thefreelancerdivision:

thefreelancerdivision:

thefreelancerdivision:

One last thing to consider before sleep consumes me: chubby!clones

Shinies who get assigned to the 501st/212th/104th/327th and are so confused. Why are their brothers are all so much bigger than they are? They can’t all be from command stock, can they? And then, oh gods above, their General hears them asking about it in the mess hall and basically tells them “Oh, yeah, you’ve been chronically underfed your entire lives.”

Like, what. What does that even mean? The Kaminoans all carefully monitor their rations to make sure they’re functioning at optimum levels, how can they be underfed?

So the medic has to take the shinies all aside and explain about caloric intake and metabolic rates and how human bodies store energy and oh! Is that why everyone in the mess looked like they were pulling double rations? They just figured it was a reward for something before they’d all arrived.

And the medic says, nope, that’s the new standard amount of rations, at least under this jetii who actually cares about the health of their brothers. Turns out the Longnecks’ definition of “optimal levels” is the rest of the galaxy’s definition of “just enough so they don’t keel over and die on the battlefield before the clankers get them.” Turns out fatty tissue is a good thing, health-wise, particularly so their bodies don’t immediately start to eat themselves if they get cut off from supply lines somewhere down the line.

The shinies are stunned. So… so their rations won’t get slashed if they start to get that layer of squishiness that happens when they eat more than they nee–more than the Longnecks say they need?

Of course not! Their jetii was shocked when they saw how little the brothers were given to eat, particularly for soldiers who use up so much more energy every day than the average civilian!

So the shinies just sort of stumble back to the mess hall in a daze and stare at their older brothers. It slowly starts to dawn on them how, how healthy they all look. Flushed cheeks, no tightness around their eyes, cheekbones and jawlines softened just a little more than what the shinies are used to seeing. They’re not command stock, they’re just well-fed. Damn, now that they understand, the shinies all look positively starved in comparison.

They all shuffle over into line and grab their rations. Pause. Look around quickly. Exchange furtive glances with each other. Grab another helping.

They move to find a table to sit down but their General, their jetii is suddenly right there, again, and this time they’re saying no, no, this just won’t do at all. The shinies all go pale, wondering how to explain that they weren’t trying to be disobedient–

And then the General is gently ushering them all back into the line to grab yet another portion, cheerfully babbling about the shinies needing to “catch up” with their older brothers, to “put some meat on their bones.”

They all look at one another helplessly until the bravest, or perhaps the dumbest, of them pipes up asking if the General was planning on eating them if supply lines got cut off somewhere down the line. Several identical voices try to cut him off, drown out his insubordination, but the General clearly hears the comment and. And laughs.

Well.

The brothers who all came back from the front to visit them on Kamino always did say that life was very different once you were assigned a General…

Bringin’ the chubby!clones back because I made myself sad and need to be cheered up