#cloneshipweek | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

eyayah-oya · 3 years

Text

I never knew what I was missing

Cloneship Week Day 2 - Soulmates - @cloneshipweek

Jesse/Kix

Rating: T

Canon typical violence, major character injury (I don’t go into graphic detail of the injury, though)

Ao3 link

Since the moment Jesse was decanted, there was an ache in the back of his mind, as though he was missing something important, but could function without it. He’d heard whispers from other cadets that they felt the same. They all had to be careful to not let the Kaminoans or the Cuy’val Dar know about this strange emptiness in the back of their minds for fear of what would happen to them. Surely, this deep-seated need for something was some kind of defect the longnecks hadn’t expected.

As Jesse got older, he began to hear even quieter rumors, basically legends, that said some of the clones found something to fill that aching emptiness. According to those rumors, it wasn’t something that helped, but someone. But it wasn’t until Jesse was eight that he learned about soulmates.

The Alpha class somehow managed to get access to the holonet, and they found the information on soulmates and what it means to have one. The Alphas then passed that information down to the CCs, who passed it down to the CTs, always careful to not let any of the trainers or Kaminoans come across the information.

A soulmate is the term used for someone that they couldn’t live without, who, once they met, would complete each other in a way that no one else was able to. Soulmates could be platonic, familial, or romantic, but they were supposed to be the one a being could always rely on. There weren’t any particular abilities or tactical advantages that came from finding and connecting to your soulmate, but Jesse found he rather liked the idea of having someone that was meant for him specifically. Clones weren’t allowed much in the universe. They weren’t even allowed to have names, though most clones gave themselves one just to prove that they were people, too. But Jesse’s soulmate was his, whoever they were. And that meant everything.

Jesse first watched a brother find a soulmate just before all the battle-ready clones were sent out to Geonosis with General Yoda, Grandmaster of the Jedi Order. He’d stepped foot inside a gunship along with his squad and a squad of brothers he didn’t know. His batchmate was pulled across the gunship until they were standing face to face with another clone, helmets off so they could see each other. The pure joy radiating from them bolstered everyone’s spirits even higher than they already were. After all, the Jedi had finally come, and they would be able to finally fulfill their purpose.

Two hours later, he watched his batchmate get shot in the face by a Geonosian and the newly found soulmate nearly break down from grief and pain. Less than a minute later, and the other clone met his own end.

So many clones died on Geonosis. So many who had never found their soulmates. So many that had, and were now separated by death itself. And there were many who followed their soulmates quickly into death, rather than survive and live a life without the other.

Following that battle, Jesse found himself fearing that void in the back of his mind where his soulmate was supposed to be. Had they died before they’d even met? How did he know that his soulmate was gone if they’d never found each other? Was it an awful pain like he’d seen with his new squad in the 501st? Would he ever be able to find out, or would Jesse be stuck in an endless ignorance?

There were no answers. Fellow clones, vod’e, couldn’t answer him, and nat-borns had rarely had to worry about that kind of thing until the war broke out. Sure, there was probably someone, somewhere who might know the answer, but there was no way to scientifically prove anything as no one knew their soulmate until they met.

As the war progressed, Jesse did his best to ignore everything about soulmates. As soldiers, they were supposed to be the best fighters, defending the Republic against the Separatist droid armies. Worrying about his soulmate would only distract him and put everyone else in danger. He’d seen vod’e self-destruct after their batchmate or cyare were killed, and Jesse could admit that he never wanted to deal with anything like that.

It wasn’t until a difficult battle on some Outer Rim planet that was mostly marshes that he was abruptly confronted with the idea of soulmates again.

“Get down! Get down!” Jesse shouted at the group of shinies he had been put in charge of. The blast of a cannon from one of those octo-droids nearly blew the head off of a kid who was cackling madly as he shot the incoming droids with his Z6. Jesse managed to pull him behind shelter just in time, practically flattening the kid to keep him safe.

“What the kark do you think you were doing?” Jesse ground out. He pulled the shiny up enough for them to crawl away from their current position to try to find someplace a bit more defensible. He’d already lost two members of his squad in this skirmish and he didn’t want to lose any more. The shiny just scrambled after his squadmates, pausing every few feet to take out the droids that were getting too close to their position.

Christophsis was a nightmare. They’d taken the city easily enough the first time, but with the spy that had taken out their weapons depot, the Separatists were winning against both General Skywalker and General Kenobi. Too many men in both companies were dying, and from what Jesse understood, no one was answering their plea for reinforcements.

New orders came through over Jesse’s HUD, and he quickly turned to gather the eight shinies he had left. “Retreat and regroup with the main army. Keep your heads down and blasters up.”

“Yes, sir!” they chorused.

The extra shooty shiny cackled wildly. “Let’s get these clankers!” he shouted and popped up to mow down a row of clankers with his Z6, completely disregarding the blaster bolts headed his way.

Jesse tugged the shiny back down and glared extra hard at him, hoping that he would be able to feel the glare despite the bucket. “Keep your damn head down or you’re going to get it blown off. Stick with your squad and head back to the base,” Jesse ordered angrily.

With a sheepish salute, the shiny turned and followed his squadmates as they ran back to the base. Jesse covered their flanks as they ran, taking out as many B-1s and SBDs as he could as he followed a minute later. The whine of a cannon sent Jesse diving into cover. He gulped in lungfuls of air as desperately as he could while he had a second of respite until the droids would reach his position and he’d be forced to move again. At least his shinies made it back to base safely.

The giant crystal Jesse hid behind glowed a brilliant blue-green and he had only a second to think “Oh shit,” before the world around him exploded.

He lost time, though he wasn’t sure how much. There was a sharp pain in his chest that hurt with every breath he took, but especially when he coughed. Something metallic lingered in his mouth, making him gag from the awful flavor, but there was nowhere to spit it out. Protocol had been drilled into his head from the time he was decanted: Never remove your helmet in an active battle. The last thing he wanted was to have nasty tasting spit inside his bucket.

Blaster bolts flashed overhead, blue and red striking against the green crystal the city was built of. It was strangely beautiful, the danger adding to the beauty in a way that Jesse couldn’t describe. Soothing. Reality warped a little, and Jesse began to drift. Drift far away, following his brothers who had marched on.

Something deep in the back of his mind snapped into place, filling the empty space that had always existed. Jesse jolted as if he had been shocked, and let out an awful sob at the pain coursing through his chest. His immediate instinct was to curl in away from the pain, but something was holding him down, keeping him from moving. Somehow, that was more terrifying than anything else he had experienced since he’d first been deployed to Geonosis.

“Stop moving! I need a stretcher, stat! Massive bleeding from the chest cavity, but I have a pulse and I plan to make sure he has a pulse by the end of the day.”

Jesse relaxed as he recognized a brother’s voice. A helmet appeared in his visual range as something pressed against his chest. A scream wrenched from the depths of his chest in response, heaving sobs making the pain worse with every breath and every slight shift in movement. It was worse than anything else he had ever experienced in his life.

And yet . . .

The hole in his mind had been filled. Jesse, sometime between long moments lost to agony, realized that meant he had met his soulmate. It took long minutes later, when the medic managed to get him onto a makeshift stretcher for transport back to the base, that he realized the medic was his soulmate. His other half. The one that was supposed to complete him in every way.

A feeling pulsed from the area that Jesse knew his soulmate now occupied, though it was barely noticeable with all the pain signals firing in his brain. It was a warm, soothing feeling, almost like a hug, or praise from the Captain or the Commander. Warm like the rare sunny day on Kamino and warm like the jungle sims they trained on. Warm like batchmates piling together in the same tube for comfort. It was as comforting as a hug from his batchmates, though all of them had been killed on Geonosis. In the middle of treating his life-threatening wounds, his soulmate was making sure Jesse felt safe and cared for. Whoever this medic was, Jesse thought that maybe, just maybe, he could fall in love with them.

Well, at least I know I’m in good hands, Jesse thought deliriously. The medic would do everything he could to make sure Jesse lived to see the end of the day.

Every step of the way back to base jolted his injury further, and distantly, Jesse wondered what, exactly, had put him in this condition. Blaster wounds didn’t usually bleed since they instantly cauterized the wound. Maybe shrapnel? Definitely something sharp and definitely something poking his lungs. Jesse did not recommend lungs being poked. Universe, kindly kark off and never let something like that happen to him again, please and thank you.

“Move! Out of the way, soldier!” the medic snapped and Jesse could hear a mad scramble as whichever brothers were in his way scampered off to the side.

“Is he gonna be okay?” Jesse recognized the voice of his shooty shiny, though how he managed to do that while delirious with pain escaped him. Maybe it was the number of times the shiny seemed to put himself in danger during the last few days.

“I will do everything I can to make sure he is,” the medic responded, very carefully not promising anything. Good vod. It’s a bad idea to give false hope, just as it’s a bad idea to promise something he wouldn’t have much control over. Jesse would die when his time was up, and until then, he would fight to stay alive every second.

-------

“You’re lucky you survived,” the medic said later, after the battle was saved and both the Resolute and the Negotiator were headed to their next mission. Jesse didn’t know the details, and he didn’t care to, either. What he did care about was the fact that his soulmate was sitting beside his bed and had saved his life and Jesse still didn’t know his name.

“I had a good medic,” Jesse quipped. He groaned as he began to test the mobility of his extremities. Chest wounds were awful, and he desperately hoped he would never have to live through one again.

“It was a close thing. You had to be put in a bacta tank for two days before you were healed enough to be put in a bed. A few more minutes out there and you would have bled out.”

From what Jesse remembered, that made sense. “What impaled me?” he decided to ask.

The medic grabbed something from the tray beside his bed. A green crystal shard from Christophsis the size of his thumb lay innocently on the medic’s palm. It glinted innocently in the harsh lights of the medbay, ethereal and stunning. And yet, that thing had nearly killed him on the battlefield of Christophsis.

“Guess the most beautiful things really are the most dangerous,” Jesse said.

The medic snorted and turned to fill out some forms on his datapad. Jesse shamelessly used this opportunity to study his soulmate. The vod had intricate designs cut into his hair, which was cut down to a buzz. He had sharper cheekbones and a thinner face than most other clones, though for any nat-born the difference wouldn’t be noticeable. There was also a tattoo on the side of his head that read “The only good droid is a dead one.” Jesse agreed completely. Mostly. The mousedroids and the General’s R2 unit weren’t bad. Any Seppie droid though? Yeah, they were only good when they were reduced to scrap. The medic’s hands were slimmer than Jesse’s, the way most medics’ hands were. It was easier to treat delicate injuries if you didn’t have to worry about thick fingers getting in the way. Some brothers called medics delicate, but Jesse had never thought that way. Medics were stronger than the average clone, simply because they had to pick up and haul brothers far from the battle while they were in their armor. Plus, they had to deal with the deaths of thousands of brothers without breaking themselves. Medics were the strongest vod’e.

“Have you finished your staring?”

Jesse smirked. “Nope. But I would like your name.”

The medic answered with a sharp grin. He leaned forward, his elbow on Jesse’s bed and his chin propped up on his fist. “What makes you think you should have it?”

“I’d like to know who my savior is,” Jesse answered. He felt a flicker of amusement coming from the space in his mind where the medic had taken root. “You and I are gonna be close, I can tell.”

“Those lines don’t work on me,” the medic said, his smile still razor-sharp. “I only give my name to a di’kutla runi that doesn’t end up in my medbay bleeding from their chest.”

Jesse’s heart fluttered in his chest, broadcasted to the whole medbay by the karking machine monitoring his vitals. The medic had called him “runi”. Soul. The Alphas had overheard that word from some of the trainers on Kamino when they talked about families left behind or marching ahead. The medic really was his soulmate.

Said medic was a karking bastard though and should definitely stop smirking like that every time Jesse’s heart literally skipped a beat. That smirk was doing dangerous things to his mind, and he hated that he was stuck in a bed in the medbay for the foreseeable future. At least he’d be able to talk to his soulmate and get to know him. If said soulmate would karking cooperate.

“Kix,” the medic said after a few minutes of Jesse trying to tamp down his blush and get his wayward heart to stop betraying him.

“Huh?” Jesse said intelligently.

“My name. Kix. With an x.”

Kix. Jesse rolled the name around in his head for a few seconds before he decided that the name suited his soulmate. “I’m Jesse. It’s nice to finally meet you.”

“You too.” The smirk shifted into a softer smile. One that reminded Jesse of the warmth he had felt when their connection had snapped into place and Kix tried to comfort him while treating his shrapnel wound. The warmth that delirious Jesse had decided he could easily fall in love with.

With a clap of his hands, Kix turned away from Jesse’s bed, who immediately ached to reach out and keep. He didn’t want to be alone and he certainly didn’t want his soulmate to leave.

“Now that you’re awake, I have a pack of shinies that I am officially making your problem.” Kix opened the medbay doors and waved to someone down the hall. He turned and flashed that same dangerous smile. “Good luck. You’re gonna need it.”

Jesse decided that he would deal with a hundred shooty shinies if it meant he could hear Kix’s laugh again when the reckless one (who promptly declared that his name was Hardcase, given to him by Captain Rex himself) started talking a minute at Jesse without getting a single breath between sentences.

It would definitely be worth it. After all, the Mandalorian wedding vows (stolen off the holonet in a Mando’a learning module) mention raising warriors together. Who better than the shinies of the 501st?

#clone/clone #jessix #jesse/kix #clone trooper kix #clone trooper jesse #clone trooper hardcase #look a wild hardcase appeared #haha how did he get there #soulmate au #cloneshipweek2021 #day 2 | soulmates #cloneshipping

96 notes · View notes

blazesurrender · 3 years

Text

Keeli/Bly for the character bingo for @cloneshipweek

Startling awake, Bly counts the pulses of Keeli’s heart—pressing fingertips gently to his jugular—relief from the nightmare flooding through him with every steady beat. He drops his shoulders to press their foreheads together. An unexpected embrace tugs him down, pulling him chest to chest with Keeli, and when he opens his eyes to see the amusement and adoration shining in Keeli’s he can’t even be annoyed at the ruse of sleep.

With a sharp twist, Keeli rolls to straddle him. Bly whoops, and enthusiastically accepts the invitation to tussle. Wrapping his arms tight around Keeli to pin his down leaves his legs unguarded.

Before Bly can shift his legs away, Keeli wraps his own around Bly’s hips and throws himself to the side, taking control again and ducking out from his hold. “Pinned you!” He crows gleefully.

His gloating doesn’t last long. Bly draws on the training he got from the ARC program and flips their positions, pinning Keeli’s legs down and his arms overhead. Their panting breaths mingle between their mouths for a moment, before Keeli reaches up and finally presses their lips together.

Lips are soft, Bly realizes once his brain unfreezes enough for him to think again. Maybe it’s just Keeli’s lips. Whatever the case, Keeli suddenly scrambles backward, surprised at himself. Bly lets him go, but he doesn’t go far. Their eyes meet and Keeli doesn’t run when Bly scoots forward so they can face each other on their knees.

“That was nice,” Bly offers hesitantly, “could we try it again?”

#clonecest #cloneshipbingo #cloneship character bingo #Keeli x Bly #commander bly #captain keeli #first kiss

30 notes · View notes

solar-writes · 3 years

Text

cloneshipweek Halloween 2021 prompts

Late submission for @cloneshipweek's Halloween 2021 prompt.

Rating: T

Ship: Dogma/Hardcase

Prompt: Day 3, Curses

Warning: Very vague implied friskiness.

“You cannot be serious.”

“I am afraid no part of this is a joke, Dogma. Until General Kenobi can find a way to reverse what the Sith artefact’s done to the both of you, you’re going to be stuck like this for the foreseeable future.”

Dogma doesn’t curse, because it’s not generally a good idea to spout invectives in the presence of your commanding officer. But he comes close. Very close.

“Foreseeable future,” he echoes, torn between outrageous and disbelieving.

“Oh, c’mon,” the person next to him — the most infuriating pain in the shebs Dogma’s ever had the misfortune of meeting — says, breezily like Rex has just announced the duty roster for the upcoming week. “It’s not that bad.”

Dogma clenches his jaw so hard he hears something crack. “Shut up, Hardcase.”

“I mean, I know we’re both probably not going to get much privacy for the next week or so, but — don’t be so uptight, Dogma. Think of it as an opportunity, to get to know each other…better.” Hardcase waggles his eyebrows suggestively, and Tup’s words about Hardcase harboring the most massive crush on him hit him full-force, like a star destroyer entering hyperspace. “I’m sure we could both…stand to gain something from this learning experience —"

“Hardcase,” Rex sighs. “You’re not helping.”

“Just tryin’ to be optimistic here, Cap’n,” Hardcase shrugs, and Dogma’s left hand moves up with the motion, too, from where it’s literally melded into Hardcase’s right: an odd joining of the flesh that had taken place when Hardcase had, against General Kenobi’s instructions, touched the karking Sith urn on their last assignment to that run-down Sith Temple in the Unknown Regions. That had ostensibly unleashed some kind of centuries-old curse, and Dogma had had the misfortune of being the unfortunate karker closest in proximity to Hardcase then.

“Oh, lighten up, Dogma. Look on the bright side of things for once, would you. It’ll be fun! We’ll do everything together — eat, sleep, even shower, and I’m sure we’ll come out of this as best buddies —"

Dogma slaps a hand over his face, desperately trying to tamp down the rising irritation that’s threatening to spill over. One week. General Kenobi has promised one week to figure out how to reverse the spell, and if the blasted Jedi takes any longer than that Dogma will personally march straight to the medbay and perform the amputation of his limb himself.

Well. He supposes it’s better than being attached to Hardcase at the hip.

#cloneshipweek2021 #spookyseasonweek day 3 | curses #dogma x hardcase #crack #cloneshipping #solar writes

14 notes · View notes

onecreativeginger · 3 years

Text

MagicAU where Hunter has a bad habit of using his body as a shield to protect others. Good thing Tech is always there to heal him! (and give him smooches!🥰)

@cloneshipweek

#cloneshipping #cloneshipbingo #magic #hunter/tech #hunter #tech #ginger’s art #I really like how this turned out!#clonecest

29 notes · View notes

sergeantgoggles · 3 years

Text

@cloneshipweek

The Flowers Speak Volumes When There Are No Words Day 16 (technically) | Flower Shop AU Hunter/Tech | Huntech (feat. Echo) 1,592 Words

Light, bell-like chimes jingled as the glass front door to the corner flower shop opened, signaling a customer had entered the establishment. Taking pause from pruning his latest display arrangement, Echo looked up and smiled at the man who stood in the lobby. Soft brown eyes with lightly golden flecks scanned the flowers that were already composed and poised in their vases, and he took each of them into quick consideration. From the look of him, Echo was able to discern that the man had somewhat of an idea what he was looking for. Some of his customers did, and it was always nice to hear from someone else who was just as passionate about flowers and plants as him. Others weren’t as knowledgeable, which worked just as well. Echo liked to flex his vast flowery wisdom when the opportunity presented itself.

“Hey there,” he greeted after a moment of observation. “Something I can help you with?”

The man in question seemed to be around his age, perhaps only a year or two in difference. He smiled sheepishly, and it might have been the cutest thing Echo had seen all day. Turning back to one of the displays, the man gestured with his head.

“I think I want something that looks like this,” he told him, but there wasn’t much confidence in his voice.

Echo followed his gaze to a bouquet of different colored roses. At the time he had made the arrangement, he had done so for the annual Pride Parade, a simple showcase of colors of the rainbow. There were other arrangements like that in different pride flag colors, but Echo had taken them off display to refresh them. Only the rainbow bouquet remained.

Smiling, Echo chuckled. “They’re quite colorful, aren’t they? What’s the occasion?”

“...No occasion,” the man, who Echo now noticed was covered in a number of tattoos, replied shyly. “I just want to give someone flowers.”

This earned another chuckle from Echo. “Flowers are an excellent gift, but can have a number of different meanings. For example, those roses certainly look pretty, and if that’s what you’re going for, that’s perfect. If you want them to have meaning, though, I suggest something that isn’t so cliche.”

The man nodded, seemingly following along, then crossed his arms. “So how do I tell someone that I’m thinking of them without coming on too strong?”

A lightbulb clicked on in Echo’s brain, and he grinned. Without a word, he left the man standing in the sunlit lobby surrounded by flower arrangements and hanging plants. When he returned, there were two stools in his hands, and he placed them on the customer side of the counter. He took a seat and offered for the man to do the same. There was a slight hesitation, but the man accepted and sat beside him.

“Tell me about her,” Echo said, his smile never leaving his face. It was his life’s mission to help people communicate their feelings through flowers and plants. They were a natural beauty that everyone could cherish in their own ways and could say so much with just a little bit of thought.

“Um, it’s…” The man hesitated again, and this time Echo caught the blush of a man who didn’t want to out himself. Sympathetically, he laughed.

“I shouldn’t have assumed, I’m sorry.” Echo apologized, which seemed to make the man relax his shoulders a little. He knew what it was like to be judged for his sexuality, and he certainly wasn’t going to do that to this man. What he needed was reassurance and guidance.

“I’m Echo, by the way,” he changed tactics and offered his hand. “I’m the owner here.”

“Hunter,” the man next to him replied with his own soft smile as he took Echo’s hand. “I’m the manager of the tattoo shop across the street.”

“Small world,” Echo laughed as they shook hands, then prompted him again. “So Hunter, tell me about him.”

As he situated himself on the stool better, Hunter took a deep breath and told Echo about the guy he’d met on a dating app as a last ditch effort before he gave up on dating altogether, how they had been talking for a couple of weeks, but they had never seen any photos of the other or met in person. Echo had his own reserved thoughts about that, but he supposed the mystery of it could have been interesting. Hunter continued to tell him that right now it’s really casual, but they’ve been talking more and more the last few nights.

“There’s something about him,” he admitted with a shy tap of his fingers on the counter. “I can’t put a word to it, but I know that I want to mean something to him.”

Echo felt his heart melt a little. Of course, he knew the feeling well, and he felt it every time his husband smiled. Hunter was falling in love with his mystery man, whether he knew it or not, and he was going to help play a part in it.

“So you know a little bit about what you’re looking for in an arrangement then?” Echo edged them back to their business discussion.

“I do flower tattoos for people all the time. Most of the time it’s for a lost loved one, and the flower meant something special to them, so I’ve learned a little bit about the language of flowers just from listening to clients.” Hunter explained, “But, well, flowers were never really something I thought about growing up, or even now, but I wanted to be able to get him something nice to let him know I’m thinking about him without dropping to one knee.”

They both laugh at that, and Echo grinned. “I think I’ve got one for you. It’s one of my simple pre-arranged sets, but it will be perfect for what you want to convey.”

Echo stood and quickly whipped around the counter to the small bookshelf against the back wall. On top of it was a small arrangement of a yellow flower with layers of small petals that fanned out from the center placed delicately in a pearlescent spherical vase. Scattered amongst the yellow were branches of vivid green ferns. Carefully, Echo cupped his hands around the base and carried it back to where Hunter was still perched on the stool.

“Here,” he said cheerfully as he placed the case on the counter. “They’re zinnias. The yellow ones specifically mean ‘daily remembrance,’ or rather, ‘thinking of you.’”

A delighted glint sparkled in Hunter’s eyes as he looked them over. “And the leaves?”

“They’re ferns,” Echo supplied, amused. “If this guy is anything like you say he is, he’s pretty magical, or at least, that’s how he makes you feel. Ferns are a symbol of magic and fascination.”

Hearing that shot a dark flush across Hunter’s cheekbones, but he didn’t deny that was how he felt. Instead he ran his fingers gently along the edge of one of the fragile blooms. “Yeah, he is pretty amazing.”

Echo crossed his arms, pleased with how things were playing out. It wasn’t often that he got a customer that was as genuine as Hunter. Most of his clients were men who had forgotten special dates and had to make it up to their spouses, or extravagant arrangements for events and weddings. It wasn’t everyday that someone came in simply looking to woo a special someone in their lives.

“How much do I owe you?” Hunter’s voice cracked through Echo’s internal reverie.

After a moment's thought, Echo chuckled softly and shook his head. “It’s on the house. Just fill out the card on the counter with where to send them and I’ll take care of it from there.”

Hunter gawked, looking between the florist and the arrangement. “Seriously?”

“Completely,” Echo assured. “If things go well, come back and see me. We can talk about money then.”

The tattoo artist hesitated, and Echo understood why. Freebies weren’t the best way to go about doing business, but sometimes taking a bit of a loss for a greater good was worth it. He watched as Hunter mentally wrestled with himself before conceding to the offer given to him.

“Fine, but if you see me again, I’m paying you double,” Hunter bargained as he grabbed one of the flower ended pens from the cup on the counter and began filling out the card.

“I’ll hold you to it,” Echo laughed with a shrug.

Once Hunter had filled out the information, he stood from the stool. Now that the exchange was over, Echo could tell he was nervous.

“Hey, Hunter?”

Hunter glanced up to meet his gaze, and Echo made sure to hold him there as he gave the man a reassuring smile. “You seem like a nice guy. I’ve only known you for fifteen minutes, but I don’t see many guys like you come through here. If this guy is as wonderful as you make him out to be, he’s going to love the flowers.”

Slowly, the tension fell from Hunter’s shoulders, and confidence replaced the anxiety in his molten dark eyes. “Thanks. I hope so.”

Without another word, and before he could get cold feet on the whole thing, Hunter exited the shop, the light jingle of chimes signaling another customer come and gone. As Echo looked over the arrangement, his hand slid to the delivery slip. He read the name aloud with a smile on his lips.

“You are a lucky man, Tech. I hope you know that.”

#cloneshipweek2021 #day 16 | flower shop au #hunter/tech #sergeant hunter #clone commando tech #arc trooper echo #huntech #implied echo/fives #kanra writes

20 notes · View notes

wanderingjedihistorian · 3 years

Link

Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Hardcase/CC-3636 | Wolffe Characters: CC-3636 | Wolffe, Hardcase (Star Wars), Roger the Gardener (OC B1 Battle Droid) Additional Tags: Domestic Fluff, Hardcase is a sweetheart and is trying his best, Wolffe is quiet when he worries, Established Relationship, cloneshipweek2021, Day 3: Tattoos, Tattoos Series: Part 4 of Cloneship Week 2021, Part 60 of Playing in the Soft Wars Sandbox Summary: Hardcase could see the gears turning in Wolffe’s head as he prepped the ingredients for latemeal, but he had no idea what could have the other clone so distracted. For Cloneship Week Day 3 Prompt: Tattoos @cloneshipweek

#cloneshipweek2021 #day 3 tattoos #wolffe/hardcase #commander wolffe #hardcase #my writing #soft wars #star wars fanfiction

25 notes · View notes

aahsokaatano · 3 years

Text

Cloneshipweek July 2021 Bingo

Day 9: Hurt/Comfort

Pairing: Wolffe/Boost/Sinker/Comet

Rating: G

Day 1 // Previous // Next

@cloneshipweek

They didn’t specifically talk about it, but Comet was always aware when the anniversary rolled around. As the day drew closer, Wolffe, Sinker, and Boost would get quieter, more twitchy, and the shadows in their eyes deepened.

When he woke up on the morning of the anniversary of the day the entire 104th, save for Wolffe, Sinker, Boost, and the General, were wiped out by the Separatists, Comet went straight to the mess and picked up four boxes from Wipp.

“Their favorites. Just like you asked for,” the cook said quietly, handing over the boxes with a pained look.

Comet gave him a sad smile and headed back towards Wolffe’s quarters.

They didn’t always pile into Wolffe’s room - it was a tight squeeze for four grown men, even if they were pilots - but Sinker and Boost had a hard time bunking down elsewhere in the weeks around the anniversary.

Comet opened the door and slipped inside quietly. The other three were curled up together on the bed, awake but unmoving. He set the boxes of food down on a shelf and grabbed the extra blanket he had stashed in a drawer a week earlier.

“Shh,” Comet soothed as Boost made a questioning noise at the rustling of him shaking out the blanket. “It’s just me.”

He draped the blanket over the three survivors and settled onto the floor next to the bunk.

Wolffe’s hand snuck out from underneath to card through Comet’s hair, and he leaned into the soft touch.

Sinker spoke first. “Ni su'cuyi,” he breathed into the stillness of the room. “Gar kyr'adyc, ni partayli, gar darasuum.”

“Highball,” Boost began.

“Murk,” Wolffe rumbled.

“Patch,” Sinker said quietly.

“Lili.”

“Twick.”

“Jagged.”

Comet closed his eyes and listened silently as his lovers took turns listing off the original members of the 104th - all the brothers who had gone marching on together, leaving Wolffe, Sinker, and Boost behind to pick up the pieces of each other.

He wouldn’t let them do it alone. He would never let them suffer that sort of heartbreak again.

#cloneshipweek #cloneshipbingo #hurt/comfort #h/c #commander wolffe #sinker #boost #comet #wolffe/sinker/boost/comet #my writing #my fanfic

76 notes · View notes

professional-dikut · 3 years

Text

Day 1 - No Order 66 AU

kinda late but heres sum Jessix for the @cloneshipweek event😌

(click for better quality✨)

#extra soft #for your soul #clone trooper jesse #clone trooper kix #jessix #cloneshipweek2021 #cloneshipping #day 1 | no order 66 #no order 66 au #clonecest #jesse/kix

208 notes · View notes

cloneshipweek · 3 years

Text

Cloneshipweek Update

So...

We may or may not have made a server...

Where we may or may not have another event in the making

#cloneshipweek #clonecest #cloneshipping

26 notes · View notes

firewoodwander · 3 years

Text

Citrine — Cody/Fox

Modern au prompt

Read on ao3

Summary:

The box is modest, cardboard, and usually sits under Cody’s desk. It would be unremarkable compared to the others down there if not for the layers of collage plastered over every inch of it, from stickers to newspaper to paper photographs. All of them a variant on many, many different foxes.

For @cloneshipweek

#codyfox #cody/fox #cloneshipbingo #modern au #star wars #the clone wars #cloneshipping #commander cody #commander fox #writing tag #fic post

17 notes · View notes

eyayah-oya · 3 years

Text

A Bit of Hope to Keep You Safe

Clone Ship Week | Day 7 | Armor - @cloneshipweek

Bacara/Rex

Rating: G

Warnings: none

Ao3 link

Rex walked through camp with two cups of caf in his hand, looking for Commander Bacara. They had time to relax before the next big push of the campaign, and Rex wanted to spend at least a few minutes with Bacara before they had to be a Captain and a Commander again. It was so rare that they even got to see each other, let alone outside of a professional setting, that Rex was willing to take whatever they could scrounge together.

Eventually, he found his way to the edge of the camp, overlooking a vast violet sea. The boulders of ancient ruins littered the ground, and Rex found Bacara leaning back against the boulder on the seaward side. Rex kicked a pebble to let the Commander know that he was there, and Bacara looked up.

For the first time in a long time, Rex got a good look at his boyfriend. Bacara looked exhausted. The eyes that held so much warmth during ARC training now were shattered with grief and the burden of forever remaining strong for his men. Bacara was the bulwark holding back the tide of the entire Separatist army from his men and the rest of the Republic. When Bacara realized it was just Rex, the line of his shoulders slumped just slightly, and the man behind The Marine peaked through the cracks in his armor.

“Rex,” Bacara breathed.

With a small smile, Rex sat down next to Bacara and handed him one of the cups of caf. “How are you?"

"I’m holding up, tat’ka,” Bacara said. He took a long sip of the caf and wrinkled his nose adorably much to Rex’s delight. “Did you put any sugar in this?”

“I gave you the allotment of sugar, same as every other damn cup of caf in the Republic,” Rex said, holding back a snicker.

Bacara hummed and drained the caf as fast as he could before setting his cup down on the ground next to him. With a languid stretch, Bacara leaned his head back against the boulder and closed his eyes, drinking in the rays of the sun. His skin was paler than other brothers, a testament to how rarely he took his bucket off. Rex scooted a bit closer to Bacara and pressed against his shoulder. A shudder ran through his body before Bacara leaned into the touch.

Rex wanted to weep at how touch-starved and lonely he was. How many nights did Bacara spend alone while his men sought comfort amongst themselves? How many times did he stand guard while the Marines shook apart and put themselves back together just to fight and die in another battle on a planet the Republic had all but forgotten? There was not a single clone ever created that did well with being isolated. From the time they were decanted, they spent every second of their day with brothers. But the Marines were isolated and Bacara even more so.

There were few things in life that Rex wanted more in that moment, than to take Bacara and his men far away from the war and keep them safe and loved. He wanted to hold Bacara every night, and tell him how loved he was until he stopped flinching at every touch. Rex wanted to have the freedom to be there for Bacara since he refused to allow anyone else close enough to take care of The Marine.

In the middle of a galactic-wide war, however, there wasn’t much Rex could do for any of those desires. He could care for Bacara for however long this campaign lasted, and then they’d be separated once again with little to no contact.

As Rex ran his fingers over the gouges in his thigh plate from an exploding tank, an idea struck him.

“Bacara—” Rex began, then stopped. How did someone even ask something like this? Maybe he should have paid more attention to Kix and Jesse’s courtship.

“Hmm?”

For several seconds, Rex tried to figure out what exactly he wanted to say. There were just so many different ways it could be taken, and Rex wasn’t even sure if the Marines were isolated enough from their brothers that this custom hadn’t reached them yet. Giving a piece of himself to a brother, especially one from a different battalion, had certain meanings. Rex fell in love quickly and loved deeply. Bacara loved just as deeply, but he was also slower to trust and slower to love. It felt awful to even think it, but Rex really wasn’t sure how his suggestion would be taken.

“Rex, whatever it is, I’m sure it will be fine,” Bacara sighed. “Talk to me, tat’ka.”

With a deep breath, Rex undid the clasps of his left vambrace, the only piece of his armor that he thought might be able to fit Bacara. Without a word, he turned and offered the piece of armor to his boyfriend and held his breath.

Bacara didn’t say anything. He stared at the vambrace, face carefully blank, and Rex was terrified that he’d pushed too hard too soon. The shattered look in his warm brown eyes seemed to clear, some of the cracks healing, just a little bit. They were silent, only the distant waves crashing against the base of the cliff and the calls of local seabirds could be heard. Not even the camp was close enough to hear the everyday chatter of soldiers reconnecting. After a minute, just long enough for Rex to get anxious, Bacara reached out and took his vambrace, his fingers trembling slightly.

Rex let out his breath in relief. Bacara understood what Rex hadn’t managed to find the words to express what was in his heart. This was important, for both of them. Vod’e traded pieces of armor with only their closest brothers. It was a promise to return. A promise that they had someone watching their back. A promise to always be there for them. Some, like Echo and Fives, it was a gift between siblings. Fives still cherished the piece of armor Echo had given him before the disastrous mission to the Citadel. Others, like Jesse and Kix, treated it as a courting gift. In either situation, the two who shared armor formed a connection that was unbreakable.

“Rex—” Bacara whispered, his voice rough and broken. “Rex, are you sure—”

But he refused to let Bacara finish that sentence. Rex surged forward and pulled his wonderful, kind, gentle boyfriend into a deep and passionate kiss, though he kept every movement gentle and loving. Everything he felt for Bacara was poured from his heart and into the kiss. Every time Rex only managed to keep going because he knew he needed to come back to Bacara. Every time he thought about his boyfriend fighting alone on far-off planets, surrounded by enemies. He gave Bacara everything, his whole soul. And Bacara welcomed every touch, every lick, every bite with the desperation of a man dying of loneliness. A man dying for the love of his cyare.

Bacara eventually took control of the kiss, pulling Rex into his lap and cradling his face in his large, warm palms. The callouses scratched over his skin, sending tingles down his spine and curling his toes in his boots. Rex sighed into the kiss. He wrapped his arms around Bacara’s shoulders and let him find what he needed with every shared breath and every suck and nip. Rex could only hold tight and refuse to let go.

Since the first time they kissed, Rex had always fallen apart when Bacara kissed him. There was a depth and a passion, building up heat until Rex was panting and hazy-eyed in his arms. With every kiss, Bacara told Rex how much he loved him. How much he meant to Bacara. How desperately he needed Rex. And this time was no different.

Rex had no idea how long they’d spent trading kisses with him straddling his boyfriend’s lap, caf cups and vambrace left forgotten in the dirt next to them. When they finally broke apart to simply rest their foreheads against each other, the sun was starting to dip below the horizon, turning the pink sky a gorgeous red and purple.

“Rex?” Bacara murmured.

“Hmm?” He couldn’t gather up the scattered cells of his brain to come up with a more intelligent response than that.

“You really want to exchange armor?”

Rex idly slipped his fingers into Bacara’s curls, playing with the longer hair on top and scratching through his beard. “Of course, Cara. I love you. I can’t do much to be there for you while we’re still fighting this war, but I can promise to always come back. It’s not much—”

“No, it’s perfect,” Bacara interrupted. “I would love to exchange armor with you.”

“Good. I’m really glad.” Rex nudged Bacara’s nose while his hand scrabbled to find his forgotten vambrace.

Bacara huffed, amused, and grabbed the vambrace from where it had fallen on the opposite side of where Rex was searching. “Is this what you were looking for, tat’ka?”

Rex gave his best Tubie scowl he could, the one that never failed to make Ponds melt into a puddle, and nuzzled Bacara’s face. “Not my fault you hid it,” he grumbled.

“Of course. It’s perfectly reasonable to start losing your mind when dealing with the Jedi. No one would blame you for forgetting the little things.”

“I can and will bite you,” Rex threatened.

Of course, that had a slightly different effect on Bacara than Rex had been expecting. His dark eyes turned black with desire, and he leaned forward to leave a sharp bite on Rex’s swollen bottom lip. Rex gasped and his heart skipped several beats.

“Cara,” he gasped. “That’s not playing fair.”

“Who said anything about fair?” Bacara ran his hand along Rex’s arm, until he reached the empty space that his vambrace normally occupied. “Can’t have you going into battle without a full set of armor. That would be unprofessional.”

“Yeah? Are you going to do anything about it?”

Bacara hummed in response. With deft fingers, he quickly undid the clasps of his own left vambrace and pushed Rex back far enough that he could easily access both of their arms. They were all clones, so the vambraces looked to be the same size. It wasn’t cost-efficient, after all, to provide custom sizes of armor for the entire GAR. But the padding inside might be different for Bacara and Rex, since the Commander was built a bit bigger than Rex.

“Rex of Torrent,” Bacara started, his voice rumbling thick and low. “I give you my armor with the promise that I will always watch your back. I will always support you in everything you do. I will always love you. And I swear I will return to you as best as I can. Do you accept?”

Blinking away sudden tears, Rex leaned forward and captured Bacara’s lips in a soft kiss. “I accept your armor and your promise. Bacara of Nova, I give you my armor with the promise that I will stand by your side. I will treat your men as my own, and I will support Nova in every way I can. I will be your rock and your anchor. I will love you as long as I have breath and I will always do my best to return to you. Do you accept my armor and my promise?”

“Yes,” Bacara breathed. He shuddered and gripped Rex’s bare arm as tight as he dared. Rex wrapped his other arm around him and brought their foreheads together again, their lips brushing with every breath. He held Bacara until he was steady once again.

“Can I put my vambrace on you?” Rex asked once the shudders had faded to only the occasional tremor.

Bacara nodded and with sure fingers, Rex slid the vambrace into place and clicked the clasps closed. They both sighed when the armor settled into place and then Bacara was reaching for his vambrace. He returned the favor and soon, they were both fully armored again, minus their buckets.

“Thank you for letting me do this,” Rex murmured softly.

“No need for that. I’m glad you thought of it. I wasn’t sure—” Bacara trailed off. There were a number of things that he could say, but neither one chose to acknowledge any of them out loud. He wasn’t sure if Rex would want to wear his armor. He wasn’t sure when they’d be able to see each other for the exchange to even be possible. He wasn’t sure if either of them would live long enough to talk about exchanging armor.

None of those concerns ended up being founded, and Bacara relaxed as much as he could against Rex. Rex easily accepted his weight and held onto him as tight as he could. It wasn’t the same as being on board a ship, where they felt a bit more comfortable removing their armor, but it was good enough for now. Now was all they had, with the war pulling them across the galaxy from each other, and Rex intended to make the most of it.

(Later, his men would send Rex knowing smirks and pointed observations, carefully out of hearing range of Commander Bacara. While they teased and prodded at him, Rex knew that every single one of them were happy for him. They all needed a little bit of love and comfort with the war weighing down on them. Especially Captain Rex and The Marine.)

This is inspired by Soft Wars by @thefoundationproject . You should all go read it because it’s amazing!

#clone/clone #clone shipping #rexcara #rex/bacara #captain rex #commander bacara #soft and fluffy #i love them a lot #cloneshipweek2021 #day 7 | armor #armor swap #inspired by soft wars

66 notes · View notes