Taking a dip at the Bathhouse

seen from Australia
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seen from T1

seen from United States
seen from Malaysia
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Taking a dip at the Bathhouse
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Chapters: 7/? Fandom: Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types Rating: Mature Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: CC-1010 | Fox/CC-5869 | Stone/CC-4477 | Thire/Clone Commander Thorn/Coruscant Guard Trooper Hound Characters: CC-1010 | Fox, Clone Commander Thorn (Star Wars), CC-5869 | Stone, Coruscant Guard Trooper Hound (Star Wars), CT-6116 | Kix, Original Clone Trooper Character(s) (Star Wars), CT-5597 | Jesse Additional Tags: Coruscant Guard (Star Wars), Coruscant Guard Troopers-centric (Star Wars), a bit of slice of life, angst eventually, Polyamory, Polyamorous Character, they're all in love, Rating May Change, Cloneshipping | Clone Trooper/Clone Trooper Relationships (Star Wars), oc x canon characaters, Self-Harm Summary:
It's important to practice. Practice makes perfect.
Fic prompt: Fi’s frown
At long last! Thank you for this precious prompt. :3
Undisciplined
Sev/Fi, 650 words, Teen+, Post-O66, Mandalore, established relationship
Sev set his partially disassembled DC-17m on the counter-top with a clunk.
A moment ago there’d been a sigh resonant enough to wake his youngest batch of brothers 60,000 light years away on Kamino. It had come from between the couch cushions (Someone had placed an antiquated, aromatic, manka-hide couch in the armory — Sev knew it was Vau’s, the same way he knew something thoroughly normal had just occurred.)
A few paces away, Fi had sunk as far as was possible for a well-muscled, domesticated, former commando — into the couch, and his brows had sunk further over his eyes than Sev thought possible. For Fi.
Omega’s sniper appeared to be sulking.
Fi lived a lavish a life, Sev thought privately, never lacking for food or laughter or company. Or a hard day’s work at his own pace. Or civvie anything and everything. And yet, here was this demonstration of acute forlornness. Sev sighed his own small sigh, a barely discernible exhale through his nostrils, and thumbed his blaster regretfully.
Whateveritwas tugged him over to the couch where he stopped, shin to shin with Fi, work boots crowding designer sneakers, coveralls crackling as he spread his legs in a standing straddle over Fi’s knees. Sev crossed his arms, and Fi promptly dropped his head against them, as if the surly shelf were a specially proffered pillow.
“What?” said Sev.
A funny, moany noise came out of Fi, partially muffled by Sev’s arms, which he then uncrossed and folded around Fi’s head and neck.
“What?” Sev repeated, to Fi's black curls.
“Ingrid Irunen’s performing at the Kallarak.”
Oh.
Sev sighed, resigned. Fi’d been talking of nothing but his favorite Glimmick vocalist recently. She had a three-octave range, and based on the sized of her voice, you’d never guess how petite she actually was.
Obviously Fi had never had the chance to see her in person. There would be a sold out concert on Coruscant in five days — now —
“Quit griping then and go watch the live feed.”
“Mmmph.”
Unconvinced, Fi remained inert against Sev’s chest. Seconds ticked by, and the longer they held, the warmer Sev grew with Fi’s cheek resting on his sternum, ear against his thrumming ventricles. His thighs squeezed Fi’s tight, blood pooling cheerfully between his hips despite the joyless mood. His line of sight curved over Fi’s back, down to the visible waistband of Fi’s skivvies: a tease just out of reach.
But Fi’s face wasn’t, and this would definitely work to lighten him up.
Sev slid both his hands rather un-gently through Fi’s hair, pulled his head back, locked eyes long enough to read something like gods yes please you dickwad, and kissed him longer than was really appropriate given their location — Vau’s old couch in the armory at Kyrimorut, on Mandalore in the middle of a violent regime change.
Sev knew, judging by the way Fi melted every time, that he was a good kisser. It was a consolation. Sev felt quite lucky, actually, for a deserter clone. Abandoned by the system which had produced him. Collected by what — who — made his heart beat.
Presently, though he didn’t want to, he released Fi’s face, now aglow with renewed vigor twinkling in his eyes and the corners of his mouth.
“Alright, I’m off," Fi declared. "You’re right. Mereel’s probably got the feed up and running.”
Sev had succeeded in kissing the melancholy right out of him, apparently; enthusiasm had welled up from some mysterious store. Sev's crotch twitched painfully. He’d watch the show too, if only to herd Fi somewhere intensely private afterwards.
Fi seemed to pick up on this — he swatted playfully between Sev’s legs, just hard enough to jolt out a soft groan.
“Love you,” Fi murmured, withdrawing his hand.
shab.
Sev followed Fi dutifully out of the armory, cringing about his blaster. It lay abandoned on the counter until tomorrow morning. What a shabby excuse for disciplined he had become.
Stealing some time on a boring family vacation to do a redraw of @floaromaxtowns 's cute Maid Rex design, he is smoking hot 🥺💋
300 followers bingo - Rex/Bacara | Role Reversal AU
(In which Rex finds some strenght in desperation)
To say that Rex storms to Bacara’s cell would be an understatement. Even Fox has been smart enough not to try to stop him, knowing that when it comes to matters of the heart, there’s very little you can do.
“He’s here…” he mutters, opening the cell’s door so that Rex can step in.
“Thank you, for everything,” Rex replies, grateful that Fox had been able to arrange this little meeting even though Bacara isn’t supposed to see anyone, and then he gets inside.
Bacara looks better than Rex thought he’d be, though he does have a haunted look in his eyes that he can see as soon as he looks up at him.
“Rex? What are you doing here?” he asks, incredulous.
Rex doesn’t even deign him of a response. What he does instead is taking him by the neck of his blacks and drawing him closer until they’re face to face.
“What were you thinking?!” he exclaims, letting out every last bit of anger he’s been bottling up until now. “Why did you shoot him?!”
“I had to do it!” Bacara replies. “That Krell… He killed my men! He was a damned Sith!”
“But he was still your superior! What do you think’s gonna happen now, huh?! They’re gonna kill you!”
Rex has never been so mad in all his - albeit short - life. He’s furious.
He’s mad at Bacara for getting himself into this situation, he’s mad at Krell for being a fucking Sith, he’s mad at Umbara, because that’s where everything happened, he’s mad at the Jedi because how couldn’t they see that one of them was actually a monster?
Most of all however, he’s mad at himself, because there’s nothing he can do to help Krell, nothing legal at least…
Could he be able to do it, running away with Bacara? Deserting? Leaving everything behind?
… No, he wouldn’t be able to do it: their mission is important, and he couldn’t possibly abandon his men, even for Bacara. Besides, he knows Bacara would never forgive himself if Rex ends up on the wanted list because of him.
Still, isn’t there really any way to makes things better? Can’t he do anything at all?
They’re gonna take his Bacara away from him, and there’s nothing he can do!
“Rex…”
Rex shakes his head. Right, he should focus on Bacara right now, not on what’s going on inside his own head.
God, he looks so… well, he looks bad. To an external eye, he might look as he always does, stoic and indifferent, but Rex can see the shadow of uncertainty in his eyes. He looks afraid, something Rex never thought he’d say about him.
It dawns upon him that, in these circumstances, he’ll have to be the strong one, the one Bacara can rely upon. If he sees him falter, he’ll fall into despair no doubt, and that’s not something that Rex wants at all.
He draws Bacara in, closing his arms around him.
“It’ll be alright,” he says, despite the fact that he doesn’t believe that one bit. “I’m sure the Jedi will do something. They’ll get you out.”
He feels guilty about lying, but as he can feel Bacara’s tension leaving his body, he knows he’s done the right thing.
He’s going to get his trial soon - and it’s already a lot that he’s been granted one, instead of being sent straight to reconditioning - and until then, Rex will offer him all the comfort he can.
He’ll be his rock.
[Ok, so like, apologies for not being active recently, but also. I have Done a Thing and drawn Wren with his best friend/partner Shard, proud oc of @captainshard. This ship gives me life, and maybe after the semester I'll have time to share some of the actual stuff going on behind scenes here bc. These two. Are perfect disasters lol
Shard is bae with the blue Streak, btw 🙃]
Day Four- Undercover
Fox and Wolffe classy undercover for @cloneshipweek day four😼(click for better quality😭)
There was something about the peace on the island. The swell of the tide matching the swell in his chest. A sudden tightness in his throat as the soft, delicate fingers threaded through his hair. It was real, this was real. Dogma swallowed hard, letting go, and accepted the enveloping peace that was lying in his lovers arms.
🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡🧡
(Caption by the amazing @crosshairs-dumb-pimp-gf )