#so here's an au about a clone five

[starry-bi-sky]

Snippets for my Clone^2 Au that I thought was funny...

in incorrect quotes style format (Clone^2 = Both my Clone Damian Au and Clone Bruce Danny aus combined)

Snippet 1: Danny and Damian meeting for the first time

Danny, avoiding Damian's katana: I don't wanna know who made you I don't wanna know who made you I don't wanna know who made you Danny: pleASE STOP TRYING TO STAB ME

------- Snippet 2: Danny and Damian meeting (Alternative)

Bby Damian: gets dropped off in the ONE city where his dad's clone is Danny, internally: damn I don't wanna know who made you

Danny: alright little buddy, lets -- *blocks Damian's sword* please don't stab me -- let's get you something to -- *blocks Damian's sword* please don't stab me -- something to EAT

------------- Snippet 3: Danny checking out books in the library Librarian: oh, are you trying to learn arabic, Mister Fenton?

Danny: oh- uh, yeah :) my parents recently,,, took in a foster kid from overseas,,,, but we found out he doesn't know english and he's having a hard time adjusting Danny, lying (only partially) through his teeth: so I,,, thought,,, maybe it would help him acclimate to his new environment if I learned some arabic :) Librarian: oh how sweet! let me know if you need any help, i can find you more books Danny: thank you

----------

Snippet 4: Damian wants to patrol Damian: let me come with you on patrol Danny, 16 year old idiot who fights without powers: uh. no. you are Itty Bitty Child Damian: comes with anyways

----------- Snippet 5: Damian, trying to fight a ghost without a ghost-proof sword: Danny, catching him and holding him against his chest: *radiating exhaustion* no,,,, no,,,,, not yet,,,,

-------- Snippet 6: danny has an epiphany Danny, realizing that he needs to set an example now that Damian is coming with him on patrol: fUCK Danny: I NEED AN ACTUAL SUIT ---------- Snippet 7; dynamic duo Danny: what is it with you and batman and robin???? Damian, silently sweating: ,,,,,,,because they are exemplary partners and i would like to think that us two are the same Danny, doesnt know identities: ...aww??? thats kinda sweet??? okay :)

---------- Snippet 8: hypocrite Damian: dijaal (affectionate) Danny, on day ?? of solving a cold case after a ghost asked him to: hrbhk - Damian, what are you doing up? it's late, you have school in the morning Damian, staring at him deadpan: you have school too. you should go to bed Danny: five min..utes buddy. then i'll go to bed Damian, grabbing the back of his rolling chair and pushing him to bed: no. now. danny, with eyebags the size of the marianna trench: ...fine. now.

--------- Snippet 9: ...the line Danny, doing homework with Sam and Tucker: Danny: *has an epiphany* wait. shit Tucker and Sam: ...? Danny, his head in his hands: am I Damian's dad or his brother?? Danny: wh- what do we define this??? Tucker: ... you're brothers until its funny? and then you're his dad?

----------- Snippet 10: learning Danny: reading a book about learning arabic Damian, slamming his hand down on the book to get his attention: dijaal, *points to book* kitab Danny, frowning: what? Damian, tapping book: kitab Danny: ..ki..kitab? Kitab? Book? Damian: Boog...book. *points to table* tawila --------- Snippet 11: clone reveal Damian, later after he knows enough english and months of chilling out: i am a clone.... meant to kill my original Danny, internally: wow you don't say? Danny, out loud:..huh. okay. thanks for telling me, uh, same here. except that last part

---

Dijaal = imposter Damian is affectionately calling Danny an imposter because danny is a clone of bruce :)

#dpxdc #dpdc au #dp x dc #dpxdc crossover #dp x dc crossover #danny fenton is not the ghost king #danny fenton is a clone #dp crossover #danny phantom au #dpxdc incorrect quotes format #i was telling my non-dpdc but dc friend about this au #and she pointed out the food for thought of danny being bruce waynes clone and just MMM yes #they talked about how they could see the two of them trying to find that line in their relationship #from brotherly or parental because technically damian is his biological son #by virtue of their existence and dna #they are ESSENTIALLY father and son #but danny is 16 and damian is 7 and neither of them are interested in behaving with that dynamic #and danny struggling to be an older brother and potentially being parental at times because of knowing who they are made of but the *being* #of their relationship #like yes thats ExACTLY why i originally wanted my og damian post #to include bruce clone danny #because of how FASCINATING that dynamic would be #danny doesnt wanna know who made damian because then he might have to get INVOLVED #and he has his own shit to worry about #clone^2

[suzukiblu]

Day two NaNoWriMo; obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

"Well, you are the plan guy," Kon says, grinning again and pushing his sunglasses up into his hair. "Supreme?" 

"Works for me," Tim says. It's meat and dairy and bread and vegetables and Kon is probably invulnerable to heart disease, so he figures that's basically health food to him, right? Especially if he needs more calories than the average guy. 

Pizza's sure as shit gonna be more satisfying than a protein bar, if nothing else. 

Tim's definitely ordering like, breadsticks or wings or something too. And maybe a two-liter or two. Cinnamon bread. Something. Hell, he'll buy all that and then some if he has to. He's got the money. 

Who the hell decided it was okay to let this happen? Really. Is there literally no responsible adult in Kon's life to intervene in this situation? Dubbilex was made by Cadmus too and has his own issues with managing to have an out-of-lab life, Rex Leech is apparently out of the picture, which might be a blessing anyway, Tana Moon is equally MIA, and Superman has apparently lost his entire damn mind, so . . .

There's literally no responsible adult in Kon's life to intervene in this situation, is there. There's no irresponsible adult in Kon's life to intervene in this situation. As far as Tim knows, every single other one Kon knows is either Cadmus-employed or a supervillain or just completely uninvested in his existence. 

Maybe Tim should be talking to Red Tornado about this. Is this something he should be talking to Red Tornado about?

. . . sure, that'd help. Red Tornado is about five minutes back into being a person and has Traya and Kathy and the whole team to worry about, and absolutely could handle something like this while also trying to figure out his own shit and keep an eye on all the rest of them too. Sure. That'd work. 

This is a problem, Tim thinks. 

This is a definite problem, in fact. 

He has no idea what to do about this problem, though, so he just orders a truly inadvisable amount of pizza and wings and double-iced cinnamon bread for pickup. They've done weirder than get takeout in the Super-Cycle and they'll do weirder again. Besides, it could use the . . . exercise, or whatever that counts as. Not like the Super-Cycle has muscles, but it does get tired sometimes and seem to appreciate getting out and–well, whatever. That's just something to figure out later, probably. 

Tim really should figure that out, though. And also if the Super-Cycle is gonna be down for going supervillain, because yeah, that's obviously a thing to keep in mind. 

He flies it to the pizza joint, and spends the flight casually grilling Kon about his coworkers and employee benefits and the Cadmus security systems. The answers are: a lot of lab-born clones and too many grown-ass adults who have no excuse not to know better, work-related health care and nothing else, and Kon and Guardian, mostly. And also some random weird death traps and a couple of cameras here and there, apparently, but it all sounds incredibly dated to Tim's ears and it really seems like Kon and Guardian are taking on the lion's share of everything more complicated than watching a feed or flipping on an alarm system. Like, it really does. 

So that's not great. 

"Jesus, man, how much did you order?" Kon snorts with a laugh while Tim's paying the girl at the drive-up window in cash. He doesn't really want to explain this particular expense on the Bat credit card. Generally he doesn't want to explain takeout and junk food on there at all, in fact, though obviously he makes a point of going to Batburger with Steph once a month, just to hear Bruce sigh about it later. Appropriate teenage nonsense and all. He gets the kids' meal and the terrifyingly purple Spoiler shake every time. It tastes like acidic cotton candy. Yes, literally. "Like just the whole menu or what?" 

"Of course I did. I've got a Kryptonian to carry it all for me, don't I?" Tim replies with a smirk he doesn't really feel after everything he's learned today. Everything Kon just told him, because he doesn't see what's wrong with any of it. 

It reminds him of the abused kids he meets on the job who insist they're fine, and they don't need Batman and Robin to save them. 

He wonders if Jason was like that, when Bruce first met him. 

He also wonders if he maybe did over-order a little on the pizza, but worst case scenario the leftovers should fit in the fridge. 

. . . maybe, anyway. Probably. 

Mostly? 

Kon immediately cracks into the cinnamon bread on the flight back because he has absolutely no manners whatsoever, and Tim rolls his eyes at him and tries not to visibly brood over the five-alarm fire burning down his brain right now. 

He just . . . doesn't understand how Superman is apparently just fine with this situation. He doesn't even understand how Kon is fine with this situation, but is increasingly certain that the answer to that might just be that Kon doesn't think he has another option. 

He doesn't have another option, as far as Tim can tell. What would he do, crash at the base and just mooch off everyone else for food and gear and whatever else he needs day-to-day? 

Yeah, not exactly a sustainable lifestyle, that. 

Not even a little bit of one. 

Technically, Tim could just pay for whatever Kon needed, between his allowance and his trust fund and without even taking his Bat-stipend into account, but there is no possible way Kon would ever actually go for that. He's way too proud, and even someone with no pride at all would probably find "please let me pay you to quit your horrible job" a hard pill to swallow from a teammate, much less the leader they only barely recognize the authority of.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #young justice #young just us #rinfic #wip: obligatory sugar baby Kon

[writingforatwistedworld]

I saw your requests open, so i decided to send in a request of my own before they close again <3 I'd like to request, Lilia Vanrouge, Ace Trappola, and Azul Ashengrotto with your self-aware au, if thats okay. My request is a GN!Reader who is the twin sibling to the overseer, who isn't that invested in the game but sometimes watches their sibling play. more on the platonic side too if thats okay!

You have every right to decline this request.

Self-aware au

I do not take any responsibility for you reading this no matter which age group you are from!

WARNINGS: Yandere themes, family problems, unhealthy relationship, obsession, implies kidnapping, violence

Ace Trappola/Azul Ashengrotto/Lilia Vanrouge-Twin sibling of the Player (PLATONIC!!!)

What a great day! The Overseer has blessed the world with their presence again!

The birds are chirping, it feels like it’s much easier to take care of the flamingos and even the hedgehogs are-WHY ARE THERE TWO OF OF THEM??!

Ok, the guy is just flabbergasted

There was never any talk about there being two Overseers

But wait, no. They aren’t the Overseer. You just look a lot like they were cloned

A bit of a different nose, the voice is also much different…

So… otherworldly being are also capable of having twins. Why does this suprise him so much?

It is a bit weird for him in the beginning

But over time he gets used to them and even wants you to be there

Why? Well because he is just a nice gu-he just wants bonus points

Imagine, your twin thinking that he is an awesome guy and telling them how great you think he is

That was the plan at least, now he geniunely cares about you (in a platonic way)

It’s as if you were adopted only that Ace is a lot more ready to use violence compared to what he would do if his older brother was the one should something ever happen to you

This guy is protective. People talk how boring you are in comparison to your twin? Deuce had to hold him back to beating them into… red messes

Sometimes he would also be grocery shopping for the dorm, see something and ask himself if he should buy it for his sibling on the other side of that seperation

Five seconds later he has to hold back a scream because he realised that he sees you as his own sibling

Yeah, safe to say that you just got a brother. A brother capable of a lot of violence should someone be the slightest bit rude to you but still a brother

Ah so, a twin?

Unlike Ace Azul is very chill with there being someone who looks like the Overseer

How nice, family fun… wait why aren’t you interested in them?

Azul wishes that you were even the slightest bit interested in the game

But no, you just watch your twin whilst stuff goes down here

Is this world not good enough for you?

Like a doting older brother he will try to correct things for you but… you aren’t the Overseer so there is not really something he can do…

It's suddenly like he has another reason for trying so hard other than his past and the Overseer

Now now, he can't be a bad brother, right? So everything needs to be perfect

Heartlabyul student number 36 suddenly feels chills going down his spine after he had said something in a dialogue that had bothered you

Azul doesn't even think about what he could get you when he is going out

No, he has more money than most students so when he sees something he just buys it

Of course not always, he also has to look out for the numbers on his bank account

He is very curious about you so he immediately starts trying to find out more about you like what you like, dislike, so on so on

There is that nagging feeling however

Azul knows that he means nothing to you even though you are like a sinking to him

So what does he need to do so that you at least notice him?

Floyd had never been so scared for his life before after he saw Azul threw that look in his direction

Octopus is a huge lump of muscles so I wouldn't be surprised that he once or twice crushed someones... breathing tube going down their throat out of anger and stress from wondering what he could do to make you his sibling

You know those religious moms that have a meltdown when someone says something against the foundation of their religious believes?

Yeah, Lilia is that mom just in male version

Whaaaat? TheOverseer has a twin? Are they testing him by showing him an illusion looking exactly like them?

Only after Malleus had a long, calming talk with him about his they don't really know that much about the Overseer despite them being their god

So after many emptied cups of tea and many sleepless nights, he finally accepts it

Whilst your twin governs this world you two share some banter and oh, how lovely it is

It almost feels like the old days when Silver and Sebek were much younger...

Congrats, if TWST had a reward system with funky names you would now get the notification of “Melancholy for the old days-how to make an immortal cry tears”

He definitely bursts into tears of happiness when he sees the two of you being so close

Ah yes, there were once those royal siblings which ended with one dead from his younger sisters jealousy, how good that the two of you get along

Those memories do get entangled with the sight of you two which makes him see you in a more “you-being-his-child” way

Your twin, no, he has studied too many scriptures to associate them like that. You though... you are more or less a new variable so...

How heartbreaking to see you separated from your true family, Silver and him

Malleus had a “wait what?” expression on his face when he heard Lilia cry about his lost child to him for the first time

Which led to Lilia telling Malleus that his child is on the other side of the two worlds and now there being preparations made it get that child back

Don't you worry, oh sweet child, soon you will be back by your fathers side, whether you want it or not

Oh he can't wait to introduce you to Sebek!

#yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere twst x reader #self aware au #twst #twisted wonderland #twst x reader #twst x you #twisted wonderland x reader #twisted wonderland x you #ace x reader #twst ace #yandere ace #ace trappola x reader #twisted wonderland ace #yandere ace trappola #yandere ace x reader #twsited wonderland azul #azul x reader #twst azul #yandere azul #twisted wonderland azul #yandere azul x reader #yandere azul ashengrotto #azul ashengrotto x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #twisted wonderland lilia #yandere lilia #yandere lilia x reader

[vodika-vibes]

The Brotherhood - Stat Wars AU

Summary: Misfit is kicked from the 501st and barred from joining Rex with the 332nd. Though, he was warned that this would happen.

Characters: Clone OC - Misfit, ARC Trooper Fives, Clone Trooper Tup, Clone Trooper Dogma, Commander Fox, Captain Rex, ARC Trooper Jesse (mentioned)

Word Count: 764

“I know you're not thrilled, Misfit-” Rex says slowly as he looks at his, very unimpressed, little brother, “But this might be a good thing.”

Misfit pulls a cigarette out of his jumpsuit pocket and slips it between his lips, though he doesn't light it just yet, “A good thing, huh?”

“You're not made for military life, vod. You've been miserable since the war started-”

“-so you're ditching me.” Misfit replies, finally pulling his lighter from his pocket and lighting the stick hanging from his lips.

“I…wish you wouldn't say it like that.”

“Oh? Is there a nicer way to phrase it?” Misfit asks sarcastically as he flicks an unkempt curl off his forehead.

“Misfit, vod,” Rex sighs, “You haven't exactly made any friends over the years. You convinced Barriss Offee to leave the order.”

“I convinced her that terrorism wasn't going to prove her point.” Misfit corrects as he blows some smoke out the side of his mouth, “Her leaving the order was just the next best thing.”

Rex is quiet for a long time, “Ahsoka tried to have you transferred to her, but the Admiral decided that you're a liability. Your drug use is rather well known at this point.” He shakes his head, “I'm sorry, vod. But there's no longer a choice. Maybe…maybe you should talk to the jedi about rehab.”

Misfit flicks some ash off his cigarette, “I'd sooner eat my blaster.” There's a shout from the doorway, and Misfit turns his cold gaze to his older brother, “Better get going, Commander.” Somehow, the rank sounds like an insult.

Rex lingers for a moment, and then he turns away, “Don't do anything drastic, Misfit. We'll talk when I get back, maybe get you sent to the 212th.”

“I won't hold my breath.” Misfit leaves before Rex reaches the door, and Rex's shoulders slump as he walks over to Jesse, who sympathetically claps him on the shoulder. 

Misfit walks through the clone Barracks, breezing past his brothers, content with them ignoring him. He turns down a side hall, goes down a flight of stairs, and kicks open a swinging door that leads to a darkened, musty smelling hallway.

The hallway leads to one place, a large room that's been ignored for years. Well, officially at least.

Misfit reaches the door and keys in the code that he was given earlier that day. The door slides open and Misfit steps into a well lit and clean smelling room.

“Do you have to smoke that in here?” Fives asks from where he's flipping a blade between his fingers.

“It's this or I throw myself off the roof, take your pick, vod.” Misfit replies.

“Put it out, Misfit.” Fox orders from where he's scanning a datapad, “I'm guessing you're here because you've been kicked out of the 501st.”

“And the 332nd.” Misfit confirms as he puts his cigarette out in the convenient ashtray. “Just like you said.”

“I'm sure it wasn't personal,” Tup says from where he's examining the blade attached to his wrist. “You know what Rex is like.”

“Yeah, yeah. Whatever.” Misfit tucks his cigarette behind his ear, and drops into a chair next to Dogma, “Anyway, why am I here with three vod'e who are supposed to be dead?”

Fox smirks and drops a strange looking blade on the table in front of Misfit. It straps to the inside of his wrists, and a sharp blade pops out from the hilt as he flexes his wrist. “This is a hidden blade,” Fox explains, “perfect for assassinations.”

“Will you finally tell us what you're planning?” Dogma asks.

Fox drops in a seat, a small smirk on his face, “I'm making an assassination squad. The four of you were chosen because all four of you are quiet in the Force. According to Vos, you're force quiet.”

“Meaning?” Tup asks.

“You're force sensitive enough that other force sensitives can't detect you.” Fox leans forward, “I'm sure you can tell that there are a lot of people in the galaxy who deserve to die. People we can't touch. That's what you four are for.”

“You want us to be your personal assassins?” Fives asks.

“No, I am going to be completely hands off from here on out. You'll do your own research, gather your own evidence. Your targets are your choice.” Fox says, “Fives will be in charge.”

Fives pauses and a dark smirk crosses his face, “Palpatine will be our first target.” He leans over the table as Fox leaves the room, “Welcome to the Assassin's Brotherhood.” Fives almost purrs, as he drops a map of the senate on the table, “We're going to save everyone.”

#star wars #star wars au #clone oc: misfit #i love him #and people should love him too

[jessicas-pi]

📓📓📓

So originally I was gonna do 3, but this one got REALLY long, sooo....

May I present the Jedi Get Hitched AU?

I posted about it once before here (and it got FANART!!!!) but other than that I haven't said much of anything else, soooo... here's more! and it's ENORMOUSLY self-indulgent.

The basic premise of the AU is that the clone wars end happily except the clones don't have rights but the Jedi find a loophole that will make them recognized as sentient citizens if one of them marries a Jedi, cue Aayla kicking open the door to the jedi council with bly in tow like I VOLUNTEER

ANYWAY. bly and aayla get married (they both freak out about it and Fox and Quinlan respectively have to give them pep talks before the wedding.) All seems well... and then Anakin saunters into the Jedi Council room one day and brings up that now that they're getting married (it was a one time thing, skywalker--) NOW THAT THEY'RE GETTING MARRIED, maybe they should consider that perhaps it would lower political tensions if a Jedi married, like, a senator or a planetary ruler or something. and the council is all like 🙄 skywalker we know this is just about you and senator amidala and he's like what??? haha no, i was talking about obi-wan and duchess satine. but while we're on the topic, i could definitely marry senator amidala too. she just adopted those twins and i could help raise them. they're force-sensitive, what a crazy coincidence amiright?? and plo and shaak are just lowkey planning their wedding and subsequent adoption of All Their Sons and mace. mace wants a break. please.

fast forward in time. Several more jedi have gotten married. Mace has retired from the council, citing "an excess of tomfoolery and nuptials" as his reason. Anakin married Padme, Obi-Wan married Satine and they officially adopted Korkie as their son, and Quinlan Vos and Asajj Ventress got married. Vostress is also currently running a jedi-nightsister exchange student program...

...which is how Merrin, 16 and slightly awkward but eager to learn more, ends up in the Jedi Temple, with a few other Nightsisters, though they're all a few years younger than her. Cal is assigned to give them the tour.

"Welcome to the Jedi Temple!" he says, holding one hand out to her and the other hand waving around them, indicating basically the whole jedi temple. it's supposed to be just a gesture, but then Merrin puts her hand in his. Completely seriously. Cal is like "...okay" and they hold hands for the rest of the tour.

Five years later, there is a second jedi-nightsister wedding.

Jocasta is delighted at the number of records being set within her lifetime.

(Jocasta is also officiating all the weddings, btw.)

A couple years after Mace resigns from the council, he decides to plan a shatterpoint lineage family vacation. So Mace, Depa, Grey (who is an unofficial part of their family), Caleb, and Caleb's brand-new Padawan, 11-year-old Ezra (who is pretty young to be a padawan, but he was following caleb around all the time anyway so caleb figured he might as well just make the apprenticeship official), all pack up... and go to Ryloth.

Caleb, who twenty-five at this point, promptly gets his first crush.

Mace Regrets This Vacation. He's actually started seeing marriage Shatterpoints. Depa and Grey, meanwhile, think it's really really funny that Caleb gets flustered around Hera, and Ezra has made more than a few insinuations about political alliances via marriage. Depa warns him that Caleb will get his revenge, but Ezra dismisses it. (Said revenge does come about, several years later, in the form of Caleb asking if Madame Nu needs to prepare to officiate the second Jedi-Mandalorian marriage in recorded history. Ezra kicks him in the shin. smh padawans these days just have NO respect for their masters.)

Ezra highly encourages Caleb to marry Hera.

It does not take much convincing.

#Thank you for the ask!! #Jedi Get Hitched AU #blyla #anidala #obitine #vostress #merrical #kanera #and kinda minor lowkey #sabezra #jessica's writing nonsense

[anarchy-n-glitter]

The Good, The Bad, and...

Summary: Lucy and The Ghoul encounter a shadowy figure from his past while on their way to New Vegas. This stranger, nicknamed Red Eyes, is intent on collecting a bounty on The Ghoul as a means to settle a feud between the two after they were betrayed by him. Will Red Eyes succeed, or will they have a change of heart based on their complicated feelings toward the man? (Cooper Howard x OC/reader) Words: 2,941

A/N: I forgot to post chapter 1 of this on here sorry guys. Anyway this is low key a Star Wars AU because as a Cad Bane fan I simply could not help myself so this is technically kind of a follow up to this fic. Enjoy!

Chapter 1

From the Desert Comes a Stranger

“I’ve taken down so many of dese clones over da years…” Her father began in his heavily accented manner, sighing, and pushing his hat back with his pointer finger as he glanced at her from the corner of his eye. The red of his irises were somehow muted by the red lenses of the goggles he wore, which made it hard to see the look in his eyes as it was. He quickly dropped to his knees and with a single swipe of his knife he removed something from the clone’s body. She couldn’t quite make out what it was before he pocketed it.

He turned around quickly, pointing his gloved finger up at her. She straightened up.

“Now, Ciella, what ya need to know is…” He handed her the bloodied knife, closing her fingers around the hilt and holding her smaller hand in his. It was one of the only times he made a tender gesture towards her other than the odd hug here and there. 

“Once you figure out one da rest are easy.” She had to wonder what the point of all this was. 

When they arrived on the site - an old, decrepit warehouse with a caved-in roof - her father was quick to corner the clone that now lay dying before them. He tried his best to grab the gun that was strapped to his leg, fumbling with it and managing to point it in her father’s general direction before he was gunned down. Two shots in the chest from the looks of it, shots that left the man (clone) heaving and wheezing on the floor with blank eyes, and she knew that’s what he wanted to happen. If he wanted to shoot the man in the head he would have. He was the fastest shot in the Wasteland, and it would stay that way for many years. 

“Now, I want ya to take dat knife dere and,” He finally stood and moved her closer to the dying man. “Yer gonna have to cut his throat, unless ya want to hear him scream. I’m not against it but it’s best dat we keep him quiet. Don’t want any stragglers comin’ in and takin’ us by surprise.”

Ciella drew in a deep breath as she knelt down beside the man. His blank eyes suddenly held so much emotion, it was a look she’d seen in her own eyes a few times before. Mostly on dark nights in the Jewel as she listened to the way men spoke to her mother… and the way her father spoke to her at times. It was the look she saw in the mirror after she saw how her mama took care of those men - their purple, mangled faces contorted in pain and their eyes bloodshot staring up at her, and their hands clutched around their throats. 

This man was in pain, and he was afraid of dying. 

There was a large tattoo on the side of his face, around his eye. It was a symbol, most likely belonging to whatever faction he belonged to since escaping his vault. From what she overheard her dad discussing, Vault 66 seemed to be defunct, with the clones created within revolting and escaping into the Wasteland. He had been hunting down the clones for the last five years, among other things. She never quite understood why anyone would flee a vault to live on the surface. 

Her father took the respirator off of his face, letting it hang below his chin. She felt more at ease at this, happy to hear his own, unmodified voice walking her through what she was about to do. Her heart was beating fast and felt like it had leapt into her throat. She glanced at the open ceiling and focused on the large, white moon that hung in the deep blue sky. 

Perhaps the sky full of swirling stars would be enough to comfort her.

“When he’s dead, cut off da part of his face with da tattoo and hand it to da Tin-Man. Den we can go home.” He instructed. Ciella hesitated. 

The clone looked at her, stared her down, silently begging her for mercy. He was just a clone, and he was wanted so he must have done something bad, right? She looked back at her dad, who had pushed his goggles up onto his forehead, revealing his bright red eyes staring back at her expectedly. Tufts of navy blue hair peeked out from under his hat and over his goggles and his lips were curved into a small smile. 

He actually looked like a supportive father for the first time in his life.

Ciella made her decision at that moment, and the girl at only eight years old turned around and drove the knife into the clone’s throat. His eyes widened and met her gaze for a moment and she felt her heart drop. He groaned and wheezed, the blood gurgling in his throat as the crimson substance dribbled from the corners of his mouth. A sputtering cough had his blood spraying across her face and she wasn’t sure if it was on purpose or not. She tried not to heave at the disgusting feeling. 

On instinct, she pulled the knife from his throat and drove it back into his flesh. Over and over. A larger, warmer hand wrapped around her wrist and stopped her mid motion. 

“Dere ya go.” Her father smiled wider as pride swelled in his chest. His baby would be a killer, just like he was. “After dis I’ll teach ya everyding I know.” 

☠☠☠☠☠☠☠

The sun bore down unbearably upon the duo traveling along the Mojave Desert. It had been miles and miles of desert between the Griffith Observatory and the place the Ghoul was certain Lucy’s father was heading. The vaultie was starting to fall behind, clearly tired from the constant moving. It was hard to find shelter all the way out here, and unfortunately for her the Ghoul didn’t feel comfortable stopping out in the open. 

They had traveled through a few settlements at that point, each one growing more and more decrepit and sparse. The people were quieter and hid away in their own corners of the small towns, eyeing the Ghoul and his traveling companion wearily. The whispers and glares of the different townsfolk hardly made for good hospitality, if anything it was that fact that drove him away from each place. Something was happening, someone said something, and he felt it was too risky to stop for a few nights in any of the settlements.

The last place they’d been to was a day’s walk away at this point, and the talk amongst the people in that saloon made him deeply uncomfortable. Then there was the body. 

In the sandy dunes of the last settlement they had been to laid a man with sun kissed skin and snow white hair stained at the temples with red. The poor man had his brains blown out, by who…  well, let’s just say he had a good idea of who it was. It was clear the job was done quickly, the man clearly didn’t see them coming, and the fact the man’s armor and other supplies went untouched raised even more alarm bells. He got them out of there quickly and quietly.

Unfortunately for Lucy, the Ghoul was one-track minded at the moment. His family was out there, he could feel it. There was a reason he kept going for over two hundred years, and he would not let those years of anguish be in vain. 

He would kill anyone who tried to get between them. 

“There’s gotta be somewhere we can stop, right?” Lucy sounded hoarse, tired. He wished he could answer her truthfully. He hadn’t traveled this far into the desert before, and the way the sun seemed to hang so high in the sky for so long made him question whether anyone ventured that far, let alone set up shop. He shrugged.

The dunes seemed to stretch on for miles and miles, with only a few rocky formations on the horizon. A few dried plants littered the ground here and there, somehow finding the strength to grow in such a harsh climate. It was a wonder anything was able to grow and flourish after the bombs. Maybe he should have sent the vaultie to ask for some sort of transport back at the saloon instead of being stubborn like he usually was. 

“Maybe that person’s coming from a settlement down that way?” The Ghoul froze, feeling himself go numb. 

Among the dancing heatwaves stood a dark-clad figure on the horizon. 

They stood still, any discernible features hidden by a wide-brimmed hat and respirator over the figure’s mouth. The wind blew and kicked up dust and whipped the figure’s coat to the side, revealing the large holster against their hip. Their dark attire starkly contrasted with the bright blue sky and pale sand. 

The words of the men in the saloon ran through his mind. 

Someone’s lookin’ for a ghoul just like ya! There was a bounty put out not too long ago, I think it’s been taken offa the board. A lotta caps goin’ for that guy. He considered that a warning at the time. 

Anyway, it looked like the guy who took the bounty was Red Eyes. He had the goggles an’ everything, but we all thought he was dead. 

And Red Eyes was supposed to be dead. He died around five or six years ago. 

The figure in front of him was a ghost. 

Red Eyes stopped a good twenty feet in front of them, standing perfectly still. The wind shifted again and from beneath the wide-brimmed hat came a tuft of navy blue hair that blew in the breeze. The desert was all too quiet now, and it felt like something from one of his old movies. Red Eyes felt like an old western villain, dark and ominous, seemingly a force of nature. He worried the figure wasn’t only after him. 

“Lucy, you should head back.” The Ghoul muttered, putting a hand out to stop her from moving any further. She stared at the figure for a moment, suddenly afraid because of the Ghoul’s reaction. 

“It’s only one person.” She muttered. “Maybe they’re lost?” The Ghoul stayed silent. He would not repeat himself.

Her doe-like eyes flickered to him and she noticed the way his mouth was set in a seemingly permanent frown. His whole body looked stiff, like a cornered animal. She nodded, understanding finally, before turning on her heel to make a run for it. 

The Ghoul watched as the stranger glanced in Lucy’s direction. Red Eyes observed her, seemingly studying her like an unbothered predator eyeing a nearby animal knowing it couldn’t do anything to stop it. He grit his teeth and took a few steps forward, spurs jangling with each stride. 

This was not good. 

“Now I know that fancy getup you got on is not yours.” He began through a false bravado, flashing teeth that used to be a pearly white. It was so easy for him to slip back into a role, something he had been doing this entire time. Yet, this time, he was given the chance to play the good guy. It felt unfamiliar somehow, after all, it had been several years since he’d done such a thing. He was almost grateful for this stranger’s theatrics. “Who might you be? Cause you sure as hell ain’t Red Eyes… he’s dead.” 

He knew all too well who this was. 

Red Eyes looked up, the red goggles reflecting the bright sun and making it impossible to see past their lenses. More of the stranger’s hair seemed to flow from behind them, long strands of navy waving in the wind like a flag. Their stance shifted from one of leisure to subtly looking like they would pounce. The stranger moved their coat away from their hip, revealing the large gun strapped to their form. 

“I’d be careful where I was sticking my nose if I were you.” The heavily modulated voice called out. “Or lack thereof.” 

The Ghoul bit his tongue. “I’m assuming that corpse we found back there was you, then? Certainly wasn’t the handiwork of any ol’ fiend.” 

“Wasn’t much work.” Red Eyes spat quickly. “Was a clone. They're easy. Woulda gotten in my way.” Their accent, even through the voice changer, was thick. Louisiana, most likely from the New Orleans area. 

“You’re here for me.” He didn’t feel the need to ask. He threaded his thumbs through the belt loops on his trousers, opting to seem more relaxed than he was. He knew Red Eyes would see right through his guise.

“Isn’t that obvious?” Their hand twitched beside their gun. He eyed them wearily.

“Well, I’m not goin’ willingly.” A low, rumbling chuckle sounded from the stranger. 

“I never said I was gonna take ya in alive.” They answered, voice cold with an edge to it. He fought the urge to argue, to call their bluff, for doing so would be too risky.

Truthfully, Red Eyes had every reason to want him dead. It had been a few years, five to be exact, since they last saw each other. Five long years since he turned the fellow bounty hunter in for killing a crime lord. Five years since he left them for dead. This would be a fitting end for their little rivalry, even if it wasn’t always that way. 

But he wouldn’t go down just yet. Not without a fight. 

He had to find another way to fight them. A quick draw duel would mean a death sentence for him, unfortunately. Red Eyes was and still is the quickest draw in the Wasteland. He would have to throw them off somehow, say something to really disarm them. 

He did the only thing he could think of, and instead of indulging in the stranger - instead of going for his gun - words that he never thought he would say slipped from his dry, cracked lips.

“Ciella, I’m sorry.” 

Red Eyes froze. Their hand was still dangerously close to their gun’s grip. Over the wind, he vaguely heard the sharp, uneven intake of air from the figure. The breeze picked up again, blowing open the stranger’s coat to reveal the figure of a woman. 

“It’s a bit late fer that, isn’t it, cher?” It most definitely was her. “I came ta finish the job. I shoulda known a coffin wouldn’t hold yer ass.” 

Cooper held back a laugh. Ciella Bane was an ally at one point, and maybe even a friend, but the moment her picture was up on one of those boards he knew their partnership was over. Someone was offering a hefty reward for whoever could bring the bounty brat in, preferably alive. 

That was his mistake. He knew he probably should have killed her while she was sleeping and taken the smaller reward for her corpse. Killing her like this would be a pain in the ass. 

“You wanna take off that ridiculous getup and let me see you?” He taunted, much to Ciella’s dismay. He just had to hit her where it hurt, get her emotional and in her head so she missed when she inevitably shot at him. However, it had been a few years, he couldn’t be sure that trick would still work.

Though with dear ol’ daddy not around to give her more of his tips and tricks he doubted she would have improved much more than the last time they brawled. 

Ciella scoffed. “The last thing you’ll see are these goggles. Everyone’s gotta know it was Red Eyes who took ya out, ghoul.” She spat, though there was a sadistic playfulness in her voice. Cooper rolled his eyes. 

“I got places to be, girl.” Cooper countered with equal venom. He was getting antsy, and he felt she was wasting his time. “Let us through and…” He stopped.

What would he do? What could he do? What could he possibly offer her where she wouldn’t be on his trail while he and Lucy trekked the Wasteland on a wild goose chase? Ciella coming back from whatever corner of the world she ran off to after burying him alive was the last thing he wanted. 

“Let us through and we can finish this some other time. I’ll tell you where I’ll be and you come find me.” He offered finally, feeling the weight of his words in his chest. He wouldn’t give up finding his family so she could have her petty revenge, but maybe one day, when everyone around him was gone and he knew his daughter was safe and could live a happy life, he would go to Ciella and let her put him out of his misery. 

“We do this here and now.” The bounty hunter replied. “That head o’ yers is fetchin’ a pretty penny. Figured it was better I did it than some chem addicted fiend on the street.” Her words were purposefully inflammatory. She was doing the same thing he was. 

She straightened up again, mimicking the stance of a cowboy in a western getting ready to draw, and Cooper knew what it meant. She wasn’t giving him a choice. They’d done this dance once before, and unfortunately for him it didn’t end well. 

The Ghoul sighed and moved his coat from his holster, and he mirrored her stance. “This ain’t gonna go the way ya think it will, sweetheart.”

“I doubt that.” That same, robotic voice answered, yet he knew she was still all too human underneath. 

#cooper howard x oc #cooper howard x reader #cooper howard x you #star wars au #fallout fanfic #cooper howard #the ghoul #the ghoul x reader #the ghoul x oc #fallout #cad bane mention!!! #so #cad bane #fallout tv series

[mandos-mind-trick]

Healing Touch

Summary: It's ironic that your soulmate would be the one to save your life after sharing a pain connection with him. After the base you work at is attacked, you meet your soulmate, a loyal, dedicated clone who is willing to do anything to keep you two together.

Pairing: Kix x reader Soulmate AU

Warnings: NSFW, smut, p in v sex, unprotected sex, Kix is a freak, cum eating, oral, lots of discussion of pain and injuries, reader gets a really bad injury, life threatening injuries, blood, brief gore, medical stuff, soulmate AU, bad jokes.

A/N: I kinda hate this one but here you go. A surprise update to this series. I feel bad about not posting anything in a bit so I wrote some stuff. Also kind of inspired by a thread about friends of nurses who say they're a bunch of freaks. I'll let that speak for itself.

MASTERLIST

Pain is nothing new to Kix. 

Though he’s usually the one treating others in pain, he’s had his fair share of injuries as well. Being in active combat had its risks, and he often witnessed them firsthand. He was also used to phantom pains that seemed to plague him every so often. Pain in his fingers and hands, like burns or the dull ache after pinching your finger between something. There were occasional deeper pains and aches, but after the war started it got harder and harder to determine which ones were his and which weren’t. 

His soulmate link, he had figured out quickly after a panicked scan to make sure he wasn’t injured, or perhaps defective and suffering from some ailment they were supposed to be immune to.

It was ironic, really, that his soulmate link would be pain. Each soulmate feels the phantom pain of the others injuries. Though he had avoided some nasty injuries, he still feels bad for his soulmate. Not that they weren’t also constantly getting hurt as well, but theirs were more small pains than anything. In the rare moments when he wasn’t busy, he liked to try and picture what had happened, what they could be doing. 

It’s what keeps him sane when the missions get bad, when they go wrong, when he has to look past his brothers' suffering as he tries to save them. 

He often worries in the dead of night. What if something happens to his soulmate? Are they involved in the war? What if their planet gets attacked and no one’s there to help? Sometimes he lays there and waits for the inevitable excruciating pain of a fatal wound, or the blinding pain of losing his soulmate. He worries about something happening to him as well. He doesn’t want to do that to his soulmate. He’d watched far too many troopers die, far too many leaving their soulmates without ever having the chance to meet them. 

It happens one day, when his worst nightmares come to life. 

They had just finished a hard won campaign against the Separatists and Kix was still hard at work in the med-bay patching up those who were less severely injured. It takes him a moment to realize what’s happening, a strange feeling blossoming in his right side below his ribs. 

Then the pain hits him. 

He doubles over, barely catching himself on the gurney Fives was seated on. 

“Kix,” Fives puts a hand on his shoulder. “You alright?” 

Kix grits his teeth, trying to breathe through the sharp, stabbing pain in his right side. Had he been injured and not noticed until now as his adrenaline begins to crash? He can’t feel anything on his side, no wound, no blood, nothing. Had he taken a hit and not noticed? 

“Come on,” Fives says, slipping an arm around his shoulders. “You don’t look too good.” 

He was supposed to be checking Fives for a concussion, but instead here he is being escorted onto an empty gurney by his patient. A droid runs a scan, checking everything but there’s nothing. Still, the pain burns through him, sharp and stabbing with every breath in. 

It’s not him. 

It’s his soulmate. 

Many things begin to rush through his head. Had something happened? Is it some sort of organ failure, perhaps? With the pain where it is, it could be any number of things. An injury? Illness? Are they getting help? Can they get help? 

A comforting hand on his shoulder brings him back from his racing thoughts. Fives knows. Most of the squad knows. They trusted each other on the battlefield, and with their deepest secrets. He presses his hand into his side, taking a deep breath. He wishes he could ease the pain even a little. 

The doors slide open, Rex stepping in. 

“Kix, Fives, we need every able bodied trooper ready for a debrief in ten minutes.” He says. 

“What’s going on?” Fives asks. “We just finished a campaign.” 

“We’re being rerouted.” Rex says. “There was an attack on a base nearby. They need as many hands as they can get.” 

Kix tries not to let his thoughts take over as he rouses every physically able trooper. He can’t think about his soulmate right now. He has a job to do. 

***

Kix’s hands are shaking. He rarely lets himself get affected by the injuries he sees. He’s seen a lot, he has been trained to see a lot. Combat medics see the worst of things, and they weren’t supposed to break. They had to be prepared for anything. Calm under intense pressure, stable enough to be quick thinkers and ready to take charge if needed. 

The carnage left from the attack is some of the worst he’s seen. 

These weren’t just clones. 

There are civilians. 

Most of them are civilians. Engineers and mechanics employed by the GAR. Clone armor wasn’t impenetrable, but it offered a lot of protection against injuries and wounds. He’d seen clones survive what should have been a fatal shot because of their armor. Civilians don’t have armor. Most of them don’t see combat so there was no point to them wearing armor. Most of them stayed on bases, safe from the danger of combat. 

At least, the bases are supposed to be safe. 

The 18th Battalion had arrived shortly before them and had already begun locating and treating survivors. They were already working to stabilize those in the worst condition to shuttle them to the cruisers to get more intensive care. 

There’s still civilians inside. 

Most of the troopers were working their way through the ruins of the base, searching for more survivors. Most of them had been accounted for. Either managing to escape harm, or were already being treated. There were still many that were still missing. Kix knows trying to find all of them is impossible, but they had confirmed areas where there were injured civilians still, or they had heard voices calling out for help. 

“This thing could collapse any minute.” Crash says as the mangled roof groans dangerously above them. 

“There’s one right up ahead.” Kix says, staring at the map. 

Something falls off in the distance, the crash echoing through the air before it settles. Both troopers share a look before pressing forward, stepping carefully. Kix’s side still aches, pain still burning through him, but he pushes onward. He has a job to do. He can only hope his soulmate is alright. 

There’s nothing he can do to help. 

He moves forward with Crash, stepping around a piece of collapsed roof. The civilian marked on the map is right there, sitting against a piece of still-intact wall. It doesn’t take Kix long to figure out why no one has helped her yet. A piece of rebar has impaled her through her right side. 

She’s still awake, wide eyed and breathing shallowly. One look at her eyes tells Kix she’s in shock. She’s soaked in sweat and pale, blood staining her light blue shirt. He kneels down in front of her, taking a quick scan. She’s uninjured aside from the rebar, which has gone straight through her and into the wall behind her. 

“What’s your name?” He asks her. 

She tells him, her voice weak and shaky. 

“We’re going to get you out of here.” He says, the pain in his side increasing as Crash moves her just slightly to check how stuck the rebar is in the wall. 

His eyes widen beneath his helmet and he stares at her for a moment. Where the rebar is in her side is almost exactly where the pain is on his side. It couldn’t be...could it? 

“There’s no way of moving her without removing it.” Crash says. 

Kix sighs. He knows moving her at all is going to be excruciating. He takes a second to assess things and calm himself before doing what he does best and takes charge. “We can’t risk removing it. She’ll bleed out before we can get her out of here. Is there enough room to cut it back there?” 

“Barely.” Crash says. “It’ll be close.” 

“We have to try.” Kix says. 

Kix kneels in front of her, bending her top half forward just slightly, until he can feel the pain of the rebar moving inside of her. He lets her rest against his shoulder, her hands weakly lifting to cling to his arms as Crash cuts through the rebar behind her. 

He doesn’t need to guess to know how much pain she’s in. He can feel it. He has no doubt he’s right in front of his soulmate. Oh how he wishes they’d met in a different way. It was ironic, though, that he’d be the one saving his soulmate’s life. He’s determined to do everything in his power to save her. 

She cries out as the rebar jostles free, pain radiating through Kix as well. He breathes steadily, trying to comfort her as best he can. The pain begins to numb, her hands slipping from his arms. He pushes her so she’s sitting up slightly, hands cupping her cheeks. 

“Hey,” He pats her face gently, her eyes fluttering. “Stay with me.” 

Her eyes flutter before they crack open, staring at him blankly. He takes in their color, trying to memorize her face. 

“Let's get her on the stretcher and onto a shuttle.” Kix says, forcing himself back into his roll. He needs to get her into a surgical pod sooner rather than later. 

Navigating the building is hard as they carry the stretcher, Crash talking to her to try and keep her awake. He can barely hear her responses, and later Crash would tell him she was speaking nonsense. He’s not entirely sure she even knew what was happening. 

They get her loaded onto a shuttle, Kix having to watch it fly away the hardest thing he’s had to do. He wanted to be there, wanted to stay by her side, wanted to make sure she was going to be alright, that they got to her in time. He would know if she died, if he had failed. 

He shakes those thoughts from his mind, jumping back in to help the other injured civilians.   

***

Your head is throbbing when you wake. You feel like you’ve swallowed sand, your mouth and throat dry and aching. There’s beeping around you, and a harsh sterile scent burns your nose. Something flashes behind your eyes and you force them open, blinking against the bright lights. 

Something presses against your shoulders, keeping you still as you try to shift into a more comfortable position. Pain shoots through your right side, stealing your breath for a moment. 

“Easy.” A voice says above you. You know that voice. “Didn’t think you’d be up so soon.”

You blink blearily up at the figure standing over you. Your vision is still blurry, your mind trying to catch up. You’re disoriented, feeling far away from your body. 

“Here,” Something cold and wet touches your lips. “Drink.” 

You drink through the straw, cold water hitting your dry mouth. You drink greedily, feeling refreshed as the sandy feeling in your mouth begins to disappear. 

“Bacta makes my mouth feel dry too.” 

You turn your head to look at the person standing next to you. He’s a clone, you can tell that much as your vision begins to clear. That’s why you recognize his voice. You’re no stranger to clones after working for the GAR for two years. 

You press the heel of your hand into your forehead, closing your eyes. “Where am I?” You murmur, not even sure actual words come out. 

“On a cruiser, heading for a medical station. Do you remember what happened?” He asks slowly. 

You think for a moment. Do you remember? “It was a normal day at work.” You start, walking yourself through your day. “I was working on an attack shuttle. I had gone to grab a different tool when...” Horrible images flash through your mind. You remember being thrown, heat washing over you. Something hitting you, or you hitting something. Pain. You remember pain.

Something beeps rapidly beside you, the clone putting a hand on your shoulder. “It’s alright. The base was attacked.” He explains. “You were injured badly. I was one of the ones that got you out. I wanted to come and check, make sure you were alright.” 

You stare at him, taking him in. His head is buzzed, lightning bolts shaved into the short buzzed hair. There’s a tattoo on the side of his head, but you can’t see all of it from this angle. He’s handsome, as you thought most clones were. His armor is painted blue with the medic’s symbol on his shoulder. 

“Thank you.” You say, staring up into his brown eyes. “For saving me.” 

He smiles softly, running a hand over his head. “Well, it is my job. And I wasn’t about to let anything happen to my soulmate.” 

You stare at him blankly, taking in his words. Soulmate? 

“You have a pain link, right?” He asks, looking so hopeful. 

You nod slowly, still trying to process his words. You had tried not to think too much about your soulmate. Your link had appeared later than you expected, little pains here and there, that blossomed into harsher ones more often. You wondered about your soulmate and if they were alright, until the war started. You had heard about people discovering their soulmates were clones and that’s why their links had shown up later. 

You haven't put much thought into it. You were destined to meet eventually, and you trusted it would happen. You had been more focused on leaving home, on building your career. 

He grabs a small needle pulling off his glove before pricking his finger with it. You feel the sharp pinch on your own finger, lifting your hand to stare at it. 

Nothing. 

No mark. 

No blood. 

You let your hand drop slowly, looking up at him with wide eyes. 

“My name’s Kix.” He says. “Medic with the 501st Legion.” 

You tell him your name, introducing yourself with your status as a civilian engineer. 

“I didn’t think this was how we were going to meet.” He says. “I’ve been waiting for this for a while.” 

You nod, swallowing the lump in your throat. You knew about clones, about the rules around soulmates. That’s partially why you refused to think too much about it. You don’t want to be rejected. You’re not sure you can handle that. “A-Aren’t you supposed to-” 

“Technically.” He says, cutting you off with a grin. “Most of us don’t follow those rules.” 

You stare at him for a moment. “But...” 

“If all of us followed every rule, we probably would have lost the war already.” He leans against the side of the bed. “There’d be a lot fewer of us, anyway.” 

Your brain feels like it's moving in slow motion. “So...you’re not going to reject me?” 

He smiles, shaking his head. “No. Not unless you want me to.” 

You shake your head. “No, no. I just...didn’t expect...” 

“I know it’s a lot. Especially after what just happened.” Kix says. “I just wanted you to know since we’ll be leaving after everyone’s offloaded at the medical station. I didn’t want to miss this chance in case we don’t cross paths again.” 

Right. Their only job was getting you to the medical station. They still had a war to fight, so naturally they’d be leaving off to their next battle. You’re not sure where you’re going to end up now that the base you had been stationed at is gone. The chances of you two crossing paths again is slim, but you were soulmates for a reason. 

You take his bare hand, squeezing it gently. You can feel it, the flow of energy between you two. His calloused fingers wrap around yours, and you try to memorize just how his skin feels against yours. “We’ll meet again.” You say, staring at your hands. “We are soulmates after all.” 

He smiles, stroking the back of your hand with his thumb. “You’re right. I just hope it’s under better circumstances.” 

You can’t help but smile. “I hope so too. I’d be happy if I never had to go through that again.” 

***

Your name is called as you make your way down the hallway. 

After your brief stay at the medical station, you had been sent back to Coruscant to the GAR headquarters to await reassignment. You assumed you’d be staying on Coruscant, since the war was heating up and a bunch of dead civilian workers wasn’t exactly a good look. 

You turn, one of the lead engineers walking up to you.

“I have your orders for your reassignment.” She says, handing you a datapad. “You’re loading up with the 501st when they arrive.” 

“The 501st?” Your eyebrows lift in surprise. 

“I hear they asked for you directly.” She says. 

Your brows furrow. Kix was assigned to the 501st. Had he managed to pull some strings without giving anything away? You couldn’t risk revealing anything, not with the GAR directly involved. So how had he done it? 

They arrive a few hours later. You’re patiently waiting on the airfield among crates of supplies to be loaded on. The venator cruiser kicks up a breeze as it lands, truly an engineering marvel. A huge floating city, capable of housing thousands. Ships weren’t your specialty, but you often found yourself working on their communication systems. You had been fixing one in a shuttle when the base was attacked. 

You wait for the offloading of troops and supplies, heading into the ship as troopers begin moving supplies on. You look around the hangar, likely where you’ll spend most of your time. Shuttles and cruisers, and all other sorts of vehicles. 

You eventually find the lead engineer, getting a tour and introduction to the cruiser. You had only been on one briefly, most of your knowledge about them being learned virtually during training. You had spent more time learning about the clone’s armor and how to fix any sort of malfunction or damage that may be caused. The functionality of their armor is essential, especially their helmets. 

You’re eager to see Kix again. You want to know just how he’d managed to get you assigned to his battalion. You can’t be conspicuous, though. Even at this proximity, you still have to be careful. If the wrong person found out, it would spell disaster for both of you. 

You’re checking through one of the supply rooms when he finds you. Your first task with the 501st had been to restock and organize the supplies getting loaded onto the ship. It was a typical task for a newbie, since you’d need to learn the layout of the supply room and where things are located in case you need them in a pinch. 

“Hello, mesh’la.” 

You nearly jump out of your skin as the deep voice breaks the silence of the supply closet. You spin around, finding Kix leaning against one of the shelves behind you. You hadn’t even heard him come in. That was precisely why you weren’t a soldier. 

“Kix!” You put a hand on your chest. “You scared me!” 

He grins. “Sorry. Thought you heard me come in.” 

You shake your head. “I was too focused, I guess.” 

“It’s good to see you.” He says, stepping closer. “I missed you.” 

It has been a few weeks since you’ve seen him. You’ve missed him too. You’d felt it, the longing deep in your soul for its other half. The distance, the lack of contact had begun to eat at you. It’s easing now with him so close. Even though you’ve just been reunited, your entire body is already relaxing. 

“I missed you too.” You say, stepping closer to him. 

He pushes the cart out of the way, stepping up right in front of you. You stare up at him, his fingers grazing over your side. “How do you feel?” 

“Completely healed.” You say with a smile. “Hardly more than a scar left.”

“Good.” He says, wrapping his arms around you. You’ve never been this close to him before, but it feels right. “I hated feeling you in pain.” 

“I hated being in pain.” You reply, wrapping your arms around his neck. “Though, whatever you did to your foot a week ago, that sucked.” 

He grins sheepishly. “Would you believe me if I told you that was a box of medical supplies?” 

You stare at him for a moment. “No.” 

He chuckles. “I’ll tell you about it later.” He leans down, resting his forehead against yours. “I’m just glad you’re here.” 

“Yeah, how did you manage to get me assigned to the 501st?” You ask, pulling away slightly. 

He lifts a hand, rubbing the back of his head. “Well, I may have told Rex and had him put in a special request.” 

You stare at him wide eyed. 

“Don’t worry,” He tries to ease your concern. “He’s not going to say anything. None of them are.” 

“What did you do, tell the whole squad?” You ask. 

“The whole platoon, actually.” He says sheepishly. 

“You were the one that said we had to be careful.” You punch his shoulder, the plastoid harder than you expected it to be. 

“I think that hurt you more than me.” He says, taking your hand and inspecting your sore knuckles. “But don’t worry. No one’s going to say anything. We’ve all been sworn to secrecy about each other’s soulmates. It’s a sort of unspoken law among clones.” 

“That’s sweet.” You say, captivated by his fingers as they gently massage your hand. 

“I’ll introduce you tonight during third meal.” He says. “When everyone’s back on board.” 

“Yeah, shouldn’t you be out enjoying your shore leave?” You ask. 

“I wanted to see you.” He says. 

You stare up at his face, at those big brown eyes. “You’re being all sweet on me now, making me nervous.”

“Don’t be nervous.” He soothes, wrapping his arms back around your waist. “I’m just a goofy guy who's never really talked to a woman before outside of a professional setting.” 

You stare at him open mouthed. “You’ve never...” 

He shrugs. “Never really wanted to.” 

You lean against his chest, wrapping your arms around him. “Well, you’re doing a good job.” 

He chuckles, the sound deep in his chest. “Thanks.” He holds you for a few moments before letting you go. “I’ll come by the lab and show you around later, okay?” 

You nod, a smile tugging at your lips. “Okay.” 

He swoops down, kissing your cheek before leaving you a bit flustered in the supply closet. 

***

Despite how close you two are, you barely get to see Kix. With the 501st constantly on the move, constantly going from one campaign to the next, you’re very busy and so is Kix. You mostly see each other in passing, or in the mess hall, or occasionally in a stolen moment in a supply closet. You only see him in the med bay twice, there usually for burns on your fingers, things you’ve become almost numb to in your years of working as a mechanic and engineer. 

You finally get a quiet moment to yourselves on a long journey from one side of the galaxy to the other. Well, it wasn’t exactly that far, but it was a long trip. You’re glad for the break, and glad for the quiet moment you get to spend with Kix. 

He tells you to meet him in the barracks, a place you hadn’t really explored much. You weren’t really supposed to go into the clone barracks, especially as a civilian unless it was an emergency. 

This was an emergency, you were about to go crazy from the longing to be close to him again. The GAR wouldn’t see it that way though. 

You’re extra careful, slipping in quickly as he waves you over from the door. It’s empty besides the two of you, Kix leading you over to his bunk. 

“How’d you get everyone to leave?” You ask, laying down and stretching out. They’re not any more comfortable than the civilian bunks. 

“I may have promised to buy the boys a couple extra rounds on our next shore leave.” He says, stretching himself out next to you. He’s stripped from his armor, left in his blacks. 

“Another unspoken clone law?” You ask, tracing your fingers over the muscles visible under the tight bodysuit. 

“Well, they know why I’m doing it.” He says, his hand settling on your waist. “I just figured you’d prefer some quiet privacy. They’d pretend to ignore us, but they’d be listening the whole time.” 

You hum, kissing him softly. “Then I thank you for your sacrifice of a couple rounds.” 

He grins against your lips, pulling you closer against his chest. “Just doing my duty, ma’am.” 

You pause for a moment, a tingle running down your spine as he calls you “ma’am.” You’ll have to lock that one away for later. He pulls you back to him, kissing you harder. You lose yourself in him, letting all of the stress and fear and emotions over the last few weeks go. You worried about Kix, every time they left on a campaign. You monitored comms as often as you could, for more than just your job of making sure everything was functioning. You waited anxiously to hear that Kix is alright, that he’s still alive and well. 

“How long do we have?” You murmur against his lips as he rolls you onto your back, settling on top of you. 

“An hour or so.” He says, lips leaving your lips to kiss down your jaw. 

“Is that going to be enough time?” You ask. 

He smirks against your neck, nipping at the skin. “I’ll make you cum at least twice before then.” 

You smirk, lifting your arms as he tugs your shirt over your head. “Is that a challenge?” 

“No,” He smirks, hands cupping your breasts. “It’s a promise.” 

You gasp as his lips close around one of your nipples, tugging it gently with his teeth. You’re already wet, your underwear sticking uncomfortably to you. You can feel him pressed up against your thigh, painfully hard through his blacks. You’ve both been waiting for this, eagerly anticipating this moment. You wish you had all the time in the world to do this, but you’re lucky enough to even get an hour of privacy together. 

You can’t wait for this war to be over with. 

He continues his kisses down your stomach, tugging your pants and underwear down. You let your legs fall open for him, his eyes staring hungrily at your soaked pussy. Your cheeks warm a bit as he stares at you, his eyes dark and lust-blown. His hands hold your thighs as he leans in, licking a stripe along your slit. You gasp at the sensation, his tongue dragging over your clit. 

You have to be careful not to make too much noise. Anyone walking past could hear, and with your luck it would be the wrong person. You’d get in so much trouble, both of you. 

You press a hand over your mouth as he dives right in, eating you like a man starved. He was, in a way. You had put this off far too long. You’d snuck a hand into your panties in the dead of night a few times while thinking of him, trying to take the edge off as you waited for the opportune moment. 

Nothing compared to the feel of him, though. 

His tongue thrusts into you, licking at your walls as his nose presses against your clit. You curse behind your hand, your other hand gripping the sheets under you. 

It doesn’t take you long to cum, his tongue lapping up every last bit of your orgasm. You’re close to overstimulated when he finally pulls away, face glistening in the low light of the barracks. You drag him up, kissing him deeply. He groans against your mouth, hips pressing against yours. 

You break the kiss to tug his blacks over his head, your hands trailing down his chest, feeling every ridge of muscle. Your fingers trace every little scar, every little mark. He tugs his pants down, kicking them off the end of the bed and your fingers continue lower, wrapping around his thick length. 

He presses his face into your neck, groaning as you work your hand over him. “Kriff, you feel so good.” He murmurs. “Better than I ever could.” 

You smile, parting your legs a bit so he can settle between them. “Isn’t that the point.” 

He leans up on his elbows over you, staring down at you. “You’re going to ruin me forever.” 

“That’s my job.” You say, lining him up. 

You bury your face in his shoulder as he eases into you, moving slowly. It’s a stretch, far bigger than you had anticipated. He pauses once he’s seated inside you, making you feel full and connected. You can feel it, the connection building between you two. There was no going back now. 

He slowly begins to rock his hips, holding onto you. You wrap your arms and legs around him, pulling him as close as you can. You can feel him deep in your very soul, the connection between you two solidifying. You’re two halves of one whole, one soul shared between two bodies. This was what you were meant for, not what the GAR forced you to do, hiding and keeping secrets. 

You wish the war would end. You wish you could steal him away, live a happy life somewhere free of war, free of the GAR, free of everything. A life happy together, where nothing has to be a secret, and you can take as much time as possible. Where you can shout your love for him as loud as you want. 

You use his shoulder to muffle your moans, his own groans muffled by your neck. You move seamlessly, meeting his thrusts. You’re already close again, the tautness of his body telling you he’s close too. 

“Cum for me.” He whispers, hitting that spot inside you over and over again. “Let me feel you.” 

You cum around him, nails digging into his back. He cums with a groan, emptying inside you. You lay still for a moment, simply breathing each other in. 

Kix leans up, kissing your lips before sliding down your body. You watch, leaning up a bit as he settles between your thighs once more. You can feel his cum starting to leak out of you, Kix watching for a moment before he leans in, closing his mouth around your pussy. You breathe out a curse, flopping back on the bed as he cleans you with his mouth. It’s unexpected and obscene as he slurps at your pussy, your skin burning. 

You can feel it, another orgasm approaching. You bite into the skin of your arm, keeping yourself quiet as he sucks at your clit, forcing you over the edge a third time. 

He laps at your folds for a few more seconds before sliding back up your body, gently tugging your arm free from your mouth. He soothes over the mark with his fingers. “You’ll want to clean that.” He says, so easily switching into medic mode. “Human bites can be very dangerous.” 

You roll your eyes. “Yes, doctor.” 

He pauses, eyes widening as he stares down at you. You file that away too. He leans down, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips. “I kept my promise.” 

You laugh against his lips. “You did. And a bonus.” 

“I did say ‘at least twice’.” He says, sitting up on the bed. “I’d make it a lot more than that if we had time.” 

You grin, sitting up next to him. “Save that for the next shore leave.” 

He smirks, patting your ass as you move to grab your discarded clothes. You wash up in the fresher, trying to make yourself appear like you hadn’t just been fucking a clone in the barracks. Kix puts his armor back on, checking both ways before you step out of the barracks. 

You walk closely, wishing you could hold his hand, but you know you can’t. You silently curse the GAR and their stupid rules. You can’t wait for this war to be over. 

You’re so close to the elevator when your names are called from down the hall, both of you freezing. You turn, eyes widening a bit at the sight of General Skywalker approaching. 

“G-General.” Kix says, standing up straighter. 

General Skywalker looks between you, crossing his arms. “What are you two up to?” 

“I was, uh, having some calibration issues with my helmet.” Kix quickly lies. 

“Uh huh. And you had to fix that in the barracks?” General Skywalker asks, crossing his arms. 

“Well, I needed to make sure it would connect with the others, and it was easier to just check it where they all were gathered, instead of disturbing them and making them come down to the lab.” You nervously explain. You know he doesn’t believe you. You’re absolutely screwed. 

“Right.” The General nods. “That’s very thoughtful of you, not wanting to disturb them.” 

“Yeah,” You nod. “They work so hard, they need all the rest they can get.” 

“I still have some work to do, so we were heading to the mess to grab some caf.” Kix says, trying to explain why you were now leaving together. 

“Very busy.” You nod, trying to make it as believable as possible. 

The General looks between you two for a moment before nodding. “Then I should let you get back to it.” 

You don’t relax, even as you turn to continue down the hall. Your shoulders are still tense, nerves running high. You had tried so hard not to get caught, and then here you were, getting caught by the General of all people. 

“You know,” The General says, making you two stop dead in your tracks. “That’s not a bad excuse.” You both turn, looking over your shoulders at the General. “I might have to use that some day.” 

Taglist:

@stressed-cherry, @6oceansofmoons,  @ladytano420, @spicy-clones, @dangraccoon, @bobaprint, @star-trekker-0013, @stunkbiggu, @endofthexline, @rosechi

#star wars #star wars fic #the clone wars #the clone wars fic #trooper kix #clone trooper kix #clone trooper kix x reader #clone medic kix #clone medic kix x reader

[hetalianskywalker]

Mermay 2024 Masterlist

Hello! Welcome to my Star Wars Clones (and their Prime) x Reader Mermaid AU!

So over the past few years, the clone troopers, in all shapes and forms, have meant a lot to me. I started writing on tumblr about half a year ago now and I just got into a graduate program. So I’m probably gonna drop off the face of the earth in a few months.

I wanted to take part in one of these month long fandom events before I left so Mermay seemed like a good fit to me. I went around tumblr and found prompts that inspired me and I thought went with each character.

Thank you for reading!

Day 1: The Courtyard - Mer Rex x Harpy Reader

Day 2: The Bakery - Mer Jesse x Reader

Day 3: Black Pearls - Siren Kix x Reader

Day 4: The Lobster- Mer Hardcase x Reader

Day 5: Two Siren Songs - Siren Fives x Siren Reader

Day 6: Sown Together - Selkie Echo x Mer Reader

Day 7: Scavenged - Mer Denal x Reader

Day 8: Choosing to Help- Mer Vaughn x Jedi Reader

Day 9: A Heart Fish- Mer Cody x Reader

Day 10: My Dream- Mer Gregor x Pirate Reader

Day 11: To Swim With A Siren- Siren Waxer x Pirate Reader

Day 12: Hold On- Mer Boil x Reader

Day 13: Hasn’t Changed - Mer Wolffe x Reader

Day 14: Trapped in the Lake - Mer Boost x Reader

Day 15: Stuck - Mer Sinker x Reader

Day 16: The Forgetful Selkie- Selkie Fox x Fae Queen Reader

Day 17: Here - Siren Thorn x Pirate Reader

Day 18: Just the Beginning - Selkie Thire x Reader

Day 19: Excitement - Mer Stone x Thief Reader

Day 20: Stargazing - Mer Hound x Nightsister Reader

Day 21: Get On With It - Siren Hunter x Doctor Reader

Day 22: Fishing for a Merman - Mer Howzer x Twi’lek Reader

Day 23: Understatement - Mer Mayday x Ice Dragon Reader

Day 24: Stories- Mer Slip x Mer Reader

Day 25: Sea Caves - Siren Fireball x Reader

Day 26: Sea Glass - Mer Nemec x Reader

Day 27: Actions- Selkie Samson x Jedi Reader

Day 28: The Sea Alor - Sea Alor Mer Jango x Harpy Reader

Day 29: The Heir - Mer Boba Fett x Kiffu Reader

Day 30: The Wait - Mer Fordo x Goddess Reader

Day 31: The Bet - Mer Alpha 17 x Sea Dragon Reader

#star wars #the bad batch #the clone wars #captain rex x reader #jesse x reader #clone troopers #mermay #kix x reader #hardcase x reader #fives x reader #tbb echo x reader #denal x reader #rare clone x reader #mermaid au #captain vaughn x reader #commander cody x reader #captain gregor x reader #clone trooper waxer x reader #boil x reader #commander wolffe x reader #clone trooper boost x reader #clone trooper sinker x reader #commander fox x reader #commander thorn x reader #commander thire x reader #commander stone x reader #sergeant hound x reader #tbb hunter x reader #captain howzer x reader #commander mayday x reader

[gffa]

Oh, friends, there is so much good Obikin fic about our two favorite idiots in the STAR WARS fandom out there and I have a huge back archive of recs to show for it, but sometimes it’s hard to know where to start when you’re new or haven’t read anything in awhile, so I wanted to put together a list of Starter Recs that I think are great places for a beginner who’s just dipping their toe into the waters! There are many, many fics that are often times some of my favorites that will not be on this list, because these are the ones that I think are specifically useful to those who are just kind of figuring out what they like or aren’t really sure they 100% ship it and just kind of want to test things out. And also because if you made me list my actual favorites, it’d be literally thirty times as long as this, and that might be just a bit overwhelming. So, here, have my suggestions for where to start! Joinnnnn usssssssss. OBIKIN RECS - CANON-COMPLIANT UP TO BEFORE EVERYTHING GOES TO SHIT: ✦ Equinox by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, sith!obi-wan (sort of), d/s, 95.9k    During the Clone Wars, Obi-Wan and Anakin crash on a remote planet and take shelter in the ruins of a grand estate only to find they are not alone. ✦ Upfall by bell (belldreams), obi-wan/anakin & some obi-wan/satine & ahsoka & cast, NSFW, 166.8k    Anakin is doing just about everything he can to hold himself together; it won’t last. ✦ the sound of your voice (helps me find peace) by izazov, obi-wan/anakin, 34.7k    Five times Anakin had to ask for a story. And one time Obi-Wan offered it freely. ✦ Lex Talionis by intermundia, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & cast, NSFW, sith!obi-wan, sith!anakin, 187k    How Obi-Wan and Anakin fell to the dark side, obtained their revenge, and saved the galaxy in the process. ✦ starbird by imaginarykat, obi-wan/anakin & cast, 8.8k    Anakin thinks he knows everything about Obi-Wan but doesn’t. Anakin thinks a lot of things, actually, and he’s wrong about most of them. Anakin’s whole world view is turned upside down. Obi-Wan is having the time of his life. ✦ small gestures and grand vows by loosingletters, obi-wan/anakin & cast, 6k    Five times Obi-Wan and Anakin show how devoted they are to each other, and one time somebody demands proof and they are insulted. ✦ Across the Stars by unfortunate17, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, time travel, 14k    A story of how Obi-Wan and Anakin have thousands of firsts between them, fates intertwined by the will of the force across space and time. Or, Obi-Wan is the Time Traveler’s Wife. ✦ love is a battlefield (not a one-night stand) by izazov, obi-wan/anakin, 15.5k    For all his skills as a negotiator, Obi-Wan does a poor job of handling the aftermath of spending the night with his former Padawan. (He gets better at it. Eventually.) ✦ what heaven did you leap from, dear love? by loosingletters, obikinn, obi-wan/anakin, 3.2k    Surely Obi-Wan hadn’t meant to call him that. It was just a slip of the tongue, he told himself. But that didn’t stop his heart from racing and his palms from getting sweaty. ✦ Abyssus Abyssum Invocat by Burning_Nightingale, obi-wan/anakin, 10.3k    While searching for Separatists on the very edge of the Unknown Regions, Obi-Wan and Anakin discover three things. A Chiss pilot in desperate need of their help; a Jedi Temple more ancient than the Republic itself; and a dire warning. ✦ Into the Archives by skygawker, obi-wan & anakin (& some anakin/padme) & palpatine & cast, 104.9k wip    After hearing the legend of Darth Plagueis the Wise from Palpatine, Anakin decides that his best chance to save Padme is to break into the restricted Holocron Vault of the Temple Archives to search for information about Plagueis. Predictably, all does not go according to plan. Revenge of the Sith AU. ✦ Satellite Mind by intermundia, septemberist, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 19.3k    Five times Obi-Wan heard Anakin’s thoughts, and one time Anakin heard Obi-Wan’s ✦ Aggressive Negotiations by RagnarLothcat, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 15.7k    Five times Obi-Wan makes use of Anakin’s beauty in a negotiation, and one time someone turns the tables on him. ✦ It’s How You Learn by Is0lde, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 10.6k    Anakin and Obi-Wan spar in Jar'Kai and it ends up exactly how they both planned. ✦ Moment’s Silence (Common Tongue) by Gwendolyn (storiesofchaos), obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 8.1k    Three occasions in which Anakin comes in his pants. ✦ Seed by bell (belldreams), obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 44k    When Anakin falls prey to a lethal poison, Obi-Wan has no choice but use all his resources to heal him– no matter how reluctant he is in administering the antidote. ✦ Over and Over by obiwanobi, obi-wan/anakin, 1.4k    “I love you,” he blurts out, loud and impossible to miss. Obi-Wan blinks once, twice. And freezes. The first time Anakin tells him is a mortifying experience. ✦ hey there by retts, obi-wan/anakin, 4.6k    ‘Sick,’ says Anakin, stood in the doorway of Obi-Wan’s room aboard their ship. 'You’re sick.’ 'No need to sound so delighted over it,’ grouses Obi-Wan, bringing his fist up to his mouth to cough feebly into it. Damn. 'I’m not, Master.’ ✦ O Trespass Sweetly Urged by Artemis_Unbound, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 8.6k    Anakin and Obi-Wan witness a sex ritual while on a mission. Obi-Wan doesn’t understand why Anakin is so scandalized by this, until Anakin admits that he’s never had sex. Obi-Wan…might need a minute to process that. ✦ Too Hot by secretsolarsystem, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 4.8k    Too Hot: A game where two players kiss without stopping and without touching each other. If one player touches the other, that player loses. The winner gets to do whatever they want to the loser. OBIKIN RECS – THE DARTH ASSHOLE CAT DYNAMIC THAT’S CLOSER TO THE SHOW’S RELATIONSHIP POINT (SOMETIMES FIX-IT, SOMETIMES NOT): ✦ Sear me by thedunesea, obi-wan/vader, NSFW, suitless vader, 9.9k    “So here we are, a failed Jedi, a Sith, and our imminent deaths. I leave it to you to choose how we will meet our demise, whether fighting or doing something else entirely.” ✦ Make Your Siren’s Call by intermundia, obi-wan/vader, NSFW, 4.5k    After a visit to check on young Luke, Obi-Wan spends the night in a cave nearby. He struggles to fall asleep, his mind reaching out into the Force, and is surprised by a visit from his old apprentice in his dreams. ✦ to touch the light, darkest by treescape, obi-wan/vader, NSFW, 6.5k    Obi-Wan begins to fuck Vader back to the light. ✦ Mirage by intermundia, obi-wan/vader & obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, time travel, omegaverse, 17k    The Force switches AotC Anakin with Kenobi-series era Darth Vader. ✦ (Un)happy Reunions by izazov, obi-wan/vader, 4k    After defeating his former Padawan but sparing his life on Mustafar, Obi-Wan had hoped that their paths would never cross again. He should have known better. ✦ Homestead by JSwander, whohatessand, obi-wan/vaderkin & cast, NSFW, 46.2k    Obi-Wan deals with a troubled newly widowed Anakin, two twins, and desperately needs a hug. ✦ game plan by treescape, obi-wan/vader, NSFW, raised as a sith!anakin, 11.2k    Or, Vader keeps capturing Obi-Wan during the Wars. Obi-Wan keeps escaping. It’s kind of a thing. ✦ Neutron star collision by thedunesea, obi-wan/anakin & cast, 66.2k    In the aftermath of Order 66, Anakin Skywalker’s miraculous survival after his confrontation with the new Sith Apprentice Darth Vader ignites a sparkle of hope in the remaining Jedi, in the fledgling rebellion and, above all, in his former Master, who had thought he had lost everything to darkness. ✦ love is not a victory but neither is it pain by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/vader, NSFW, 4.7k    Five years after Anakin Skywalker falls Obi-Wan Kenobi helps lead the Rebel Alliance against the Empire.But hope has reached its end,and General Kenobi confronts Vader in a desperate effort to save his men and the last threads of the rebellion. ✦ nothing compares to you by RagnarLothcat, obi-wan/anakin & cast, nsfw, time loop, 40.5k wip    Sometimes you only get one chance to make things right. But when you’re Anakin Skywalker, Chosen One, sometimes the Force intervenes to give you a second chance. Or a third. Or a fourth. ✦ Prompted - Chapter 5 by intermundia , obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, spanking, rough sex, 2.3k    5. suitless!Vader / resentful!Obi-Wan (Spank a Sith back to the Light AU) ✦ Don’t go blindly into the dark by obiwanobi, obi-wan/anakin, 3.5k    Anakin falls to the dark side earlier than expected, gets scared by his own impulses and decides to hide somewhere nobody will look for him. It doesn’t stop Obi-Wan from finding him. ✦ Replaceable by ibex_ascendant, obi-wan/vader, nsfw, ~1k    He buries hands of flesh in thick, auburn-colored hair. He knows this is a dream. ✦ Pivot by Phosphorescent, obi-wan & anakin, 1.3k    “What would you have me do, Anakin? Just… walk away?” “Or you could join me.” OBIKIN RECS - DO YOU WANT THEM TO KISS BUT DON’T WANT TO WADE THROUGH THAT GROSS PLOT WHILE STILL GETTING INSIGHTFUL CHARACTERIZATION? I GOT YOU: ✦ Collar by bell (belldreams), obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, d/s, 9.4k    “You have to be sure, Anakin. Once we’re in, we’re in.” “I think I can handle being your sub, Obi-Wan.“ ✦ This Was Obi-Wan by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 5.3k    With how proper and refined his master is,Anakin just can’t figure why he sits like that, all spread-legged and obscene.But after a mission goes awry and he sees Obi-Wan naked for the first time,the question isn’t why,but more like how he’s possibly going to survive with the knowledge. ✦ Home Again by lilyconrad, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, d/s, mild bondage, 1.7k    When Anakin’s emotions overwhelm him, Obi-Wan is always there with a firm hand and clear eye to help him find his way back from the dark. ✦ It’s How You Learn by Is0lde, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, 10.6k    Anakin and Obi-Wan spar in Jar'Kai and it ends up exactly how they both planned ✦ Good Form by ranianke, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 15.1k    Obi-Wan needs help shooting a training video. What could go wrong? ✦ Lifeblood by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 8.3k    The ancient people of the Zeffo contact the Jedi in a cry for help,they need force users who can connect to the living force,who can save something dear to them. But the price of life is itself something dear,and one Obi-Wan is not sure they can pay. ✦ Persistence is Key by ToolMusicLover, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 2.2k    Anakin has been making suggestive remarks all day, when they’re finally alone together Obi-Wan finds himself succumbing to Anakin’s persistence. ✦ Bloom the want by ToolMusicLover, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 13.5k    Upon being reunited with Obi-Wan after a number of months apart, Anakin struggles with his Master’s continued distance, but perhaps there is something he can do to get his attention. ✦ Exile Vilify by nessa_j, obi-wan/anakin, nsfw, 1.4k    Anakin struggles with the horrors of war, Obi-Wan tries to offer comfort. ✦ that which rages in the place of dearest love by shipwrecks, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 4.4k    He loves Obi-Wan but he’s not going to let him tell him to calm down like he’s still a padawan who doesn’t understand anything about the galaxy. He understands plenty—the galaxy is cold and unforgiving, dark and pain, he’s known this longer than anyone. OBIKIN RECS – IF YOU WANT TO GET YOUR FEET WET IN A WORLD WHERE THEY WEREN’T TEACHER AND STUDENT TO SEE IF IT’S FOR YOU: ✦ wicked thing by imaginarykat, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka & cast, nsfw, sith!obi-wan, 117.4k wip    There are rumours of yet another Sith Lord hiding among the Separatists. The Council sends Anakin to investigate. Anakin has a bad feeling about this. or, the story of how Anakin exists in a perpetual state of intense embarrassment, Obi-Wan is enjoying it a little too much, and everything is, generally speaking, a gigantic mess. ✦ Conceal Me What I Am by Himboskywalker, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, omegaverse, senator!obi-wan, 108.3k    Separatist Propaganda is turning the Republic against the Jedi Order and the Senate sees no choice but to join in a political alliance to fight dissent on a unified front.An alliance is proposed through an arranged marriage,between a Jedi Knight and Republic Senator. Anakin Skywalker and Obi-Wan Kenobi are chosen as representatives of the political union by Darth Sidious, meant to bring ruin to the marriage and the public’s support of the Jedi,for Obi-Wan Kenobi is not the Beta he claims. But even Sidious does not know of the secret Anakin Skywalker keeps, that he is not the Alpha the galaxy believes him to be. ✦ Needing/Getting by chapstickaddict, obi-wan/anakin & luke & leia & ahsoka & cast, NSFW, alternate canon, 198k    Anakin is a paranoid, over-protective hot mess doing his best to raise his weird pack the way Padmé would have wanted. How the hell is he supposed to do that when his kids and not-apprentice make him haul a half-dead Jedi Master home like a lost pet? OBIKIN RECS – LOOK, JUST TRUST ME, IT’S GOOD: ✦ à la carte by RagnarLothcat, obi-wan/anakin & cast, NSFW, modern au, 55.6k    Anakin Skywalker is a perfectly normal grad student. He spends his days at the robotics lab, his evenings working at an upscale restaurant and his weekends on inadvisable hookups. That is, until Obi-Wan Kenobi saunters into his workplace and sweeps him off his feet. ✦ The Snowball Effect by Ghost_Owl, obi-wan/anakin & ahsoka, modern au, 11.3k    Anakin had not meant to nail the cute guy from his building in the face with a snowball. Obi Wan had absolutely meant to hit him back. ✦ when all we have are shadows by tennessoui, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, modern au, 8.3k    Anakin’s gone when Obi-Wan wakes up. He’s left a note, a little cutesy message with a smiley face and awful handwriting. He has a class he can’t miss, it says. Obi-Wan’s gone and fucked a college kid. ✦ Too Hot by secretsolarsystem, obi-wan/anakin, NSFW, 4.8k    Too Hot: A game where two players kiss without stopping and without touching each other. If one player touches the other, that player loses. The winner gets to do whatever they want to the loser. OBIANIDALA RECS – BECAUSE ANAKIN SKYWALKER HAS TWO HANDS AND REALLY, REALLY WANTS IN THE MIDDLE OF THAT SANDWHICH, AND WE HAVE FEELINGS AFTER ALL THOSE PADME MENTIONS: ✦ Only Ones Who Taste by maravilla, obi-wan/anakin/padme, NSFW, 3.4k    "Have I ever noticed what?” she said, half smiling and fixing him with a stare. “That Anakin – he – I mean, we’re not here to talk about Anakin.” ✦ more than a candle by jenmishe, obi-wan/anakin/padme, NSFW, 50.3k    How Anakin, Obi Wan, and Padmé realize many things, which include, most notably, how they feel about each other and how to handle said feelings. Oh, and in the meantime, they deal with a megalomaniac Sith Lord. ✦ Exposure Therapy by septemberist, obi-wan/anakin/padme, NSFW, 10.1k    Anakin struggles to overcome jealousy in his relationship with Padmé and Obi-Wan. They decide to help him in an unconventional fashion. ✦ Only Ones Who Taste by maravilla, obi-wan/anakin/padme, NSFW, 3.4k    “Have I ever noticed what?” she said, half smiling and fixing him with a stare. “That Anakin – he – I mean, we’re not here to talk about Anakin.” ✦ Diplomatic relations by Tenillypo, obi-wan/anakin/padme, NSFW, 6.2k    It was late when Padmé Amidala got home, and there was a Jedi sitting in her living room.

#obi wan kenobi #anakin skywalker #obikin #fic recs #star wars fic recs #long post

[lychgate]

I am begging for more explanation about the Rex-gets-his-balls-cut-off AU

oh MAN its a few years old and very heavy themes but the summary of that part is that in this au post 66 Rex fallen way off da wagon and goes from shitty job to shittier job until he's getting traded around doing slave labor and one of the slavers he ends up with castrates their workers and then he got p feeble and weaker until he was basically a rat in a box and- oh yeah this is an au where Fives doesn't DIE because we all have one of those, so instead of being shot Fives is instead chased off world by some Corrie guards and his ship is shot down on a very remote planet/the reports labeled him then as deceased and Rex took that shit at face value (stupid) but it leaves a Fives stranded at the end of the war with that crucial information for the Republic that by the time he gets off world unfortunately is too late, we fast forward several years into Empire era where this AU begins, where Fives has made a (crappy) living off of bounty hunting and has a small task to put some feral critter out of it's misery and that feces covered mal fed creacher is REX and Fives actually hates him a lot at this point because he'd been mentally imagining Rex all these years as the visual epicenter of his blame for why all this Empire shit happened since he feels like he never listened to him back on Coruscant years ago. (he looked like this wet sock at about this point):

but u know now that he has the easiest opportunity to kill him it's literally so fucking pathetic looking that he can't so he like takes Rex on his ship to start fixing him up and taking care of him but it's more like when ur neighbor forces some old dying sick dog on u and u don't even like dogs but u had no choice so u just glare at the thing every day as it lays in ur house pooping on ur carpet and throwing up it's dinner every night. I only ever got crappy little doodles made of some sequences it's just a fun AU to poke around in but here's some when he initially brought Rex onboard and bro was just head to toe caked in dirt and scabs

ITS A REALLY metaphorical punching bag diary page like AU but it slowly deals with two WAY mentally fucked up people, who are approaching their issues at opposite ends of the stick, where Fives feels like he's been cheated out of a revenge kill, and Rex feels so pathetic and indebted to Fives that he's asking to be killed by Fives about every 35 minutes on his ship.

so yea doodles like these were made when he was like half a year into recovery, trying to gain some weight back, medically taking hormones to make up for his MISSING BALLS and just regrow some hairs, attempted recovery to atrophied muscles, and other bummer things like keeping radios on all the time so he can hear and keep track of surviving clones in the Empire for no significant advantage other then to know which ones are still alive and junk. IT DOES GET BETTER they do work to become close again but not without a lot of bumpy roads cause neither of them are healthy

#my art #star wars #captain rex #arc trooper fives

[starry-bi-sky]

show me how to lay my sword down long enough to let you through - clone^2 ch1

A little boy has landed in Amity Park, and he looks suspiciously like the 13-year-old Damian Wayne living in Gotham. Good news: he landed in front of Danny just as he was finishing up his fight with a ghost. Bad news: the little Damian-look-alike doesn't speak a lick of english, has a sword, and seems very keen on using it whenever he can. Against Danny specifically.

Danny already has his own issues to deal with -- like how it's not even been a year since he found out he was a clone of Bruce Wayne specifically, with all the identity issues that come with such a revelation -- and a stab-happy six year old that was very obviously a clone of Damian Wayne was not one of them. However, the kid was alone in a foreign country, and despite his hostility, it's very clear that he's terrified.

Call him a bleeding heart, but Danny takes him home.

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womp i wrote it and posted it. truly, it was only a matter of time before i did. my clone^2 au except now it's a fic! Here is the humble beginnings of this au if anyone is interested. The full thing is also posted below the read more if you want to read it here instead.

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Danny knows more than he probably should about ghosts, ectoplasm, and all things relating to it — courtesy only in partial credit to his parents and largely to every ghost, spirit, mythological creature, and conceptual entity taken sentient form he’s ever come across in the last two years of his run as Phantom. 

For example: he’s learned how to classify the difference between a ghost and a spirit when the words are synonymous with each other. He knows that ghosts cannot pass into the Realm of the Living without a naturally-made or manmade portal that splits the seams between dimensions like holes being chewed through a shirt. 

He knows that spirits are just weaker could-be ghosts that are trapped in the Living Realm, unseen by the Living, with unfinished business until someone can come along to help them move on. He’s helped quite a handful of them in the last two years thanks to his clairvoyance, but the city has more spirits than he could possibly know how to deal with. So his efforts are like trying to empty a pond with a bucket. 

Danny still tries, anyway. One afterlife saved is one afterlife saved, right? 

What he also knows is that natural made portals are exceedingly rare. That they occur when ectoplasm in any given area for some reason or another currents against each other, condensing and building in energy and density until eventually something gives and like snow on top of a roof it caves in and creates a portal. 

He knows that these natural made portals typically only last a few seconds at a time, and vary between the size of a rodent and a marsupial no bigger than a wallaby. He knows that most natural portals only last from a few seconds to a few minutes, with the record-holder being five minutes from a portal that was the size of a toddler. 

And the reason they never last so long is because ectoplasm is an energy, like most energy, it usually has somewhere to go. It cycles through plants, through the animals, through the ground, anywhere it can reach. It’s cousins with solar energy in that sense. Meaning it, usually, has little opportunity to clash and current with the rest of the ambient ectoplasm in the area.

But it does happen, albeit rarely, and only for a few seconds. Like the equivalent of a static shock; it’s only there for a moment before it collapses in on itself and disappears. 

So with that being said, Danny likes to think he’s — maybe not an expert — but fairly knowledgeable about the existence of natural made portals. The Ever-Infinite Bridge Between Realms is ever-expanding, ever-growing, and with it so is the information he has on it. Anything could become obsolete in a moment. 

And the only reason he’s thinking about it is because his parents were talking about portals in the kitchen earlier that evening, talking about their portal specifically, but Danny latched onto it, and his mind wanders. He’s not sure why they were talking about it, the portal has been running, unfortunately smoothly for the last two years. He has the scars and eyebags (and trauma) to prove it. 

Besides, his mind should be on other things. 

Like the goddamn flying snake he’s been chasing across the city skyline for the last thirty minutes. An amphiptere his mind unhelpfully supplies, a word he grabbed nearly two years ago when he first started out as Phantom and was desperately looking up the various ectoplasmic creatures slipping through his parents’ portal. 

Some of them didn’t have proper names — like a three-eyed fox he once saw with the tail of a peacock and hooves of a goat. He managed to lure it out of the alleyway it backed itself into with a nasty burger. It tore into it with the fervor of a starving coyote and Danny let it finish eviscerating the burger before sucking it into his thermos.

It was incredibly disturbing to watch at the time, since the thing had an almost beak-shaped muzzle, but now he wishes he was back in the alleyway trying to coax out a ecto-fox-griffin thing rather than chase after what was basically a dragon with no legs — it doesn’t even have the decency to be a wyvern. 

He’s only keeping up with the stupid snake due to his grappling hook, something Danny made a year ago in order to keep up with the ghosts flying around the city, and his best fucking self-made invention yet — made from the discarded inventions from his parents’ lab — with his jawbreaker gloves coming in at close second, if only because he gets to call them his jawbreakers. 

(It was remarkably simpler than the grappling hook — he just reinforced the knuckles on his gloves.) 

Because as much as he likes running, he was going to give himself a heart attack if he chased every ghost he came across on foot. It’d take him all night just to find one. And there was something inherently freeing in the terrifying, adrenaline-rushing sensation of soaring through the air with nothing but hard ground below and endless sky above. 

The amphiptere twists its head and looks behind it, and Danny gives it a little shit-eating grin from behind his mask and a small, two fingered salute. The mane of feathers behind the snake’s head puffs up like a frilled lizard, and it opens its maw to hiss — this distorted, almost screeching sound — at him menacingly. 

Danny, in response, scoffs under his breath and waves a hand in front of his nose. “Ugh.” he mutters, scrunching up his nose as the snake’s hot breath hits him square in the face. “Someone should throw you one of those dental doggie treats.” 

The snake, of course, doesn’t hear him over the sound of its shrieking and the wind. When it twists back around, it dives to the ground, flicking its tail harshly like it’s hoping to hit him as it goes down. 

Finally, Danny thinks, dodging out of the way with a twist of his body, and follows it down into the factorial district of Amity Park. It’s already disappeared somewhere when his feet hit the sidewalk, but the buzzing of his ghost sense still tingles on the back of his neck like a seventh sense. So it’s still nearby. 

Danny’s grappling hook retracts with a quiet, zipping noise. He hooks it onto the loop of his jeans, and stalks down the side of the road. 

Spirits linger beside the buildings. Men, women, and kids wearing clothes from all different time periods congregating in groups and conversing with one another, playing, watching him. Cities never sleep, they doze, and the dead come out at night when the living aren’t there to wake it up. Danny’s spoken to them many, many times. 

“Excuse me.” He murmurs, tapping a man in overalls and a railroad cap on the arm. If it weren’t for his faint green glow and how he wisps at the edges, the man would almost look alive. The man turns to him, his eyebrows climbing up his forehead when he sees Danny. “Have you seen a flying snake coming through here?” 

The man blinks at him, “As a matter o’ fact,” he says, adjusting the cap on his head, “I have. Flew down the road like a bat out of hell.” The man points down the street, and Danny leans around him to see. “Thought it was gonna knock me righ’ out my work boots.” 

Danny presses his mouth into a thin line, making a low ‘hn’ sound in the back of his throat. “Did you see if it went into one of the buildings?” He almost hopes it did, he could probably try and sneak up on it that way. Man, he needs some kind of stunner or something. 

“Right in there.” The man tells him, pointing to an old brick factory with the windows grimy and cracked. Of course, Danny sighs out of his nose. If he squints, he can see a green glow coming through the glass. 

If he’s lucky, he won’t run into the Box Ghost while he’s in there. He turns to the man and nods politely, “Thank you.” And when the man nods back, Danny turns and hurries down the street. He weaves around the spirits congregating around him, he’s heard from one-too-many spirits how irritating it is to be walked through by the Living. 

The door is rusted and locked when he finds an entrance, only made worse by the chain wrapped around the door for good measure, with a padlock. Of course. Rolling his eyes, Danny reaches for his pocket and pulls out a lockpick — too many times doing this has taught him to bring one along, just in case. 

(Man, he was envious of ghosts’ abilities to just phase through things. It would save him a lot of trouble. And roadburns, bruises, broken bones, and every other injury known to man.)  

He jams the lockpick into the padlock, jiggles it roughly, and unlocks it with a soft click. “They need better locks.” Danny mutters, pulling off the chain carefully with quiet, metallic clattering, and putting it on the ground. He jams the lockpick into the door lock, and with a little more finesse, unlocks that one too. 

The door opens with a heavy creak that has Danny scrunching his shoulders up to his ears and his mouth pulling back with a sharp inhale. Shit, he freezes in place, darting his eyes around for the amphiptere. 

He sees its glow off in the corner, stark ectoplasm green against the red brick walls, half hidden behind empty conveyor belts and forgotten, empty metal barrels. It doesn’t notice him, with the door open he can hear a loud crrrchk-ing followed by intermittent bangs. 

It’s chewing on something, wriggling around like a cat playing with a toy mouse. Danny silently creeps in and slips through the gap between the door, closing the door behind him slowly. His eyes never leave the amphiptere. It still doesn’t notice him. 

Two years isn’t that long to teach yourself how to be stealthy, but when you’re doing it every night, you learn quickly. Danny keeps himself low to the ground and his footsteps light. The amphiptere is oblivious to him; its clanging, hissing, snarling drowns out the room to any other noise. 

As he gets closer, Danny unhooks his thermos again. There’s a quiet click as he opens the lid with a press of a button, and the thermos hums to life in his hand, warming up against his palm. He creeps around the conveyor belt, his breathing slow and steady. 

When he reaches the amphiptere, its back is facing him. It coiled itself close to the ground, its jaw clamped around a metal barrel that’s been crushed like a tin can down the middle. Danny clenches his teeth, discomfort shivering down his spine. That could’ve been his arm had it decided to fight back. 

Silently, he raises his thermos at the snake, and with his arm steady, his thumb slams one of the buttons. There’s a recoil like he’s firing a gun, and Danny finds his purchase on the ground as a beam of light lashes out and hits the snake. 

The reaction is immediate. The amphiptere drops the barrel with a hideous, furious shriek and lashes out, trying to escape from the beam dragging it towards the thermos. But Danny’s long since learned that the pull of the thermos is much stronger than most ghosts, so long as he doesn’t disturb the tractor beam. 

One thing is for certain — keeping the damn thing steady is one hell of a forearm workout. His arms used to shake after a fight, and they’d feel sore in the morning. Not so much anymore since Danny started working out with Sam.

(Tucker declined when they asked him if he wanted to join — he’ll stick with his tech and walking on the treadmill.)  

When the amphiptere disappears inside the thermos, Danny slams the lid back on and slumps with relief. Finally, he groans quietly, clipping the thermos onto his belt and pressing his hand to his lower back to stretch. There’s a satisfying pop-pop-pop, and Danny sighs from his nose. He’s calling it a night. 

He glances at the time on his phone. It was three am, fantastic. He has school in four hours. 

Other than the snake, tonight had been blessedly quiet. Danny spoke to some of the spirits lingering around Third and Main downtown, got some of their information so he could start helping them with moving on — two murders and then a simple fetch quest, — chased down a few other ghosts — most of them just ecto-entities, but there was a young ghost child who he had to play hide and seek with before she would agree to be taken home in the thermos. 

He also got into a fight with a fellow teen ghost who wanted to see the “Death-Touched” and if Phantom was as good a fighter as the rumors say he was. Danny’s been called “Death-Touched” since the night he snuck into the lab and released every single ghost his parents had trapped in cages, that wasn’t unsurprising. A little a lot ominous at first, but Danny is nothing if not adaptive. 

He’d kicked the other teen’s ass, dragged him into the thermos, and moved on. 

But other than that, tonight had been tame. So before Murphy can come and kick him in the teeth, Danny’s calling it a night. 

Danny is one step towards the exit when he hears a loud, suctioning noise followed by something akin to a glacier cracking down the middle. His heart sinks instantly to his feet, and the chill of his ghost sense crawls up his throat and freezes the back of his teeth. No mist spills out, yet. 

Ah, fuck. Danny stifles a groan, turning back around. There goes the rest of his night. 

A portal the size of an acorn swirls into existence right before his eyes, and then rapidly grows. Swirling like a whirlpool, it grows bigger and bigger until it’s half the size of him. The bigger it gets, the tenser Danny becomes — the bigger the portal is, the bigger the ghost that can slip through gets. 

Please don’t make him face the snake’s fucking cousin. Danny prays, rapidly scurrying back with his hands raised defensively. He scowls under his mask, and waits tersely for something to fall through. Whatever comes through, he hopes it’s friendly. Or slow. Or maybe both. 

Danny doesn’t get another winged snake. 

Instead, a child stumbles out of the portal. A non-glowing, living-colored child who couldn’t be any older than six, and who rapidly spits out a phrase in a language Danny doesn’t catch. Danny’s hands drop slightly from his side, bewilderment settling in the back of his throat. 

As the child rights himself, the portal dissipates behind him with a hissing sigh. It takes Danny’s ghost sense with it, and the chill evaporates from his mouth. 

Oh, oh no. 

Danny’s heart drops from his feet straight into the ground. Six feet into the ground. Oh, fuck. 

That was a living child. That was a living child. That was a whole-ass living child.

If natural portals were rare, then whatever the hell this was — teleportals, Vlad’s teleports, whatever — was unheard of. The only time he’s seen a portal that transported someone from one place to another on the same plane of existence was Vlad. His man-made teleportals. 

Natural portals between one place to another? He’s never heard of such a thing. And one just opened in front of him and spat out a child. A human, living child. A portal just kidnapped a child.  

A child who, Danny realizes, is holding a sword. A katana, of all things. One that was designed to match his size. A child who was, for a lack of better words, wearing something Danny would expect a ninja to wear. A child who was dressed from head to toe in black. 

A child who looks suspiciously like a baby-faced Damian Wayne. Brown skin and green eyes and all, but with youth still clinging to his cheeks. It couldn’t be Damian Wayne himself — that boy was thirteen, and Danny would’ve heard from Sam if something happened to him. 

So this meant either two things: Damian Wayne was just now turned into a child and dropped into Danny’s lap, or this was a clone of Damian Wayne. Danny was thinking it might’ve been the latter. 

Fuck you, Murphy, he thinks instantly, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. This was mean. 

He stares, uncertainty — and perhaps a little bit of nausea — forming a pit in his chest, as the child makes eye contact with him. The air is silent and thick — with dust, asbestos, or just the silence, Danny isn’t sure. Maybe all three. But they stare at each other for a long, suffocating moment. 

Then the kid — Damian — lunges at him, his sword quickly unsheathed.

“Shit!” Danny dives back, just barely dodging being grazed by the gleaming blade. That was fast. Danny isn’t around living kids often but that was too fast, that much he knows. Kids don’t move that fast on their own. Not without being taught.

Damian spits something at him in that foreign language, his face twisting with anger, and the kid turns himself and lunges once again. Danny dodges again, swatting the sword away reflexively with the side of his gloved hand. 

“I can’t understand you.” He tells him, his voice comes out rougher than he meant it to, and it comes out muffled from his mask. Please tell me you know English, he hopes, hopping up onto the old conveyor belt. 

“'Akhbirni 'ayn 'ana walan 'aqtulak.” Damian snarls, chasing up after him with worrying ease. Danny swats away another stab at him, frowning when the blade leaves a cut in his leather glove. It doesn’t reach skin, but the fact of the matter is that Damian still cut his glove. 

He doesn’t know English either, great. Perfect. Fantastic, even. Danny backs up on the conveyor belt, twisting away from Damian’s attacks with… well, not relative ease, the kid is faster than Danny’s expecting, but he’s not getting hits in. So some ease. 

But Danny’s been fighting ghosts for the last two years. Fighting entities capable of moving at the speed of light leaves you with quick reflexes and even quicker eyes. Damian jumps up to try and kick him in the face, and Danny ducks down and dashes off the conveyor belt, hopping to the next one over.   

When his feet hit the belt, he uses the momentum to leap up onto a rusty shelf. His fingers dig into the sides, and he climbs, vaulting his legs up to the top once he’s high enough. He twists around and stares down at Damian, instinctively crouched on his fours. “I’m not fighting you.” Danny says sternly, watching the kid hop after him. “I don’t fight the living, and I don’t fight kids.” Living ones, that is. Youngblood was fair game. 

Damian scowls, pointing his sword at him accusingly from the conveyor below. “Tawaqaf ean alrakd wawajahani 'ayuha aljaban!” Then he’s jumping up after him, doing an impressive flip in the air before latching onto the lower shelves and climbing up. 

Admittedly, Danny is rooted to his spot with disbelief. What the fuck? “Who taught you that?” He says unwittingly, bewilderment slipping into his voice. Seriously — who taught him that? What six year old knows how to do a backflip at this age? Who made you, kid?

Naturally, Damian doesn’t answer him, and Danny grabs his grappling gun and aims it at the rafters. With a quick pull of the trigger, the hook shoots out and wraps around one of the beams. Danny yanks back, and he braces as the cord yanks him forward in return. When he reaches the beam, he pulls himself up as the cord unravels itself and retracts back into the gun. 

Danny shoves his gun back onto his belt, and disappears into the shadows of the ceiling.

Just in time, Damian was at the top of the shelving unit he was just on, and the kid stomps his foot angrily. Briefly, a smile tugs at the corner of Danny’s mouth, amusement fizzing out in his lungs. “Tawaqaf ean alrakd!” The kid yells, his hands shaking at his sides. “'Ayn 'akhadhatni ya Lieazir!” 

He swivels his head around, his face scrunched up in the dark room as he searches the rafters. Danny silently crawls across the beam, stooping low and moving slowly, and never taking his eyes off Damian. 

The kid is wound up like a spring, and jumpier than a war vet on the Fourth of July. It’s a little funny, but as Danny creeps through the ceiling, the kid only grows more frantic. The only light coming through is the muffled, yellow dim of the streets, and the moonlight that was in the middle of waning from gibbous to crescent. Good enough that Danny can see the kid’s face shifting from anger to fear. 

“Laeazir!” He yells again, and his voice cracks. Danny stills. “Akhruj huna Lieazir!” 

Okay, it wasn’t funny anymore. Danny holds his breath, watching as Damian’s expression fluctuates between scowling fury and wild-eyed panic. He’s twisting on his feet, whatever lethal grace he had earlier from their brief fight is gone now, replaced with clumsy, fawn-like alarm. 

Damian breathes in deeply, and Danny can see the whites of his eyes when he turns his head wildly in his direction. “Azhar nafsak!” 

He’s scared. Danny realizes, pricking up slightly from the rafter. He’s scared. That’s why he attacked him, he’s scared. Of course he is, Danny thinks, feeling like an idiot. He crawls over the beams again, creeping around Damian, keeping his gaze sharp on the kid’s feet. With how much he was spinning, he’s a little worried he was going to fall off the shelf. 

Of course he’s scared, he thinks again. He’s a kid, he doesn’t know any English, and he’s alone. Danny can’t imagine what’s going on through his head — of course he’s scared. He must be terrified. He looks terrified. 

Danny raises himself up carefully, gripping onto the rafters, and dashes across quickly. Damian whirls around towards him, his hands flying to his katana at his sheathe. His fear smothers on his face, and Damian tenses up defensively. 

The grappling gun finds its way back into Danny’s hands, and Danny shoots it at a beam connected to one of the pillars. When it catches, he leans to the side, and lets himself fall. The cord goes taut, and Danny flicks a small button on the side that allows him to lower to the ground with some relative ease. 

With his back to Damian, he hears a quiet scuffle and the shelf creaks. When his feet touch the ground, he tugs on his gun and the cord retracts. Danny can hear quiet, rapid-approaching footsteps coming up behind him, and he shoves his grappler back into its place and whirls around. 

And immediately, reflexively, catches the blade being swung at him with both hands. Shit, he wheezes out harshly, eyes widening in shock. The blade digs into his hands, but there’s no sting — his gloves had taken the brunt of the hit. They were probably ruined after this, but Danny’s less upset over that more than he is relieved. 

Damian glowers up at him, and this close up, Danny can very barely see a watery sheen covering his bottom eyelashes. His heartstrings pull, but it doesn’t stop him from curling his fingers tight around his katana to prevent him from pulling away. 

“Let me help you.” Danny says, rushed. He doesn’t understand him, the obvious part of his mind whispers. He needs to get him to understand him. Damian’s arms tremble slightly, he pushes down harder on Danny’s hands. But he doesn’t budge. 

He tries to yank it back instead, and it gives slightly — only for Danny to readjust his grip, despite the fear spiking in his heart. Cold metal kisses at part of his palm. It’s cut through his glove more. “Put the sword down.” 

“'Ayn 'ana.” Damian snarls at him, there’s still a tremble in his voice. “'Ayn 'akhadhatni.” 

A low, frustrated sound emits in the back of Danny’s throat. “I can’t understand you.” He snaps, if the kid would stop trying to kill him for five seconds, maybe they’d be able to get somewhere. “And you can’t understand me.” But if you’d stop attacking me, I could figure out a way how. 

Something takes mercy on Danny — because Damian gives up on trying to take back the sword. He lets go of the handle, and Danny sees an opening. Immediately, he tosses the sword off to the side, ignoring the clattering and skidding it makes against the concrete floor. The kid is fast, but Danny is faster. He wraps his hand around Damian’s forearm and yanks him forward. 

Damian yells angrily, and Danny traps his arm against his chest and twists him around so that his back is to his chest. Danny is also stronger. Both as a given from his size, and what he does every night. Trapping Damian against him is easier done and said, and Danny immediately sits them both on the ground once he has a good purchase on him. 

“'Utliq sarahi!” Damian yells, thrashing against him violently. Danny simply tilts his head up to prevent Damian from headbutting him in the chin, and wraps an arm around his torso tightly so he can fish for his phone. “'Ayuha alqadharatu! 'Utliq sarahi!”

Danny doesn’t know what he’s saying but he can guess, and he readjusts his arm when Damian nearly slips out. “No.” He says curtly, and when he gets out his phone, he sets it down briefly so he can pull his glove off. With his other arm preoccupied with keeping Damian still, Danny tugs it off with his teeth instead.

Silently, he inspects his palm for any injuries from the katana. He hadn’t felt anything, but it doesn’t hurt to check. He smiles faintly, relief weighting off his shoulders, when all he finds is a small cut near the meat of his palm. Not even deep enough to bleed. It stings, but it won’t even scar. 

He picks up his phone again, and with his mask on he can’t use the facial recognition. Danny taps in his password with his thumb, and quickly pulls up a translator. In his arms, Damian continues to thrash around, twisting and trying to pretzel himself out of his grip. 

“'Ana Damian Al Ghul, dam Ras Alshaytan!” Damian demands. Danny is a little worried that he might bite him, and he hoists him back up onto his lap when he tries to wriggle down. “Yajib 'an tastamie li'awamiri ya Lieazir!” 

Al Ghul. Danny’s never heard that last name before, and he pauses from his typing to frown. “Hm.” Damian — the original, that is, not the clone in his arms, — went by his father’s surname, and Danny can’t remember if it was ever released what the mother’s last name was. 

He quickly swaps the tab on his phone to a new one, and types into the search bar: ‘Damian Wayne mom last name’ and clicks enter. There’s a few seconds where his phone is loading, and then it pulls up the results. And with it, is a chunk of text from the top article: Damian’s mother was kept anonymous for her privacy’s sake. Who she was, what her name is, it’s all unknown other than that she was Chinese-Arabic. A remarkable feat of anonymity in the grand scheme of things and the all seeing eyes of the internet. 

“Hn.” Danny’s mouth presses into a line, and he glances down to Damian. Original Damian’s maternal surname was unknown, and now he knows that his clone was calling himself Damian, what was the off chance that ‘Al Ghul’ was a random last name given to him, and wasn’t actually his mother’s surname?  

…Not likely. Or it was a low chance. 

Putting that aside, he swaps back to the translator and converts what he wrote into Arabic. Damian’s mother was Arabic-Chinese, and the language Damian was speaking didn’t sound like Chinese. So, fingers crossing, he hopes it’s Arabic. 

Turning up the volume as far as it could go, he looks back at Damian, whose struggling and yelling has slowly begun to cease. Danny doesn’t trust it, and he smiles a little amusedly, that’s not going to get me to let go. He checks the translation to make sure it’s what he wants it to say, and then hits the play button. 

[I can’t understand you, but my name is Danny. I want to help you.] 

Damian jerks, hitting his head against Danny’s chest in surprise. “'Utliq sarahi 'ayn 'ana?” He sneers, “'Ana last bihajat limusaeadatikum.” 

“I just said I can’t understand you, bud.” Danny sighs, once again adjusting his hold on Damian. The kid kicks at him and misses him entirely. His arm was starting to get tired from the strain of holding Damian on its own, so Danny puts his phone behind him and swaps them. 

He honest to god gets hissed at when he has to adjust Damian as well, and Danny pauses for a moment just out of pure wonder at the boy in his arms. He was hissed at, as if he was scruffing a stray cat. He was so telling Sam about this when he gets this kid home.  

Smiling faintly, Danny pulls his other glove off with his teeth, checks for injuries, and then with a little bit of contortion, grabs his phone and pulls it back up. Then his train of thought catches up to him, and he freezes just as he’s about to type into the translator again. 

Take him home? The kid? Danny can’t do that. There wasn’t any room in the house, and how would he explain this to his parents? 

‘Hey mom, dad, this is Damian. He’s a clone of my genetic template’s son! Yeah, yeah, that template, the one who just so happens to be the old college buddy that you accidentally cloned instead of dad? The one who just so happens to be capable of suing our family out of existence if he happened to catch wind of my existence? Oh, where did I find him? Last night while I was out. Why was I out? Oh, because I just so happen to be the Phantom, your sworn enemy and the ghost-hunting vigilante who you are convinced is also a ghost. Can we keep him?’ 

Yeah, yeah, he can see how well that would go down. He might as well take off his mask and tell Bruce Wayne he had a clone already. But… where else would Damian go? He doesn’t know any English, he was alone in a foreign country with no money, no way to get home, the worst thing Danny can do is abandon him right now. 

Danny presses his mouth into a thin line, a frown beginning to pull at the corner of his lips.

…He could figure something out with his parents, Jazz will help him once he explains the situation. And if he can get Damian to agree to stop trying to kill him, then they can both make it back to Fenton Works before sunrise… Hopefully. 

Pressing his mouth into a thin line, Danny starts typing into the translator again. [You’re in America right now. The translator doesn’t translate the name of my city well, but we’re in Illinois. You are very far from home.]  

Damian jerks once again, twisting his neck to look up at Danny with disbelief. “'Amrika?” He says, the corner of his up curled up. Danny nods curtly, he doesn’t need to know Arabic to know what ‘Amrika’ means. “Hadhih Amirika?” 

Danny nods again, “Yeah, America. You’re in Amity Park.” He points to the ceiling, and gestures around them slowly. Damian watches him carefully, his eyes narrowed. “Am-i-ty Park.” Danny says, enunciating the syllables slowly. 

Green eyes narrow at him further. “Amity Park.” Damian says, slowly and sharp. When Danny nods, he drops his head and Danny tilts slightly in order to see as Damian casts the room a disdainful look. “Amity Park.” He repeats, voice full of enough venom to kill a full grown man. 

He can’t help himself, he snorts to himself and grins underneath his mask. The sound causes Damian to snap his head back up at him, and return his glower full force. He tries to wriggle again, but, like all other times, it’s in vain. 

“Sawf tutliq sarahi.” Damian orders, mouth twisting back into a scowl. Danny almost wants to tell him that his face will freeze if he keeps doing that. He’s already got his thumb hovering over the keyboard. “Yajib 'an 'aeud 'iilaa aldawrii.” 

Danny types into his phone, [I want to help you. You don’t know English, so getting around on your own will be next to impossible. If you promise not to attack me, I will take you back to my home and we can figure out how to get you home.] 

It’s… okay. Danny doesn’t really want to help the kid get home. Wherever that is, it’s teaching a child how to kill people, and it’s making clones of people. Statistically, that’s a bad sign. It also means that, for all intents and purposes, Danny should help the kid get home so he can find out whatever this organization is and, hopefully, put a stop to their cloning. 

However, Danny has his own city to take care of. Amity Park is full from head to toe with ghosts and spirits, and with his parents playing whack-a-mole with the portal’s door controls, he doesn’t feel comfortable leaving the city for even a few days. His parents can catch a lot of ghosts in only a few days. 

His parents can spill a lot of blood in only a few days. 

The evil cloning organization that made Damian will just have to be something Danny can leave in the capable hands of the older, more experienced heroes. For now, he can try and stall Damian’s homecoming and also keep him safe by keeping him housed. 

Damian, instead of wriggling again, slumps against him with a throaty huff. Danny peers over his head, checking to see if he was just pouting or had, somehow, passed out. Damian was scowling, his shoulders slumped up slightly, and Danny internally coos. 

He’s pouting. It was adorable.

The boy is silent for a long minute, a scowl carved like marble in his face, and Danny is content — no, wait, slightly content. He still wants to get home at a semi-reasonable time, — to wait him out. He is stronger, bigger, and faster than him. Eventually, Damian makes a low grumbling noise, something Danny can almost mistake for as a groan, before the kid slumps against him. 

“​​Hsnan, sa'abqaa maeak hataa natamakan min 'iieadati 'iilaa aldawri.” He says, sounding significantly less full of indignant rage, and more so full of indignant irritation. He also no longer wriggles, and Danny feels hope sparking low in his gut. Did he finally get through to him…?

More seconds pass by with the two of them just sitting there in silence, before Damian wriggles again — but rather than trying to escape, he twists his head to give Danny a dirty, expectant look. Danny frowns, confused, and then jerks — Oh! Oh! 

He fumbles for his phone, [Was that a yes? Nod if it was a yes?] 

Damian scoffs at him, looking very much like Danny was nothing more than dirt under his shoes. But he nods curtly, “Naeam sa'adhhab maeak.” 

Danny cheers, loudly. The hand curled around his phone punches skyward, like a fistbump to the ceiling, and Damian drops his head away from him. He yells something at him — probably telling him not to be so loud, but Danny pays it no mind. He’s only focused on the pure, utter, relief, pouring into his lungs and trying to trick itself out of his mouth as a laugh. 

Yes, yes! He convinced him! That’s one less worry to worry about, and as Danny drops his hand with his phone, his other arm starts to loosen up around Damian's waist — something Damian very much notices. As he stiffens up and is halfway through shoving himself out of his grasp. 

Danny lets him go, remembering abruptly the mask on his face. He lets Damian get to his feet, but he’s quickly scrambling soon after, not to grab him again. But to scramble for the katana he’d tossed out of the kid’s reach. Damian exclaims behind him, but Danny has his fingers curled around the handle before the kid can chase after him. 

When he stands and faces Damian again, the kid is all puffed up with rage again. Danny doesn’t doubt that, if the kid is trained to be some… kind of ninja…. that he has more weapons on him. But Damian looks more focused on his sword, so Danny holds up his phone-hand in a gesture to hopefully make Damian wait before he attacks him. 

“Wait, wait, wait!” He cries. Damian does, fortunately, and Danny quickly types into his phone again. [I will give you back your sword, and I will show you my face when we reach my home. But you must promise you won’t attack me once I do.] He pauses for a moment, and then types in as well: [I’ll also show you how to use the translator so we can talk both ways.] 

He doesn’t know if Damian even knows what his… father? Looks like, or what his feelings on him are if he does. But Danny was going to cover his bases, and if there was the off chance that Damian held negative feelings for his dad, he didn’t want the kid to attack him, again. 

(It probably wasn’t a good idea to do this at home, but at this point Danny just wants to be in his room.)

Damian eyes him up suspiciously, tense as a wooden plank and hunched like he was ready to pounce anyways, but he nods curtly. “Aeidak.” 

“Okay.” Danny breathes out, slowly straightening up. He’ll take that as Damian promising not to attack him. “Okay, good. Good.” Lowering his hand, he pockets his phone back into his jeans and flips the sword around so that the blade is pointing downwards. He holds it out for Damian, and the kid, quick as a whip, snatches it back from him and sheathes it into its scabbard. 

Great, finally. Now he can leave. Danny’s hands drop to his sides and he wriggles his fingers at Damian, absently gesturing for him to grab his hand. He turns his head away, searching for the door. “Let’s go.” 

No hand takes his, which Danny should have expected, so he drops it back to his side and leads Damian to the exit. The kid sticks close to him, but keeps just barely out of sight from his peripherals. His steps are quiet, Danny would say almost silent but that wasn’t the case. If he wasn’t paying attention, though, he probably wouldn’t have noticed. Ninja stuff, probably. Danny’s a little, no, a lot concerned that he’s so good at that. 

Ancients, bud. He thinks again, disbelief returning like a hand around his throat. Danny keeps glancing back at Damian to make sure he was still there. Just who, exactly, made you? 

When they get outside, the night air hits them cooler than it was inside. Spirits were still lingering around the sidewalks, chattering amongst each other and throwing him various, curious glances. Danny suppresses a frown, but can’t stop himself from making a low ‘hm.’ 

They probably felt the shift in the atmosphere from the portal opening. It may have dissipated, but the excess was still lingering around. Without his focus solely on Damian, Danny can feel it too. Like a fog in his chest. Or, perhaps more accurately, like going through the day in a tired glaze, only to be hit with pin-startling clarity. The spirits were probably trying to soak up as much as possible in order to gain a stronger physical form. 

Which, unfortunately for them, wouldn’t happen from this portal alone. Too many spirits trying to do the same thing. Not enough ectoplasm. 

He leads Damian down the steps, and over to the sidewalk. On instinct his hand reaches for his grappling hook, but Damian, still loitering in his peripherals, tenses up. Oh, right, Danny thinks, and switches for his phone instead, this is a two-person trip. 

It’d probably be rude to just grab Damian and start flying. Damian might try and stab him, or worse, try and get out of his hands again. The mental image of Damian falling nearly fifty-feet in the air flashes behind Danny’s eyes, and he represses a shudder.

Yeah, let's tell him first. 

His fingers fly across the screen. [I’m going to use a grappling hook to get us back to the house. It’ll be faster. I’m going to pick you up, hold on tight.] 

Damian scoffs at him, but nods. Danny pockets his phone, swaps it out for his grappling hook instead, and lets Damian look at it for a minute before he crouches down and wraps his free arm around Damian’s legs and hoists him up. 

Something gets said to him by Damian, harsh and scowly, probably an insult, but he wraps his arms around Danny’s neck and his legs tight around his torso. At this point Danny just rolls his eyes and adjusts his arm to hold him tight around the waist. “Hold on.” He mumbles, and points his gun to the sky. 

Flying through the city is admittedly trickier with the extra weight on his front and only one hand free, but Danny takes it as a challenge rather than a problem — if only so he doesn’t think too much on it. Damian’s fingers claw into the back of hoodie the moment his grappling hook pulls them through the air, it borderlines almost painful, and Danny doubts he could drop the kid even if he tried. 

There are a few close calls where Danny nearly clips the edge of one of the skyscrapers, but it takes one easy twist and a little bit of spinning to correct the angle. The threat of it sends a rush of adrenaline through his veins, and Danny can’t say he didn’t laugh a few times. Becoming Phantom turned him into an adrenaline junkie, he thinks.  

Damian doesn’t seem to be having much fun though, his grip suffocating on Danny and his face buried into his shoulder. He’s choking Danny a little, but he wouldn’t dare try and correct it while in the air, and it’s only bringing him mild discomfort. 

Not fast enough but all too soon, Danny is touching down near the residential area of Amity Park where the buildings are too small for him to grapple through. He drops onto one of the apartment rooftops, and his feet are barely touching the ground before Damian clambers off him like a wet cat trying to claw its way out of a pool. 

With the sound of his grappling hook receding, Danny laughs low under his breath. “Flying not for you, bud?” He asks, slightly breathless and grinning under his mask. The hook clicks into place in his palm, and Danny shoves it back onto his belt. 

The kid glares at him amidst brushing off his clothes and patting at his sides. His hand brushes over his sword, and when he feels the hilt still there, Damian drops it. The kid straightens up like a soldier — immediately killing Danny’s sky-flushed mirth in the process — and stares up at him, awaiting orders.

Danny’s smile falls, and he clears his throat. Okay, he thinks, checking himself over for anything out of place, before looking back to Damian. Resolve hardens like cement in between his ribs. He’s not going back. Not if I have anything to say about it. 

He moves around Damian and steps over to the roof ledge, swiveling left and right for the direction of his house. Which is unnecessary, he can see Fenton Works from a mile away, but he does it anyways. Anything to distract him from the discomfort that’s been sledgehammered at him. “This way.” He murmurs, gesturing for Damian to follow. Shuffling feet, and Danny can sense more than see the little boy at his side. 

Considering the way he saw Damian hopping around earlier, Danny is confident in his ability to roof hop with him — confidence well deserved because Damian follows him with relative ease. Which is still real damn worrying, but he can dwell on it when they get to the house. 

Still, he keeps a close eye on Damian the entire time they’re leaping rooftops. The boy was six, he didn’t have the same stamina nor height that Danny did — it’d be too easy for Danny to lose him on the way to the house because he couldn’t keep up, or he decided to change his mind while Danny was distracted and book it in another direction. 

They reach the house in no time, and Danny’s fishing for his key from his belt the moment his feet hit the concrete of the rooftop. Damian remains behind him, an ever-constant shadow as Danny ducks under the various legs, wires, and poles of the OPPS Center and unlocks the door to the roof. 

Getting to his room is a relief. The strange, buzzing sensation that settles through Danny’s eyes like a thin film whenever he’s using his ‘scary eyes’ dissipates, and he’s kicking off his boots with a low sigh before he can really think it through. He’ll put them back in their place when he’s done — but for now, he just wants them off. Damian pools in behind him, slinking off to the corner of the room as Danny shuts the door. 

His room is spotless — a cleaning habit he’s kept meticulously since he wanted to be an astronaut. He had planets hanging from the ceiling, glow in the dark stars muttered against the walls, and posters of astronomy, Dumpty Humpty, and NASA plastered beside the stars. And a large corkboard hanging above his desk. 

“Finally.” he groans, twisting his hips and stretching out his back before reaching over and turning on the hanging lights. A soft orange glow fills the room, and Danny turns just in time to see Damian jump in surprise. He’d moved over to Danny’s bookshelf on the opposite side of the room, his body half turned away and tilted like he’d been inspecting it. 

Danny stifles a smile, and tugs off his thermos and grappling hook and places them on the desk. Damian straightens up, shuffling away from the bookshelf and back over to him, his brows beginning to furrow with a look of determination. 

He marches towards him, “Laqad wasalna 'iilaa manzilika, walan ealayk 'an tafi bikalimatik watakhlae qanaeaka.” 

Danny doesn’t know what he’s saying, but Damian points to his face while he’s speaking so Danny figures it out relatively quickly. Besides, it’s not like he’d forgotten either. He has to take off his mask to sleep, and it’s easier to change when he’s not wearing it. He grabs his phone from his pocket.

[I know, I’ll take off my mask. But remember: you can’t attack me.] He hits play, and watches Damian scoff for the nth time, roll his eyes, and nod. As if to reassure him, or to prove that he wasn’t going to attack him, Damian folds his arms behind his back. 

Briefly, Danny feels himself nearly frown again at Damian’s almost soldier-like posture. But he has time to worry about that later, he shoves his phone back into his pocket. Danny raises his hands and curls his fingers around the bottom of his mask. 

Carefully, mindful of the straps, Danny pulls it off. The cool air immediately rushes over his damp forehead, and he quickly shakes his head with bated breath to get the strands of hair plastered to his skin off. He locks eyes with Damian, tense, and with air trapped in his lungs. 

Damian’s eyes widen comically, his scowl softening for a moment. For a moment, Danny thinks that maybe things will be fine…ish. But then Damian’s face is scrunching up again, his face sharpening angrily, and his hands reach for his sword. 

“Dijaal!” He hisses, fire lighting in his eyes as he grabs for his katana.

Danny takes a step back and holds his hand out, narrowing his eyes defensively. “Hey, hey, hey!” He hisses back, he points a finger at Damian accusingly, arching an eyebrow. “You promised!”

Apparently, the tone of ‘no takesies-backsies!’ transcends language, because Damian freezes where he stands and simply remains glowering at him. Danny raises his eyebrow higher, locking him in a staring contest, and Damian takes his hand off the hilt. 

Great. Good. Fantastic even! Crisis avoided, and no parents woken up in the process. That’s a success if Danny’s ever heard one. He keeps his eyes on Damian, before slowly reaching for his phone again. It’s like having a stand-off with a bull. A tiny, six year old-sized bull with a sword rather than horns, but a bull nonetheless. 

He gets his phone out safely, and gets out the translator. Again. [I know I’m a clone of your dad. I didn’t ask to be. I still want to help you.] And he does, he so much does. Danny was a bleeding heart, forever and always. If he can help, he will. He hopes that the blood he is made from won’t stop Damian from accepting that help. 

Damian stares him down, eyes narrowed like he’s trying to analyze Danny’s every move. Danny stays still and lets him, waiting for the jurisdiction of the small assassin. 

Whatever it is that Damian sees, it causes him to drop his hands to his side with an irritated sigh just like before. He says nothing, but the resigned slump of his shoulders tells Danny all he needs to know, and he beams. 

Success, he thinks, laughing quietly in earnest. [Stay here.] He quickly types into his phone and plays. He reaches for his thermos. [I need to release the ghosts in my device, then I’ll show you how to use the translator.] 

He plucks the thermos from his desk and tosses his phone over Damian’s head and onto the bed. It bounces, Damian grumbles something under his breath, and the phone bounces again. Danny puts the mask down, and dances out the door and down into the lab with practiced ease.

When he returns, Damian is snooping around his room, looking around his desk this time around. He straightens up when Danny steps into the room, and Danny doesn’t bother addressing it — instead he grabs his phone again and gestures for Damian to sit on the bed with him. 

It takes a painfully long amount of time to show Damian how to use the translator, with a ton of repetition and fiddling around. But they manage, finally, to get a system up where Danny will type something into the translator, play it back to Damian, and then hand the phone to Damian. Damian then would swap the translation, use text-to-speech, and play it in english. 

Naturally, text-to-speech has its flaws, and Damian is only recently learning how to read, so Danny figures out the translation errors on his own. They don’t talk for long, Damian is shut off, snooty, and reserved to him. All Danny knows is that his name is Damian Al Ghul, and he is the blood son and second heir to something called the League of Assassins. 

How cheery. “League of Assassins” sounds definitely evil. Ancients, Danny doesn’t wanna know. He’ll have to get involved if he knows any more. 

He lets Damian fiddle with the translator more in regards to searching his closet for clothes for Damian to wear. He doesn’t have any shorts that will fit, but he pulls out an old NASA t-shirt that still somewhat fits him, and tosses it to Damian. 

After much arguing, he gets Damian to wear it, and he gives Damian the bed. That takes less arguing — Damian is all too happy to sleep in a bed rather than the floor, and Danny pulls his beanbag chair out from its nook to shove it under his desk. 

He’s still awake by the time sunlight begins peeking over the buildings, his eyelids heavy and sore with exhaustion, and his limbs feeling loose and disconnected. He’s fixed up his gloves — torn from the katana, but now half-heartedly sewn up with thread and a lot of muttered swearing on Danny’s part. His mask is shoved in a hidden pocket in his backpack along with his thermos. 

Damian is fast asleep in bed, and with nothing else to do, Danny keeps his sharp eye on him. Swamped in Danny’s shirt and curled up under the covers, Damian is teeny. Well, he was small even before that, but it is even more apparent when tucked under blankets meant for people bigger than him.

And, for perhaps the third time that night, Danny is hit with just the sheer longing of how much he wants to help him. Danny is the hand that feeds, and Damian has a lot of teeth. The cut of his gloves is more than proof enough of that. But Danny wants to help him, Damian has no one else here to. Danny, so far, is the only one who can help him.

He is also hit with the sheer magnitude of what he’s just done — the terrifying revelation that Danny’s just taken in the clone of his template’s son. What the hell does that make for him and Damian’s relationship? Genetically, Danny is technically his father, but they’re complete strangers to one another. 

What does that mean for Danny? It’s been four months since his parents revealed their betrayal. Their lies. Their backstabbing, earth-shattering, fifteen years of astounding— the truth to Danny about his… birth. Four months isn’t long enough to deal with something like that. He is still questioning everything he does — whether his actions belong to him, or to Bruce Wayne.

And this? This just takes the fucking cake.

Danny breathes in deeply, snapping himself out of the slow-creeping spiral threatening to drag him under the waters of his mind. His eyes flick to the window. It’s too early to think about this. Much, much too early. He slinks into his beanbag with a low groan, stifling back a groan. 

He can worry about the identity crisis and his crisis of autonomy later. Later, when he’s not mind-numbingly exhausted and already mentally fragile from that alone. Not when there’s a teeny baby assassin sleeping in his bed who happens to be his son? Cousin? Brother? template’s son’s clone. 

With sunlight peeking through the windows, he slinks out from under his desk to prepare for another day.

#dpxdc #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpdc #dpxdc crossover #danny fenton is a clone #clone^2 #dpdc au #dpxdc fic #dpdc fic #danny fenton is not the ghost king #starry's writing #ao3 tag highlights: Accidental Little Brother Acquisition #Cat Distribution System Except Its A Child #i crave validation and attention so whoops #danny: wow that is a child! Why Is The Child Violent #danny: ahaha i can ignore my identity crisis if i focus on Literally Anything Else

[wolveria]

👀👀👀 can I ask about the wing AU??

Yesss!! The Wing AU! Which is really just a long document with the various clones and Jedi/Sith what their wings would look like.

I'm going to post it as it is because the bullet point works, and this is the "baseline" part of the winged universe. I might have several stories stem from it, because... I just really love wings and I feel like I could go in several directions. So here it is!

There are only two beings in the galaxy with wings: those who are Force-sensitive, and the clones engineered by the Kaminoans

The wings of a child will be drab until they molt in maturity, bringing in their true colors

Touching another person’s wings without permission is disrespectful and invasive, while trusting someone enough to allow them to preen their wings is a sign of trust and closeness

The clones were engineered with wings to keep up with the Jedi during the war, though this has brought its own controversy with senators questioning if engineering wings is a step too far in cloning technology, as wings are supposed to be sacred (but the Chancellor claims this is a sign they are on the side of righteousness, though in reality he wants the clone troopers to have wings to keep up with the Jedi when he orders their execution)

Yoda has grey wings, Dooku has elegant black wings, and Darth Sidious has no wings at all (he removed them at an early age to hide his affinity for the Force, and he almost abhors the idea of them), Maul’s wings are black with red tips, and Ventress has wings of white with black tips

Anakin has beautiful golden-brown wings, Obi-Wan has soft sandstone-colored wings, and Ahsoka has white wings with blue stripes

Cad Bane has wings of blue variation, light blue at the base and darker at the tips, though they are so ragged from being unpreened and kept in bindings against his back that they can only glide, not fly, until they are restored with care and practice (which is unlikely since he always keeps them hidden and no one knows he even has them)

Clones Wings:

Hunter has dark grey wings, the same color as his eyes, and the feathers are broader and longer than a typical clones’ (his brothers used to joke that his missing height went into his wingspan)

Crosshair has silvery white wings that match his hair, and they’re especially soft around the shoulders of the wings, almost downy, but if anyone tries to touch them, they’ll get pummeled for it. Not with his hands—Crosshair has learned how to “punch” with his wings with uncanny accuracy, and other troopers learned long ago to steer clear of them

Wrecker has reddish-brown wings that have golden highlights in the sun, though he had to have cybernetic feathers and muscles implanted into his left wing after the explosion that took his eye

Tech’s wings are golden-brown, and they are prone to being unkempt much like his living space, the clone too distracted with his work to care for them, and if it wasn’t for his brothers they would be nearly unusable (which would be a shame, because he flies like a mynock on fire)

Echo used to have grey speckled wings that complimented Fives’ grey and white wings, but once he was captured, the Separatists cut them off. After he was rescued, Rex and Cody made sure there were funds to build him advanced mechanical wings so he could fly again

Omega has golden-white wings, and the Batch had to teach her how to fly because the Kaminoans didn’t show her and probably never would have

Crosshair would be the one to preen Hunter’s wings after a battle, and Hunter would preen his (Crosshair would let Wrecker preen his wings but no matter how hard he tries, Crosshair’s too sensitive, and Hunter is the only one with a light enough touch to do it)

Tech doesn’t really care who preens his wings out of the Batch, just as long as they don’t screw up and pull out any feathers, and he’s more than happy to let Wrecker do it since the big clone loves preening his brother’s feathers

If a flyer goes through a traumatic event, their feathers will molt and grow back a different color: this is what happens to the clones after Order 66, they lose their individuality/feathers, and grow all white wings to match their bleached armor (Crosshair loses his silvery feathers and they grow back in a much darker shade, showing he’s not completely under their control and is suffering for it)

There are only a few Imperial clones that don’t grow plain white feathers, but instead, they grow in pure black. The ones with black wings are selected to be Death Troopers

Crosshair’s new wings are not technically black, they’re more of a dark grey, and coincidentally, the same shade as Hunter’s wings

For clones who start to fight their chips, or their chips start to fail, they gradually shed their feathers and start growing them back with color. Such as Howzer, who started to grow back his teal-tipped feathers, and he had to bleach his wings so his superiors wouldn’t find out

The new TK troopers are given mechanical wings, but they are far inferior to the natural wings that clones are engineered with, but mechanical wings are cheaper than biological ones, and the clone troopers that remain are taken to Tantiss for experimentation

#star wars #the bad batch #wings au #clones with wings #star wars wings au #i want to write things in this universe but i need ideas!! #please let me know if you have any #me swooping in with my force-sensitive cad bane agenda #but also him binding them and not taking care of them would be such a bane move

[suzukiblu]

Day ten of fic NaNoWriMo, obligatory sugar daddy Tim/sugar baby Kon AU.

The waitress comes over with another steaming mug of hot chocolate for Kon and Tim awkwardly orders not-Robin's-coffee-order, which since he's panicking he defaults to Caroline Hill's usual for. She's a med student, she drinks enough caffeine for his tastes. And also she likes extremely sugary drinks, which is definitely to his taste. 

Look, Robin can't drink an iced brown sugar oat milk espresso with six extra pumps of syrup and four extra shots of espresso, especially in front of the exact teammate who would tease him the most mercilessly for having a finicky drink order, but Caroline Hill can drink anything she wants, and Tim Drake is just gonna be channeling her for this conversation, he guesses. Her Twitter account already got him here to begin with, so he might as well.

“That is a concerning amount of caffeine in one drink, dude,” Kon observes with a raised eyebrow instead of teasing him over either the syrup or oat milk, which is not actually what Tim expected to hear. But, well, he's not Robin right now, so maybe Kon isn't feeling the same urge to start shit that he usually seems to. 

Tim's not sure how to feel about that. But Robin is, technically, an “authority” figure and a fellow superhero, and Tim Drake is just some guy, so . . . 

Actually, Tim doesn't really know how Kon gets along with civilian guys. He's seen him flirt up plenty of civilian girls, obviously, but he doesn't really seem to talk to all that many guys. Like . . . ever, actually. 

Weird, he thinks, repressing a frown. 

“How would you know, you're Kryptonian,” he says. 

“Half-Kryptonian,” Kon says, then waves a hand around the café. “And like, you know, also this entire planet is full of people who can just tell me these things. Five thousand milligrams is the minimum lethal dose of caffeine for a healthy adult, which is something like seventy-five shots of espresso, but more than four or five shots in a day is still not gonna be great for you, and you just ordered six.”

“. . . how the hell do you just know that off the top of your head?” Tim asks, blinking at him in absolute bewilderment, and Kon smirks in smug amusement.

“Dude, I was programmed by exhausted grad students pulling six months straight of all-nighters,” he says, pointing at his own temple. “I know every possible thing there is to know about every possible caffeine delivery system. Including the illegal ones and the ones the government hasn't yet realized should be illegal.” 

“Huh,” Tim says, still more than a little bewildered. That does make sense, he guesses, but since Kon's already told the team he has absolutely no useful background in any kind of science or math past the absolute kiddie-level basics when they were all exchanging information about all their personal training and experience, it's still a surprise to hear. Shouldn't Cadmus have prioritized an actual education over things like safe caffeine intake for baseline humans, especially since Kon's safe intake level is probably different from a baseline human's anyway? Which–well, he guesses Kon did get cracked out of his cloning tube early, but still. They at least should've been building up the basics for him. Like–more than the kiddie-level basics, he means. 

Cadmus is definitely not capable enough to be in charge of Kon. Like, at all. Ever. Tim has fewer and fewer regrets about this whole plan every minute, in fact. If anything, he should've started drafting it the day he met Rex Leech, never mind the fact that Kon hadn't technically existed yet at the time. Or after the Poison Ivy incident, maybe. At the least he should've done up an outline or two after he and Kon and Bart had helped Suzie escape recapture and then collectively lied to the government about it.

“You work for those guys, right?” he “asks” as Kon takes a sip of his new hot chocolate, because while the best time to start this whole plan was months ago, the second-best time to start it is now. “Project Cadmus?” 

"Yeah," Kon replies, looking a little surprised by the question. Tim reminds himself to con the team into brushing up on the superhero version of stranger danger, because Kon answered that question way too easily. "Well, just started to. I'm a field agent. How'd you know?” 

"I've done some research on you since we first met," Tim says, which isn't even a lie; just some careful phrasing. "I really appreciated what you did for me. And to be honest, I think we'd get along."

"Oh yeah? Tell me all about it," Kon says as his posture shifts a little and he flashes him the kind of smirk he normally reserves for, well . . . 

Huh, Tim thinks in vague bemusement.

Kon's flirting with him. 

. . . huh. 

Not actually the angle Tim was intending to take here, but . . . well, he's not above taking it. And anyway, Kon's just a flirt in general, so it's not like it means anything. 

Admittedly Tim hasn't actually seen him flirt with a guy before, but presumably Kon's just feeling out an opportunity to experiment or not ready to be out to the team yet. Tim's not, so he'd hardly blame him for that. Tim's not even out to Steph.

And he's definitely, definitely not out to Bruce. 

Well, ideally he'll be a supervillain before that becomes necessary, assuming his life goes to plan. 

Robin was always going to be a temporary gig, after all. 

"I don't know," he says, and lets the corners of his mouth curl up in amusement. "You just seem like my type of guy." 

"Your type of guy?" Kon says, his smirk widening as he leans in towards Tim, who decides to pretend that particular bit of flirtatious implication was actually intentional. Tim is . . . not all that great at flirting, admittedly, but it's not like Kon has particularly high standards past “didn't explicitly tell me to fuck off”, so Tim figures he'll be able to get by for long enough to have this conversation. 

Not much longer, but all the same. He has a plan to pitch, that's all that actually matters here. 

“Yeah,” he says. “And I wanted to thank you for saving me, so . . .” 

“You wanna thank me, Tim Drake?” Kon asks with a slower, wider smirk, leaning in a little more again, and Tim instantly turns bright red as he realizes how that actually sounded. 

Yeah, okay, he is actually the worst at flirting. Fuck. 

“Uh, yes!” he says quickly, very much needing to clarify that statement before his stupid fucking hormones try to talk him into maybe just . . . leaning into that particular miscommunication a little. Not the goal here. Definitely not. “I mean–being a field agent doesn't sound particularly lucrative? And I know being a superhero isn't.” 

“Lucrative?” Kon blinks, expression turning puzzled. “I mean, I guess not. I don't need that much money or anything, though, I just live at Cadmus these days.” 

“You live in a lab?” Tim says, letting himself sound as incredulously horrified as he felt the first time he heard that. “Why?” 

“I dunno, saves me a commute,” Kon replies with a shrug. “Also, like, it's not like I have a credit score to get my own place with. Or a legal identity. Or, you know, money. Landlords tend to want those.” 

“Hm,” Tim says. “Do you want one?” 

“Huh?” Kon wrinkles his nose in confusion. 

“Your own place,” Tim clarifies. “I really would like to thank you. I could help you get a place.” 

“Uh, thanks? But I still couldn't afford rent, even if somebody cosigned for me or whatever,” Kon says, looking puzzled. “I really don't make that much.”

“No, I mean I'd pay your rent,” Tim explains, which is in fact an insane person thing to offer somebody, admittedly, but it's not like Kon has all that reliable a grasp of normal social mores. “Or just buy you a place outright and pay your property taxes. Whichever you'd prefer.”

Kon blinks. Tilts his head. 

“So like, you're just a very extra dude, huh,” he says after a moment, his eyebrows slowly raising as he pushes his sunglasses up into his hair. “Like you're the guy who blows the budget on the friend group's Secret Santa out of the water every year.”

“Possibly,” Tim says, putting on a sheepish smile. Kon laughs and folds his arms on the table, looking amused. 

“You wanna buy me an apartment?” he asks. “What, just for saving your life?” 

“I really think you're undervaluing that particular achievement,” Tim says. 

“I think you're overvaluing it,” Kon replies with another laugh. “No offense, but I didn't do anything but block one lousy bullet.” 

“One lousy bullet is enough,” Tim says, and doesn't think of any bodies he's seen. Kon tilts his head again, then takes a sip of his hot chocolate. 

“Okay, fair,” he allows. “But I'm bulletproof.” 

“I'm not,” Tim says. 

“You were as long as I was touching the same floor as you,” Kon replies with a shrug, and takes another sip. “It wasn't like I did anything hard.” 

He hasn't actually said “no” to the apartment. Tim's pretty sure that's just because he thinks he's either ridiculous or just not being serious, but he's not above pressing the advantage anyway. 

“You didn't have to do anything at all, though,” he says. "And buying you a place wouldn't be all that hard for me either. Besides, you deserve a little gratitude for your efforts, don't you think?” 

"Sounds like supervillain talk, dude," Kon says, his mouth quirking in amusement around his next sip. Tim resolves to dial back on that at this point in his career. He's laying groundwork, yes, but subtlety is still the wiser course of action. 

"You say that like you've never socialized with a supervillain before," he counters dryly. 

"Well, usually ones who wear a bit less," Kon replies, lowering his mug to grin wickedly at him. Tim figures if a little more flirting might soften him up on this whole idea, well . . . 

It's not the most altruistic thing he's ever done for a plan, admittedly, but if it works, it works. 

"So you're telling me I should invest in a crop top before I try to take over the world and remake it in my own image?" he asks still more dryly as he raises an eyebrow at Kon with a little smirk, and Kon laughs and leans in a little closer again, giving him a not very subtle up-and-down with his eyes. 

"Only if you're trying to recruit me for your evil plans, pretty boy," he says, grin turning sharp. Tim feels vaguely faint, and also wants to lick the bastard's stupid perfect teeth. Jesus. "So I dunno, what are your feelings on Daisy Dukes?" 

"I'm going to be honest, I'm not actually that much of an exhibitionist so at this point we're just describing my ideal costume updates for you," Tim informs him. 

"Oh yeah?" Kon asks with another laugh even as he straightens back up to visibly preen at the suggestion. Tim is all for that, personally. Both the preening and the theoretical updates, in fact. And, a little more weirdly, just the idea of having anything whatsoever to do with what Kon might ever decide to wear. Especially whatever he might decide to wear for his costume. 

Yeah, that's probably a later thought, Tim decides. Like, a private-time kind of later thought. Specifically “behind locked doors in an empty house” private-time, actually.

"You're solar-powered, aren't you?" he says reasonably, because apparently he likes to suffer and also make himself low-key insane. "Showing a bit more skin can't hurt." 

"I wonder if Superman would buy that excuse," Kon says musingly. 

"Power Girl exists," Tim replies still more reasonably. "And Supergirl wears a miniskirt, last I checked." 

"Valid," Kon says, putting on a mock-thoughtful expression and tapping the side of his jaw. "Maybe I'll put in some cutouts and go for a lower neckline, tell the big guy he's making the rest of us look like prudes. What do you think, bikini or high-cut bottoms?"

"I don't know the difference," Tim lies, desperately trying not to overheat and die at that question and every single accompanying mental image that his useless brain has so helpfully decided to supply. "You'll have to provide examples."

"Will I now," Kon says, grinning all over again and pointedly striking a very suggestive pose in his seat. Tim valiantly struggles not to melt. "What, pretty boy, you want a fashion show?" 

"Well I did want to be a photographer when I was a kid," Tim says, although it was definitely never that kind of photography he had in mind. Kon laughs again and shifts in closer again, though, so it's worth it. Tim is mortified, but also undeniably into just . . . all of this, really, just everything about this conversation. Robin can't flirt with Superboy, but, well . . . Tim Drake still isn't Robin, now is he? 

He's probably taking advantage of the situation a little, Tim can admit to himself, but it's still just . . . nice. He's wanted to flirt with Kon for way too long, at this point. Indulging in a little bit of it isn't the worst thing he could do. 

And again, it's Kon, so it's not like it's serious or anything. The guy won't even remember this conversation tomorrow, much less anything about Tim Drake. 

. . . admittedly that'd be counterproductive to Tim's long-term goals here, but still. He's willing to take his time on this. There's a plan. It has steps. Layers. Processes. 

"I like you, man," Kon says with a wider grin, which is in absolutely no way whatsoever in the plan. "You're funny."

Tim stares blankly at him as it occurs to him, almost disbelievingly, that he might've . . . made a good impression on Kon? Somehow? 

Well, that's weird.

"I'll never get a fashion show out of you if I'm not at least funny," he says on autopilot, as someone who's been well-taught both when and how to press an advantage. Kon, yet again, grins at him, and gives him another much brighter laugh than usual. 

Actually, he kind of hasn't stopped grinning at him, has he. 

Huh. 

. . . huh. 

Tim really did not plan for this. This is just . . . not at all what the plan was. 

“Well, you definitely are funny,” Kon says, biting his lip around a warm little smile and ducking his head just enough to look at Tim from under his lashes, and Tim decides he can probably just amend the plan.

He's a Bat, isn't he? They know how to improvise when they have to.

#timkon #tim drake #kon el #conner kent #dc robin #superboy #long post #rinfic #wip: obligatory sugar baby kon

[tcwmatchmakingau]

An Awkward Kind of Charm

Pairing: Fives x GN!reader Rating: General Audience (but minors DNI) Summary: Dates always brought out your most nervous, anxious side. You had hoped that going to Right to Love Matchmaking would ease that burden, but now, pacing outside the venue of your first date, you weren't so sure. A.N: I'm just really in love with the idea that Fives likes shy people, I just think they help balance him and in turn he'd bring his love out of their shell. This is a little shorter than my usual work, but I hope you guys like my first take on the matchmaking AU! <;3 Word Count: 1618

Warnings: descriptions of anxiety, spiraling thoughts, and some minor self-deprecation.

"Alright, okay, I can do this!"

You had honestly lost track of how many times you had said that to yourself. It started all the way back at your apartment, as you stared into the mirror and hyped yourself up... and as you stood in your open doorway for a good three minutes. Then it continued on the cab ride here...and while you convinced yourself to climb out of the cab. Now it continued, as you stared at the doors for maker only knew how long.

Dozens of clones and natborns alike had gone inside as you stood frozen in front of the steps. It was an event hosted by Right to Love itself, apparently, there had been such an influx of customers recently, that they had whipped this up: a casual party newcomers could opt in for as their first date with their matches. The idea was that the group setting would make you less nervous, that's why you had agreed when your matchmaker brought it up.

Instead, standing here now, your brain was cooking up 89 different reasons this could go horribly wrong!

What if there were too many people inside? What if your match thought you were boring and sat with his brothers instead? What if you did something stupid in front of not only your date, but his brothers too? What if you mistook your date for one of his brothers?? Oh maker, you would never recover from the guilt of something like that!

"No, stop that, stop spiraling!" you muttered under your breath, making yourself close your eyes and take in a deep breath. In. Out. One, two, three. "I can do this!"

Your eyes shot open, determined as you marched up the steps, put your hand on the door- then turned right on your heel and ran back down.

"I can't do this!"

To stop yourself from marching back to the landing platform for a cab out of there, you started pacing instead. Your clothes were way too tight, your skin too hot and sweaty, even as you pulled your top away from your body and started fanning yourself.

This was ridiculous, the whole point of going to this matchmaking service was to make you less nervous! The thought that you were meeting someone who was statistically supposed to like you was meant to ease your mind, not create new fake scenarios to stress over. Now all you could think about was how you might fail to meet his expectations, this was way too much press-

Just as you were making another turn in your frantic pacing, your body hit something large and firm. You had barely stumbled back before hands were gently gripping your arms.

"Whoa there," the person said, a deep warm chuckle ending the words.

After shaking your head, you righted yourself enough to stare up beyond the firm chest you had run straight into. He was a clone, that much you could tell, like half the others who had already gone inside. He sported a goatee and was smiling at you with warm, dark eyes.

"You okay?" he asked, "You were looking real nervous, even before you bumped into me."

"Oh- I'm so sorry!" you couldn't meet those soft eyes, so instead you stared down at his broad shoulders while your face became an inferno of embarrassment. "I should have been looking where I was going, I wasn't trying to get in your way."

"In my way? Nah, I kinda stepped right into your path, I saw you pacing and wanted to make sure you were okay."

Rather sheepishly, you tilted your gaze back up to his. His smile was less toothy now, but no less warm. "Tha-that was very kind of you," you managed, but that was also the moment you realized he was still holding you, which made your skin heat up even more.

He must have noticed you fidget, because he instantly dropped his hands from your arms and took a small step back. "You still haven't answered my question, you know," he teased.

"What?"

"My question. I asked if you're okay," another deep chuckle, "you look like you're about to jump out of your skin."

"Oh! Oh, I was just trying to calm myself. I'm just really nervous about this date."

"Nervous? Worried your trooper won't be a prince charming?"

You blinked stupidly at him, "Him? No, no I'm nervous about me! I'm a total wreck when meeting new people, especially on dates."

"Ah, I see," he folded his arms over his chest, "so you're just shy?"

"Something like that," despite yourself, you let out a little laugh, feeling just a little of the tension in your shoulder loosen.

The man stroked his goatee with a hum, "What's your dates name? If I know him I can tell you a bit about him. Maybe that would make him seem less like a stranger?"

You were smiling now, it was a sweet offer, whoever this man was, his date was lucky. "Fives- his name, it's Fives. That's all they told me about him."

His eyes went a bit wide, "Fives, really?"

"You know him?"

The hand that had been stroking his goatee was covering his mouth now, "Oh yeah, I know him. Great guy, super funny and charming, brave, a war hero to boot."

Without missing a beat you stomped your foot on the ground, making him jump, "Kriff- of course he is!"

"What? Don't like funny charming war heroes?" he asked, looking just a little wounded.

"Of course I love funny charming guys, that's the problem!" Your feet were moving again, pacing, just like your brain was twirling back into a spiral. "I can't ever get my act together on dates with those types of guys. Which sucks because I'm not this shy all the time! It's only on dates where I overanalyze everything. In a casual, no-expectations setting? I am actually incredibly charming! I'm hilarious and witty and can carry on a conversation just fine! But when I'm on a date? Nope, nada, I'm all flustered and nervous, and everything that comes out of my mouth- if I can manage anything at all, is stuttering nonsense! And it's even worse when the person's a total hottie!! I never get a chance to become my witty, funny, charming self, because I've already scared them away with my awkward stupid self! And-!"

Finally, far far too long into your rambling, you stopped yourself, face hotter than ever,

"And, now" your sigh turned into a tired, defeated laugh, "now I'm standing here keeping a very sweet man from his date because I'm dumping my issues on him. I am so sorry," a wave of your hand towards the entrance, "I don't want to keep you, thank you for checking in on me, it was very kind of you to ask."

You had hoped that he would just nod and be on his way, but instead, the man's grin was wide as he stepped closer to you, his hand holding his chin in mock contemplation.

"Oh don't think I can do that, cyare. Fives would never forgive me if I left you out here alone, you look like you're about ready to take off."

That made your back straighten as you put your hands on your hips, "I don't run, I never run from my dates, I always face it.... I just freak out and overanalyze every cringy thing I did for weeks after I scare them away."

He let out a laugh at that, and it was only then that you noticed he was even closer now. His breath fanned your ear when he leaned in close to you, "You're gonna have to try a lot harder than that to scare me away, cyar'ika."

By the time he leaned back, a shit-eating grin plastered on his face, your mouth was hung open, eyes wide. Slowly, the pieces fell into place, especially when you noticed the 5 tattooed on his temple.

You couldn't even meet his eyes as you moved to walk passed him, "Excuse me, I'm going to launch myself into air traffic now."

He- Fives, laughed as he stuck out an arm and scooped you back to your place in front of him. "Didn't you just say you don't run away?"

"Well this hasn't exactly happened on my other dates," you grumbled, "I just info dumped all my issues on the man I'm supposed to be charming!"

He made a dismissive noise then took your arm, tucking it under his own. "Oh, baby, I'm definitely charmed."

"You're teasing me," you failed to keep the slightly petulant tone away as he started walking to the door, arm still secure around you.

"Eh, maybe a little, but I'm not lying. I kinda liked seeing that side of you, lets me know I need to take my time with you. Now, if you get quiet at all during our date, I'll know it's just because you're being awkward, not because you don't like me."

Despite yourself, you found your smile slowly coming back. He was so free and open with his thoughts, it was honestly pretty refreshing, especially with how understanding he was being about the whole thing. He forgot to say 'incredibly sweet' when describing himself earlier. Maybe once you got over your first date awkwardness, you'd joke about holding him accountable for that little charade he played.

"Now, how about we enjoy our first date, cyar'ika. I promise I'll be funny and charming, and give you a chance to do the same."

Your face was still hot, but pleasantly so now, and you leaned into his arm as you said, "I'd really like that, Fives."

#tcw matchmaking au #clone matchmaking au #501st Legion

[vodika-vibes]

Round 3 *ding ding ding*

(Should I start apologizing yet?)

Fives and "You should have told me this was going on. I would've put a stop to it the second I heard about it."

Please and thank you, my love 💚💚💚

@the-bad-batch-baroness

Bodyguard

Summary: After you get yelled at by Captain Rex for something that's not true, Fives comes to comfort you.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Fives x Reader

Word Count: 1123

Warnings: Fives is horny on main for the reader, but it's just suggestive comments and him being unable to keep his hands to himself.

Tagging: @trixie2023

A/N: This is another part to my Gryffin Industries AU, wherein bad things happen to the clones, and this company comes up behind them makes it better?

Divider by Saradika

You smile pleasantly at Captain Rex, “I’m not sure what the problem is, Captain. The agreement between Gryffin Industries and the GAR remains as it always has been.”

“You take my brothers and experiment on them,” Rex says bitterly.

You gaze at him placidly, “That is not at all how I see it.”

“Then why am I not allowed to see Echo?” Rex demands.

You sigh silently, “Captain. You cannot see Echo because he is recovering from a series of surgeries to remove the unnecessary hardware as well as repair some of the damage that wasn’t properly repaired originally.”

Rex pauses, “But…he’s alright?”

“He’s alive. And we’re working on making sure he stays that way, Captain.” You say soothingly.

Rex taps his fingers on the table, and then he scowls, “Okay, then why do they,” He motions to the guard standing silently behind you, “Never remove their helmets.”

“That’s their choice, Captain.” You chide gently, “We certainly don’t tell them that they have to keep their face covered at all times. And though you might not like it, they don’t have to listen to you anymore.”

He bristles slightly, and leans over the table, only to pause when the man standing behind you shifts slightly, “Why don’t you take your helmet off?” Rex demands.

“Because I have a computer in my helmet that helps me keep track of everything happening in the room,” Checkmate replies dryly, “As well as everything happening on this floor.” Checkmate tilts his head to the side, “You needn’t worry, Captain. We’re very well treated here. Better treated here than we ever were in the GAR.”

“Be nice, Checkmate.” You warn.

“His actions are openly hostile to you, Doctor.” Checkmate replies flatly.

“He has every reason to be worried about his brothers,” You remind him.

Checkmate scoffs, “Yeah, well. It’s a good thing your normal bodyguard has the day off, or else the good Captain would have found himself thrown out a window.”

“You…what?” Rex asks, offended.

“We’re all very protective of the Doc here.” Checkmate says, “After all, it’s because of her that I can walk at all.” He pauses, “In fact, I might fling you out the window just because I can.”

“Checkmate!”

“Fine, fine. I’m done.” The taller man settles, “but so is this meeting. I have a date in half an hour.” He pulls himself away from the door and motions for Rex to follow him, “Come on. I’ll give you a rundown on how things actually are for vod’e who live here.”

You slump against your chair as soon as they’re gone, and less than three minutes later the secret door in your bookshelf opens, and Fives walks into the room. He’s dressed in his armor, and he is wearing his helmet, though he removes it as soon as he sees that you’re alone.

You smile at him tiredly, and as soon as he sits in an empty chair you stand and move yourself onto his lap and you lay your head on his shoulder. Fives’ arms hook firmly around your waist and he lightly rubs his cheek against your hair. “You seem exhausted, cyar’ika.” He murmurs.

“I am exhausted.” You reply, “Captain Rex just left.”

Fives’ grip tightens for a moment, and then relaxes, “Oh?”

“Mm. Someone has been telling stories about Gryffin Industries.” You grumble as your eyes close, “Apparently we’re experimenting on you and your brothers.”

A dreamy grin crosses Fives face, “Yeah, and it’s awesome. We should do that more often.”

You giggle and shake your head, “Not that kind of experimentation.” 

“Oh. The not fun kind of experimentation. Yeah, you don’t do that.”

You shoot him an amused look, “No, I don’t. It’s not permitted at all. But someone is telling the Captains and the Commanders that we are.”

Fives arches an eyebrow, “They have no proof, though.”

“No, they don’t.” You bury your face against his neck and inhale deeply, “Doesn’t stop them from yelling at me though.”

“...what?”

“Mm. Rex didn’t yell, but Checkmate did think he was going to attack me for a moment.” You reply as your eyes close and you keep your face pressed against his neck, “And Commander Bly and General Secura were here the other day, accusing me of personally experimenting on clones-”

“Babe.” Fives gently pulls you away from his neck for a moment, and he cups your face, “You should have told me this was going on. I would've put a stop to it the second I heard about it.”

“They think you’re dead, Fives.” You remind him gently, remembering well the way that Echo shattered when he saw Fives for the first time, you card your fingers through his hair and he sighs, “Besides, we knew that Palpatine would try to discredit us with the Jedi.”

“They shouldn’t be taking it out on you,” Fives grumbles, and you smile as you lightly drag your nails across his scalp, and he groans. “Babe. Cyar’ika. Keep doing that.” He pleads with you.

You giggle again but continue doing as he asks. “I spoil you, love.”

“And I love you for it.” Fives replies with a boyish grin as he pulls you into a proper kiss, “Actually, I just love you in general.”

“Well, aren’t I lucky then.” You reply with an adoring smile.

Fives just grins at you even wider. “Babe,” He coos, “You’ve been working so hard.”

“Yes, I have. And I still have work to do.” You reply, “We’re close to repairing the damage to Tup’s brain-”

“Cyare~” He coos again, as his lips move to a spot just under your ear, where he proceeds to suck a mark onto your skin, “As important as that is, it’s not your project yet.”

“I…yes…that’s true…” You stutter.

“And you’ve been working so hard,” He repeats.

“That’s…also true.”

“You should take a break.” He lightly nips your earlobe, and you release a shaky breath, “Just a small break,” Fives prods.

“I suppose a small break wouldn’t hurt,” You whisper, and a triumphant grin crosses his face. “But only a small one,” You add hastily.

“Oh, of course.” Fives effortlessly lifts you in his arms, “Scouts honor and all.”

“I mean it, Fives, a short break only.” You say as you hook your arms around his neck as he carries you over to the elevator.

“Don’t worry so much, princess. I’ll take care of you.” Fives promises as he drops a kiss to your temple, “And then, when you’re nice and relaxed, you can go back to saving my brothers.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

His eyes glitter with laughter, “My own personal Saint,” Fives teases, “I definitely worship you enough-”

“Fives!” You yelp, and he bursts into laughter as the elevator door dings shut.

#star wars #tcw #arc trooper fives x reader #fives x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #answered asks

[antianakin]

I feel like there's WAY more attention paid to armor than tattoos in clone culture within fandom and I think tattoos deserve more attention than they get (and armor less). Because yes, we do obviously see different armor designs and the like, but we also see a LOT of clones wearing pretty much the exact same armor design as a lot of other clones (the Doylist explanation for this is obviously that the animators weren't going to come up with separate armor designs for every single background clone, but I'm taking a Watsonian approach here), whereas any time a clone has a tattoo somewhere, it's never the same thing twice.

Armor designs are fun, they're nice, but armor breaks and gets lost while the tattoos are on their bodies FOREVER. We've also seen a few clones who have armor designs that match their tattoos, and I'm headcanoning that the tattoos came FIRST. So even some of the clones who we DON'T see have matching tattoos to their armor designs probably actually do somewhere. So like Waxer and Boil didn't just put Numa on their helmets, helmets get broken and destroyed, they got her face tattooed on their bodies somewhere, too. Rex has the shriek hawk eyes tattooed somewhere. Cody has the sunburst tattooed. If the design means something to them, it's been tattooed on their bodies, too.

I want more shared tattoos between clones who care about each other, too. Probably not the same as the one they have on their armor, but something else that's special to just the two of them. Fives and Echo could have a little domino tattoo somewhere to represent not just their bond, but their bonds to the rest of the squad they lost. Sometimes it's a memorial for someone they've lost, like maybe Jesse and Kix have a tattoo for Hardcase after Umbara, or Fox has one for Thorn after Scipio.

Tattoos are also a lot easier to hide and keep private from certain people if necessary, while armor designs are always able to be seen no matter what. So tattoos can be a LOT more personal than an armor design, too. They can represent terrible traumas or the deepest dream, something they don't dare even discuss with anyone else but don't want to forget. Clones with tattoos of coordinates to a planet they might one day want to call home, clones with tattoos of quotes that inspire them or maybe the last words spoken to them by a loved one or a promise made to someone else that they hope they can keep. Many clones have plant tattoos of some kind, the first flower or tree they ever saw, to remind them of the beauty that exists in the galaxy and what they're fighting to protect. Names are incredibly common tattoos once they've chosen it, either written out in letters or represented in an image somehow.

Over time, maybe in a happy fix-it AU where they have the ability to really let this develop, certain designs and patterns start meaning certain things to the clones and so they become shared across MANY clones as almost a shared unspoken language. A specific design might mean loss, or specific achievements in life.

Just... more about the tattoos in clone culture, they're SO underexplored.

#star wars #clones #clone troopers #clone trooper culture #anti mandoclone #mandoclone critical