eye to eye, and Rex sees the moment when Dogma realizes that the Captain isn't on his side, and for a second, Rex wonders if the trooper will listen.

"Yes, Sir."

It's spoken with more vitriol then Rex had known Dogma was capable of, hissed and quiet. Everyone watches in silence as he leaves the room, exchanging glances in shock, and looking to him for direction. Rex, suddenly drained, doesn't have the energy for a proper dismissal and vaguely waves everyone off, waits for everyone to shuffle out before burning his face in his hands.

That...could have gone better. Even so, he doesn't think Dogma will report him, but only time would tell what the fallout would bring.

He's on his way out of the barracks when he meets Fives at the door coming back in, who waits for the door to shut behind him before crossing his arms and putting on his "don't give me any karking shit" face.

The Captain's heart clenches. It was easy enough to ignore his emotions when there was more than one brother in the room. But like this, face to face with nowhere to retreat to, he can feel his mask cracking.

It must show too, because Fives goes from stern to worried, arms falling to his side.

"Are you alright, vod?"

He considers lying. Secrecy, especially in his position, is paramount. He dismisses the thought rather quickly, in part because he knows he's a horrible liar. Sure, he can pull off small parts on missions when required, but there is a very good reason he wasn't assigned to the Couricanti Guard. He can't bluff for the life of him, and not even nearly Forty years' life experience had changed that.

But it's not the only reason.

Messy, tangled emotions aside, this is Fives. One of the most loyal and trustworthy brothers he has ever had the honor to know. Who has always put his brothers first, even in the most insane and ridiculous of situations. If there is anyone, anyone, that Rex could trust with his secret and not worry about being handed over for reconditioning, it would be him.

And he is incredibly tired. Not even a full day, and the weight of his secret has eaten away at him. He hasn't felt this alone since his first days on the run from the Empire — before he had found Wolffe and Gregor — surrounded by unknowns, hunted by people he considered family (they didn't stop being his brothers just because the chips were activated, and that knowledge had only made it worse).

He exhales a shuddering breath, tears threatening to spill down his cheeks, and wills himself to meet Fives gaze.

"No, I'm not."

Like that, the dam breaks and he buries his face in his hands. Distantly, he's aware of being led over to the nearest bunk and sat down, of Fives gently rubbing his back through the plastoid (it doesn't do much, but the gesture is nice). He's not sure how long he cries for, but when he's done, Fives silently hands him a rag, and he able to muster a weak smile in return.

After a moment, Fives speaks.

"Want to share?"

Rex hesitates, brain still a little foggy from crying, and mentally checks over what he can and shouldn't say.

"It's...complicated."

He tries his best, details what he can in broad strokes. The end of the war, the fact they lost, him going into hiding, joining the rebellion, his death, and waking back up. He doesn't mention the chips; it's neither the time nor the place to worry about them, and he knows the moment that Fives finds out about them, he would take on that responsibility too.

When he's done, Fives is silent for a few moments, elbows on his knees, fingers steepled and pressed against his mouth. When he does speak, he looks at the Captain.

"There's more, isn't there?"

Rex nods, and sighs.

"Yeah, a lot."

"How old were you when...?"

Fives trails off, and Rex isn't sure if it's because he doesn't want to say it or doesn't know how to phrase it kindly. But he knows what his brother is asking.

"When I died? Thirty-Nine."

His brother laughs.

"Should I start calling you Gramps?"

Rex groans, because if there is one thing he doesn't miss about the rebellion, it's that particular call sign, and gives Fives a playful shove.

"Respect your elders."

They grin at each other for a moment, but the light mood doesn't last.

"So, Krell's fallen?"

Rex nods, and Fives goes quiet once again. In the vacuum that the silence leaves, a question pushes to the front of Rex's mind. He's afraid to ask, not sure he wants to know the answer, but certain that he needs to.

"You believe me?"

"I don't know yet."

It hurts to hear, but he can't fault his brother, because he knows how crazy it sounds, and if the positions were reversed, Rex is sure he would feel much the same.

"But, " Fives continues, "I can see for myself that something isn't right with the General, and if you say that it's because he's a traitor, I believe you."

The ARC trooper squares his shoulders and looks at Rex, certainty and determination radiating off him.

"I'll follow your lead, Captain. What's the plan?"

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letitrainathousandflames-archive · 6 years

Text

Bitter Victory

“We did it. We took Umbara.”

It sounds more forced in his voice than it did in his head, Fives’ voice wrapped tight around the words. They did it, didn’t they? They foiled the most convoluted plan of the separatists up to now. It’s a victory - a huge one.

It tastes bitter and hollow, and it makes Fives’ guts twist in revulsion. He looks ahead, where Dogma is set into a ship, wrists cuffed and golden-brown eyes cast down. He had nodded to Rex, but seemed to look away as soon as he caught a glimpse of Fives approaching. Barely a shiny, overachieving, too loyal for his own good, jedi-killer, martyr. Kriffing hells, Fives knows he’s only eight. He looks hundreds, standing pale in the ship as it gets ready to take off.

A trooper from Torrent helps one from Ghost to his feet, survivors of Krell’s attempt to make them kill each other. A trooper tears his bucket off, letting it clatter to the ground and drops to his knees wailing like a cadet after helping Tup bring in another dead trooper whose armor had been cut and pierced by Krell’s lightsabers.

Tup sinks down beside the crying trooper, wrapping his arm around his shoulders and speaking softly to him.

“He’s marching away now vod. It’s over. C’mon now, we need... need to get his body to the medics, see if they can salvage anything. They need blood, organs, limbs, anything.”

“He deserves a pyre!...”

Tup nods, and the trooper clings to him, still sobbing quietly.

“They all do. There’s nothing we can do for the dead now. We need to save the living ones.”

Behind him, Fives hears Jesse muttering about how he wishes he had been quicker than dogma and had executed Krell himself.

Fives shares the sentiment, placing a hand over his Captain’s shoulder.

“You alright, sir?”

Rex looks back to Fives, not seeming to really be looking at him, eyes glassy and utterly lost. The troopers’ cries and angry snarling are all around them, cursing in mando’a melding with solemn words of farewell, and Rex looks for a moment like he’s been pierced by the lightsaber Krell had threatened him with. His jaw is tensed up, lips quivering, nostrils flared in something between hurting and scowling, and he nods sharply.

“What’s the meaning of all this? I mean...why?”

The bitter taste at the back of Fives’ throat intensifies. He looks at their right to see Tup and Jesse taking turns in the task of draining an entire bottle of kashyykian vodka on their own. Kix is nowhere in sight - probably drenched in blood to his elbows trying to keep their vode alive in the medbay.

“I don’t know, sir.” he says sheepishly “I don’t think anybody knows. But I do know that someday, this war is gonna end.”

That was the first and only time Fives lied with conviction, no stammering, no looking back and forth and hesitating. The lie dripped out of his lips like poison, bitter like the tears he kept choking back, because he was an ARC trooper, and he couldn’t allow the younger ones, barely shinies, to see him cry over his dead brothers, over Krell’s betrayal, over the fact that he knew this war was endless and wouldn’t stop even when the last clone trooper dropped dead on the ground.

And he waited for Rex’s words, because Rex was their rock, he was the only one that could always tell them something to give them strength to carry on. But Rex’s voice was raspy and tired, dull look upon his brown eyes.

“Then what? We’re soldiers. What happens to us then?”

Fives’ eyes went wide, and he grimaced. He tried to think of a hopeful answer, but the young clone’s sniffling was blocking his thoughts away. Fives’ throat felt narrow, the permanently dark world leaving no room for anything else in his mind; he reached for his own neck over his blacks, feeling his pulse under his fingers. Alive, he thought to himself he was still alive. Even this small victory felt empty under the weight of his losses.

“Fives.” Rex’s voice snapped the ARC out of it “I trust you to make sure only the men necessary for our security until Cody and General Kenobi meet us here have their blasters loaded with heat. All others must have their heat replaced with stuns.”

Fives frowned, pleased for at least having orders to make him stop thinking.

“Stuns? In such a hostile situation? Sir, we don’t know if the Umbarans will send reinforcements.”

“That’s precisely why the men you pick will have their blasters hot and ready. They’ll have to be enough.”

Fives wasn’t very much in the mood of following orders without questioning. Look where that had gotten Dogma.

“Rex, why am I supposed to put our safety at risk like that?”

Rex grabbed Fives by his shoulder, eyes no longer dull, but sharp and focused.

“Because they might wanna blast their brains out. After something like this, a trooper might think that pressing a muzzle to their chin and pulling the trigger doesn’t sound like a bad idea. Now, can I count on you to make sure that no vod takes his own life?”

Fives hesitates and then nods. He wonders how Rex knows this. Has he witnessed a vod doing it? Had he ever been one of the ones considering it? Was he talking about Geonosis, or any other battle where countless brothers had been slaughtered in front of him?

Rex and the other commanders, Fives and the other ARCs, they always had to be a rock to those below their station but they were all crumbling as well, weren’t they?

Fives’ eyes were brimming, and he nodded a few times.

“Yessir. Leave it to me.”

Rex pulled Fives by the back of his head, pressing their foreheads together and letting out a deep sigh before letting go of him.

“Thank you. I have to go check Kix in the medbay.” Rex said in a mumbled murmur “have to start the... the bodycount...”

Rex rubbed his eyes, and Fives patted his shoulder, moving on to talk to the young Torrent’s clone still sniffling in his Ghost’s brother’s arms. It would be a long shift.

Rex stepped into Kix’s medbay and the strong smell of blood and bacta was nauseating. The medical droid were hovering over those that were only bruised or with smaller wounds, and two medics as well as a couple of regular troopers were helping those who were gravely injured while Kix worked on his own patients and coordinated the other medics.

“-bacta only for bleeding wounds. The burns will just have to wait unless they’re-“

Like my fics? Consider buying me a coffee!

#my fics #umbara #blood m/#death m/#ptsd #drinking m/#war/#tcw

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ct-hardcase · 6 years

Text

Clone Friendship Headcanons

Friendships within the 501st:

Jesse/Kix/Hardcase: Best of Buddies, would ride or die for each other, have known each other since the three of them joined the 501 as shinies, ultimate bros. Jesse and Kix were both devastated when Hardcase died, and Jesse was devastated when Kix disappeared. When Kix woke up, he often found himself missing both of them.

Harcase/Tup: Hardcase saw Tup’s ambition and started to do something that would be a mix between mentoring (if it were anyone but Hardcase) and being a friend, so Tup feels pretty close to him. Hardcase likes Tup a lot as well.

Jesse & Kix/Tup: They like him because Hardcase brought them around him, but they’re not as close to him as they were to Hardcase until after Umbara, when they became better friends with him, partly out of their shared experience, but also partly because Dogma and Hardcase are both gone and they figured he needed some companionship. Tup appreciates it and gets along well with the two of them after a while.

Tup/Dogma: They made friends when they first entered the battalion, and while Tup still likes Dogma alright, he’s starting to relax a little whereas Dogma has not heard of the word “relax” in his entire life, so the two try and pull each other in different directions. It’s because they care about the other.

Rex/Dogma: While their relationship definitely focuses more on the officer and subordinate aspect than Rex’s other friendships with the lower-ranked clones, Rex sees himself in Dogma’s difficulties and tries to help him adjust better. Dogma likes how Rex handles things and respects him.

Jesse & Kix & Hardcase/Rex: They always got on with him pretty alright, but as Jesse and Kix grew older and stayed in the battalion for two years, Rex got to know and like them, treating them less as subordinates (as he treated them during the first year or so they were in the war) and more as friends, especially when Jesse makes ARC rank and Kix gains more experience as a medic. They all make a significant effort to talk if they can all meet up later on in the war and talk about their various lives. These two are some of the only people Rex will gossip with aside from Cody.

Jesse/Fives: Good friends after Umbara, personalities got on well, Fives was the one that really helped Jesse get an in to the ARC program, they train together, and have an altogether good time.

Fives/Tup: Rose mostly out of the post-Umbara bond, Tup and Fives feel safe around each other. Jesse and Fives both watched Tup grow and train and get more confident and they’re so proud. Fives eventually starts seeing Tup for training and socializing more and as Tup gets his footing in the 501st, they gain a companionship.

Fives/Kix: Though they never got on as well as the others in their #squad, there’s still an implicit trust and friendship there, and Kix’s dry wit reminds Fives of Echo. Kix is happy that he gets to bounce his jokes off of someone who’ll respond positively who isn’t Jesse.

Fives/Echo: The best bros. Absolute ride or die. Could barely imagine their worlds without the other until they had to live it. They’d felt comfortable with one another from the beginning, pretty much since they joined Domino Squad, and they trusted each other with everything.

Echo/Jesse: Their friendship didn’t form as organically as the others, but Echo and Jesse heard that they had mutual friends in Fives and Rex, so Jesse feels morally obligated to talk to Echo because both of them are a little lonely. It forms slowly, but they grow to appreciate each other and learn that they share a similar sense of humor and a love for good stories. If they both make it to the rise of the Empire, they continue their friendship after that point.

212th:

Boil/Waxer: Ride or die, trust in each other completely and pretty much tell the other anything, bond over being overachievers and their ability to calm each other’s temperaments. This is someone else’s headcanon, but they make a great good cop/bad cop routine to introduce the shinies to the 212th. GAR’s most reluctant babysitters.

Cody/Boil & Waxer: He respects and trusts them, finds them good to talk to. They do a decent job of separating business from personal in terms of friendship, nobody accused Cody of favoritism when they got promoted because everyone saw how good Waxer and Boil were. Cody eventually becomes a lot closer to Boil as the war drags on, and Boil gets more responsibility/the 212th becomes more overworked/Kenobi’s plans get dumber.

Coruscant Guard:

Fox/Thorn/Stone/Thire: The Commanders are all good friends, often meet for drinks when they can, it’s a miracle if they can get more than two of them in one place at once, Thorn and Stone are the worst enablers for acting stupid, which happens more often then you think because they finally get to let their hair down (or not, in the case of Stone) after having to be entirely presentable and polite in front of civilians. Their salt-fests are absolutely on par with Cody and Wolffe’s, and they currently have a backlog of dirt on senators and representatives that the tabloids only dream of getting.

Everyone likes Sandwich Clone

Various Command Clones:

Rex/Wolffe: They’d consider each other friends, but not good friends. Will talk if they’re in the same vicinity, and they like working with each there in a militaristic context.

Rex/Cody: Ride or die, made friends during their initial training and haven’t separated since, really only became closer when they got assigned to their respective Generals, they’ve both seen each other at their absolute worst and have remained friends anyway. Both often talk to each other about their experiences, about what in the world is going on between Skywalker and Kenobi and why are they so cryptic, they complain, they laugh. They miss each other after the Republic falls, no matter the circumstances of their separation.

Rex/Bly: Good friends, will gladly interact if they’re in the area, will go out of their way to meet up if they’re on the same planet and doing so won’t disrupt everyone in the military.

Rex/Fox: They were never on the best terms to begin with, but after the incidents with Ahsoka and Fives, their relationship is especially strained. They’re both mature and don’t seek each other out for conflict. Notably, however, they do share a bond (as well as Wolffe) over their names being animal themed, and will agree with each other that everyone needs to shut the fuck up about it.

Rex/Gree: On chill terms. Acquaintances at their truest form. Will go out with mutual friends and maybe talk then. Gree thinks that Rex needs to chill a bit and Rex thinks that Gree is a bit pretentious but neither find the other actively annoying.

Gree/Monnk: The chillest friends, far less high-strung than most of their friends, Gree can let his metaphorical hair down around Monnk and appreciates it

Wolffe/Cody: Good friends, their salt-fests are legendary, Wolffe calms down a bit around Cody.

Wolffe/Fox: Good friends, not quite ride or die, but they met in training, it was a one in two chance that they either would become friends or hate each other, and they chose the former. Very set in their opinions and said opinions are similar, so they get on okay. Will not back down—they didn’t talk for a solid month while they were training because they had an argument.

Inter-Battalion/Other/Nonclone & Clone:

Hardcase/Waxer: I wrote a fanfic a while ago about them meeting while they were shinies, and I think that while they’d not actively try to keep it up, they’d say hi whenever the 212th and the 501st worked together and they were in those groups.

Most of the Coruscant Guard that’s worked with Senator Amidala can say that they like her and that she treats them with respect, talks to them, and is overall a good human being. It’s seen as an initiation if you guard Amidala and a mission goes wrong/she escalates the situation.

Rex is actually on pretty alright terms with Padme; she’s squeaked a conversation or two out of him, and he finds her a bit idealistic, but overall well-spoken and good to talk to. Padme finds Rex to be polite and more intelligent and awkward than he makes himself out to be.

Rex/Anakin: A rocky relationship in the beginning (they had a period where they didn’t speak save for work), but overall one that they find more comfort in after Ahsoka leaves and Rex loses Fives. Especially when Anakin starts being somewhat more considerate toward everyone else’s skills and lives in his battle plans.

Rex/Ahsoka: Becomes ride or die, they grow close and strong and their relationship barely suffers after having been separated for 20 years, they both feel protective over and so proud of the other, though the trust wasn’t immediately there, especially in the Rebels era, they trusted each other with so much.

Boil & Waxer/Numa: They liked the time they spent with her and miss her a lot. Boil sends a message to the Brils telling Numa that Waxer died. She was sad but keeps up a semi-regular correspondence with Boil after the fact. He appreciates it.

Cutup/Fives: The two liked each other well enough, and Cutup, at least outwardly, was willing to accept that Echo was Fives’ best friend.

Cody/Obi-Wan: A friendship is there, and while the two aren’t best friends and don’t trust each other with everything, both of them know that they don’t, so that makes it balanced. Obi-Wan is a good listening ear for Cody and Cody sometimes yells at his General to get some damn rest. They like having tea or stronger drinks together whenever time permits.

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letitrainathousandflames-archive · 6 years

Text

Struggle - A Tup Fic

Oneshot

Rating: Teens and Up

Warnings: eating disorders, self starvation, food mention etc.

Characters: Tup (side characters Dogma, Jesse, Fives, Hardcase, Rex, Kix)

Additional Tags: Tup wants to be slimmer and stronger like his brothers and ends up developing an eating disorder, Dogma is concerned, I replicated their setting on the Umbara arc as bunk neighbors, Tup is stressed and angry and he needs to be protected and UGH i love him cute precious bun boi

It really annoyed Tup, to be called the “baby brother”. He was always looking up to Fives, wanted to get to ARC trooper just like him someday and yet he seemed to always be farther than anyone else from it. The others would coddle him, be overprotective of him, as if he wasn’t another clone just like them, the same flesh and blood, blaster in hand, white armor, bucket on his head, cool head even in the face of death.

He wanted to be like the others. Kriff, better than them. So one day in the showers, he noticed how nicely built Rex’s and Five’s bodies were. Their broad backs, strong shoulders, bulging biceps. He tried to convince himself that these were a Captain’s and an ARC’s construction, they were most likely stronger than the rest, but then he glanced at Kix and Dogma, seeing their strong calves, their muscular thighs. Tup looked at himself as the warm water stream hit the back of his neck, his hair weighing down under the water and all he could see was his pudgy stomach and flimsy arms. He wasn’t even near his brother’s level. How could he dare dream to be an ARC trooper if Dogma, who was just as much of a shiny as himself, had so much more of a soldier’s build?

Tup thought about it the rest of the day as he dried his hair off with a towel and put on the grey uniform the troopers would wear on their leisure time. He sat at the edge of his bunk, poking his stomach and pinching at his arm. He didn’t feel like a trooper. He looked like a goddamn civilian, that’s what.

“What are you doing, vod?”

Tup sat upright, putting his arm down and sighing.

“Dogma, don’t tiptoe like that.”

Dogma raised an eyebrow all defensive.

“I didn’t. Just got here. You didn’t notice because you were all busy poking yourself.” He made a pause “What’s wrong? Are you sick? You know that you should always notify the superior officers if you feel like…”

Tup groaned.

“I know regulations, Dogma. It’s nothing. Leave it alone, okay?”

Dogma still eyed Tup with curiosity, but then shrugged and climbed on his bunk. Dogma was a nosy little fucker at times, but Tup had grown attached to him. Probably because he saw how much of an outcast mr. stick-to-the-rules was and, feeling a little like an outcast himself, one of the new shinies with nothing really special about himself, he had always made sure to be nice to him. He knew the others weren’t.

It started off easily enough. Tup would scrape about a sixth off his plate to the corner and just leave it. Hardcase, shoveling food down his mouth like always turned to him, speaking with his mouth full of food:

“Not g’nna eat it, vod?” he swallowed “You’re gonna get hungry later.”

“I’m fine.” Tup said calmly, hiding his irritation. Kriffing Hardcase, eating like a hungry chemilizard and still all slim and muscular, all tendons on his neck and bulging veins on the back of his hand. The jealousy gnawed at him, and he hated himself for that.

He did get hungry later, and it made him want to punch his growling stomach. No. Enough of eating that entire enormous portion they served at the GAR. He was going to get rid of that pudgy belly and put some muscles in those noodle arms. All he had to do was look at the others, especially Fives and Rex. He had to get to their levels. It was all that mattered.

Dogma didn’t complain when Tup asked for his company on extra training sessions. The two of them would run and lift weights and shoot at the range, and Dogma would even smile at him, the uptight trooper.

“Good to see someone taking things seriously for a change.” Dogma said, wiping the sweat off his forehead “Call me again any time, vod.”

Tup nodded, catching his breath and trying to hide the discomfort his growling stomach brought. At night, he tossed and turned in his bed, starving and craving a nightly run to the kitchen. It’s not like Hardcase had never done it over a second or third serving of dessert. No, he chastised himself, you’re stronger than that. You’re a clone trooper. You can do this.

The following morning he did the same he’d done at dinner – a sixth of his portion was left untouched. At that, Dogma raised an eyebrow, elbowing him on his arm.

“You okay, Tup? You didn’t eat well last night and now…”

“I’m fine.” Tup cut him off harshly and then lowered his voice “I’m fine, Dogma. I’m just… These portions are too big.”

Dogma looked down to his own plate.

“They’re designed for our needs, Tup, all the nutrients we…”

“We might be clones but there are divergences, okay? Some of us eat differently. Look at Hardcase stealing Kix’s bread slices.”

At the mention of his name Kix interrupted the conversation he was having with Fives and slapped his bread off Hardcase’s hand, and laughter swept over the table, leaving Tup out of the spotlight, and he was glad for it. He didn’t need anybody policing him, I’m a big boy, I can take care of myself. All he wanted was to slim down and gain some muscle mass. Then he could actually dream of being an ARC trooper.

The others wouldn’t stop calling him baby Tup, though. No matter how he’d excel at shooting practice, whenever they’d spar, a brother would toss a joke like “hey, no hitting the baby brother too hard, okay?” and they’d laugh. It was just the way of brothers being brothers, no intention to harm his feelings, just like they’d call Hardcase a heavyweight (his armor had to actually be made larger than the others in order to fit his broad chest) and some people even joked that he might’ve had some traces of gunner’s batch on him. But every now and then they’d either call Tup their baby brother or “the smaller one”, and even though it never bothered him until then, it sounded like an insult now, and it made him angry. He used that pent up anger when he drove a fist to Jesse’s face, and the trooper staggered back to then be thrown down by a fierce spinning kick to his ribs.

“What got into you?” Jesse muttered as he got back on his feet; Tup stretched his fingers as they hurt for hitting his brother on the jaw

“I’m sorry, did baby Tup hurt you?” Tup snarled; the constant state of hunger was doing quite something to his nerves, and he seemed to be constantly on edge lately

Jesse stretched his jaw with a pained face.

“Could’ve kriffing warned me.”

Tup was still bouncing on his feet, ready to throw another punch.

“Think the clankers are gonna warn you, vod?” and he lunged forward, going for Jesse’s face again

Jesse blocked his attack, punching back with his free hand; Tup blocked him instead, and they pulled back for a second, still on fighting stance.

“Don’t you mean something along the lines of ‘I’m sorry for hitting you in the face, vod’?” Jesse asked between his clenched teeth

Jesse was always ready to hold a grudge, kriffing hells. Tup rolled his eyes.

“Yeah, sure, just like the seppies will apologize to you after shooting you in the gut, just wait.”

Jesse’s patience was growing thin already. He was a year older than Tup and one inch taller. He threw another right punch that landed straight over Tup’s ribs. Tup clenched his teeth at the pain and punched back. Soon the two of them were a tangled mess of punches and swearing, and soon a pair of strong hands pulled Tup away from Jesse.

“May I know what the karking hell is going on here?!”

Tup looked over his shoulder and saw a very angry Fives holding him by his arms. He shrugged him off as Hardcase helped Jesse up.

“This is sparring practice, troopers!” Fives said looking from Jesse to Tup; those used to see Fives so up close to them, treating them as equals tended to forget how harsh his commanding voice would sound “It’s not a place for you to settle your quarrels! We are brothers, fighting on the same side, and I want to see you acting as such.”

Tup and Jesse squared their shoulders, not looking Five in the eyes as protocol demanded.

“Yessir.” They said, and Jesse added “I guess Tup here’s a little on edge.”

The mando’a equivalent to something a little worse than a ‘fuck you’ got stuck in Tup’s throat as he tried to seem more mature. He didn’t need any other baby jokes.

“You sure you’re good?” Dogma asked at the sight of Tup’s half-full plate as they got up in the mess

Tup sighed. As used as he was getting to being constantly starved and hungry, it still bothered him. He’d feel dizzy every once in a while, but he’d been able to conceal it pretty damn well. Nobody asked anything, except for Dogma, who would be always close to him anyway.

“I’m fine. Stop commenting on my food already. You’re up for some shooting practice?”

Dogma smiled. He was the only person who seemed to be as focused on being the best trooper they could as Tup was.

“Always.”

Time passed. Tup was annoyed by the persistent bulge in his stomach and how his arms remained flimsy compared to Fives’ and Rex’s and even goddamn Jesse’s. Dogma was now actually worried about Tup.

“Y’know, I should actually report to ARC Fives or Captain Rex about this. You haven’t touched your food for days now.”

Tup shook his head, reloading his blaster batteries.

“I ate dinner, didn’t I?”

“Two spoonfulls of it, and lunch and dinner aren’t interchangeable, vod, you’re supposed to eat both everyday!”

Tup’s sight was going dark and regaining focus, and he’d sway as he walked on weak legs. But it was all worth it. Slowly as it was, he was gaining a more muscular build – even if his stomach wasn’t all that flat yet, and he didn’t look strong as Fives, but still… he was gonna get there at some point. He had to. It would be worth it.

“Stop meddling on my food for stars’ sake. I’m fine.” Tup raised his blaster and shot the target. He not only missed the center, but the target itself by over ten inches. “Kriff.”

“Tup…”

“Shuddup.” Tup groaned, trying again and still missing the shot even farther

“Tup, your hands are shaking.”

Tup lowered his blaster, seeing that Dogma was right. His hands recently had been constantly cold, but he’d never noticed them shaking. Dogma placed his hand on Tup’s shoulder.

“You need to eat something, vod.”

Tup shrugged his hand off.

“I’m just tired. It’s late. Let’s go back to the barracs.”

“Another change of armor?” the clone in charge of personal affairs had asked in surprise

“Yeah.” Tup said, trying to hide the pride in his voice “Slimmed down some more, it seems.”

Dogma’s eyes went wide as he saw Tup painting the new set of armor with the tear shapes over his shoulder pads.

“Another change?”

“Yep.”

Dogma just stood there, looking at tup, both of them wearing their blacks in the lounging room where the brothers would spend leisure time at, and he then sat down by Tup’s side, watching him draw on blue over white.

“Your hands are shaking, Tup.”

The tear shape was very much oddly traced indeed. Tup huffed in annoyance.

“Not really.”

“Tup.”

“I’m stressed, okay?”

Dogma went quiet for a second and then he hesitated.

“I, uh. Kix thinks you don’t look so well and he wants you to be submitted for another checkup.”

“I’m fine. All my tests went fine last month, I see no reason to do this, if Kix wanna be a hypochondriac weirdo on…”

“It’s ARC Fives’ orders. You have to.”

Tup lowered his paint-smeared fingers and frowned pensively.

“ARC Fives has more important shit to do than demand me to…” he paused, turning to Dogma “This is your doing, isn’t it?”

Dogma’s eyes went wide for a moment, but then he knitted his brows in resolution.

“Your fingers are just skin and bone, vod.” He said in a hushed voice “Your cheeks are hollow, you got dark circles under your eyes, you just got the smaller set of armor we have, some cadets are bigger than those.”

Tup snarled, putting his shoulder pads down and getting up, despite his wobbly legs and the sudden head rush that made him see tiny stars blinking everywhere in his sight for a second.

“You stay out of my shit, you meddling…”

But Dogma spoke over him, getting up too:

“You’re too thin and you’re not eating, we have an assignment on the Outer Rim next week with generals Skywalker and Kenobi I’m scared you might just fucking collapse.”

Tup pushed Dogma on his chest. Either he did it really weakly or Dogma was too strong to budge. Maybe both. Dogma had always been stronger than him, much like everyone else.

“This is why nobody likes you.” Tup said between clenched teeth “You keep fuckin’ jerking off to the rules instead of caring for what your brothers feel!”

Dogma flinched like the words hurt more than Tup’s push.

“I’m just concerned, Tup, that’s…”

“To the blazes with your concern, Dogma. Stay the fuck away from me.”

Dogma looked genuinely hurt, but then his stoic mask was back in place.

“Sure vod. Whatever you say.” And with that, he left.

This made going to bed even more awkward later that day as Jesse laid down on the bunk below Dogma’s, happily blabbering with Hardcase about some new improvements to the Z-6 repetition cannons as Hardcase climbed on the upper bunk over Tup’s. Dogma remained silent, reading his reg manuals until the lights went off and they all had to shut up and sleep.

Tired, stressed and starving as he was, it wasn’t gonna be an easy night. But the recurring nightmare where he gunned General Skywalker down like he would do to a clanker made it ten times worse. And as the long recording of a bes’bev playing the ‘vode an’ hymn rang across the dorms, Tup woke up much more tired than he was when he laid down. All his senses screamed at him to stay down. Shivers ran all over his body and saliva accumulated in his mouth. He wondered if he would throw up. His stomach twisted and turned in his ribs as he sat up, a massive head rush overtaking him.

He was so dizzy he could barely see. He heard the heavy stomp of Hardcase climbing down his bunk, the usual groan Jesse would let out as he stretched his back, the not so heavy stomp of Dogma climbing down his bunk too. Jesse greeted the others and was already caught up on his chat with Hardcase as their voices grew distant and Dogma’s asked if Tup was okay. Dizzy as he was, Tup blinked a few times and got to his feet. It was a bad idea. His sight went from blurred colors to total blackness and he felt a hard impact hitting his back. His senses seemed to be messed up, he couldn’t quite move at all.

But he could hear Dogma scream:

“Kix! Someone get me fuckin’ Kix! Tup’s sick!”

There was a whole commotion going on around him now. Tup fought to open his heavy eyelids and scrunched his face at the ceiling. Why was he looking at the ceiling? His conscience seemed to be slipping away and he couldn’t see anymore, or speak, or move. He had fainted, by all accounts, but for some reason he could still hear what happened around him.

Dogma.

“—a fucking seizure, hold him down—”

And Jesse.

“—Kix, for the stars, get here already!”

And Hardcase.

“—Eat anything strange last night? I noticed he didn’t eat lunch—”

And Fives.

“—Hasn’t eaten shit for days—”

And Kix.

“—A grown man, sir, I can’t force him to eat. Last time his charts were off, and Dogma confirmed that he—”

And Rex:

“—Med bay immediately. And you, get back to work, you’ll be notified when he’s out.”

Then even the sounds died off, and Tup lost track of time. When he came to, he wasn’t in the barracks anymore. Instead, he saw white walls and whirring sound of a small medical droids floating around him. There were white curtains all around him, isolating him form the other beds, and he could feel his hair tied on a ponytail instead of a bun, feeling weird as his white hospital gown did on his body, like it had been put on him by someone other than himself.

The droid beeped, and a hand shoved the curtain away, revealing a wide-eyed Kix who seemed to be short of breath.

“You’re up.” he said, looking at Tup from head to toe. Well, from what he could see of him, as most was covered by a light, soft sheet. Kix walked to him, a soft, kind smile on his face “Hey there, vod. How are you doing?”

Tup felt a nasty, bitter taste on the back of his throat and looked down to the IV stuck in his arm.

“Feel weak.” He managed, licking his dried up lips “What happened?”

The kind smile of Kix grew smaller, tainted by concern.

“You fainted. Your blood sugar level was awfully low, and your blood pressure dropped accordingly. You also have a small ulcer on your stomach’s membrane – too much acid in your stomach hurt its wall. And, Tup, according to your exams…” Kix drew closer to Tup, placing his hand over his wrist “You were starving. Are you okay?”

Tup managed to snort.

“Well, according to your exams…”

“I’m not talking about medical health.”Kix cut him off, though his voice was still kind and soft “Are you okay?”

Tup swallowed down, grimacing at the bitter taste at the back of his throat.

“I don’t need you to coddle me, Kix.”

Kix’s eyes went wide under furrowed brows.

“This is not coddling, Tup…”

“I’m sick of being the GAR’s baby” Tup growled through gritted teeth “Cut this shit out already.”

“I’m worried about you, you di’kut!” Kix raised his voice with a hint of anger to it “Like I would be for any other brother who fucking dropped down with nothing in his stomach but acid while his squadmate goddamn tells me that he hasn’t eaten anything in three days.”

He paused to catch his breath, placing his hands on his hips.

“I’ve seen you leaving your plate half full at the mess, but I thought you were working on it, that’s why I never said anything, but you got everyone worried these past few days. Hardcase, and Jesse, and Dogma…”

“I’m fine…”

“You had a karking seizure back there, you moon jockey!” Kix was all but collected now “Dogma had to hold you down for you not to get hurt and Jesse took his shirt off to shove its sleeve in your mouth so you wouldn’t bite your tongue and kriffing bleed to death.”

“Oh, is this the bad taste in my mouth?”

Kix seemed to be an inch away from decking Tup in the face.

“This is not funny, Tup, damnit , I thought you had the basics of the importance of nutrition in your head like any graduated trooper.”

Kix breathed hard several times until he managed to calm down and slow down his breathing. He looked up to Tup.

“Tell me why you did that.” He sighed “Please.”

Tup didn’t answer, and Kix sighed again.

“Tup, we love you. We all do. We joke about you being our baby brother but you know we respect you. Your help has been noticed, you are—“

“I’m weak. I know it.” Tup looked down to himself, seeing how he seemed even less of a trooper in the hospital gown and the IV shoved in his arm “I’m weaker than the others. Maybe… Maybe there was something wrong in my tube.”

Kix looked at Tup like he was insane. He sat down at the edge of the bed, reaching for Tup’s hand and squeezing it.

“Are you… Are you serious? Tup, you’re either really dumb or you’re kidding me. Your charts are - were, until this little stunt of yours – completely normal. No different from any other clone. You’re not weak. You’re as strong as myself, or Dogma, or any other trooper.”

Tup didn’t let go of Kix’s hand. It felt nice and warm, and his own hands felt cold.

“But Hardcase…”

“Hardcase is slightly bigger than some of us. And Fives is slimmer than Rex, didn’t you ever notice? There are fluctuations, Tup, variations in our designs. For example, I hate how you’re taller than me for about almost a whole inch.”

Tup wasn’t convinced.

“I’m weaker. I just know it.”

Kix shook his head.

“Wanna be stronger? Then you better get back to eating.”

Dogma visited Tup every day after his duties, and he assured Tup that he’d be cleared for their assignment on the Outer Rim the following week as long as he ate all of his meals and took his bedrest orders to heart. He didn’t complain much about the bedrest – he always wished he could sleep a little longer past their alarm. Eating, however, took him a few tries to get the hang of. His stomach had become used to eating little to nothing, and it was a slow and painful process, getting used to eat normally again.

“Sorry for blabbering about you to ARC Fives.” Dogma said

Tup shook his head.

“It’s okay, vod. You were only looking after me, right?”

Dogma gave a small laugh.

“And jerking off to the regulations.”

Tup half-laughed, making a sound of disgust.

“Ew, don’t say it like that!”

“Just wanted to make you laugh!”

“Well, don’t! That’s kriffing gross!”

The two of them were crying with laughter soon, and as their laugh subsided, Dogma said quietly:

“Seems like you’ll be off tomorrow. ARC Fives and Captain Rex wanna talk to you in private.”

Tup grimaced. Well, he had earned himself a lecture, hadn’t he?

“You called me, sir?”

Rex and Fives turned to Tup as the trooper walked in Rex’s office.

“Yes, Tup, close the door behind you.” Rex said, and Tup obeyed, to then stand in attention in his white armor, his bucket tucked under his arm; he had his shoulder squared and his gaze projected over Rex’s shoulder, following protocol “At ease.”

Tup dropped his shoulders, but he didn’t feel “at ease” at all. Both Rex and Fives walked to him, standing in front of the trooper.

“Calm down.” Rex said softly “This is not a reprimand call.”

“I am aware of the weight of my actions, sir.” Tup said, his tone dry and almost not shaking

“This is a good thing, Tup.” Fives said “Can you elaborate?”

Tup drew in a breath. Standing in front of his superior officers made him feel like a small cadet all over again.

“I neglected my self-care, which induced a decline in my health and therefore subtracted me from the company. I failed my brothers. And I am deeply sorry, sir.”

Fives shook his head.

“Look at me, soldier.”

Tup forced himself to look at Fives as the ARC placed his hand on his shoulder.

“Your mistake wasn’t regarding your brothers. Well, of course, we need you in the team. But your mistake was to take poor care of yourself.”

Rex nodded.

“We are a collective, Tup, but every one of us matters. Without the individual, there is no troop.”

Fives gave Tup a small smile, shaking him softly by his shoulder.

“You gave us quite a scare. I hear Kix gave you a diet for you to follow until you’re fully adapted back to the GAR’s meals?” Tup nodded at him, and Fives let go of him “Good. Follow it, and take care of yourself, and if you ever need anything, talk to me or Rex, do you understand?”

Tup nodded, and his throat felt tight. He gathered all his courage to then ask:

“Uh, sir? I… I’m not strong like the others, that’s the thing, I just wanted to be strong like… Like you. I don’t want to be a weak trooper, that’s all.”

Rex and Fives exchanged a glance, and Rex leaned in closer, looking at Tup right in the eye.

“Are you saying that I allow weak troopers in Torrent Company, soldier?”

Tup swallowed hard. How did Rex manage to be so intimidating in the blink of an eye?

“I… I mean…” he stuttered, unable to make a full sentence.

“Only the best men serve under my command, trooper.” Rex added in the same dangerous tone “Only the stronger, smarter, most resilient men get in the 501st.”

Tup was still holding his breath when Rex pulled back and softened his tone, pointing at Fives jokingly:

“Well, and there’s Fives too.”

Fives frowned, but he was amused.

“Why am I always the punchline?”

Tup eased up at that, laughing a little. Rex smiled at him.

“You take care, kid. I look forward to see you go far.”

Tup felt his chest warm with pride, and he saluted Rex and Fives.

“Will do sir. Thank you.”

Later that day, after apologizing to Jesse for his behavior, the trooper shared his secret stash of chocolate bars with him, Hardcase and Dogma. Tup decided to accept it instead of holding back, and at night he ate two thirds of his plate (he was still getting used to eating a full portion). When he laid down to sleep, not even the nightmares bothered him. He felt hopeful, and as time passed, he gained weight, and as he went back to poking his stomach, Dogma gave him a soft shove to the shoulder.

“Cut it out. Your armor size grew because your shoulders are damn huge now.”

Tup looked at himself, dressed on his blacks, in the bathroom mirror.

“Are you sure?”

He still felt pudgy and weak. Dogma looked at him all serious.

“Have you literally ever seen me lie?”

Tup looked away from the mirror, commited to his recovery. It wouldn’t be today or tomorrow, but soon, soon he would stop looking, and he would stop caring, and he would – he knew it – get to ARC trooper one day, just like Fives.

“Good point. Hey, wanna hit the shooting range?”

“I’m always ready, vod.”

#i made this as a gift to a dear mutual #but also #there's a lot of me in there too #as a kid i didn't like to eat like at all #eating was like a chore to me #an annoying obligation #even today it's a bit iffy #so yep #anyhoo #my fics #eating disoder tw #food m/

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