hey what if kix cut his hair because he used to be able to handle being the last thing that so many of his brothers saw but after fives dies he realizes that he was on of the last people to ever see him and vice versa

and he can’t stand to look in the mirror anymore because he doesn’t feel it’s him that deserves to be alive when he couldn’t save anyone who needed it

and so he grows his hair out to once again become anonymous in the the crowd, trying to fade into obscurity, a death of its own sort?

I have this headcanon that, when asked for their CT number, having been caught doing something they shouldn't, most clones will default to 'CT-6969'.

Because apparently someone checked and that number was blacklisted, so it's kind of an urban legend with clones, and a way to get off the hook for any damages/costs/repercussions.

Until one day, a griselled old clone shows up at 79's looking like an absolute BAMF. I mean this guy makes Woolfe look like a tiny puppy.

Scorched, scratched and tagged armour, shaggy beard, scars all over his face, just one seriously badass looking clone.

And he starts (or more finishes before it started) a fight, and when the droid behind the bar asks for his CT number, cool as a cucumber and without flinching, he replies in a gravelly voice:

"CT-6969."

And the entire bar goes silent, just staring at him while he looks around, grinning.

So when he goes to leave, a shiny gets pushed in front of him by his batch and stammers out the question; 'Are you him?'

The Old clone just laughs, pats the shiny on the shoulder and winks as he passes him by, disappearing back into the night.

some poor Twi’leks space Snapchat is full of shit like this after a night out at 79s

...at least they're having fun? find out what they're jamming to bonuses:

Biting my phone rn

New drawing!!

Shifted from digital to traditional for this one :)

I love acrylics😭

And I love this scene.

Feedback is appreciated!!

I love it when Star Wars is neon.

The Hero We Never Knew We Needed: A Tribute to Bop

GIF thanks to @skybson

Word Count: 484

Minutes Spent Laughing While Writing: 19

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The Clone Wars were a grim time, a galaxy torn apart by opposing ideologies and forceful rulers who sought to unite everyone under their own structure. Clones were created by the millions, raised at twice the speed of a normal life and thrown onto the battlefield as soon as they were able. Battalions would go forth, brother after brother falling under the relentless forces of the Separatists. Replacements were shipped in daily, as though one man could just as easily replace another, as though their entire lives were for one singular, dismal purpose. The heavy weight of conflict crushed the freedom and enthusiasm of the previously free systems, and what little joy there was to be found was fleeting, often followed by despair, death, and defeat. Wave after wave, soul after soul -- some would argue that those who survived had a harder time, somehow spared from the sweet release of death and instead forced to repeat their worst nightmare every day.

And then there was Bop.

A brave and fearless soldier on the battlefield, Bop would mow down droid after droid, dual-wielding his blasters and charging forth alongside his brothers with a fierce battle cry no matter how grisly the odds were. He was unstoppable, a force to be reckoned with. He fought hard.

And he played harder.

See, Bop knew how to live. His scarce time off was spent at 79s, where he could be found dancing the night away, a euphoric grin plastered across his face. His joy was infectious, and he didn’t care how many or few were on the dance floor -- he was there to start (and finish) the festivities. There were droids assigned to contribute to the jovial atmosphere, moving in their jerky rhythms to entice others to join, but they had nothing on Bop. He was CT-1999, because that was how he partied***.

He was such a battlefield hero that he was promoted to officer, assigned to a Venator-class Star Destroyer and placed over the ship's weapons systems. He traded in his plastoid armor for a slick uniform with gloves, a belt, and a gray cap, and proudly wore his rank insignia plaque on his chest. Insightful and quick on his feet, Bop was a legend. Droids feared him, fellow clones respected him, and creatures of all species yearned to be the one he would take home at night.

But Bop had only one mission. He did his job with precision and excellence, and when he was finally released to enjoy the temporary illusion of autonomy, he sought out his place of zen. His sanctuary. His place to both rejuvenate himself and restore hope and wonder to the galaxy through the delight of dance. The neon lights of 79s would illuminate every angle of his jive, painting the dance floor with his unbridled groovy enthusiasm.

Bop would die one day, whether by age or by artillery, as we all must fall. But today was not that day.

***(this line was a comment from @nika6q and was so good I had to add it)

@doublesunsets @rosechi @501st-rexster @meshlaxbunny @anxiouspineapple99 @softsunburstlove @starrylothcat @the-bad-batch-baroness @thecoffeelorian 😂😘

Clone reader

*Cody and Rex in 79s*

Cody: I will never understand how you are still make your men function under Skywalker's care.

Rex: well, Fives and Hardcase are the problem children. They spend too much time with the General. But the shinies are easy to please.

Cody: what do you mean by that?

Rex: like, look at Y/n. He is like a raccoon. Give him food, let him sleep, let him explore the trash on Coruscant then he is the most efficient man in the galaxy.

Cody: wait, what trash..?

*Y/n slamming the door open, covered in trash, holding a feral tooka*

Y/n: Captain, Captain! Can I keep it?!

Rex: of course Y/n, go show it to the General.

Cody: your men are insane...

Rex, proudly: yes they are.

Commander Wolffe at 79's

this would go crazy on the holonet

Quinlan Vos: Wanna go have drinks?

Fox: Sure, but I pick the bar

Quinlan Vos: What’s wrong with the bars I pick?

Fox: We were at 79s at two in the morning watching two drug dealers knife-fight each other in the parking lot.

Quinlan Vos: I provided drinks and a show so happened to show up! What’s wrong with that?

Fox: Everything.

POV: you step outside of 79s to get some air but accidentally startle the trooper in the alley trippin on space mushrooms and death stick dust and he takes off like a feral cat on crack

Ever wonder about the name?

It's a clone bar. Its name is a number. So was there a clone named 79? Was it perhaps a clone unit since there's no apostrophe? The 79s?

Forget the mysteries of the universe. I need to know about this name!

Back to my 79’s bs 🤭