#{ I will tag it as final war arc but I mean its been over a year. I want to talk about certain panels. }

[starjynx]

CHAPTER 383!

I'm not going to tag this under a read more / spoiler it anymore because it was published over a year ago. SO LET ME TELL YOU HOW I COME BACK TO THIS PANEL ALL THE TIME. This has my whole heart, these two are really growing on me. ( sob ) The back & forth between these two of generally just inspiring one another to give everything their all is... incredible.

[kinaesthetiqueer]

What These Hands Can Be

Rating: G

Words: 7,174

Pairing: Jaune Arc/Pyrrha Nikos

Characters: Jaune Arc, Pyrrha Nikos, minor Nora, Ren, RWBY, Oscar, Ozpin, Theodore, & Rumpole

Other Tags: Post Volume 9, set in Vacuo, alternating POV

Summary: Pyrrha barely knows what to do with her hands these days. She's been gone so long that everything, and everyone, is so different now. Even Jaune. Especially Jaune.

Author's note: My gift for @ssarkosghost for @remnants-of-rwby-exchange! I am so sorry that is a day late; please forgive me. I went to edit and accidentally added 3k... It is in its entirety below but the AO3 link will be by chapters.

gloved

Pyrrha spends a lot of time looking at her hands now.

Her nails are often chipped, bitten. When she was young, her mother had her wear gloves to curb the habit. They were just thick enough to keep her from nibbling the thin keratin to ragged edges. Mittens helped protect her young hands from bitter Argus winters when she wanted to build snowmen at the park. Garden gloves kept dirt from gathering under her nails as she worked alongside her mother in the tiny flowerbed their townhouse called its own. As she grew older, darker pairs helped to camouflage the tell-tale glow of her semblance in use, carefully hiding her critical advantage. Gloves, for one reason or another, have followed her throughout her life.

The desert is too hot for them.

Without them, Vacuan sands and wind roughen her palms beyond belief. Her callouses toughen, her fingertips thicken, and her palms crack, no matter how much moisturizer she applies after showers. There are other ways to minimize the damage, but to keep one’s aura shield engaged all the time outdoors was one of many marks of an outsider. Pyrrha shrinks at the thought of attracting even more attention.

Most people don’t recognize her these days anyway. Pyrrha runs her hands through her ponytail, much shorter than she remembers. It had been like when she’d emerged from the glowing golden portal, blinking and confused, stepping into what appeared to be a war room meeting of her closest friends and many unfamiliar adults.

“I’m sorry, I… I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Pyrrha had whispered into the silence, rubbing her throat. Her bare feet made little plap plap sounds on the cool sandstone as she took a few unsteady steps forward before stopping just out of reach of the closest person- a young, wide-eyed boy she didn’t recognize.

The portal shrunk, fizzled, and faded into oblivion while she struggled to remember why she’d just stepped into their midst. She fidgeted with the ends of her sash in her hands. Still, the urge to rub her throat remained, as if she needed to warm her voice box before speaking any more. 

The crying and screaming broke the silence first- Nora’s shrieks, Ruby’s choked sobs, Yang’s cracking voice. Then came the questions- Blake’s skepticism, Ren’s disbelief, Weiss’ caution.

Are you really Pyrrha?

Oh, of that, she was positively sure.

What happened to you?

She had died, that was somewhat evident by the scar tissue that twisted and stretched beneath the fabric of her loose linen dress and the horrifying memory of searing heat. Ruby had nearly vomited on the spot at her halting recollection of her death, gaze pinned to the [place that Pyrrha massaged at her collar.

Where have you been?

That question haunts her, even now, a little over two weeks later.

One year, eleven months, three weeks, and five days. The number rolled off Nora’s tongue quicker than it had any right to, but with such fury and despair that no one questioned its accuracy. That was how long it had been since the Fall of Beacon, since she’d been gone, how long she’d been dead to her friends. It’s a massive amount of time to be unaccounted for and unexplainably absent. It had taken a woman Pyrrha had never met to get them to all finally believe that she was herself, that she wasn’t some trick of the enemy or especially vivid group hallucination. 

It was when she’d taken Robyn Hill’s hand that she had first noticed she was no longer wearing her gloves. Robyn was wearing fingerless ones, much like Nora’s, but black. Robyn’s grip was firm, her soft smile reassuring.

“Just tell the truth,” she said.

There was not, and still is not, much to tell.

She’d died. There was nothing. Then there was golden light and they were staring at her. She was herself. She was alive. She didn’t know why her hair was cut or why she had a sash that should be ash, just as much as she should. She answered question after question until they sort of devolved into a distressed, hopeful argument about her existence.

At that point, with the truth told and nothing more for either of them to do, Robyn helped her sit in an extra chair to watch the proceedings. The action of sitting only made her realize how exhausted she was by the affair, even if she wanted nothing more than to be accepted into their fold again.

That being said, the results of their argument mattered little. Instead, Pyrrha finally dared to look over to the one person, out of friends and strangers, that had yet to say a word.

Jaune?

He stared at her, blue eyes wide. His hair was cut in an unfamiliar way and streaked with white that she didn’t remember. The lines around his eyes spoke to an age that shouldn’t be possible, but his haunted expression was more than just seeing his old partner back from the dead. That expression spoke volumes, though he did not.

“Hey,” Jaune says now, knocking on her open door ���You ready to go?”

Pyrrha looks up from the creases in her palms, the unbroken lifelines and calloused fingertips, the bare nails and chapped knuckles. The tanned skin there is some of the only exposed skin she has. The rest of her is covered in brown, sheer compression arm and leg sleeves, a burgundy athletic romper, copper vambraces and greaves, and long boots and UV goggles, both suited for the sand. Her sash flows to her calves as she stands and reaches for Mellon and Tora, bringing them to her side with just a thought.

Her red gaiter hugs her neck, making it difficult for her to reach up and massage her throat. Jaune nods and turns into the hallway without a second thought though, so it’s not as if he needs to hear her say anything.

Pyrrha pulls the fabric up over her nose and follows Jaune without a word.

2. clenched

Pyrrha is dead.

Three words, one truth. Through the past years, it’s the one thing he has forced himself to believe and remember, despite the pain it causes. He had promised to fight in her memory, to do what she would have done. The tattered remnants of her extra sash always hug his waist, taut when he twists or bends and flaring out when he leaps or falls. Its flowing length reminds him that its owner lost her battle so that he might win a war. Isn’t that the truth of it? Such things are unchanging, immutable. Decades to reckon with that truth and now here it is undone, just as surely as his aching bones and rusted armor.

Pyrrha is back, Jaune thought when she stepped out of the glowing portal. Pyrrha is… alive?

Her bright green eyes, darting with uncertainty and anxiety, were as expressive as ever. Her hair was shorter, though still a ponytail in that same brilliant red. Her crown was absent, though its charms hung from her ears. With the white linen dress and her sash wrapped around her waist, she looked a bit mismatched, contrasting youth with a world weary frown he often saw in the mirror.

Two weeks and three days ago. 

Jaune’s own tally picks up where Nora’s left off. 

He can hear Pyrrha’s footsteps behind him as he winds his way through the cool hallways of the Shade Academy dorms. Her footsteps don’t sound like he remembers them, less assured. He tries not to listen and focuses on finding the way out. Another quirk of Shade was a particular aversion to exit signage; early on, it was helpful to stick with some of the other students, whether those from Vacuo or those who chose to attend Shade after the Fall. Now he’s that person for Pyrrha, leading her to the open common area that exits to the main campus.

I bet Pyrrha could probably just use a compass to get out.

His chuckle dies in his throat. No longer is it a hypothetical. What once might have been a bittersweet thought is a plausible reality.

Pyrrha is alive. She’s right there. Right behind me.

His thoughts echo her name relentlessly, a plea, a prayer, a petition. It’s caught between his ears in a way that he can’t force it past his lips. 

It’s a trick. It’s just another trick- Jaune swallows, closing his eyes briefly to steady himself. In his mind’s eye, he can see Pyrrha behind him, cruel joy in her emerald eyes, a self-satisfied smirk on her face. He can almost feel the pain of Miló slicing through the gaps in his armor again. 

No, it’s not. She’s here. We both are.

He takes a deep breath, holds it, and exhales. He hears Pyrrha step around him, approach his left side, and take a deep breath of her own.

“You… didn’t actually explain… what are we supposed to be doing?” Pyrrha murmurs, brushing against his side. The gesture can’t be more than an accident but suddenly it feels like every eye in the common area is on him and her, together.

He sidesteps, awkwardly covering the flinch by heading toward the doors again. He does remember the stilted text he’d sent; it’d taken nearly three hours to compose it.

> Need you ready for combat in fifteen. I’ll come by your room.

“Oh yeah, right. Headmaster Theodore got a transmission from a couple of miles out that a relay tower was damaged badly by the windstorm last night. He wants you to clear and organize the metal before someone actually fixes it.”

Jaune times his shove of the door with the end of his explanation and hopes that Pyrrha will not ask the obvious question. They step into the hot afternoon sun. Jaune squints, but Pyrrha just lowers her goggles over her eyes. She looks even more Vacuan than some of the townsfolk. While the so-called Beacon Brigade students, like teams CFVY and SSSN had to earn their respect at the ‘Skirmish of Shade’ and Jaune and RWBY came upon their respect with their efforts in Atlas and beyond, Pyrrha managed to curry the favor of a fair number of Vacuans simply through her sacrifice at Beacon. Her new outfit, her weapons, even her rudimentary scroll- they were all gifts from local shops. In a way, she belongs to this desert kingdom more than anything or anyone else.

“Jaune?”

He flinches too hard to hide it this time, but her expression is unreadable.

“Yeah?” Jaune swallows bitter bile, waiting for the inevitable question.

“Where are we going?”

We. Right.

“West, out of the city. Come on, we’ll be faster on the rooftops.” Jaune heads for the closest wall gate, desperate to leave his thoughts behind him.

“Jaune, please accompany Pyrrha on this mission,” Oscar had asked simply this morning in Theodore’s office. Before that, Jaune had been unsure why he had been summoned; Oscar’s text had very few details. Probably because he would have already been walking in the other direction, soulless desert be damned, if he’d known what these three had planned.

Headmaster Theodore, Professor Rumpole, and Oscar- yes, actually Oscar, judging by the slightly guilty expression- watched him expectantly.

“A squall came through last night and the Western relay node has gone offline; we need the wind damage cleared before we can actually repair it,” Theodore explained further. “That’s where you come in. I’ve sent coordinates to your scroll. Clear the debris and report back.”

Jaune casually adjusted the straps of his chest plate, trying to conceal the hitch in his breathing. “Oh, well, I was supposed to-”

“Xiao Long has been reassigned to a different mission with her teammate Schnee. Mr. Daichi and Ms. Scarlatina are handling your original mission,” Professor Rumpole raised an eyebrow up at him. “You’re clear to help your partner with this.”

“I mean, sure, but what about back up?” Jaune swallowed, nervous. “I’m sure Nora would love to help! They’ve been pretty close, right? Oh, or Ren! Grimm have been really nasty in that part of the desert, yeah? Wouldn’t it be better if-”

“If her partner stopped avoiding her?” Rumpole finished, crossing her arms and glaring at him. “We’re spread too thin to have full teams on small jobs.”

The room was silent for a moment.

Professor Rumpole wasn’t quite as terrifying as Professor Goodwitch, but eventually, he still looked away.

“Fine. We’ll get it done,” he muttered, already turning to go. He could see Oscar making a face out of the corner of his eye. Good, he could stand to feel a little guilty about it. There’s no doubt this was his idea.

I don’t want to… not yet.

“What’s the problem here? Stop spitting into the wind!” Theodore retorted, standing from his chair, pressing his gloved hands to his desktop and peering at Jaune. “Didn't you miss her?”

He froze, a wave of rage passing through him. He clenched his teeth and fists as the feeling filled every crevice of his soul and simmered into a boil. Then, just as quickly, the wave receded, drawing back until he was hollow once more.

“Of course, sir.” Jaune turned and left without another word. 

It’s not as if anyone else would understand.

3. hesitant

Jaune leaps from rooftop to rooftop, with his only objective seeming to be to get out of the city in the westward direction. By the time Pyrrha’s moisture wicking underclothes have soaked up a gallon of sweat, they’re finally on the outskirts of the capital. They’re heading into the blazing sun, which isn’t relenting as it sinks lower toward the horizon.

Not once does he look back at her, only opting to look once she’s at his side in the shifting sands. Even then, he only glances at her and nods once. He pulls his scroll out,much higher tech than hers, and orients them with a map. In the distance, a blue objective waypoint blinks steadily. She nods and he puts it away as they set off.

Her words stick in her throat, like they so often do these days. As they jog through the sand, heat waves shimmer. The trick to running through the desert, as Fox Alistair graciously advised her last week, is to never give the sand a chance to know you’re there. Pyrrha springs from step to step, lightly pressing on the hundreds of grains under her sole for just a moment before pushing off again. Jaune runs alongside her, much more fit than she remembers. It almost makes her laugh, to see him so seriously engaging in exercise that would have had him gasping or swearing at Beacon.

Almost.

The sun has sunk lower into the sky by a few degrees by the time the mangled tower comes into view. Pyrrha almost skids to a stop at the sight of it, slowing her gait as they approach.

“Badly damaged?” She croaks out as they slide down the dunes that have been blown into formations around the structure. Once the sand settles under her, she takes a long drink from her water pouch. Jaune does the same, moving into the shadow of what’s still left standing.

“Emphasis on badly,” Jaune quips dryly. Then he looks over, startled, when Pyrrha snorts. The sound surprises her as well. She clears her throat and busies herself with another drink of precious water.

“Blueprints?” Pyrrha asks, conserving her words. 

Jaune passes over his scroll. She peers at them, looking up at the twisted metal structure. Some of it can be bent back into shape, mainly the huge looming top half of the tower that hangs at a seventy-five degree angle. Other pieces scattered around are definitely just scrap now.

As she looks over and over the structure, she circles it and memorizes the appropriate shapes. Scattered shrapnel gathers into a pile without much thought, neatly pulled from the sand before it can pose a trip hazard. On her third circuit, Pyrrha dares to look up at Jaune.

He still sits listlessly in the tower’s shadow, sand pooling around the ankles of his boots. He has his arms folded across his knees, chin on his arms as he watches her work. Their eyes meet briefly before his gaze darts away. Still, he remains angled toward her.

Pyrrha points up at the twisted spires where the forces of nature had torn the metal apart. “Some of these are too big for me to adjust–”

“That’s fine,” Jaune says quickly. “Do what you can and we’ll–”

“–by myself?” Pyrrha finishes, trying not to look too hurt. The face coverings help with that. Nothing can hide how her shoulders curl in for a moment, betraying how much she wants to shrink under Tora and let the sand cover her.

“What am I gonna do?” Jaune snaps bitterly. His anger carries like sand on the wind. They stare at each other for a long moment, at once a few feet and a million miles away. Pyrrha coughs, reaching beneath her gaiter to massage her throat.

“You could… boost me?” Pyrrha suggests gently. No sooner than the words have left her mouth does she regret them.

Oh… I should have let him tell me. She frowns, licking her lips nervously. Would he have though?

Blue eyes snap up, wide and betrayed. Jaune’s eyebrows furrow, putting the pieces together. His accusation is swift and accurate: “Nora.”

“She’s been catching me up on what I missed,” Pyrrha says apologetically, clearing her throat again. 

That was a bit of an understatement. Nora had spent an hour or so each night in their shared room rambling about JNPR’s misadventures after Beacon. Even though Nora falling asleep mid sentence was somewhat normal for them, she’d still double checked with Ren that she was okay, or at least close to it. They hadn’t yet gotten to the part where Nora earned the sharp, spider-webbing scars that adorn her skin now; Pyrrha hasn’t been sure if she’s allowed to ask.

“It has been a rough few months for us, Pyrrha,” Ren had said over mugs of cactus leaf tea, squeezing her hand kindly. “Let her enjoy talking to you again.”

It’s hard not to enjoy their late night talks. When the desert is dark and cold and the Shade dorms cool down enough for a light blanket, it’s positively cozy to listen to Nora ramble on about events she can only imagine. Besides, Nora doesn’t expect her to talk; she doesn’t need Pyrrha to clear the scratchy, annoying feeling in her throat to contribute. Her simple hums, sighs, and giggles do just fine.

“She’s mentioned it a few times so far,” Pyrrha explains as she fidgets, twisting her bare fingers around each other until her joints ache with the strain of contortion. There’s no escaping this awkwardness. There’s only the two of them, the blistering heat, and the dead reception tower for miles.

Jaune gets to his feet, stiffly approaching despite stumbling down the small remaining dunes. She watches him flex and clench his hands as he nears, until he��s just inches away from her, standing shoulder to shoulder. He stares up at the relay tower while she stares at the smooth expanse of his cheek.

Her fingers twitch.

“Yes. I can boost you,” he says finally, after they’ve stood there for a moment. She nods. After hovering with hesitation for a half-second, Jaune puts his hand on her shoulder.

Pyrrha gasps, reeling from the sensation.

Once before, she’d felt this power- the clear, pure, and deep well of Jaune’s soul. Back then, it had been just a moment, a passing awareness. Now, Jaune’s aura flows through her, intense and all-encompassing. It’s a cool stream, a fresh snow, a crisp mint leaf, an ocean wave-

“Hey, hey,” Jaune snaps, suddenly in front of her. He steadies her by the shoulders, searching her eyes with panic. “What’s wrong?”

Pyrrha surprises herself by laughing, joy as clear as wind chimes. When she lifts her goggles to wipe the tears of mirth from her eyes, they evaporate from her skin almost immediately. He lets go of her shoulders and steps back, swallowing hard.

“I was right,” Pyrrha gasps, trying to catch her breath. “You do have a lot of aura. Jaune, that’s amazing!”

For a moment, Jaune’s face is open and hopeful, beaming with something close to joy. Then something shifts; his expression shutters as surely as the city of Vacuo before a sandstorm. He takes another step to the side, keeping his hands to himself.

“It’s… well, yeah.” He sighs, looking up at the defunct lights that line the vertical beams of the tower. “I’m not the same stupid kid I was at Beacon.”

What?

Pyrrha opens her mouth but nothing comes out. She squeaks, furious at her voice for abandoning her. She reaches out for Jaune, but draws back almost immediately. He side-eyes her, gaze dropping to her hand, then to the sand at their feet.

“I can do less, if it’s easier. Just figured you’d want to get back to campus as soon as possible, you know?” Jaune continues, concentrating until his hands shimmer with aura. “I also don’t have to touch you. I should have asked. That’s on me.”

She frantically massages her throat with both hands, trying to get her fingers to find purchase on the sweat-soaked skin under her chin. Jaune frowns at the ground again, hand hovering near his belt now.

Finally, her voice struggles free. “Jaune, I–”

He hushes her. Somehow, that hurts more than anything else.

“Do you feel that?” He whispers, hand firm on the hilt of Crocea Mors now. Pyrrha feels anger swell and flare in her heart at the dismissal.

“Jaune, this is important–!”

It doesn’t matter how important what she needs to say next is. 

The ground beneath them explodes.

4. sweaty

Beware sudden dunes.

“You’ve got to be kidding me!” Jaune shouts as the burst of sand sends him flying several feet into the air.

The brisk advice had come from a fair number of people, namely members of CFVY who he'd tagged along with on missions in the early days of their return. The vagueness was purposeful, as any number of wildlife, geographic features, ruins, weather, or worse, Grimm, could cause new sand dune to arise. Velvet had at least elaborated with a story about a huge family of mole crabs.

This was no mole crab.

Jaune recovers midair, twisting to get his bearings as huge claws flail menacingly, reaching for purchase and prey. In mere seconds, the creature uncovers itself, shaking off sand to reveal its inky black carapace, ashen boney plates, glowing red markings, crimson eyes, and golden stinger.

“Deathstalker!” Jaune calls out, unsure where Pyrrha is. He expands his shield and lets its hard light wings catch the wind, carrying him out and away from the relay tower. He stumbles into a run at the far edge of the crater made of dunes. Now that he turns around, frantically sweeping his gaze across the landscape, it’s relatively obvious that the dunes that allowed the tower's full height to be revealed were hiding something dangerous. Relay towers didn’t sit in craters of their own making, not in this ever-shifting landscape.

Not again. No, no. Where is she?

He searches for bright red among the settling sand cloud, shielding his eyes as the Grimm hisses. It swivels its body toward the communication tower. Jaune’s heart sinks as he sees the object of its focus.

Pyrrha crouches within the twisted spire of the relay tower, precariously balancing one of the remaining beams. Her newly forged weapons, not too dissimilar from Miló and Akoúo̱, glint in her hands. The blade of Mellon, in its short sword form, retracts on its cord as she watches warily, making the sound that the creature hones in on. Though she is still, the whirring is like catnip; this Grimm is on the hunt.

“It can hear you!” Jaune shouts to her, running down the dune to the fight. Nothing else is likely to be here, right? A Grimm this big shouldn’t tolerate too many others. But a Grimm this big shouldn’t be so close to the settlements either! …I guess anything’s possible with three Kingdom’s worth of stress calling every Grimm on Remnant.

As he’d expected, the Grimm swivels toward him, its beady red eyes glimmering in the sunlight. With the scattered sand settling, the heat becomes oppressive again. He ducks and parries the pincher that swings toward him with his sword, then blocks the other with his shield. The impact nearly squashes him, but he activates his shield to force it back. His timing is perfect, almost instinctual now.

“Jaune!” Pyrrha shouts from above. As the deflected claw rears into the sky, a swarm of shrapnel attacks the creature’s face, piercing its eyes until they weep black and red sludge. Jaune scrambles out of the way as it flails and screeches in agony. Pyrrha clambers down the ladder-like structure, face unreadable behind her goggles.

The sand explodes in front of them as the Deathstalker slams its stinger into the sand where he’d just been standing.

“Great!” Jaune shouts bitterly as they sprint away from it, putting the relay tower between them and the monster. “Now it’s pissed and blind!”

“I’m sorry! It was about to crush you!” Pyrrha cries out. “What else was I supposed to do?”

He rolls his eyes and doesn’t answer. What else indeed.

The Deathstalker screeches behind them, drowning out Jaune’s harsh bark of laughter. Still, Pyrrha looks at him oddly, tilting her head. He ignores her, looking around. The Grimm itself is nearly half the size of the crater. The only thing nearby is the tower, its twisted metal, and the concrete platform that anchors it in the desert. Above them, the bulk of it twists to the side like a misshapen crane arm.

“Get us up there!” Jaune demands, gratified that Pyrrha questions neither his order nor his tone. She immediately crouches and launches him off her shield. Carefully composed as he soars upward, Jaune grabs one of the steel beams and pulls himself onto it. Pyrrha follows, wrapping Mellon’s grappling cable around a piece of metal a few feet away. It carries her to safety for the second time today just as the Grimm scuttles over, ramming its stinger into the sand again. Its struggle to remove the stinger conceals the sound of the cord retracting this time.

Small mercies.

Pyrrha looks over her weapons in her hands, perched next to him. “Jaune-”

“I’m thinking!” he hisses, watching the beast howl with frustration as sand sprays up into the air and its stinger comes up empty. 

She yanks her neck gaiter down to her collar and lifts her goggles into her bangs. “Listen to me!”

“What part of thinking-”

“Jaune,” Pyrrha cries out. “I’m not going to lose you again!”

“You didn’t lose me, Pyrrha!” Jaune snaps back. “You can’t lose something on purpose.”

This high in the air, the hot, dry wind whips around them. Pyrrha licks her lips, expression pinched in a rare moment of irritation.

“What?”

The tide within Jaune swells. The wave crests, but it doesn’t break. He looks away, trying to spot the shimmering mirage of Vacuo city in the far distance. At this time of day, it’s too hazy with the darkening sky to see much of anything.

“I thought you remembered everything,” he mutters. Then he swallows, “this isn’t the time for this.”

Get it together.

“I fail to see any other time for it!” Pyrrha exclaims, voice cracking. “Why is it that it takes mortal peril for us to talk to each other?”

“No way! You don’t get to put this on me!” Jaune snarls, unable to quell the vicious bite in his voice. “All I ever wanted to do was talk to you! You couldn’t even let me return the favor! You kept me going at Beacon, day in and day out, but when the time came for you to actually trust me, you shoved me away! You didn’t even give me a chance-”

“Ozpin didn’t even want us fighting her!” Pyrrha puts her shield on her back so she can balance better, coiled like a spring on the precarious perch. Jaune mirrors her, except he sheaths his sword instead. Old, buried anger comes to the surface. He’s kneeling amongst the rubble of Vale again, trying to make sense of the locker he’s just crawled out of and hoping against hope that he’s having a particularly bad nightmare.

“Exactly! Ozpin died fighting Cinder! But you thought you could do it by yourself?” Jaune laughs bitterly, all too aware that there are tears streaming down his face. “Do you know how many times I’ve defended you and your last choice? Surely, I thought, surely my partner didn’t ship me off and go get herself killed in a fight she knew she'd lose! Of course she thought she stood a chance! Of course she just needed to get me out of her way!”

There’s a moment of stunned silence. Even the Grimm is quiet beneath them.

“Did you… Did you just think I thought you were in my way?" Pyrrha shouts, eyes wide in disbelief. 

Jaune doesn’t hesitate to snipe back. “What else was I supposed to think?”

Pyrrha’s face twists with pain or anger; they’re so unfamiliar on her countenance that it’s hard to tell. She clenches her empty hand, pressing her fist against her thigh. 

“I was protecting you!”

“I didn’t need you to protect me!” Jaune counters, as the wave of anger finally crashes to shore. “I needed you, Pyrrha!”

5. gentle

In two weeks and three days, Jaune has not once said her name.

His initial silence was unsettling. His surprised stare was unyielding. After all of the excitement and questions had settled, he’d finally spoken, cutting across the chatter.

“Robyn, could you?”

She’d taken Pyrrha’s hand again, almost apologetically, then nodded at Jaune. He’d taken a deep breath, before looking her in the eye, seeing her and not just past her. She’d shivered, feeling undone by his intensity.

“What are you?”

Those three words inspired nothing but confusion. “I… I don’t think I understand. What am I? I’m… a huntress-in-training? A girl?”

Your partner? 

She’d kept that one to herself.

Despite wanting to puzzle out the expression on his face, she glanced down in time to watch Robyn’s aura shimmer from pale purple to bright green. She looked back up at Jaune, at Ruby and her team who looked between her and him with varying levels of disapproval and understanding. Finally, Jaune sat back in his chair and sighed, apparently content with that answer. The tension still did not leave his shoulders.

“Alright then,” he said quietly into the silence. “Welcome back.”

The greeting felt hollow, especially since he went out of his way to avoid her from that moment onward. In fact, between her miraculous return and their current mission, she could count their conversations on her fingers. 

Now, she rubs her fingertips on the woven texture of her compression tights, savoring the distracting sensation. There’s nothing else to say but the truth.

“I knew I was going to lose you,” Pyrrha insists, using the word that had started this entire argument. “But I wanted you to at least be alive if I had to.”

Jaune is pale, his fury waning by the moment. The tear tracks on his cheeks dry almost as quickly as they’re created. “What did that matter? We could have both made it out. It wasn’t… You didn’t… Damn it, Pyrrha.”

“Jaune, hear me please. Running would have killed me, even if I still drew breath,” Pyrrha swallows nervously, but the lump that has plagued her all these days is completely gone. She continues, “I thought if I fought, I might survive. I could live or die with that, if you were okay. I hadn’t abandoned my duty and I hadn’t failed you.”

“But you made me abandon you.”

Pyrrha smiles, just for a moment. “That was selfish of me, wasn’t it?”

“It was!” Jaune shouts, flinging his free hand out so hard he nearly loses his balance. Pyrrha flings her own hand out, yanking his breastplate toward her with her semblance. He yelps as he stumbles forward over the metal trusses, nearly colliding with her. He flails for a moment, but quickly regains his balance.

The tower groans. With both of them tipping the scale away from the base, its stability compromises rapidly. Pyrrha glances down at the scuttling Grimm beneath them, still wandering in the fugue of its own rage and agony.

“Yes. It was,” Pyrrha whispers. She relaxes her semblance, allowing him to move away from her. 

Jaune doesn’t budge. Neither of them do, knelt precariously across from each other. Her hand hovers between them, still outstretched and bare. Gently, she places her hand on his cheek, expecting him to flinch. But he doesn’t. He leans into it, sighing and letting his eyes slip closed. His skin is rough to the touch, with soft barely-there hairs that tickle the ridges of her finger pads. It’s a wonder all of its own, the feeling of her skin pressed to his.

“I have always loved fighting by your side, Jaune,” Pyrrha murmurs, stroking her thumb along his cheekbone and wiping his tears away. “It terrified me that you might die by mine.”

“Then let me choose that,” Jaune whispers. “You owe me at least that much.”

The metal scaffold beneath them shudders, nearly throwing them off. Pyrrha keeps them both pinned to it, gasping with the force of the continued ramming. Below them, the Grimm has finally given up on trying to reach them directly. It slams its pinchers into the heavily fortified poles at the base, screeching in frustration. They gawk at it, then at each other as the metal beneath them begins to creak and sway even more. The Deathstalker screeches and turns in a circle, viciously  stabbing into the stand with its claws.

“Okay,” Pyrrha promises quickly, though the thought of it seizes her heart in a familiar vice grip. “I swear I won’t… I won’t make that choice for you again.”

Jaune nods into her hand, closing his eyes briefly. He sighs.

“To be clear though,” Jaune says with a tiny, watery laugh, “I’m not trying to die by your side anytime soon. Or ever?”

Pyrrha responds with a tiny giggle of her own as the Deathstalker begins to slam the tower again, jostling them. “So not today?”

“Definitely not today!” Jaune yelps. “Fight and live?”

“Fight and live!” Pyrrha repeats, pulling away to put Mellon back in her belt. They scramble to their feet, running for the main tower as the metal twists and groans beneath them. Jaune turns back to grab her hand, helping them both stay steady as they leap for the tiny grate that acts as a service platform within the main body of the tower. Some twenty feet below, the Deathstalker continues to bellow and batter the foundation, its single-minded hatred fueling it beyond reason. That fury makes it dangerous to fight up close, but in a few more hits, they won’t have a choice.

“Jaune?” Pyrrha shouts over the cacophony of bestial rage and structural collapse. He tears his gaze away from the furious Grimm and raises an eyebrow at her. She squeezes his hand and grins. “Help me?”

He smiles in understanding. This time, when Jaune activates his semblance, Pyrrha is ready for the burst of power and energy that flows through her. She flings out her free hand toward the huge piece of tower that had been their perch, seizing it and flipping her wrist to twist it off the main structure.

The motion shakes the tower, but Jaune catches her by the waist, anchoring them both by clinging to the foundation beam nearby. Pyrrha gasps her thanks, then continues to focus on the task at hand. She lifts the huge chunk of metal as easily as a handful of ball bearings, then crushes her fist, shaping it into a wicked javelin of steel.

Then, with Jaune holding her steady, she flings the makeshift weapon at the Deathstalker’s back. The Grimm screeches in agony as its carapace rips in two, expelling viscous sludge several feet into the air. Flailing its stinger, it struggles where it's skewered into the sand, then finally goes limp. It, and its sludge, dissipate, carrying black ash onto the wind and into oblivion.

They both relax their semblances as one, exhaling with relief. Still Jaune doesn’t let go of her; she makes no effort to move away. Further beyond the relay tower, the sun sinks below the horizon, throwing reds, oranges, and dark purples into the sky.

“Uh, well… if headmaster Theodore asks…” Jaune clears his throat, looking down at the metal carnage below them. The Grim had completely destroyed every bit of the distribution box and shredded the cable connection. CCT technicians, they were not, but anyone could see it was beyond hope. “It was like that when we got here?”

Pyrrha snorts once, then again and again until she’s howling with laughter. She turns and throws her arms around his neck, gratified when he hugs her back with the same intensity. The tower trembles a little underneath them, but it’s not going anywhere anytime soon. Neither are they.

She’s been back for two weeks, three days, and a handful of hours, but only now does Pyrrha feel that she’s home.

“Hey, Pyr?” The love in the nickname punches the wind out of her lungs. She nods into his shoulder until he continues. “The next time you want me to leave, just ask, okay?”

She nods again, clinging to him even tighter. However, she knows, just as well as he does, that she could want nothing less than that. She pauses, concerned.

Does he know? Please… I need him to know.

Choked, Pyrrha murmurs, “I never want you to leave me again, Jaune.”

She can hear the tears in his voice as he replies, “Okay, good, we’re on the same page then.”

Let’s stay that way.

Their trek back to Shade takes much longer than their breakneck outgoing pace. They take down small Grimm here and there, chatting about pasts both separate and shared, walking shoulder to shoulder in the cooling desert. He hugs her before leaving her at her room door, promising breakfast together. It’s both the most normal and oddest thing that has happened in her whole second life.

Exhausted, Pyrrha showers and crawls under her blanket. Whatever missions she had today, Nora isn’t back yet, though it’s plenty late enough for their nightly life updates. Somehow though, she knows she wouldn’t be able to listen for very long. Her eyelids droop shut and she snuggles into her pillow, grateful for its softness.

“I can only do this for you,” whispers the memory of an unfamiliar voice, just as she’s drifting off. “You’ll arrive just when you’re needed and you’ll arrive just when you need it. You’ll say what you need when the time is right to say it and you’ll listen when you need to hear. Everything beyond that is up to you.”

When she wakes the next morning, it’s because Nora is bouncing on the end of her bed.

“Pyr, wake up! It’s Friday! It’s five-thirty and it’s already hot!” Nora announces gleefully. Moreso than other mornings, she can’t help but notice her energy seems more genuine than usual, more like the joy she once had at Beacon. “Get up, get up! I want breakfast!”

Pyrrha sits up slowly, combing her fingers through her hair. Small grains of sand fall to the blanket. She also has the distinct sensation of a dream slipping through her fingers. She frowns, grasping for the memory to no avail.

“Pyrrha?” Nora asks, coming to rest on her knees in front of her. “What’s wrong?”

She blinks at her friend and smiles. “I had a dream I think… I just can’t remember it anymore.”

At this Nora beams and crows, “Dreams, scheams! Who needs them? We have the whole day ahead of us!”

Her hope and enthusiasm is contagious. Pyrrha grins and sweeps her into a tight hug. Nora squeaks and hugs her back, obviously startled but not unhappy about it. When she finally pulls back, neither of them mention the tears on the other’s cheeks.

“You said something about breakfast?”

Nora takes her by the hand and drags her out of bed, then throws her combat outfit at her face. She catches it easily.

“Yep! And it waits for no one! Come on, we have so much to do today!”

Pyrrha can feel her heartbeat quicken with joy, tugging her lips into a smile.

Today, and everyday after that…

It’s a life worth fighting for.

-

Epilogue

Thursday Evening

Theodore sighs. “Oz, this is a risky gamble you’re taking.”

The nickname makes him twitch a little bit.

Half a dozen conversations have come and gone, not to mention a host of different people needing their audience. Oscar makes no decisions without Theodore’s council and he makes none without Rumpole’s. They’ve been in this office for hours, and yet there’s no question of the gamble to which he refers. It’s been a few hours since he’d called Jaune in for a mission assignment.

“Oscar,” he reminds the headmaster. True, it was Ozpin’s memory of JNPR’s initiation shenanigans that had given him the idea, but it was a plan all of his own. “And it’s nothing they can’t handle.”

 “How long do you think it’ll take for them to realize we’ve sent them to a defunct relay tower with an active Deathstalker den?” Rumpole mutters.

“Hopefully longer than it takes for them to say what they need to say to each other,” Oscar replies, sipping his cactus leaf tea.

Rumpole is even shorter than Oscar, but her unimpressed glare manages to make him shrink into his chair a bit, chagrined.

“I may… also have Ren and Nora on standby at the current Western relay node, just a half mile way?” Oscar admits, flushing. “If something goes wrong, they’ll handle it.”

This made Theodore laugh loudly, his voice booming in the tiny office. Oscar winces at the sound, but it’s impossible to escape it. By the time the older man finishes, he has tears in his eyes.

“Ah yes, the other partner duo famous for currently getting along!”

“How convenient,” Rumpole drawls, dusting off her vest with a roll of her eyes.

“Two Nevermore, one bullet,” Oscar quips. He salutes them with his teacup and heads for the door.

Well, you certainly seem rather pleased with yourself, says Ozpin, amusement plain as day.

Oscar smiles into his tea, a small smile just between them.

By magic and miracles beyond his own power, Jaune, Nora, Pyrrha, and Ren had each other once more. With these little nudges, team JNPR will surely ride again, changed but whole.

It’s the least we could do, don’t you think?

[the-bad-batch-baroness]

Of Frogs and Clones

Hardcase x Fem!Reader

Chapter 1: The Mysterious Liquid

Summary: It's the clone's last night in the barracks together as soldiers and Hardcase drinks a mysterious liquid from Jesse's duffle that turns him into a frog. With the help of his brothers and the Right To Love Matchmaking service, they work against the clock to find him "true love's kiss" and turn him back into a human.

Pairing: Hardcase x Fem!Reader

Characters: Hardcase, Jesse, Kix, Rex, Fives, Echo, Tup, Dogma

Tags & Warnings: matchmaking!au, fluff, humor, strange magic, clone shenanigans, unconventional love story, dialogue heavy

Word Count: 3.6k

Author's Note: My first entry for the @tcwmatchmakingau! This series is pure fun and ridiculousness. There's no angst, no hurt, no underlying themes, and no deep meanings. Only utter nonsense. Reader and RTL are not in the first chapter. I know I have other series to finish, but I needed to cross off another bingo square first 😅 As always, please enjoy 💚

@clonexreaderbingo Square: Mystery

Chapter 1

The Clone Wars have finally drawn to a close, leaving the remaining clones in a precarious spot of facing the unknown civilian life before them. To aid in their assimilation, the senate passed legislation to give clones official citizenship status, government subsidized housing, a credit stipend, and help with job placement. Tonight is their last night sleeping in the barracks and as they pack their belongings and prepare for life outside of the GAR, things get a little hectic.

“What do you think it’s going to be like?” Jesse asks while pulling things out of his overstuffed duffle.

“Dunno,” Hardcase answers as he stares at the bunk above him, hands laced behind his head. His duffle doesn’t have much in it, so he finished packing a while ago.

“I bet it’s going to be fun,” Fives smiles while throwing his things haphazardly into his duffle. “No rules, no regulations, no chain of command.”

Echo stops folding his blacks and grimaces at the thought. “That sounds awful.”

“Lighten up,” Tup playfully punches Echo’s shoulder. “We can finally do whatever we want.”

“I’m with Echo,” Dogma adds. “A bunch of people doing whatever they want sounds chaotic. Where’s the order?”

“We make our own order,” Kix chimes in. “We follow the laws and do the right thing. Like we’ve always done.”

“What if we mess up?” Echo wonders, a twinge of apprehension in his voice. “I don’t want to be court-martialed on day one.”

“You can’t be court-martialed if you’re a civilian,” Fives chuckles. “But if you do mess up… Then Fox will get you!” Fives jumps on Echo’s back for dramatic effect.

Echo groans and pushes Fives off while the rest of the group laughs.

“As long as we stick together, we’ll be fine,” Jesse reassures.

Murmurs of agreements resound through the barracks and they resume organizing what little belongings they have.

Hardcase rolls onto his side and watches Jesse attempt to pack his duffle bag so that the zipper will close. He’s still unsure how Jesse accumulated so much junk over the past few years. The ARC has a souvenir from almost every planet he’s ever been on. Even after everyone else is done packing, Jesse is still sifting through his things, picking which ones to take with him and which ones to leave behind. He pulls out a bottle of green liquid and places it on the ground.

“What’s that?” Hardcase asks while pointing at the bottle.

“I’m not sure,” Jesse answers. He picks up the bottle and inspects it for a second before setting it back down. “It was given to me by a local at the beginning of the war. I must have forgotten about it.”

“Is it alcohol?” Hardcase asks curiously. He sits up in his bunk and grabs the bottle off the floor, tilting it from side to side to watch the strange liquid slosh around.

“Maybe,” Jesse shrugs. “I couldn’t understand the local language and I never opened it to try it.”

Hardcase wonders what it could be as he continues to turn the bottle in different directions, completely mesmerized by its shimmering contents. “Can I drink it?”

“I don’t see why not,” Jesse says.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Kix warns. He swipes the bottle from Hardcase’s hands.

“Hey,” Hardcase pouts. He sits back down on his bunk and crosses his arms. “That’s mine.”

“Technically–”

“You don’t know what’s in it,” Kix interrupts Jesse’s rebuttal to give a warning. “It could be poisonous.”

“We won’t know that unless we try it,” Hardcase argues.

“Listen,” Kix sighs. “We’re one night away from being free men. I’m not going to let a bottle of suspicious liquid ruin that for you.”

“Isn’t that my choice now?” Hardcase questions.

“Not until 05:00,” Rex chimes in. Upon hearing their captain's voice, all of the Torrent Company stops what they’re doing and stands to attention.

In preparation for their official discharge from the GAR, Rex spent the entire day with the senate and a specialized CCL (civilian clone liaison) to make sure that his men’s transition was taken care of and that it would be as smooth as possible. He meticulously worked each clone’s case with the CCL to approve their housing, their new identichips, and their credit stipends. It was an exhausting process, but his signature was required on every form in the assimilation packets.

“At ease men,” Rex says.

“So,” Fives begins with anticipation. “What’s the word?”

Rex smiles and reveals a stack of identichips. “It’s official.”

Rex walks around to each one of his men and hands them their new identichip. The clones take them eagerly and marvel with wonder at the digital cards with their chosen names and faces inscribed on them. Not a CT number in sight. The excitement in the room is almost too much for the clones to contain. Whispers and wide-eyes turn into hollers, whoops, and hugs. They’re now official citizens of Coruscant and have the same rights as any other citizen.

“Settle down and listen up!” Rex exclaims. “These identichips are your key to life. Do not lose them. They will go into effect at 05:00 tomorrow morning, so until then, you are still under my command.”

The clones stop their chatter and nod their heads in understanding.

“Tomorrow, you’ll be free men,” he starts, “and I will no longer be your captain, but your friend. You’ll be able to make your own choices, live your own lives, and decide your own destinies.” Rex pauses and shifts his weight. “Help each other, help others, and be good citizens.” Rex pauses one more time, his voice wavering with emotion. “It truly has been an honor to serve alongside the finest men in the galaxy.”

The barrack of clones erupts with the sound of clapping and whistling. Rex takes in the moment before he puts up his hand to quiet the men and pull out his data-pad.

“A couple more things,” he begins while scrolling through a list. “Housing assignments have been allocated and your new addresses can be found on your identichips. The apartments are fully furnished, but you’ll have to buy your own clothes, food, and any extra comforts. Credit stipends will be automatically deposited monthly into your bank account until you gain employment. You can keep your armor, but they have asked that you not wear it in public. You are also allowed to own a single DC-17 hand blaster, but it must be registered with the Coruscant Police and tied to your identichips. Any questions?”

Hardcase raises his hand, a look of concern painting his face. “So, I can’t keep my Z-6?”

“No, you can’t,” Rex answers. “Anything that was considered infantry or heavy weaponry cannot be owned by civilians and must be turned in to the Coruscant Police. It was difficult enough to convince them to let us keep a single hand blaster.”

Hardcase plops onto his bunk and crosses his arms while grumbling to himself. That Z-6 was his best friend during the war and now he has to give it up. It really is a shame.

“Any other questions?” Rex asks as he scans the room. “Alright then. Get a good night's sleep and I’ll touch base with you in the morning.”

As Rex leaves the barracks, more chatter erupts amongst the clones. They are both excited and nervous to get their new lives started. The jitters are evident and no one is sure they can actually sleep tonight. They’re like children on Christmas Eve, wanting to stay up late and wait for their presents to arrive instead of sleeping. The anticipation is too much to contain. However, once curfew rolls around, the clones have to turn out the lights and at least try to go to sleep.

The clones all nestle into their bunks for one last night and fall into dreams of what their new lives will be like. Well, everyone that is except for Hardcase. He’s lying awake, staring up at the bunk above him and feeling restless. He’s still thinking about that bottle of green liquid Kix took away from him. He’s not sure what it is about that mysterious bottle that has him so enraptured. Maybe it’s the color, or the way the liquid moves from one end of the glass bottle to the other.

Unable to contain his curiosity, Hardcase decides he wants the bottle back. He waits a couple of hours, and when he hears some of his brothers snoring, he quietly gets out of his bunk and meanders his way to Kix’s bunk. Kix is sleeping on his stomach, one hand under his shirt and the other stretched out over his pillow, with his leg hanging off the side with the blanket falling off. Hardcase shakes his head. He’ll never understand how Kix finds that sleeping position comfortable.

He waves his hand near Kix’s face, checking to make sure he is asleep, then crouches down to look through his duffle. He quietly rummages around, being careful not to knock anything too far out of place, and eventually finds the little glass bottle of green liquid under a pack of gauze. He picks it up, smiles, and admires the bottle like it’s a precious jewel. He puts Kix’s duffle back together, brings the bottle back to his bunk, then looks around to make sure no one saw him.

Once he knows he’s alone and the only one awake, Hardcase pulls the cork off the top of the bottle and it makes a loud popping sound. He winces at the unexpected noise as it echoes through the barracks, then looks around to make sure no one woke up. He relaxes his shoulders and sighs when no one stirs. He looks into the glass bottle and swishes the green liquid around. It’s a shame to drink it when it’s so pretty, but he has to know what it tastes like.

“Bottoms up,” he whispers to himself. He knocks the drink back like a shot and swallows. His face scrunches at the bitter aftertaste and he makes an audible noise of disgust. “Yuck! Definitely not alcohol.”

Disappointed in the gross tasting drink, Hardcase flops back onto his bunk and sighs. He doesn’t feel any different, so it’s probably not poison. If he had to venture a guess, it’s probably some type of tribal medicine native to the planet Jesse got it from. Medicine is the only thing he’s ever tasted that matches that level of bitterness, and he hates medicine. He shutters at the residual taste in the back of his throat, then tucks himself into his bunk to finally go to sleep.

As dawn breaks and the light of the morning peeks into the barracks, Jesse stirs in his bunk. He stretches his limbs and yawns while sitting up, then breathes a contented sigh when he remembers that today is the day he’s a free man. He looks around the sunlit room and sees the rest of the clones stirring as their internal alarm clocks activate. Excited to get moving, he slides down the back ladder of the bunk, his bare feet hitting the barrack’s cold floor with a dull thud.

Jesse looks at Hardcase’s bunk, which sits right beneath his, but his brother is not in it. “Has anyone seen Hardcase?”

“Not since lights out,” Echo answers while stretching his arms.

“I haven’t seen him either,” Tup yawns.

“Got me,” Kix shrugs.

Out of the corner of his eye, Fives catches the blanket on Hardcase’s bunk move. “Did anyone else see that?”

“See what?” Dogma asks while rubbing the sleep out of his eyes.

Fives stares at the blanket and watches it move again. He points his finger at the lump in the center. “That!”

“What do you think it is?” Jesse asks as he moves to stand next to Fives.

“I don’t know,” Fives tilts his head to the side as he thinks.

“Only one way to find out,” Echo says as he grabs the corner of the blanket and rips it off, revealing what is underneath.

“It’s a… frog?” Kix raises an eyebrow at Fives.

“Don’t look at me!” Fives puts up his hands in defense. “I didn’t put it there.”

“Guys, it’s me,” a voice says.

The group of clones whip around looking for the source of the voice.

“That sounds like Hardcase,” Jesse says. “But I don’t see him.”

“Down here,” the voice says.

Tup crouches down on the ground and looks under the bunk, but there’s no one there.

“Too far,” the voice says. “On the bunk.”

Tup slowly peeks up from his crouched position and looks at the frog sitting on the bunk. They stare at each other for a moment.

“Hey,” the frog says.

“Ah!” Tup startles and crashes backwards into the adjacent bunk. “That frog just talked!”

Dogma rolls his eyes. “Frogs don’t talk.”

“I'm telling you that frog talked,” Tup argues.

Jesse snorts. “Tup, I think you’ve lost a few marbles.”

“You're the one who’s lost his marbles,” the frog says as it jumps from the bunk onto Jesse’s arm.

“Ah!” Jesse jerks and flings the frog off his arm.

“Catch it!” Tup yells.

Kix catches the frog in his hands and examines it curiously. It looks like a regular bullfrog to him. Mottled olive-green mucus-covered skin, a dull-yellow belly, raised eyes, short little forelegs, and long-webbed hind legs. The only strange thing about this bullfrog is the blue lines going down the left side of its body. He’s never seen a bullfrog with blue stripes before, but then again, he doesn’t claim to be an expert in frog species. Kix brings the frog closer to his face to look at the lines.

“Hi Kix,” the frog says.

Kix startles and opens his hands, dropping the talking frog onto the floor of the barracks.

“Hey!” the frog says. “Watch it!”

Fives kneels down in front of the frog. “Hardcase?”

“Yeah, it’s me,” Hardcase sighs.

“You’re a frog!” Fives exclaims as he picks him up.

“I noticed,” Hardcase says.

“How is that even possible?” Echo questions in bewilderment.

“I don’t know,” Hardcase says. “I just woke up like this. I had a heck of a time trying to find my way out of that blanket though. Thanks.”

“Kix?” Dogma looks at the shocked medic for an explanation.

“Don’t ask me,” Kix raises his hands. “There’s nothing in the medical texts about clones turning into frogs.”

Jesse looks at the frog, that is Hardcase, and narrows his eyes. “What did you do?”

“What do you mean, ‘what did I do’?” Hardcase retorts as he jumps from Fives’ hands to Jesse’s.

Jesse cups his hands together to catch Hardcase. “Kix is right, clones don’t just turn into frogs,” he says. "What did you do?”

“Nothing!” Hardcase shouts. “I just woke up like this. I’m as lost as you are!”

Kix gets curious and looks around Hardcase’s bunk area. He rifles through his duffle bag and grabs the empty bottle. He takes a deep breath, straightens up, and crosses his arms. “You drank it.”

“Oh, yeah,” Hardcase chuckles nervously. “I forgot about that.”

Kix grabs Hardcase out of Jesse’s hands, encircling his fingers around Hardcase’s stomach as his long hind legs dangle down freely. He brings Hardcase’s little frog face close to his. “You idiot!"

“How was I supposed to know this would happen?” Hardcase argues as he squirms to escape Kix’s grasp.

Kix closes his eyes and rubs his forehead with his free hand. “If you would've waited one rotation, I could have done an analysis!”

“Oops,” Hardcase says.

“Oops?” Kix scowls. “That’s all you have to say for yourself, oops? You’re a kriffing frog!”

Hardcase tries to roll his eyes, then spits out his tongue and whacks Kix’s nose to shut him up.

Kix scrunches his face in disgust, pulls Hardcase away, and places him back in Jesse’s hands.

“He’s your problem now,” Kix says as he wipes the slime off of his nose.

“Me?” Jesse protests as he looks between Hardcase and Kix. “What am I supposed to do with him?”

“I don’t know,” Kix says. “Figure it out.”

“Can someone please explain to me what is going on?” Dogma asks in confusion. “I’m so lost.”

“Hardcase drank some weird liquid and it turned him into a frog,” Fives recounts.

Dogma takes a moment to digest Fives’ words. “You’re joking, right?”

“Wait!” Tup interjects. “I’ve heard about this before.”

Everyone turns to look at Tup. “You have?” the group asks in unison.

“Yes!” Tup says. “I read it in a holo-book once.”

“Since when do you read?” Dogma asks with a raised eyebrow. “I’ve never seen you read before.”

Tup shoots Dogma an unamused look. “I did when I was a cadet.”

“So, what did the holo-book say?” Jesse eagerly asks.

Tup thinks for a moment. “There were a couple different stories. I can’t remember if this is the one where he’ll turn into a pumpkin at midnight or fall asleep and never wake up. Either way he needs a true love’s kiss to turn him back into a human.”

Silence fills the room.

“Jesse?” Hardcase asks while looking up at him.

“Yes,” Jesse answers while looking down at him.

“I don’t like squash,” Hardcase says.

Jesse sighs. “Then we’ll hope for the ‘sleep and never wake up’ one.”

Hardcase turns to face Tup. “So, if I get a girl to kiss me, I’ll turn back into a man?”

“According to the stories,” Tup explains. “Except it can’t be any random kiss. It has to be a true love’s kiss.”

“What’s the difference?” Hardcase asks.

Tup knits his eyebrows. “Not really sure to be honest.”

“Amateurs,” Fives says. “True love is when you love someone more than anyone else.”

“Oh,” Hardcase says. “I still don’t get it.”

Fives sighs. “You need to get a girl to fall in love with you.”

“In three days!” Tup interjects.

Fives nods his head. “Yes, in three day– Wait, what?”

“I think,” Tup says. “That might have been the seafoam story.”

“Can we focus on the frog story please?” Jesse says with exasperation.

“Does it really matter?” Hardcase asks. 

“Yes, it matters!” Jesse exclaims. “We don’t need you dying on us!”

The room goes silent at the words that everyone is thinking, but no one wants to say. As funny as the situation is, they really have no idea what will happen to him and it has them all worried. They're finally free men, but that freedom won’t mean much if one of them is missing from it. They can’t replace Hardcase and they don’t want to think about enjoying their new lives without him. Regardless of how dumb his action was, they all need to work together to try and save him.

“I think we should tell Rex,” Echo says. “Maybe he can–”

“Maybe he can do what?” Dogma interjects. “Look it up in a reg manual?”

Echo huffs. “I’m just trying to be helpful.”

“And we appreciate it,” Kix places a hand on Echo’s shoulder. “I agree with him. The next course of action is to tell Rex and then work together to turn him back to normal.”

As Kix finishes his sentence, Rex enters the barracks. The group of clones mumble amongst themselves on how they’ll break the news to their captain that one of his men is no longer a man, but a frog. It sounds like a joke, and maybe it is, but this is their reality at the moment and lying is not an option. They think about hiding Hardcase and telling Rex at a later time, but they can’t come up with a good excuse as to why he isn’t in the barracks and where he is.

“Morning,” Rex happily greets the clones with a smile.

Jesse hides Hardcase behind his back.

“Morning, captain,” Kix says.

Rex chuckles. “It’s just Rex now.”

“Oh, right,” Kix rubs his neck in embarrassment. “That’s gonna be an adjustment.”

“Are you boys ready to check out your new home?” Rex asks with excitement.

The room stays silent.

Rex furrows his brows. “Don’t everyone jump up at once…”

The room is still silent.

Rex puts his hands on his hips. “Alright, spit it out. What’s going on?”

“We have a slight problem,” Fives says.

Rex sighs. “What did you do this time?”

“It wasn’t Fives,” Echo answers quickly.

“Well, that’s a surprise,” Rex mumbles under his breath. “Then what is it?”

Jesse brings his hands around from his back to show Rex the frog.

Rex is confused. “Okay… It’s a frog. I don’t get it.”

“Hi Rex,” Hardcase says.

Rex jumps. “Kriffing stars! Did that thing just talk?”

“That thing,” Kix begins, “is Hardcase.”

“What?!” Rex asks, his mouth hung open in shock.

The group of clones explain to Rex the events leading up to this point. Rex listens intently, but maintains a bewildered expression on his face. He’s not surprised at Hardcase’s actions, but he’s not once in his life ever heard of a man changing into a frog. He wonders if the green bottle of liquid was some kind of magic potion. Unfortunately, Jesse can’t remember which planet it came from, so researching it is out. Rex ends up agreeing with the only other option, true love’s kiss.

“First things first,” Rex starts. “Let’s get moved out of the barracks and into our new apartments. Then we can strategize a plan of attack.”

The group of clones nod in agreement and disperse to grab their belongings. Jesse puts Hardcase down on his bunk while he grabs his things.

“Oh, and Hardcase,” Rex squats down to look Hardcase in his little frog eyes. “Don’t get squashed in the meantime.”

“Yes, sir,” Hardcase sighs.

Chapter 1

Masterlist

AO3

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[vodika-vibes]

I feel you with being sick lately, I’ve been sick all week plus I got the ol’ red tide happening so I’m not having a good time T-T. I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the A-17 & Fordo combo, so if you want and have time and feel able could you please do another Alpha-17xReaderxFordo fic where the boys comfort and care for a busy reader who won’t stop to take care of herself? Thanks for your time and i hope you’re feeling better and having fun!

Take A Break

Summary: As a post war Senator, you've been working hard to make sure that the clones remain safe...perhaps too hard.

Pairing: Alpha-17 x Reader x ARC Captain Fordo

Word Count: 719

Warnings: None

Tagging: @trixie2023 @n0vqni

A/N: I am feeling a lot better, thank you for asking, I'm just tired, so my brain doesn't want to make words work today, lol. I also do have your other request! Thank you for your requests, and your patience.

You’re exhausted. Down to your bones.

You feel as though you’ve been going non-stop for years now. And at this point maybe you have been. And now that the war is over, you should be able to rest and relax more, not less.

But for every person who supports your Clone Rights Bill is another person who opposes it, which means that you’re working just as hard now as you were when the war was at its height.

You haven’t even managed to go home in the last three days. Though, at least, you’re not alone. None of the other Senators who are working on this bill have been able to leave either.

You caught Bail staring at a blank wall earlier today with a cup of caf in each hand and a straw in each cup, allowing him to drink both at the same time. Personally, you think it’s brilliant, but the look on Commander Thorn’s face when he gently escorted Bail back to his office makes you think that maybe you’re too exhausted to really judge that.

You thread your fingers through your hair, and you stare at the datapad laying on the table in front of you. You’ve been reading the same argument for the last hour, and you haven’t managed to retain a single word of it.

You drop your hands from your hair and press the palms of your hands over your eyes. They’re burning from exhaustion and strain, and you really should dig your glasses out of your desk to help with at least some of that, but that sounds like work and you’re so tired of work-

For a moment, just a moment, you consider taking a break. And then your datapad dings as a new message crosses the screen.

It’s from Padme. The subject line simply reads, “!!!!!!!!!!!!!!”

You open the message and it’s a message forwarded from Senator Burtoni. The basic idea being that she’s claiming that the Clones are Kaminoan property and so they should be returned to Kamino for repurposing and decommissioning.

And that sends a shot of awareness through your exhausted mind, and you start typing rapidly. And you note, absently, that you’re not the only one.

About an hour later, you notice that Bail is no longer online. And then neither is Padme.

And then your office door slides open and you blink, blearily, at the two men that enter your office. Alpha looks unimpressed, and Fordo doesn’t look much happier, actually.

Alpha folds his arms over his chest, “Do you have any idea how long it’s been since you’ve been home?”

That’s a silly question, of course you do. It’s been…uh…

You blink at him, and decide that it’s a dumb question and ignore it, “This is important.” You finally say, “Senator Burtoni wants to decommission-”

“That’s normal. Senator Burtoni has always wanted to decommission us.” Alpha says with a roll of his eyes, “Have you slept at all in the last three days?”

“Uh…I closed my eyes for an hour yesterday while listening to a speech?” You offer as an answer, and then you squeak when Fordo crosses the room and gently pulls you from your seat, only to pull you into his arms.

You slump into his embrace, the exhaustion becoming almost overwhelming now that you’re not actively staring at your work.

“Have you eaten, cyare?” Fordo asks, his voice soft.

You nod mutely, because you have. The Senate Droids have been bringing you meals, which is part of the reason that the senate has droids, honestly. 

“You just haven’t been home…or sleeping.” Alpha says, and you can feel his fingers against the back of your neck, rubbing soothing circles there. 

“...’m sorry.”

“Shh. We’re not mad. We’re worried.” Fordo lightly squeezes your hips, “This isn’t healthy, cyare.”

“You need to take a break.” Alpha interjects, “It’s time to go home. You can take a bath and curl up in bed and sleep until you’re not tired anymore.”

“And maybe we’ll cuddle with you.” Fordo adds with a small smile.

You sigh softly, and rest your head against his chest, “What did I do to deserve you both?”

Alpha chuckles and presses a light kiss to your shoulder, while Fordo drops a light kiss to your forehead. “Come on, cyare. Time to go home.”

[amaltheas-garden]

You’ve really put so succinctly why Dany is my favorite despite being a dark Dany believer. I love tragedy I love doom I love when the road to hell is paved with good intentions. Her arc has been set up so beautifully and her peacefully ascending and ruling happily is just something I don’t think George would ever write based on his criticism of Tolkien. George also clearly loves tragedy. It’s a shame that discussing Dany with any sense of nuance and analysis of George’s actual themes has to be classified as “anti dany.” She’s my favorite character! I’m not anti Dany in the slightest! Cersei is also a huge favorite of mine. But people are somehow able to handle nuance in Cersei (well, more than with Dany) and can acknowledge that she’s tragic and sympathetic despite also being despicable and doing unforgivable things

Thank you so much <3 I definitely agree Dany won't likely get a smooth-sailing happy ending on the iron throne. There are so many similarities in how the fandom treats Cersei and Dany! I think Cersei gets a lot more sympathy now than when the books/show started, but Dany discourse sort of devolved into she was always an evil tyrant who loved killing people vs she's the savior who can do no wrong and grrm will make her the god empress of the universe in ADOS after the show fumbled her arc so bad. The most innovative part of Dany's narrative on grrm's part is that we the audience will be more upset when Dany dies despite her, for lack of better phrasing, turning to the dark side. Usually authors who write "morally grey" characters do so in a way where they don't make the character do anything too bad so the audience will stop liking them, or they give a villain a few appealing qualities, while still having their actions be firmly rooted in the "bad" camp. If Dany does burn KL, that action alone puts her beyond redemption, yet we've followed her entire journey and seen the immense amount of good she's been capable of. Dany's death I think is supposed to be the climactic tragedy of the series, in which the most classic high fantasy trope of the good guy defeats the ultimate big bad guy and we all clap and cheer is turned on its head. Grrm does not reward violence, he does not justify revenge, and he makes a point of denying the audience the satisfaction of violence being inflicted onto any character, no matter how deserved we think it is. So even though Dany takes the narrative place of the final villain, her death will be somber and tragic rather than a victorious moment. Someone who tried so hard to be good but was ultimately corrupted the same as everyone else in the endless machine of war, fighting over a throne that everyone hated sitting on anyway.

The anti tag imo is meaningless 😅. It could mean literally anything from "I dislike how the writers handled this character's arc" or "I dont have a problem with the writing I just really hate this one fking character" and of course analysis of a character that paints them in a negative light (with the assumption it was done intentionally by the author) which goes against the popular interpretation of said character. I think Dany is a phenomenally written character, but a lot of her fans don't like the dark Dany theory (completely fair) so I tag it as anti for filtering ease.

[originalwinnercheesecake]

The Owl House Watching and Dreaming Analysis. (Spoilers)

Its over. Its been around 3 years and now its over. Well like Luz says its time for a new chapter now. The majority of my tag is posts about the owl house, and now I have to find a new thing to post on. I like Molly Magee, but so far not enough to spend hours typing out analysis and theories. I got into Ducktales 2 years late and, it has me going through Disney plus to find more shows about the wacky highjinks of the duck family, so if that corner of the Disney fandom is still alive maybe I will pop in their from time to time. I also happen to like a few live action shows.

But before that I want to close out the owl house with 1 (possibly a coupe more posts). This one is my recount and review of the Owl Houses final episode, and will focus on the families and connections at the end, as I feel they were the most important part of the episode, Warning long post and spoilers below.

I will start off with talking about Meeting Kings father and what we learned about Titans. We have comfirmation now that Titans do not have spouces/mates and reproduce Asexually. King’s dad did not object to being refered to as Dad, but was term wise both his dad and mom. Two things: 1 does this mean King (who doesn’t need labels right now because he is only 8) will grow up to be aroace, like Lilith? 2 this is confirmation that he will still be able to become a parent 1 day, which I am glad about, because we know he will outlive Eda, Lilith, and Luz and this way we know he will still be able to have a family again after they pass on. Also we now have confirmation that the baby titan skulls in the trapers room were kings brothers and sisters. Were the Full grown ones his oldest siblings or were they his dad’s siblings. Also the owl beast. I knew it...they? Were a titan, and that were were probably the last living one Bill mentioned since king as an egg couldn’t cry or run, and was still being hidden. At first I thought they might be his parent, but it looks like they are actually either his older sibling or his aunt/uncle... They are still inside his mom and aunt, so they are a part of his life.

So now on to King’s Dad as a parent. Because the Titans heart was still beating he actually was not completely gone. His spirit was alive in the in between realms and was watching over King, is shown to be delighted that his son found such a nice family to raise him, and is confirmed to have had a bit of a hand guiding Luz in how quickly she learned glyphs and wild magic. This all feels like methaphors for Heaven and Guardian Angels. I do not know what Dana belives or if she belives in anything. She certainly hasn’t been shy about making metaphors to the bad parts of religon/christianity. But i am glad she also made these refrences loving and positive. They can be comforting to those that have lost loved ones.

Now on to the Collector. First the older collectors aren’t his gaurdians, they are his older siblings. From their point of view the war between titans and collectors was just them being mean and breaking their baby brothers toys. Okay, they are jerks, and it was a horrible thing to do, but okay the show didn’t go full on SU diamonds parasitic route. This makes me feel a bit better about how our collectors arc ended. King’s family and He forgave each other and are good friends, the collector is confirmed to come visit them from time to time, but he went back to the Star’s to finish growing up. His siblings better feel bad about him having been stuck in thousand year time out because of them, and better leave his new friends alone now. Him going back was one of the three options I felt were possible and while not perfect I genuienly do think it was the best one. The collector was ultimelty to powerful to live on the isles full time without hurting someone, and with all the repairs and rebuilding needed to be done Eda and Raine did not have the time needed to watch him as much as he needed.

No lets go on To Luz. She moved back to the Human realm to live with her mother and sister, and graduate from earth school in graves field. It also looks like Camila was able to eventually forge the documents needed to adopt Vee in the human realm and send her to school with Luz. But we can see that a permenent portal was opened at the old house (how can Camila afford two houses on her single parent vetenairy income? Did she pay in snails and the seller think she had gold?). Luz, Camilia, and eventually Vee (wonder how long that took) made visitations to the demon realm. Luz had the option to chose which realm she wanted to live in once she grew up. It also looks like Eda got upgraded from being Luz’s temporary host parent to being like a God mothe rto her. Camila will always be Luz’s real mother, but Eda still getting to stay in their lives as support is for the best. Camilia and Luz went through so much when Manny died and they were struggling to deal with it by themsleves. I said in an earlier post that I believe the owl house to ultimately be about finding a community that is suportive of you. Camila, Luz, and Vee did not have that before, but they do now.

Now on to Hunter. So the final hints very strongly that he was adopted by Darius, not Camila, and not Eda (who FYI had no positive interactions with Hunter and should not have been considered as heavily as she was by fans). This again makes the most sense. While watchig Thanks to them when Hunter is mentioned to be happy and doing well in the human world I was like “Alright the story still works great if Hunter becomes Hunter Noceda. Darius can just be a mentor to him if he goes back to the iles in summers”. But then when he described the life he wanted at the end of the episode I was confused because everything he said was things he could only do in the demon realm. He wanted to go back perminently. I doubt Camila will ever want to fully live in the demon realm, Luz did probably need to live in both worlds until she was an adult to fully make a fair choice, and you know it took months/years for Vee to step foot there. I still hope Camila got to be Hunters God mom or was in his life as a surogate Aunt. Hey Darius and Eberwolf are implied to have become like Police officers, dedicated to stoping suporters of Belos’s system fromt trying to reinstate it. It thoretically could have been possible that they would be away for stretches and Hunter would need another adult to stay with some of the time.

Reminder of what Darius and Hunter’s relationship was like since a lot of it had to develop off screen. Darius and Hunter are strongly hinted to have started spending more time together post ASIAS, by Hollow Minds Darius had grown so fond of Hunter that he was ready to abort his cover to help him. When Hunter ran away from the EC Darius is confirmed to have tracked him down to ensure he was safe, and Hunter was comfortable leaving his hiding place to go on a mission Darius gave him (protect Luz while she went to break Amity out of the manor). Hunter was very worried/scared when he saw Darius on the stage at the Day of Unity. Also while Hunter did not put Darius’s picture on the wall he started sewing every piece of fabric he could find in the Noceda’s basement and would talk about how this was something he practiced with Darius. So he clearly missed him, but I do not think he realized how much Darius and Eberwolf missed HIM until they came looking for him after waking up. On the subject of Eberwolf and Hunter, I have seen the headcannon that Eberwolf calls Hunter pup/cub but can we as a fandom please come up with a term Hunter uses for Eberwolf. there is no way they call each other “Uncle” and “Nephew”. Those are definitly trigger word for Hunter.

Also the Blue bird Palisman Hunter eventually carved himself. I am glad its a bird, because Hunter had Palisman as therapy/support animals and birds were the animal he was most comfortable with. I want to name his new bird Bananas. Since Bananas, like Flapjacks, were a human food he was unfirmilar with in the demon realm. I am also so glad that show let him grieve Flapjack and take his time before getting a new palisman. Flapjack was Hunters biggest support during his darkest time and I was so afraid that they would trivialize his lose due to the shortened season. But no not only did they give him a grave that got visitited, not only did Hunter get a tattoo of Flapjack, but so did Willow and Luz, maybe Gus and Amity as well. Flapjack was so loved and so missed, as he should be.

 On to Alador x Darius. I ship the couple but I am so glad how it was handled, with them basically being confirmed to not get together for another 3-4 years. As cute as their dynamic is, it would have been extstreamly problamatic for them to get together soon after the battle with Belos. Alador was just getting out of a long, abusive, marriage. While we do not get a chance to fully explore Darius’s character and what caused him to close himself off from his old friends, we know he was working through some things and closing a chapter on a mission that had been a big focus f his life. Not to mention that both men had teenagrs who had been tramatized and needed/deserved to be their dad’s full focus for the time being. So for that I am glad we did not get the Blight-Deammone step family.

One kinda nice twist was that Alador decided he wanted to build medical machines and Emira was the child that ended up working with him. Emira was the child who seemed to have the least in common with Alador so I liked that they eventualy had something they could do together. A stranger surprise was Amity and Lilith’s reunion, and the strong hints that they started working together again and bonded. Dana dropped them being Mentor and protage like a hot potato after Covention day and was quick to post that they were never close/did not like each other when asked. So its kinda strange that she suddenly had them start caring and tried to portray Lilith as a strong female figure in Amity’s life after her seperating completely from Odalia. This is the big thing I feel should have been either explored more or dropped.

Lastly reagrding the end credits; I am upset that for how many clips we saw of both Steve and Matt towards the end we did not get a single on of them reuniting or together. Come on Show Why. That said I love the jobs they were shown to have afterwards. I expected Steve to maybe get an internship/assistant job at the museum with Lilith, since they were such good friends. Seeing him, still friends with Lilith, but also with the Catt’s and working to rehabilitate other coven scouts was so much better. And finding out that Matt became a hotshot architectural designer on the isles is just perfect. Also I spent 3/4ths of the End credits going “Where is Gus. Do not leave him out of this time jump”. Then I find out he graduated early and was teaching students about the human realm at Eda, Raine, and Lilith’s new university. The little genius. They’re is no confirmation that he and Matt ever got together, but Oh well. Maybe they did and are just not into PDA? maybe did and broke up/were on a break? Maybe they only ever stayed friends? It was my second favorite ship (besides Lumity) but if it didn’t happen that’s okay.

All in All this was the owl house final. It was exciting, intense, it tied up lose ends,and gave our charcters ends that while not perfect, where the best they could have been. Good job Dana. Good Job Owl House Crew. Thank you for the show. Its helped me a lot with getting through the past 3 years.

[ariadnes-red-thread]

The Last Word: Chapter One

CHAPTER ONE: Burn with Laughter

Prologue [Coming Soon] | Next Chapter

Series Masterlist

Pairing: Fives/OFC

Series Summary: War makes victims of everyone. This is something Mal knows too well. An enlisted civilian medic with the GAR, she's been able to rebuild with her chosen family, the Wolfpack, and she's found some semblance of peace in a shattered galaxy. But a request from the famous Captain Rex and a night out at 79's sends her world spiraling as she transfers from the 104th to the 501st and dives back into a search for answers that she had abandoned a long time ago. 

Mal’s new battalion is in the midst of a struggle of its own, having recently survived the horrors of Umbara. The cruelty of a broken Jedi has eroded the fabric of this close-knit group and left behind scars that are hard to heal. ARC Trooper Fives will do anything to protect his vode, and he's not sure if this new addition can be trusted.

Mal and Fives' struggle to save those they care about comes together in unexpected ways, and they find themselves thrust together in a battle for the future of a galaxy far, far away.

Chapter Summary: After a night out at 79′s, both Mal and Fives have to grapple with their decisions... and any feelings that remain.

Chapter Warnings: Alcohol use, Mentions of sex, Both characters made impaired decisions

Chapter Word Count: 5.4k

Recommended Listening: Dark Bird by Jake Wesley Rogers (St. Lucia Remix)

A/N: We’re finally here! I’ve spent the last few months obsessing over this series and this man, and I finally feel good enough about it to put my first chapter out into the world. Thank you so so so much to the incredible writer/friend/human @twistedstitcher27 for beta reading! You’re an angel, and your encouragement means the world :) I’ve tagged a few people who showed interest in the preview post but please join my taglist if you want to be tagged in future chapters so I’m not tagging people who don’t want to be tagged! I’m hoping to update every couple of weeks.

Ao3

Join my taglist

The green canopy of Takodana’s forests hung low in the rain. The heavy cascade thrummed against the leaves, plummeting from great heights to splash off of Mal. The falling water landed on her arms, her legs, and even rolled down her forehead in large, fat drops that soaked her to the bone. But the steady stream barely registered in her mind.

She was here again. 

Mal was locked in her body, just as she had been on the day that it happened. She couldn’t move. She stared into two matching pairs of green eyes, begging them to run. Begging for it to be different this time. Still, the order came, as it always did.

“Fire!”

Mal tried to scream. Nothing came out. She tried to fight. But she couldn’t. She couldn’t change what had happened. Not even in her dreams. Mal raised the blaster and aimed.

The morning sun crept across the studio apartment, ready for vengeance. It reached out with gloating first rays to prod its unwitting victim. Mal was already tossing in an uneasy slumber when the intrusion woke her. She tugged the blanket over her head to escape the sudden onslaught of light, but a quiet groan left her parched throat as she realized there was no hiding. Even though sleep was just starting to leave her body, Mal’s temples were already throbbing, an unfriendly reminder that forgetting to close the curtains had been the least of her previous evening’s offenses. With an inner voice that grew louder and louder, she started to curse the woman she had been the night before. 

As she lazed in bed for a moment, the sheet still pulled over her head, visions of the previous night’s celebrations returned one by one. 79’s. The Wolfpack. Her goodbye party. The 104th had come together to send her off and did so with their usual brand of organized chaos. There were fuzzy memories of Sinker buying rounds and rounds of spotchka, Boost trying to drag her to the dancefloor every few songs, and she quietly choked as she remembered a foolish moment where she had challenged the Commander to an arm-wrestling contest. Mal wriggled her shoulder and was almost surprised to find everything intact. Wolffe must have gone easy on her.

A first, she snorted with a slight smirk. 

Not tearing her rotator cuff was the closest that Commander Wolffe would get to being sentimental about Mal’s transfer, but she would take it for the compliment it was. She kept stretching small muscles in her body as she pieced together the rest of the night’s puzzle, the edges frayed by sleep and drink. At least, she thought as she searched for an upside to her current condition; she didn’t have to report to her new posting until the afternoon. There was still plenty of time to sweat out this hangover and put a blurry night behind her. 

Then, one memory struck her, clear and sharp as a bolt of lightning. Mal shot up in bed, spinning to look over her shoulder. In those slowed nanoseconds before she turned, Mal realized she knew exactly what would be there but still prayed that she was wrong.

She wasn’t. A naked man lay beside her with the pale green sheets tossed carelessly over his bare, tan form. The soft morning light glowed golden around him. Memories came back in swelling, unstoppable waves now. They were more than pleasant, brimming with laughter, smiles, and moans. Yet, Mal’s heart began to race, and dread rose from her stomach up to her throat as she traced her way up his sleeping form. Sheer panic finally set in when her eyes fell on his face. He was a clone.

Fuck.

Mal scrambled out of bed, immediately tangling herself in the sheets and plunging to the floor, the durasteel chilly as it smacked against her bare skin. She was naked, she realized, but this new fact didn’t slow her flight. In a moment, she righted herself, fleeing to the fresher though a haze of alarm and sleep that hadn’t quite worn off.

Mal slammed her palm against the fresher door. The hydraulics moved at their usual speed, but every second was a lifetime. Finally, she could slip through the just barely big enough gap. Mal pinned herself to the wall as the door slid shut again behind her. She quickly locked the door after it sealed as if a sheet of durasteel could protect her from her bad decisions. She threw herself over the sink, flipping on the water before gripping the bowl’s edges.

After letting the water run for a moment, Mal cupped her hands under the sink, collecting a pool in her palms. She closed her eyes and splashed the water onto her face with a quick flick of her hands. As soon as the cool liquid met her skin, she sighed. 

Mal let the water run down her face and along her neck in gentle, forgiving paths for a moment before her eyes fluttered open and snapped to the mirror. She glared at the woman staring back at her, loose red hair flying in every direction and green eyes ringed by smeared make-up. She knew better than to sleep with a clone. Mechanics and techs were okay, and, Maker, there was a whole planet of men out there who weren’t in the GAR. No Jedi, no medics, and especially no clones. Those were the rules of engagement.

Amal Darroch, you grade-A idiot, she grumbled to herself as she scowled at her reflection. Kriff a senator next time.

Mal closed her eyes again, raising her hands to rub her pounding temples with her thumbs. The pressure began to soothe her headache. Next, she turned her attention to her breathing. 

In.

She let her mind follow the meandering crystal trail of water that still trickled along her chest.

Out.

Her breathing slowed. There was no reason to panic. She had made a mistake, but it would be okay.

Even as Mal tried to tell herself that, dread still roiled in the pit of her stomach. She knew all of the reasons that sleeping with a clone was a mistake. She was a civilian medic for the GAR, after all. She had served alongside the clones for almost two years now. They were her patients, her coworkers, and, more than anything else, her friends. The 104th was the closest she had to a family. Sleeping with one of their brothers was a line she never wanted to cross.

Then there was the position that the clones found themselves in, trapped in service to a Republic that often saw them as little more than cannon fodder. She knew what it was like to be seen as a pawn, and her privilege as a citizen was something she didn’t take lightly. And then, of course, tied into all of the other reasons, there was Tye. That was still too sore to touch, but it was there, floating lazily at the top of a deep well of memories long submerged.

In. Out.

It would be okay. It had to be. Mal tried to focus on something else. Anything else. 

What was his name again? She wondered, peering through at the memories to see if she could pick out any details. 

One by one, they came back to her as her headache slowly faded. She had been leaving the restroom when another clone, a shiny she figured from the quick glance she had gotten at his armor, had approached her with a little too much enthusiasm and far too much liquor in his system. 

“Hey there, gorge-” He started, his words slurring as drink sloshed out of his glass.

Mal cursed as the brown, sticky liquor met the green silk of her dress. Before she could look up, the trooper’s feet disappeared, and he darted into the crowd. Frowning at the crowd that had swallowed up the poor shiny, Mal called out an apology that missed the ears of the retreating clone. She had overreacted… again. But this was her one nice dress, and she had only pulled it out of her closet because she lost that bet with Sinker.

She sighed. Nice going. With the familiar feeling of guilt settling in her brow, Mal looked around to find a small napkin left on a nearby booth. She sat down as she attempted to wipe at the spreading stain, but the fabric quickly fell apart in her hands. She cursed again.

“Need one of these?”

A clone, his face unmistakable even though he was in civilian clothes, appeared before her. Did he have a face tattoo? Mal strained at the memory. He had brought a towel and a glass of fresh water, sliding into the booth across from her. He apologized for his brother and made her laugh as he shared his own worst pick-up line from his days as a shiny.

“You must be from Coruscant.” He flashed a wide sideways grin, his soft brown eyes twinkling in the neon light.

“What makes you say that?” Mal remembered asking as she smiled up at him. He was wrong, but she was curious about where this was going.

“Because I was searching for love in Alderaan places before you.” 

Mal’s jaw fell open before she began to cackle, her whole body shaking at his terrible pick-up line. The clone’s grin never faltered as he laughed, both at himself and at her reaction.

“That’s the worse line I’ve ever heard.” She finally pulled herself together enough to speak. “Has it ever worked?”

“Not yet, but I’ll keep trying.” The clone chuckled to himself again before he stood and held out a hand. “Now, what would you say to a dance? It’ll help your dress dry.”

“Now that’s actually the worst pick-up line I’ve ever heard.” Mal raised an eyebrow, considering the clone’s outstretched hand for a moment. 

“Did it work?” His grin crept out a little bit wider. 

As an answer, Mal reached out and claspered his rough palm with her own. She laughed again and then, as he had led her to the dance floor, found she never stopped laughing. As the night wore on, it was as though she’d been strapped to a speeder, along for a ride with this wild pilot. His boldness permeated everything he did. She’d never met someone more comfortable in their own skin. 

Transported away from her hangover and her bathroom and back to 79’s, Mal recalled how she had moved with him to the music and the jokes they had shared, lips pressed to ears on the thunderous dance floor. He had pulled a wildness out of her that she hadn’t felt in a long time. Last night, the heaviness of the war and the tragedies that came with it were gone, and there was only this man.  Whether he was sweeping her off her feet on the dance floor or charmingly antagonizing the poor cabbie that brought them home, the world around them was a blur, and the only thing in focus was him.

Then there was the sex. The more Mal tugged at the memories of the night before, the more she remembered just how great the sex had been. Strong hands coaxing orgasm after orgasm out of her, those same hands on her hips as pleasure entered her from behind, her touch on his rippling core as she rode him, soft kisses, hungry kisses, and eventually, being pulled into strong arms as they both collapsed in perfect, exhausted bliss.

She still couldn’t remember his kriffing name, though.

Mal took another slow, measured breath as she dried her face with the hand towel. Name or no name, it was time to go out and face this man. It will be okay, she reminded herself again. She could come up with plenty of reasons not to give him her commlink, and there were millions of clones in the GAR. What were the chances she would ever run into this one man again? Mal frowned as she realized that the dread was gone, and instead, an odd ache formed in her chest at the thought.

She brushed the ache aside and all of the memories along with it. There were other problems to worry about. To begin with, she was still naked. Luckily, a sleeveless top, a binder, and compression shorts hung next to the shower from her run yesterday. She quickly pulled them on. With a sigh, she glanced in the mirror one more time. She made one last swipe under her eyes to wipe away the smudged makeup, and then she was ready to face him.

Mal stepped out of the fresher with a tight chest that bordered more on regret now than dread. Regret for what, she wasn’t willing to consider. But, as she glanced around the corners of her small apartment, she was alone. The man was gone. She breathed a sigh of relief, loud enough to distract her from the unexpected ache in her heart.

Then he stood up. The clone rose from the ground behind her bed. Mal jumped backward, letting out a cry at his sudden appearance. 

“Sorry, sorry!” He waved his hands in innocence, one of them clutching a boot that he held out towards her in explanation. “Just looking for this guy. Got away from me last night.”

“Oh, no problem!” Mal attempted her most casual tone, although she still clutched at her chest, and her heart was pounding furiously.

The clone was clothed now in vaguely familiar dark pants and a white shirt that hung close to his chest. Despite Mal’s best efforts, she found her eyes tracing over him, admiring the man. He was good-looking, born with the same handsome profile as his brothers. He must have been military or at least ground crew, she guessed, taking in his broad, rugged form. He kept his curly hair closely cropped, just a bit longer than regulation, but it was enough to give him bedhead this morning. A dark goatee cut along his sharp jaw, and a smile danced on his full lips with joy that was reflected in his deep brown eyes. Just above his dark brow, a small “5” was tattooed on his temple.

Five. Fives.

That’s right, Mal remembered. Fives. 

She locked eyes with him, and a flash of a memory of those honeyed pools staring up at her from between her legs made her toes curl.

“So, uh, wild night.” He let out a chuckle as he rubbed his empty hand along the back of his neck, ducking his head just a little as she guessed he had some similar flashbacks. “Can’t say I was in my best form, but I had fun. Hopefully, you did too.”

His look was earnest, and Mal smiled back at him against her better judgment. Fives was as disarming this morning as he had been last night.

“Definitely,” Mal nodded.

She winced as she realized what she had said. It was bad enough that she had broken her rule, but now she was flirting with him again. She wanted to be cold. Mal wanted to make this goodbye painless and quick. But something inside her pushed back. Something wanted to pull Fives back to bed, give him her comm, and beg him for an actual date.

You deserve to be happy.

A familiar voice whispered in the back of her head. The echo was enough to snap her back to reality. No clones. No relationships. One night and she was already losing focus. Seemingly oblivious to the thundering internal dialogue reverberating through her already-pounding head, Fives dropped behind the bed again. This time, he sank to one knee to pull on his last boot.

“I gotta get back to the barracks before my Captain has my ass.” He kept chatting as he tugged on the straps. “It’s always worse when he doesn’t go out with us. Jealous sheb.”

His voice was affectionate as he spoke of his Captain, and Mal relaxed a bit, thinking of her own squad. Fives rose again, fully dressed. With purpose, he stepped around the bed and towards Mal. Her breath caught in her throat at the movement. She froze, afraid of what her body might do if she let it. He stood over her, his wide figure towering above hers. He looked her up and down with a smile that brought a blush to her cheeks. Then Fives let out a quiet sigh.

“Thanks for everything.”

His voice was surprisingly gentle. He swooped down and pressed a soft kiss against Mal’s cheek, his goatee gently tickling the place where it grazed her jawline. Before she could even register the moment, he spun around and made his way to the door. With that unspoken goodbye, Fives was gone.

That was easy, she thought, but she didn’t move as she stared at the sealed door with a frown on her face and a chest still tense with regret.

Fives threw an arm around Tup as he pointed across the bar.

“Her. I want to go home with her.”

“Good luck,” Jesse laughed, his eyebrows wrinkling as he glanced at his vod’s target, or more accurately, the clone sitting next to the woman in question. “Looks like you’ll have to fight your way through Wolffe.”

Fives blew a raspberry in dismissal. Jesse let out another chuckle as Kix caught his eye. The medic tilted his head at Jesse, who nodded back to him. Oblivious to their plotting, Fives brought himself down to his elbows to lean on the bar and gawk across the way. While Fives was distracted, Jesse reached for the full drink in front of the boisterous clone, and with a carefully trained hand, he slid it down the bar to Kix.

“Hey, where’d my drink go?” Fives frowned as he looked around.

Kix shrugged, shooting a smug smile at Tup and Jesse over the top of a fresh glass of Corellian whiskey he was now sipping on.

“Ahh, kriff it. I need to piss.” Fives declared before he launched himself away from the bar.

“Should someone go with him?” Tup watched with vague concern as Fives meandered away from them and into the crowd.

“Sometimes you just have to release him into the night and hope he comes home in one piece.” Kix waved off Tup’s worry, still enjoying his new drink.

“Maybe he’ll find Coric. That di’kut went to the bathroom hours ago.” Jesse pointed out.

The night came back in bits and pieces to the slowly waking clone.

Fives had found his way to the fresher, the space from the bar and the mission to relieve himself, giving him some time to focus his whiskey-addled brain. He stood by the sink for a moment, letting himself sober up. Through the mirror, graffiti on the wall caught his eye, and he spun to get a better look at it. It was a quickly scribbled Teyrian mesa goat with large words next to it; Fives’ sister.

Kark you, Jesse. He frowned before he took a recording of the art and sent the holo to the obvious offender over his comm. 

We’re brothers, you shabuir.

Fives typed into the small machine. He tried to scratch at the drawing to see if it would peel off with just his fingernails, but it didn’t budge. Fives let out a small huff in defeat before he turned for the door.

When he finally stepped from the fresher, Fives was torn between returning to his vode or trying his luck on the dance floor. His brothers often accused him of being a charmer, and they weren’t entirely wrong. He liked flirting with the women and sometimes the men that came into 79’s. There was no risk of anything serious, relationship or otherwise. No talk of the war, no hushed whispers about Echo, and right now, no mention of that ori’dush Jedi. As much as he loved his vode, other company was a welcome break.

He was weighing his options when, like a vision, she appeared before him. It was her, the girl he had made his mark from the moment he had spotted her stunning form from across the bar. Wearing a silky emerald dress that clung to her gentle curves and stopped at her knees, and with long hair that fell over strong shoulders in loose red curls, she was unmistakable. She was alone now, weaving her way through the crowd without Wolffe at her side to fend off any suitors. Fives couldn’t believe his luck. This was his shot, and like a good ARC Trooper, he wasn’t going to miss.

Fives knew all the lines he would have used on her as a shiny. Hey baby, come here often? Hey gorgeous, let me buy you a drink. Those lines had done their job, more often than not. Still, he’d learned over the years that his greatest talent, aside from being a honed and rather creative droid-killing machine, was making people laugh, and that usually worked best. 

Before he could make his move, a young clone stepped into his line of site. The young man swayed as he walked, but Fives had to hand it to him; he kept his eyes on his target. Maybe too well.

Soon, the soldier’s drink was down the front of the girl’s dress, and Fives watched with a bemused smile as the poor shiny realized he was in way over his head and quickly tore back into the crowd. The woman looked up after the shiny, and Fives was impressed to see an unheard apology fall from her lips before she turned back to her ruined dress. With all thoughts of chasing after her aside, he went to the bar and came back with a glass of water and a rag to offer her the help that his younger, stupider vod didn’t.

By the time she invited him back to her apartment, Fives’ head was spinning, and it wasn’t from the alcohol anymore. It was entirely her fault. Amal. Mal. Her name was a song clearer than any he’d heard before. She was gorgeous and funny, keeping up with his ridiculous jokes and bold choice of fun at every turn. The cabbie was ready to kick both of them out by the time the speeder had reached her corner. The weequay didn’t find the fact that she and Fives had taken to narrating his driving like announcers at a podrace as amusing as they did. 

They both stumbled from the cab, doubled over, and wrecked with laughter. Fives swore he nearly broke a rub when, before the cabbie could take off, she ran to the front bumper of the air taxi, pulled the dark scarf from her shoulders, and waved it like a starting flag. The cabbie flew away, swearing. Unbothered, Mal blew the weequay a parting kiss.

“For good luck.” She grinned as she skipped back to Fives.

He quickly pulled Mal into him. A feeling of enchantment overcame him as he wrapped his arms around her waist. She smiled up at him, the city light dancing like stars in her glassy, green eyes. He spun her for a moment, sending them both in a circle just so he could pull one more gleeful laugh from her. Then he raised a hand to Mal’s face and leaned down to capture her lips with his.

Now, as he woke in the vaguely familiar bed, Fives groaned and stretched. He could hear her in the bathroom. The sound of the fresher door had pulled him from sleep, and the rush of the sink had prodded him to wake. Fives rolled himself over in bed and onto his stomach, stretching into the empty space beside him, still warm from her form. Her scent, a spicy-sweet vanilla, lingered on the sheets, and a longing sigh escaped him. Something about her presence in the fresher, the running water, and the soft morning light made his heart clench. He could almost imagine other mornings waking up here, other mornings where he could gather her back into his arms and convince her to go back to sleep, or mornings where he could try his hand at cooking and surprise her with breakfast.

Dangerous thoughts, Fives frowned into the soft dusty green fabric. He pushed himself up on his forearms. It was time to go. He started by gathering his clothes. They were strewn about the studio from the whirlwind of their entrance last night. As he pulled on his pants, he looked around the place Mal called home.

The first thing that caught his eye was the kitchen. Sitting kitty-corner to the bed, a tall wood bar separated the kitchen from her living space. It was the only table she had, and it looked a little dusty. Behind it, the kitchen was empty. A few spices and a couple of pans sat on the dark, open-faced shelves mounted on forest green walls. Otherwise, there was nothing.

A waste, Fives snorted. Nat-borns never appreciated the comforts. 

There were two doors along the same far wall as the kitchen. One was a blast door that Fives knew he had entered last night, and the other, he assumed from the sounds of running water, was the fresher. The bed was tucked in the corner of the room, next to a window with crooked curtains, as if someone had tried and failed to close them. On his side of the bed, there was still enough space between the window and the bedframe for a small table and lamp. There, he found that someone- her, if he remembered correctly - had deposited his shirt last night. Opposite the bed, a comfortable and worn brown chair was covered in blankets and a few books, turned down with their pages open as if someone was saving their spot. The rest of the room was lined with more dark shelves covered in more books and countless plants of all sizes and colors. He chuckled a little as he pulled his shirt on. She must like to take care of things. How sweet.

Dangerous thoughts, Fives felt the warning pop up again. Time to pack up. He straightened his shirt and reached for his boots, only to find one missing.

He didn’t hear her come out of the fresher. He was busy grinning victoriously at the erstwhile shoe he had pried out from under the bed. It wasn’t until he heard a sudden cry of surprise that he realized she was there. He snapped his head up to find Mal standing on the other side of the bed, her mouth open and a hand clutched to her chest.

“Sorry, sorry!” He quickly apologized, throwing the boot out in front of him in explanation.

“No problem!” She squeaked.

Fives couldn’t help but grin a little wider. She was trying to act natural, but her breathlessness from the scare still lingered. Then, a memory of her on her back, even more breathless as she writhed on his tongue, came back to him in a flash. Heat spread across his cheeks, and a hand shot up to the back of his neck, which he quickly rubbed as if he could erase the memory from his mind’s eye.

“So, wild night.” Fives chuckled at himself. He felt like a shiny again. “Can’t say I was in my best form, but I had fun. Hopefully, you did too.”

He watched as she relaxed and met his smile with one of her own. 

“Definitely.” 

His stomach flipped. Mal was as gorgeous as he remembered, standing there with her wavy red hair draped over her ivory shoulders. Toned arms peaked out from a sleeveless top, and black compression shorts hugged the curves of her hips. Fives had half a mind to pull her back to bed. He wanted to hold her heaving chest pressed to his and steal the oxygen from her lips. He wanted to kiss each freckle on her face. He wanted to soothe her worried brow.

Her worried brow.

Something was wrong. Fives kept chatting anyway. Echo had always joked that he was the only trooper who could talk more than Kenobi. He could sense her stiffness. It was the pauses between her words and the stillness of her limbs. She laughed, and she smiled, but something was wrong.

“I gotta get back to the barracks before my Captain has my ass. It’s always worse when he doesn’t go out with us. Jealous sheb.”

Fives finally let himself frown as he bent over to pull on his boot. He wondered if she knew what was coming. It wasn’t that he wanted to hurt Mal. They’d had a great time together, and maybe if things were different, this could end differently, but he never asked for comm links anymore. Some of his brothers had lovers that waited for them. They snuck off to dark corners of the Venators to call home and whisper sweet words of love while their other halves told them how much they were missed. Fives didn’t see the point. Jesse, all high and mighty in his relationship, tried to argue with him, saying Fives would understand when he fell in love, but he didn’t think that was likely. Having someone at home meant making promises you didn’t know if you could keep, like coming home at all.

When he stood, Fives was surprised to see that she had relaxed. Whatever was wrong must have been chased from her mind. He stepped around the bed and paused before Mal for a second, taking her in one last time. He breathed a little deeper. She still smelled like vanilla. She pulled him in like a magnet as Fives leaned down to kiss her on the cheek. His lips grazed her soft skin as his breath quickened. He could see her own lips fall softly open at his touch, and every impulse in him wanted to taste her one more time. 

He spun for the door before he could be reckless, breathing out a hurried thank you as he rushed to put space between her and him. Fives pushed aside any thoughts of other mornings, of how her legs had felt wrapped around his waist, or of her shining, spirited laugh. It was time to go. Jesse only could (and would) cover for him for so long.

He stepped out Mal’s front door into a narrow, dark stairwell that led from the entrance of her apartment to a back alley behind a bar below. The acrid smell of the dank crevasse between buildings hit him right away as he descended into the small corridor. He rounded the corner, pausing by the establishment to blink in the sudden sunlight. The divey joint looked just as seedy in the daylight as it had the night before. He frowned for a moment, thinking of Mal living above a place like that, before he shook himself of concern. He had said his goodbyes. A war was going on, and it was time to get back to work. He just had to find his way back to the barracks first.

Where the kriff was he? He wondered as he looked around. Come on ARC, use your head.

He glanced at the time mark on his comm and then looked up at the sun. He turned his attention to the city around him, searching for the level markings notched in the corner of each block of Coruscant. Finally, he examined the way the shadows fell from the buildings. A wave of relief washed over him. He was closer to the barracks than he expected. He might even make it back with time for a shower before the likely chewing-out from Rex.

Fives broke into a jog. He’d run every day since he was a cadet. It was easier on Kamino, with its long winding halls, but he still made time, even if it was just circling the barracks while on distant planets. It drove Echo crazy. His twin would throw pillows at him during tough campaigns, groaning at him to “Cut the shit.” Fives never did, though.

Despite still feeling a little groggy and the fact that he was wearing his one set of civics, it was a nice morning for a run. The sun was just hitting Coruscant’s midlevels, and the thought of a shower before roll call put an extra spring in his step. As his feet beat a steady rhythm against the ground, he focused on the mantra he always repeated as he ran.

Droidbait, Cutup, Hevy, 99, Echo, Hardcase.

The name at the end was new, and it still felt weird and heavy on his heart, but he repeated the names again and again. He wasn’t ever going to forget them. He wouldn’t ever let them be just a number.

tentative taglist: @twistedstitcher27, @baba-fett, @thefact0rygirl, @writingbylee, @wizardofrozz, @wild-karrde, @xopancakeox , @padmeromanoffs, @lunaastars, @shellshooked, @obi-wansorrow​, @misogirl828 and @the-sith-in-the-sky-with-diamond​

[swiftsnowmane]

@dasfeministmermaid - apologies, I realise you asked this absolutely ages ago (last year now, even!), but re: my tags on this post, I was mostly just referring to the fact that at the time Disney took over SW, the popularity of GoT was largely responsible for the trend towards dark and 'gritty realism' in fantasy media in general. I don't claim there was necessarily direct influence on the SW sequels, but if we are talking cultural zeitgeists, then aside from perhaps Marvel, GoT was certainly one of the most prominent at the time. And I can't help but see something of that in TFA’s whole 'we’re going to portray the Original Trio as colossal failures and morally grey at best, instead of the unquestionably heroic figures created by George Lucas'. Not to mention the bizarro depiction of the Skywalker family as some kind of 'cursed' dynasty that was doomed to repeat the mistakes of the past, despite the fact that such a cynical interpretation flew in the face of every story element, theme, and character arc established in the original saga. The only Skywalker who was under a so-called 'curse' was Anakin (and by that I simply mean his enslavement by Sidious), and he freed himself (and his family, and the whole galaxy) from that once and for all when he destroyed the Sith and saved his son at the end of Return of the Jedi. In this light, the course of events that was supposed to have taken place off-screen in-between RotJ and TFA made no sense within the actual context established by the Lucas saga. The milieu of the characters in the PT and OT is purposefully constructed to be different from one another, hence why the Skywalker twins are raised without any direct Jedi influence, in loving families, are allowed to have childhoods, allowed to love, etc., unlike their parents who were trapped within an increasingly corrupt system that actively prevented them from living together as a couple or family. The very context in which Luke and Leia’s story takes place is a big part of what allows them to definitively break the cycle.

Of course, it can be argued that simply by continuing the story beyond RotJ at all, the Disney-sequels were always going to destroy the meaning of the Lucas saga. But the character assassination of the Original Trio in TFA was a conscious and completely unnecessary decision—after all, a sequel could have potentially been made without destroying Han, Luke, and Leia’s entire characterisations and relationships. The fact that Disney also (lazily and pointlessly) decided to construct a new 'Dark Times' as the setting is even more telling, since there was absolutely no need to do so, and all it did was add to the impression that these characters were nihilistically doomed to constantly repeat the same past mistakes and tragedies, when nothing could be further from the truth that Lucas' story established. I have gone into great detail about this many times over the years since TFA was released, so I won't dwell on it here, but the Original Trio absolutely DOES 'break the cycle', and suggesting otherwise destroys not only the meaning of the OT, but also that of the Prequels (basically erasing Anakin's entire story). The unequivocally happy ending of RotJ is likewise what 'redeems' the tragedy of the Prequels, and without that, the meaning of the entire Lucas saga is totally undermined and destroyed. I refuse to accept that, hence why I've always rejected the Disney-sequels and will never accept them as legitimate canon.

In brief, Star Wars was never meant to be 'gritty', nor is the outcome of its storyline supposed to be 'realistic'. Lucas' saga begins with a tragedy (the Prequels) that is subsequently redeemed by a fairytale (Original Trilogy), and which, when taken together, forms a created-myth, the outcome of which is meant to be idealistic, positive, uplifting, redemptive, and restorative. It is the eucatastrophe that Tolkien talks about, the defiance in the face of 'universal final defeat'. But the Disney-sequels ignored and/or actively overturned everything positive and meaningful about the original saga (that most lifelong SW fans like myself had valued and cherished since childhood) and all in the service of a decidedly lesser wannabe ‘addition’ that was devoid of the inspiring Romanticism and mythopoesis of Lucas’ saga. TFA came at a time when studios had certain assumptions about audience expectations and pandered to those accordingly. So I’m not saying there was direct influence from GoT, just that there was a cultural trend that a lot of media got swept up in at that time. Imo, it's also just the inevitable pitfall of attempting to make something that vaguely resembles ‘Star Wars' appeal to contemporary sensibilities. It was never going to work, because Star Wars (the real Star Wars) is mythic, Romantic, and transcendent—a type of story that, sadly, contemporary studios and audiences alike seem unable to appreciate.

**Note: most of the meta I've linked on this subject is from my Star Wars sideblog which is vehemently anti-Sequels, so fair warning to anyone who happens to like those. ;p

[mcbitchtits]

and now it’s time for silly songs with larry minnesota cuke, the part of your dash where i keep talking about indiana jones, forever.

current state of the view count:

here be spoilers. i might say i’d stop tagging after we cross the month threshold but tbh the way i keep writing novel-length nonsense it will probably just stay under a cut regardless

i know we got the wilhelm and the milennium falcon/plane engine noise (can’t remember where, on the latter) but i avidly watched the credits last time and ben burtt was not involved in this one. dunno how much of this is lucasfilm restructuring under disney or them handing it over to a mostly fully new team (like new costumers being mostly disconnected from the old ones), but it’s a little sad to see. it’s not like he’s retired. (I mean, maybe he was overbooked or didn’t want to work on it, but still!) (i may be the singular person out here regularly making raiders foley art jokes around the internet, so, you know, forgive me on my frustration with this point.)

what do you think happened to that poor italian pilot after everything? are they long-distance friends now, a la sallah or presumably renaldo, etc? (which, by the way, I can’t remember if I ever speculated about it on here, but I was hoping we’d meet up with one of Young Indy’s FFL friends in Morocco. I was clearly wrong about that.) or do you just go back to your italian pilot life trying not to think about how you went 2200 years into the past? i mean, shit gets weird with pilots. so it’s not like he’d be an odd man out just ranting paranoically about watching out for dangerous cloud formations at altitude. (and when i say “shit gets weird with pilots”, i also mean, like, it’s a personality thing. SO.) (i mean...)

been trying to pay more attention to the score on subsequent viewings because it hits so differently for me. I think, other than Helena’s Theme, that it just uses older cues a lot more? which, arguaby, it’s not like the past sequels haven’t done that, but much like my script complaints it feels like it’s Oops! All References. which I did notice— pretty sure when the bomb drops in the intro, it’s the ants swarming cue from Crystal Skull. (which is kind of an interesting comparison, musically, thematically!)

on the flip side, I was dinking around with Helena’s Theme on the keyboard— I’m fairly but not 100% certain it’s just the Raiders March notes rearranged. which is sweet, and I like that it went someplace different musically, but also it’s interesting to note how that’s such a musical diversion from John Williams’ other work. Star Wars intertwines themes a lot, but so has Indiana Jones; notably with Mutt’s theme in Crystal Skull but iirc also with Henry Sr in Last Crusade? now i’m second guessing myself. ANYWAY. Williams does it a lot, frequently in little ways that are just a bar or two or four, so it’s notable to me that Helena’s doesn’t.

which is fine; it’s a good theme. on the other hand, I feel like that reinforces again my structural complaints with Dial of Destiny, in that things just seem tacked on together in a pile and don’t really mesh; and moreover, that we frequently are given Helena’s Theme when we want to hear the Raiders March. intertwining them as countermelodies or harmonized or whatever would have given us both. and 1) it’s interesting that they chose only to give us Helena and not Indy, musically, and 2) this echoes the structure of not actually actively resolving (or, uh, even really addressing forthrightly) their character arcs/conflict!

on my last viewing i went to see it in this theater that used to be an indie/art theater and got bankrupted by covid and resold, and it was very nice internally but i spent the whole movie wondering what the fuck kind of weird vignetting was going on with the film/lenses. finally made it to the underwater scenes and it was just dark as shit, so I suspect, looking back, it was just that the projector had bulb issues, which is frustrating on its own but even moreso as a purportedly indie/art theater. (also i got a trailer for that theater camp movie this time, which is a hilarious pre-roll choice? lol)

i cannot stop thinking about the whole Science But Also We’re Going To Nod Vaguely To Athena And Put Moons On Shit design premise. i get the moons if you’re trying to make everyone remember that the dial is a celestial body calendar calculator (which it was!) but WHY JUST THE MOON. WHY EVEN BOTHER PUTTING ATHENA IN THERE. if it’s SCIENCE then put THE MOON AND THE STARS AND THE PLANETS. if it’s MYTHOLOGY then PUT IN ARTEMIS AND APOLLO/ETC. AND IF IT’S ABOUT TIME THEN YOU SHOULD HAVE GIVEN ME KRONOS AND THE TITANS GOD DAMNIT

/rant

anyway. lazy production design (and/or writing/plot choice if it was them) in my opinion.

BUT NO WHAT’S THIS IT’S MORE THOUGHTS ABOUT THE GRAPHIKOS

I think they melted it... digitally? The fire looks digital, and the melted wax looks digital, and there’s a notable texture difference from the shot of the disc in the melted wax vs. the subsequent shot of Indy pulling the disc out. So I’m very curious to know if it was actually digital or practical. Generally, yes, safer for fire. My preference obviously as a Raiders/etc fan specifically is that it should have been practical to the extent they could have. And of course we can argue maybe the shot difference is just waiting for the wax to cool enough to pick it out the disc safely, but, eh. idk. it didn’t feel tactile, you know? That’s part of what these movies are about.

(I mean, likely, lighting some 151 or whatever on a Wide Candle would probably not burn sufficiently long to melt it? But COME ON, THE POWER OF EDITING, I BELIEVE IN YOU) (also perhaps i will try lighting one of my junk candles on fire later with the power of rum. just for experimental purposes. SCIENCE, YAKNOW)

side note, historically, i want to say a wax tablet like that would have had a wood frame? also, i don’t know what kind of wax they would have made it out of. i could easily go research this, so i guess that’s going on my list next.

So the big thing I keep chewing on is the contrast-not-contrast of Voller and Indy, and what the fuck the plot was actually trying to say. (and, frankly, as I have mentioned, I keep coming up with ????? because I think they didn’t have a good thesis and thus the structure floundered and the point is kind of lost, aside from the broad strokes of what we already “know” about Indy, both the person and the character.) Voller’s Mediterranean look is interesting to be because it seems like a pallette-swap of Indy. Light toned fedora, light toned jacket, slacks and a shoulder bag, all still in natural, earth tones, but not dark browns. To me this is a more interesting contrast than is happening almost anywhere else, because it’s reminiscent of Belloq’s pallette (usually whites and creams, both with pith helmet and later a fedora) and also Panama Hat’s (love those serial flick names). Belloq and Indy are explicitly very close to the same, “rational” archaeologists in pursuit of some academic fame or notoriety, and also a little bit in the realms of questionable ethics. (Until it turns out, of course, that Belloq would sell his soul to the Nazis, and Indy wouldn’t, though let’s not get into the depths of that examination here.) Voller also consistently sees Indy as a comrade-in-arms, the rational scientists whose pure pursuit of truth (and their own goals) is above all else.

And, of course, in the end, we see how that plays out more explicitly, Voller in the plane says “I can’t stay here,” while moments later Indy begs to be allowed to; “let me stay.”

Of course Indy would never be a Nazi so it’s necessary both structurally (and, uh, because otherwise this would be a literal disaster of a movie) for them to be counterpoints. But while this holds in the production design and the general basic structure, again, I think they really lost the plot in the nuances.

Indy is a man of science. Even all the while he’s come to appreciate (in past adventures) the existence of some mysticism. This movie, so much thematically, is about Science (Archimedes and the antikythera) and Indy being a scientist and also Voller being a scientist. It’s also as much about belief; Indy in Science AND ALSO His Marriage, and Voller in Science. But, structurally, it keeps trying to pit Science against everything else; this in part is why the “dial” is the least interesting macguffin we’ve seen so far— it’s not really resonant to the story. (Mostly this failure belongs, as I’ve said, to the lack of character arc that should be underlying everything.)

Indy insists on being a scientist, despite the fact that he’s also willing to write off everything he’s seen as “how hard you believe in it”. Is that not worth examining, as a central thesis of the series?! Why does it get such a cop-out line?! (Again, because I think they didn’t know what they wanted to say, so they waffled on everything, and instead you get a hemming and hawing script without resolution.)

As a scientist, at the very least, I think he would be more intrigued by everything that has happened to him. Scientists love when things yield unexpected results, because that’s something new to explore.

Which, in that same vein, I can’t buy that he wouldn’t think the moon landing or space exploration was interesting. I can’t buy that he’d feel “replaced”— obviously, this is very much an angle on heroism and culture that is used by nazis and other cultural supremacists— but Indy is a guy who wants to learn, to teach, to engage with the world, to go on adventures. (If he’s jealous, show us that?)

And again, again, again, one can certainly argue that this is all specifically not him, not himself, because of the depression of losing Mutt and his marriage; that’s fine, but I think the script does a shit job of establishing that or doing anything with it.

And if Indy feels “replaced” (which, again, this thing they kept telling us in the promo material I don’t think was borne out well in the actual text!), and he’s longing for some lost era of himself (except, again, that he pushes everyone away and continues to claim “this isn’t an adventure”), what the fuck is the actual text of the movie structurally trying to say by bringing him “back” at the end? If he’s not actually a relic of the past (uh, literally and figuratively), and we still need heroes of his type today, why do we not spend more time and finesse with that character arc??????? You cannot posit this as your central thesis and then nearly forget about it until the last five minutes. I mean, you can, I guess. They maybe did. And it sucks all the more for it.

If Voller’s obsession with science is what gets him stuck as a literal and figural relic, and Indy gets to look to the future to continue to be a hero and be needed in the world around him, why do we spend so much time valorizing the antikythera as a scientific object instead of a more mystic one, if Indy needs Belief and Awe and The Power of Friendship and The Power of Punching Nazis and so do we?! Again, and I know I’ve said this a billion times already, but WHY DO HELENA AND INDY NEVER HAVE THAT MOMENT OF RESOLUTION??? Helena needs to realize it too! Indy needs to stop being so cynical and see what he already knows!

I just. urgh. like I said. it’s hard to write about with clarity because I think they lost it themselves. And, more objectively, the script is narratively fighting itself on these themes in part because “making the antikythera scientific and not very mystic” is a reaction to Crystal Skull more than it is a reflection on the rest of the series or letting it stand on its own merits. And, again, I think that not only creates a story that is at odds with itself constantly and messy as a result, but it also does no service to Raiders as a story nor the other entries in the series, nor to Indiana Jones as a concept or a franchise. (And, most notably, it makes a bad “finale” entry!)

I’ll probably have more to say on this later, and, you know, eternally, because every time I sit down to write out what I’m trying to say I end up saying something completely else so I’m just over here piling up disjointed comments on top of disjointed comments.

[cambion-companion]

Hi, I love your writing. I know you get A LOT of requests, but I was thinking if you could write some enemies to lovers. Dagger to throat, angry makeout session and you know stuff like that. That would be GREAT.

Hi, so I based this oneshot (maybe twoshot) from this post because I needed to, duty called, I answered. And @ladybug023 has some great ideas!

(I can't help but love you

Even though I try not to

I can't help but want you

I know that I'd die without you -Ruelle, War of Hearts)

Word count: 2,000

Aemond x tomboy!lady!reader | enemies to lovers ?

Tag list: @fuckinglittlekitten@bored-and-nerdy@echos-muses@moni-cah@mothertower@runningmunson@gabrieletargaryen@weskamoe@andreeasancheez@fleur-foudroyee@bcon24@tresefitzgibbons@lovesickwildcat@samblackblog@tinykryptonitewerewolf@thesapphirequeen@ohsehunbabyy@bitch-biblioklept@drawing-kitty1@scarletttargaryen@themartiansdaughter@blue-velvet-valentina@megatardisbaby@roseglowx@gotjonsa1@flowerpotmage@sirenofavalon@darylandbethfanforever9@enchantedpendant@nupppuff

You smirked up at the Targaryen prince through your lashes, his brow was furrowed in concentration, trying to gauge an opening in your defensive stance.

“You said this is called Water Dancing?”  Aemond huffed, he’d been unable to land a single blow to your person the entire sparring match and it was aggravating him.

“It is!  My father hired a Braavosi sword instructor because they’re said to be the best.”  You kept a trained eye upon the prince’s shifting stance, your one-handed sword raised at the ready.

“Is that not unusual, a Lord allowing his daughter to train in swordplay?”

You scoffed. “Says the one-eyed prince.”

Aemond snarled, his long hair swirling about his angular face as he lunged for you.  You were barely able to knock aside his strike, stumbling back before recovering your balance enough to swiftly dodge his continued attacks.

With a growl, the Targaryen relented, instead beginning to stalk in a circle around you, reminding you very much of a dragon in the way he moved and glared into your eyes.

“Why do you insist on training with me if it vexes you so?”  You feinted toward him, striking instead at his unguarded left flank.

Aemond, quick as ever, parried your blow. “My…intense dislike for you inspires me to train harder.”

“Oh, so I inspire you, do I?”

“Only in the way a fungus inspires nausea.”

“Ouch.”  You half-laughed at his disdain, failing to block his next attack, the flat of his blade knocking heavily against your shoulder. “Ouch!”

“Pay better attention next time.”

“You’re an ass, Aemond.”

He leapt at you again, you neatly dodge under his arcing strike, rapping him on the back with your sword.  Aemond spun, his violet eye practically glowing with frustration. “Better an ass than the spoiled daughter of a nobleman who indulges her every whim.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say you’re jealous.”  You blocked several more of his attacks, the sound of metal-on-metal ringing off the stone walls of the courtyard.

“Jealous of a girl who looks as though she’s been drug face first through the streets of Flea Bottom?” Aemond snorted a derisive laugh. “I think not.”

“Why you entitled,” It was your turn to be the aggressor, a sudden burst of anger spurring you forward, “dragon-riding,” You jabbed at his torso, “towheaded,” You tried swinging a blow down upon his head, “pretentious Snollygoster!”

Aemond had to take a moment, holding a hand to halt the sparring as he leant upon his sword, laughing.  “Snollygoster?  Did your Braavosi master teach you that as well or did your father hire a separate instructor for rare insults?”

“It means-”

“I can imagine what it means, Y/N.”  Aemond spoke over you, twirling his sword one final time before moving to rest it back upon the weapon’s rack.  “As insufferable as you are,” He shook his silver head at you, his expression still amused, “you certainly aren’t boring.”

You returned your sword to its resting place as well, shooting Aemond a scalding look. “Unfortunately, I cannot say the same for you.”

“And yet,” Aemond mused, looking down his nose at you, “you insist on sparring with me alone and no one else…ever.”

“I-” You spluttered, only causing his smirk to grow wider, “I-you said it yourself.  No one else challenges me like you do.”

“That’s the nicest thing you’ve said to me, Y/N.”  Aemond gave you a mock bow, his long hair falling over his shoulders.

You hated how pretty he was.

Averting your eyes, you crossed your arms over your chest. “I guess I’ll see you tonight?”

“Tonight?”  Aemond echoed, tilting his head in confusion.

“Yes, tonight.  The dance?  Have you forgotten?”

“Ah, no I hadn’t forgotten.  I simply didn’t think my mother would’ve invited a girl who pretends at being a boy as her favorite pastime.”

Despite yourself, his words stung.  You gave him one last withering look before turning towards the Red Keep. “Better that than a lonely little boy pretending he has any chance at the Iron Throne.”

You knew your words were cruel, but this was the game you two had been playing since the day you’d first met in the sparring arena.  His intense dislike for you was tempered by the admiration he felt for your boldness.  For your part, you appreciated how much you learned sparring with him in both swordplay and your everlasting battle of words.

Aemond did not call after you as you entered the dark coolness of the keep, winding your way upstairs and through torchlit corridors to your chambers.  He was right of course, you had mud on your cheek and your hair was a tangled mess. If you were to look presentable for tonight’s feasting and dancing, you a lot of work to do.  You called for a hot bath and some serving maids to help dress you and do your hair; you’d be damned if you saw Aemond smirk down at you tonight.

⋆⁺₊⋆ ☾⋆⁺₊⋆

The shimmering cobalt fabric caressed your clean body in waves of chiffon and satin.  You wore a necklace of dark blue sapphires that cascaded like a waterfall, drawing the eye to the swell of your chest and the details of gold upon your bodice.  Your long hair had been successfully untangled and washed, thoroughly brushed through, drying in lustrous curls that the servants had swept away from your face in a twisting updo, showing off the curve of your neck.

You noted the surprise on the maid’s face at your drastic change in appearance, only growing to an expression akin to awe as you dabbed rouge on your cheeks and lips, underlining your eyes with a stick of kohl.

“You look…radiant, my lady.”  The sweet girl bobbed a curtsy to you before you swept from your chambers.

You gave her a smile of thanks, gathering your silky indigo skirts as you departed, leaving the scent of lilac perfume in your wake.

As you descended the sandstone steps to the crowded great hall, many eyes turned your way in admiration.  You gave a small smile to those people whom your eyes met, vindication swelling in your breast as your gaze alighted upon Aemond’s shocked face.

He was easy to spot, looking very handsome himself in a tunic and coat of dark green and black, the fabric contrasting pleasingly with his silver hair and purple eye.  He wore an eyepatch of black leather to match, his expression morphing from shock into something unreadable as he watched you striding toward him.

With the soft sound of your skirts brushing the floor, you walked purposefully up to the Targaryen prince.  Giving him a small curtsy, all the while a coy smirk playing upon your lips.

“I almost didn’t recognize you.”  He said, the corners of his mouth twitching. “You don’t look like an unwashed beast.”

“Amazing what some hot water and soap will do for a person.”  You grinned up at him. “Too bad it can’t help you though.”

Aemond let out a low sound of annoyance, shaking his head at you. “One day I will make you regret your insolence.”

You leaned into his space, your breath intermingling with his. “I look forward to it.”  You gave the prince a cheeky wink before flouncing away, deeper into the swirling colors of the crowd.

ʚïɞ.•*¨*•.¸¸♬

Your feet ached, you’d been dancing for quite some time, on the arm of one handsome gentleman to the other.  Most of the company proving to be too vapid and self-interested for your taste.  Despite yourself, you kept looking around for a familiar one-eyed prince, but hadn’t seen Aemond since your encounter at the hall’s entrance.

As you were swirled by yet another boring dance partner around the floor, the two of you passed the open doors leading to a moonlit balcony.  You barely had the chance to glance outside but were able to see the familiar taut stance and long straight hair of the man you were loath to admit you wanted to see.

“Excuse me.”  You broke the too-tight embrace of the man grasping your waist, waved off his protestations and turned to make your way through the other dancers, toward the balcony.

Cool night air washed over you as you exited the ballroom, your curled hair stirring in a salty breeze fresh off Blackwater Bay.  Aemond still stood, motionless as a spider, with his back to you, looking over the railing toward the sea.

Careful to keep your distance, you moved to stand at his right side, enjoying a moment the muffled sound of music and laughter behind you, the distant noise of the city and ocean in front.

“Why are you here?”  Aemond’s voice was not displeased, though he did not turn to look at you fully.

“I…”  For once you were at a loss for words, instead you tapped your fingers upon the rough stone banister. “I needed some fresh air.  Why are you out here?”

Aemond was silent a moment, so long you doubted whether he would answer you.  You turned your face to look at him, his profile sharp and regal as he stood tall with hands clasped behind his back.

“Large gatherings of people do not entice me.”  He spoke at last, still avoiding looking toward you. “You seem to be thriving, however.”

“You’ve been watching me?”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”  Aemond tsked, a measure of his former teasing levity returning. “It’s swollen enough.”

You laughed, the sound drawing Aemond’s gaze at last to your smiling face.  You stopped giggling immediately, upon seeing the intensity of his expression.  

“Are you alright?”  You were surprised at the amount of genuine concern you felt for him, and you could see he was as well by the way his eye widened slightly.

“You seem intent on tormenting me, Lady Y/N.”  Aemond moved toward you then with predatory intent, like a cat stalking its prey.

You instinctively backed away, until you hit the wall of the Keep, Aemond’s arm coming up to cage you in, his face inches from yours.  

“So, I shall ask you again: why are you here?”  Aemond’s breath was hot upon your face, though not unpleasant.

You found yourself looking at his curved lips longer than you should’ve before dragging your eyes back to his. “I needed some fresh air.”  You said stubbornly.

“Y/N, there are five other balconies adjoined with the great hall, that’s a remarkable coincidence.”  

“A happy accident.”  Breathing was becoming hard, you felt hot and cold all over, especially as Aemond raised his free hand to toy with a ringlet of hair falling against your neck.

“I don’t believe you.”  His voice was soft, almost dangerous.

You felt yourself lean closer to it, your eyes drifting once more to his parted lips.

“Y/N.  My eye is up here.”  Aemond ran his fingers from the lock of hair he’d been twirling to rest lightly upon your sapphire necklace just above your bosom.  “If I didn’t know better, I’d say you wore this on purpose.”

“My necklace?”

“Hmm.”  Aemond affirmed, his eye roving across your jewels then back to your moonlit face. “Everything you do seems calculated to drive me even closer to the brink of madness.”

“I’m…sorry.”  You managed to breath out, your own eyes widening.

“No, you’re not.”  He chuckled a deep laugh, pulling away from you abruptly, leaving you feeling bereft of his proximity.

“You’re right, I’m not!”  You called after the prince as he walked away from you, back to the firelit hall.  “Godsdamnitall.”  You swore quietly, smoothing your rumpled skirts and hair before pursuing Aemond back across the balcony. “Wait a damn minute, Aemond.”

It was too late.  The insufferable tease had already slipped back into the twirling crowd, the music drowned out your voice as you called after him.  You’d have your revenge for the way he’d made your heart flutter and your cheeks flush, he wouldn’t be able to dodge you forever.

[bakudekuficlist]

Do you have any post war arc bakudeku fics any fics surrounding that time upto the apology part in the manga ?

hi! this was a tad bit hard to find in terms of tags so I hope these fit what you were looking for!

Mini-List: Post-War/Apology Bakudeku

You're Not Allowed to Die - TargaryenJedii

Chapter(s): 1/1 | 4117 words | Teen / No Warnings Apply

Katsuki Bakugo is supposed to be the one who wins. He’s always been able to beat anything the universe throws at him, either with his quirk or with his wits. He’s supposed to be the best, the number one hero that’s stronger than All Might himself.

But he has no idea how this war is going to end. For the first time in his life, he has no idea how to beat this. He doesn’t know what the future will look like, or what will happen when Shigaraki and All For One are finally stopped for good.

And he doesn’t know if Izuku will still be by his side when the dust settles. ---- Or: Katsuki finally faces the possibility of what could happen. It leads to more than he was expecting

hold me till i feel better - leahistyping

Chapter(s): 1/1 | 3327 words | General / No Warnings Apply

katsuki had never felt like this before.

so many emotions were swarming through his head at once. he felt anger, frustration, sadness, and especially longing.

he never knew it’d hurt so much to be so izukuless. the damn nerd was always chasing after him, whether he wanted him to or not. but he was always there, even if katsuki pushed him away again and again.

(or, after izuku returns to UA, he gets a fever. but luckily for him, bakugou’s there to help him.)

Desperation - JuiceTricky

Chapter(s): 1/1 | 3824 words | Explicit / Creator Chose No Warnings

‘Now he’ll be out of commission for a week….’ ‘We’ll use this time to our advantage.’

All Might’s words were ringing in Katsuki’s ears, and the look on that shitty nerd’s face was replaying over and over in his mind. He knows. He knows Deku is going to go off on his own, self-sacrificing rampage again, and this time, he’ll make it impossible for anyone else to get caught up in it.

Katsuki takes a deep breath, closes his crimson eyes and convinces himself that it’s different this time. That if he doesn’t swallow his pride, and get it out, he will not see Izuku again.

Fuck, he might not anyway if the nerd has his way, but he can try.

Katsuki sits up, rubs his hand along the back of his neck and heads towards Izuku’s room. He knocks on the door, hoping it’s not too late.

All We Ever Knew - dynamics

Chapter(s): 2/2 | 5275 words | Teen / No Warnings Apply

He knows, deeply and intimately, that these hands have innocent blood spilled on them. They've scarred and they've been cruel and they've caused hurt beyond anything deserving of forgiveness. But these hands, as rough and calloused and war-torn and guilty as they are, can be gentle too.

Katsuki learns the true meaning of kindness and devotion.

Where Are You (and I'm So Sorry) - TargaryenJedii

Chapter(s): 2/2 | 7984 words | Teen / No Warnings Apply

When Midoriya leaves, he writes a letter to everyone in class 1A. While he’s gone, Bakugou decides to write a letter of his own.

And when Deku gets back, he's shocked to stumble onto a few folded up pages containing Kacchan's messy handwriting.

Setting Suns - TargaryenJedii

Chapter(s): 1/1 | 2094 words | General / No Warnings Apply

And it’s not until a few weeks later, when Kaminari stumbles into the common room rambling about another dumb idea, when they see Bakugo simply stare at him with a blank look on his face and nod absently every few minutes, that they finally see. They finally understand why the whole dorm feels like it’s been flipped upside down overnight.

Midoriya left UA, and he took Bakugo’s voice with him. —— [Manga spoilers! *mild swearing] Midoriya leaves UA. The rest of the class tries to keep Bakugo standing while he’s gone

break my fall - enisle

Chapter(s): 1/1 | 7338 words | Teen / No Warnings Apply

Bitterly, he thinks that perhaps cruelty is best served like this: with the world still spinning on its axis and the space beside him unoccupied. Perhaps it is. Perhaps it should be worse. Perhaps all this is simply retribution.

The aftermath, through Katsuki's eyes.

[rowansparrow]

By Any Other Name: Chapter Seven

Summary: You and Rex have a conversation on the rooftop.

Chapter Rating: Teen 

Warnings: Alcohol, some drunk-ness. Sad, so very sad.

Ships: Rex x Female!Reader, Fives x Female!Reader, Clone OC x Female!Reader, other ships tbd.

Tags: #ByAnyOtherName, #BAON

Word Count: 3.1k

A/N: *insert that Always Sunny in Philadelphia Meme: “NEWSFLASH ASSHOLE, REX HAS BEEN IN LOVE WITH READER THE ENTIRE GODDAMN TIME* As always, bless @fat-zygerrian for being my beta reader!

Comment if you want to be tagged! Reblogs are SO appreciated!

Chapter One Chapter Two Chapter Three Chapter Four Chapter Five Chapter Six

You were supposed to meet him that night.

You’d planned on going to 79’s instead of the rooftop as usual. Rose said the boys had missed you and wanted to play cards again. You’d gotten all dolled up and were about to head out when your comm beeped.

“Hey,” You grinned, shutting your apartment door behind you. “I was just heading out.”

“Yeah… about that,” Rose sounded embarrassed. “There’s been a change in plans. I won’t be able to make it. In fact, none of us will. We got – err – held up on base.”

“Really?” You asked, pausing as you started to head down to the main level of your building. “Okay… well can we meet after?”

“I’m not supposed to go off base but – yeah, yeah I’ll see what I can do. Keep your comm close.”

He hung up and you hesitated in the stairwell for a beat. Fuck it. Even if Rose couldn’t come along, you were still going to have a nice time tonight!

You had gotten more confident about going to 79’s ever since you and Rose had gotten close. You could recognize a few distinct faces now, just from people Rose had pointed out to you or introduced to you in passing. There was a notable absence of 501st blue, which at least confirmed Rose wasn’t just ditching you and had in fact gotten held up at the base with the rest of his battalion.

You approached the bar, settling in and glancing around to look for any familiar faces to keep you company while you waited for Rose. Further down the bar, you spotted Marshal Commander Cody and your breath hitched for just a moment. Rose had told you all about him – the most highly decorated clone soldier in the entire Republic Army. You would’ve been able to guess it even if Rose hadn’t told you about the curved scar on the side of his face. For the way Cody carried himself, even here, held an air of authority, of gravitas and poise.

He was talking to someone, the other person obscured by his own body. You ordered a drink, trying not to look as starstruck by the Commander as you felt.

“I’d try your luck with someone a little less ranked if I were you,” The bartender teased, catching you staring. “I’ve never once seen the Marshal Commander take up an offer to go home with somebody.”

“That’s – that isn’t my intention.” You blushed, taking the drink with a short huff. Still, you glanced at Cody again and watched him clap his hand on the shoulder of the man he’d been speaking with.

“Alright, see you around, Rex ‘ole boy. Stay out of trouble.”

Now that made you turn instantly. As Cody moved away, you were able to get a better look at the man he’d been talking to, and gods above, it was him. It was Captain Rex. Rose had told you so many stories about him that it felt strange finally seeing him in the flesh.

Rose had warned you about how much trouble you both could get in if anyone ever found out you were seeing each other. Your friendship was frowned upon enough as is, but now that it had become something more, Rose had given you the full dressing-down on what could happen to him if you were ever caught.

As such, you hadn’t ever met Rose’s superior officer, and since Rose wasn’t here…

You downed the rest of your drink quickly. There’s no reason the Captain would be suspicious of you. Besides, you wanted to meet him, get to know the man who was such a huge part of Rose’s life.

You wanted to meet his family.

“Hi.”

In truth, maybe your introduction could’ve been a little stronger. But as you sidled over to the Captain and leaned one hand on the bar, he gave you a small smile, nodding once.

“Ma’am.”

“Can I buy you a drink?”

Rex seemed surprised and looked you over carefully. He seemed to be waging a war with himself for a split second but eventually nodded.

“I don’t see why not.”

You grinned, settling into the seat beside him and waving the bartender over, tucking a hand under your chin. “What’s your name? I’m Y/N.”

“Rex.” He replied, offering his hand to shake. You repressed the urge to giggle. He was such a gentleman.

“What do you drink, Rex?”

He chuckled. “Whiskey.”

“Two of those, then.” You told the bartender. Rex’s eyebrow jumped up but you barely noticed.

“So. You must be a Captain, right? With all this fancy gear?” You said, motioning to his pauldron and kama.

“How d’you know I’m not just some ARC trooper who likes showing off?” Rex replied, smirking and leaning forward a bit.

“I’ve met an ARC trooper or two, and you don’t seem the type to boast.”

Rex chuckled again, taking his glass as the bartender returned. “You must get around, then.”

It wasn’t an insult and you didn’t take it as such. “Maybe I’m just good at making friends.”

Rex smiled and his eyes seemed to appraise you for a moment, taking all of you in, calculating. He took a swig.

“You here with any of those friends?” He asked.

“All alone, tonight.” You replied. “My friends got held up and you looked lonely. Thought I’d keep you company. It’s the least I can do for a soldier like you.”

Rex chuckled, low and sweet. “Most pretty girls don’t just find themselves in 79’s.” Rex drawled, setting his glass down again. “From what I can tell, they’re usually looking for trouble.”

He turned slightly to face you better. “Are you looking for trouble, mesh’la?”

Your heart skipped a beat. You knew that word, but didn’t know what it meant. Rose had called you that before.

“It looks like I already found it.” You replied.

Rex grinned. “Then I guess you better stay close so I can keep a proper eye on you.”

You chuckled, picking up your own drink and finally taking a sip. The whiskey burned your throat but it warmed you to the core. Rex looked impressed which was its own bonus.

“You never answered my question.” You said. “Are you a Captain?”

“I command the 501st attack battalion.” Rex said, a note of pride in his voice.

“Ah, then you must know Echo and Fives.” You prompted.

Rex seemed to age ten years at just the mention of their names. “I take it those are the ARC troopers you’ve met?” He asked. “My condolences.”

You giggled. “We played cards a few times. They’re nice but definitely a handful.”

“They’re all a handful.” Rex waved over the bartender to get another drink. “Every last one of them. That’s why none of them were allowed off base tonight.”

“Oh?” You grinned. “Do tell.”

Once he got going talking about his men, he couldn’t stop. Rex regaled you with the story of how earlier that afternoon he’d discovered his men were not only hiding a loth cat in the barracks, but it had given birth. They had managed to keep it a secret for weeks until the kittens started wreaking havoc. According to his men, Fives and Hardcase had been the ringleaders.

“That’s what they all say at least.” Rex amended. “’Course, Fives’ll take credit for just about anything. But Rose and Echo were suspiciously quiet the whole time. Kix was the only one with the good sense not to show his face in the barracks when I caught them. Still, I’ve got a feeling he encouraged the others to go along with it. Di’kuts, all of them.”

He shook his head but smiled as you laughed. “Anyway. They’re cleaning up the mess and finding natborns to rehome all the kits with. And when they finish with that, they’re supposed to take over the latrine shifts and canteen shifts for any other battalions.”

“Aw, seems a steep punishment for hiding loth cats.” You laughed.

“You didn’t see the state of the barracks.” Rex said, shaking his head slowly. “Apparently a bucket of paint got upended. They should all be scrubbing paw prints out of the durasteel right about now.”

You smiled fondly at Rex. Even as he retold the story, you could tell he was trying not to smile at the antics. It was clear he cared very deeply for his men, even if he had to be the tired parent of them all.

“Sounds like they wear you out.” You teased. “You deserve a break.”

“Are you offering me one?” Rex prompted.

You tilted your head to the side. “What do you mean?”

Rex smirked, and downed the rest of his drink. He took a deep breath, as though he was steeling himself to ask you something.

“Y/N!”

You recognized the voice and turned quickly as Rose hurried up to you. He had a small streak of blue paint across his cheek, but otherwise was beaming.

“Hey, you should’ve told me you’d be here. I went all the way to your apartment and had to backtrack -.”

He noticed the Captain a beat too late and you watched as all the color comically drained from his face. “Captain! Sir!” He snapped to attention. “I ah – I can explain…”

You glanced between Rose and Rex, your own heart pounding. Rose had all but given away the two of you were seeing each other. Rex looked at Rose before looking at you. He then turned to his glass, picking it up and making a big scene of looking it over.

“Sir…?” Rose asked nervously.

“Oh, I’m just inspecting my beverage.” Rex replied smoothly. “I must’ve been drugged you see, because surely I am not seeing my Lieutenant standing here, not when he is under strict orders to stay on base tonight.”

Rose cringed. “Yeah, sir, about that -.”

“It’s my fault.” You spoke up quickly, throwing together a lie. “Rose and I met yesterday, we’d been playing Sabacc with some of his brothers and he very kindly walked me home afterwards. I promised him drinks tonight to thank him and I wouldn’t take no for an answer.” You glanced to Rose. “He was just being a gentleman.”

Rex raised an eyebrow, glancing at Rose. “Funny.” He said. “Could’ve sworn I saw you in the weight room with Fives last night.”

“We… came here afterwards sir.” Rose lied, shifting a little closer to you, almost protective. “Ask him, he’ll say the same thing.”

“I’m sure he will.” Rex stood, picking his helmet up off the counter and knocked his knuckles lightly against the bar. “It was lovely to meet you, ma’am.” He said. “Rose?”

Your soldier stood at attention once again but Rex just put a hand on his shoulder.

“We have a briefing tomorrow morning. Oh-eight-hundred. Don’t be late.”

“Thank you, sir.” Rose was barely audible over the roar of the music in the bar. He looked like his knees would give out at any moment.

You could’ve sworn you saw Rex give Rose a little wink, but it must’ve been a trick of the light. He gave you one last nod before quietly departing.

Neither you nor Rose saw him glance back at you over his shoulder one last time before stepping out of the bar.

~

You’d lost track of how long you sat on the roof with Rex. Partially because he’d gone downstairs and returned with a bottle of your favorite whiskey and two glasses, pouring drinks for you both.

“For Rose,” Rex toasted, clinking your glasses together.

You smiled and for the first time that you could remember, Rose’s name didn’t make your heart ache. “For Rose.”

You both tossed the glasses back, that familiar burn searing your throat and chest before you shook yourself out, watching as Rex poured you both a second glass, entirely unfazed.

“He was very unsubtle about sneaking off base to go see you.” Rex told you, leaning back on one hand and closing his eyes as the breeze kissed his cheeks. “I’d give him a job and it would either be done in record time or it would’ve been passed off to somebody else. He once almost missed a debriefing because he’d spent the night with you. Skidded in right as I was about to start.” He chuckled. “I didn’t mind. He was happy. Gods know we soldiers deserve whatever happiness we can find.”

You hummed, smiling as you took another drink. “He talked about you all the time.” You said, leaning slightly against Rex’s side. “Idolized you, actually. He told me about the battles you’d been in together, how well you led your men.” You smiled to yourself, finishing your second drink and making your way towards a third. “He told me about that virus. Blue Shadow Virus, right?”

Rex hummed, getting himself another drink as well. “That was an ugly mission.”

“He said you were hovering a lot.” You teased. “Because he was always so sick when he was little. You were worried about him.”

“Brothers were dropping dead, left and right. Hells, even Commander Tano passed out at one point.” Rex recalled, shuddering to himself. “I thought we were all going to die.”

“He told me he wasn’t scared because you weren’t scared.” You smiled. “I guess you did a good job of hiding it.”

“He had way too many close calls.” Rex chuckled. “That virus almost took him out. We got rescued just in time. There was another time he was scouting with me and a few others on Saleucami -.”

“I remember that. You were shot.” You recalled and Rex chuckled.

“He really did tell you everything, didn’t he?”

“He was terrified. He told me he thought you were dead, the way you flew off the back of the speeder after getting hit..” You murmured.

“What he probably didn’t tell you is that shot just barely missed him.” Rex replied. “I’d been leading but he’d circled around me to get in front. He was goofing around with Hardcase. Bolt whizzed just an inch past his head and hit me instead. He had a blaster burn on the side of his helmet to prove it.”

You shuddered at the thought. “He didn’t tell me that part.”

“Probably also didn’t tell you that he got shot pretty good on Toydaria.” Rex replied. “Not once, but twice, once in the leg and another straight through the chest. Kix thought for sure he was a goner.”

You were familiar with those wounds. A frown pulled your lips. “He didn’t tell me. I had to find them myself.” You grumbled, still bitter. “He’d come back from the mission and told me he’d gotten hurt, but it was nothing serious.” You threw back your drink again. “Bantha shit, if I brushed against him, he winced. Finally made him show me.”

“I’m sure he got an earful after that.” Rex laughed.

“Oh, he did. And he wasn’t even that bothered that he’d nearly died, no, he was more concerned about the fact that his tattoos had been damaged by the shots. He was worried he wouldn’t be able to get new ink over the scars.” You rolled your eyes. “That man…”

“He was just trying not to worry you.” Rex smiled, taking another drink.

“I always worry.” You murmured, rubbing your thumb along the rim of your glass. “Always. About all of you. I always worried that one day Rose would come home and tell me something had happened to Fives, Echo, you… or any of the others.” You chuckled humorlessly, finishing your drink. “And then… one day you showed up at my door instead.”

A heavy silence fell between you. Rex took your empty glass, filling it up once again.

“It seems so silly.” You said. “That he should survive all of that and then just get shot and killed during a routine supply drop. I thought he was unbreakable.” You shook your head. “Guess I was wrong.”

Rex wouldn’t look you in the eye, instead focusing very intently on the glass in his hands.

“It was quick.” Rex said finally, still avoiding your eyes. “He didn’t feel anything. I promise.”

“I know.” You gave him a small, sad smile, squeezing his bicep gently. “And I guess I have that at least. At least… at least I know he didn’t suffer. He wasn’t alone or – or afraid.”

You smiled wistfully, looking out over the skyline.

“There’s a dress in my closet,” You began. “It’s nothing fancy, just a white sundress with lace around the hem and sleeves.”

Rex already seemed to know where this was going. He took a very long drink and followed your gaze out towards the skyline.

“We were going to leave together.” You said quietly. “Get married. Have a family. He had this whole, crazy plan.” You chuckled. “I’d told him I wanted to think about it. It was a big decision, he’d be on the run for the rest of his life, hiding from the Republic. And I’d be part of that.”

You glanced over at Rex. “He told me he was going to tell you. He said we could trust you. Did he ever…?”

Rex shook his head. “No. He never got the chance.”

You nodded, turning back towards the sky. “I was going to say yes.” You whispered. “I was going to go with him when he came back. We were going to run away together… It was all very romantic.” You shook your head, staring down at your glass. “And it was so stupid.”

Rex was quiet for several long moments until finally he rose to his feet, offering you his hand.

“C’mon.” he murmured. “I think that’s enough drinking for one night. Let’s get you home.”

You nodded, taking his hand and letting him pull you to your feet. You swayed. You didn’t realize how much you’d had to drink until you stumbled, falling slightly against his chest.

“The Rose Lounge owner can’t hold her liquor?” Rex teased. “Ironic.”

“Shuddup.” You mumbled, giving him a little shove. “I can walk.”

“Oh no you can’t, Tipsy. C’mere.” He crouched down slightly, and you slumped against his back. He picked you up with ease, bouncing you once to hike you higher up his back. He wrapped his arms around your legs, holding them snug against his torso while your hands wrapped around his shoulders.

“Don’t puke on me.” Rex warned, carrying you piggyback style towards the stairs.

“’M gonna fall off.” You muttered.

“No you won’t. Trust me.”

Your eyes were heavy, cheek pressed against the back of Rex’s neck and you remembered a time very long ago when another man had carried you on his back to this rooftop, and said the very same thing.

“I trust you, Rose.”

Rex was still. You hadn’t noticed your slip, your eyes already slipping closed.

“Okay.” His voice echoed. “I’ve got you.”

I’ve got you.

~

TAG LIST:  @fat-zygerrian @ladydiomede @pro-fangirls-unsocial-life @threevie @cheesemachine44 @bubblyacey @fivedicksinatrenchcoat @loverofclones @starwarsgarbage @hockeyjedi13 @crazygirlwithasword @dar-manda-rjct @gotomarvelgal @baba-fett @whore4rex

[littlespaceporgs]

Birthday celebration!

howdy howdy lets get rowdy!!

I'm writing this on the 20th, knowing that chances are I'll probably post this after that, because lol deadlines are dumb.

For those who are new, here's some handy links: masterlist taglist

Anywho, we're here to celebrate. what you may ask? well there's three things!

1. I've just turned 20, on the 20th of June no less!

2. I've surpassed 220 followers!

3. And I've been writing star wars and fics in general for over a year now!

Wooohooooo! Now on to the actual celebration!

I'll be doing a 20 drabbles in 20 days, from July 1st to July 20th, celebrating my many milestones! You have until the 30th of June to get requests in!

On the off chance that I get more than 20 requests, they will be put into a random generator and thats how I will pick them. Alternatively if I dont get enough I'll do the same thing. Pretty much everything is on the table, you can request a you!POV or a first person!POV and sith!reader, sith Jedi, senator!reader/character, pretty much anything, I will be having some fun with these.

Now request info is under the cut \/

List of characters (god I just need to make one list I stg):

Anakin Skywalker

Obi wan Kenobi

Ahsoka Tano

Plo Koon

Kit Fisto

Captain Rex

Commander Cody

ARC Trooper Fives

Luke Skywalker

Leia Organa (however it’s a little difficult for me to write, because my name is also Leah, please keep that in mind 😅)

And finally, the prompts! (Full disclosure, I found these on Pinterest so I have no idea where they’re from):

Fluff/Angst

- “I’m so tired."

- "Don't get up. I'm comfortable like this."

- "Please stay. I'd like some company"

- "Could I get a hug?'

- "I just want to be close."

- "Don’t do that. That's dumb, I'm serious, don't do it."

- "It's cute that you tried to protect me, but you're like a foot shorter than me, you know?"

- "Don't touch them!"

- "You're an idiot. Honestly, why are we friends?"

Responses to "we have a problem"

- "No. You have a problem, I have an idiot who keeps getting into one."

- "Gimme a sec. I'm not drunk enough for this yet"

- "And its another Tuesday. What's your point? "

- "If you mean the flaming pillar, that's the solution to our other problem"

- "You call it a problem. I call it a solution"

Enemies to lovers:

- “You were supposed to die!"

- “How the fuck did you survive that?”

- “Why does the galaxy hate meeeee?"

- "I really want you to die right about now"

- "So you're saying that you want me, a villain, to help you catch another villain? That makes no sense."

- “Are you blushing? Gross."

- "Don't talk to me. Someone might think we are friends."

- "Hey, you can't be an asshole to them, only I can.”

Now request away!

Tagging some lovelies (sorry most of you are getting in a second post because I've updated my taglist): @queenevac @raeshin @valkyrieofthehighfae @likeshootingstarsinthenightsky @mcu-padawan @hounding-around @captainrexstan @leias-left-hair-bun @anakin-danvers @obirain @onabouteverything @kybacrystal @pirate-king-hondo @venomous-ko @shellminded @jadetheaverage @halzore - sorry if I missed anyone!

[wingsfreedom]

Post-war: positive Azula arc (meta)

"Today this war is finally over! I promised my uncle that I would restore the honor of the Fire Nation. And I will. The road ahead of us is challenging. A hundred years of fighting has left the world scarred and divided. But with the Avatar's help, we can get it back on the right path and begin a new era of love and peace."

_

You are not the heaviness sitting inside of you. You are not the battlefield where the bodies fall, and you are not the sound of cannons breaking the sky open.

You are what happens after the war.

The surviving. The healing. The rebuilding.

-Y.Z., for the bad nights

For starters, Azula's mental health after the Agni Kai:

In my book, Azula in Avatar: The Last Airbender only suffered from one psychotic episode which is not permanent or a nervous breakdown. She does not suffer from any personality disorder which is something all armchair psychologists are obsessed with, because it's not essential to explain her behavior as they claim. She's not going act nor portrayed as a wild animal nor she's going to suffer from on-going insanity from there on out (which is a very ableist portrayal). After the Last Agni Kai, Azula went into a state of dissociation. Then after she regains her consciousness, she probably would suffer from hallucinations and something like PTSD or C-PTSD.

Azula's main crisis post-war:

She would suffer from identity crisis can only be solved through fidelity, theoretically.

Identify vs confusion was the central conflict which was revealed in the mirror scene. It's not only a normal conflic for a teenager during this phase, but for Azula it goes much deeper than that, because Azula as a Golden Child didn't develop a solid sense of self began with. Loss of sense of self is the main crisis the Golden Child has to face.

"Who Azula is?" has been one of the most discussed topics in the fandom for a decade and half, the answer is simple: even Azula doesn't know who she is.

Azula post-war has three options:

a) trying desperately to regain her old life or save it from crumbling completely (in which she could learn very bad lessons)

b) find a new goal and place in this world

c) give up, run away, disappear, die

There should be a resolution for this very critical, turning point in Azula's whole life.

The themes:

Convey the main themes of the show and connect her subplot into the world-building and the main plot. Themes of ATLA are: Balance and Change, the Fire Nation's war (in other words, the fall of Balance) and its affects even on its own people is bad. Post-War era: Love and Peace.

From a discussion:

#and yes the tragedy of her fall is that it's NOT hubris #it's not due to any of the 'seven deadly sins' that make up the tragic flaws #it's because she's a child who would be considered virtuous in a different context #was made to break #diligence and loyalty and filial piety and sharing glory... #those are all praise-worthy traits that got _twisted_ by an ideology she didn't get to choose #azula is a lesson in how even our good traits and actions can be bent towards bad ends (tags via @ ultranos)

"What does it mean for a society where someone so young and so gifted, who personifies everything the Fire Nation takes pride in, who is so inspiring and aspirational in so many ways, who has access to the best of all kinds of care available, has a massive nervous breakdown at fourteen years old? " -@ eshusplayground [source]

What are Azula's redeemable qualities:

I believe these two posts, illustrated pretty well Azula's redeeming qualities which we can expand on and mature.

Azula redemption and the fandom:

Even though I do not agree with the arc Aaron Ehasz laid out, my point here is the reaction his tweet thread received. I tracked it on Twitter thread and on Tumblr, it was overall successful. It received a lot of support over 80%, even by fans who don't like Azula or indifferent about her. It's considered more "good Avatar content".

But someone made a poll in Reddit asking the fandom is Azula should be redeemed or not: 60% answered with "no" for two different main reasons (one is that Azula is marked for irredeemability, the second wants her arc to remain a tragedy), while 40% answered with "yes". There is group in between afraid that she would become "boring" if she was redeemed. So after years, the fandom is divided.

How to make this "redemption" story congruous with ATLA therefore more receivable by the fandom:

Integrate Azula into ATLA themes more directly (Iroh's quotes, ATLA central massage, Guru Pathik's insight, and themes of the negative affects of the FN imperialism/expansionism) instead of heavily psychoanalysis her or make her a character from a different story who wandered in the wrong cartoon

Give Azula more "pat the dog" moments

Allow Azula to be a dynamic and a fully-rounded character.

Make a visual change in her appearance (different hairstyle, more teenager-looking appearance than a dragon lady, adult-looking one. In my take: Azula will change her name since she's not going to carry Azulon's legacy anymore, she also will have some white hair; the stress strain caused by her breakdown and losing her firebending naturally since her old world has fallen and she's disconnected from her father and nation; hed drive is lost)

Remind everyone that Azula is a child solider-teenager who needs a teacher not a jailer.

The start:

Azula's point of change

"I think you're confused. All your life you used fear to control people, like your friends Mai and Ty Lee."

"Well what choice do I have?!"

Azula is self-reflecting on her behavior here and she does not like the way she acted. She knows she hurts her friends and she hates it. She always looked 'pleased' but never once 'enjoyed' it. Deep down I believe she always felt guilty. She hates to be that person. It hurts to be that "monster".

Azula said it's because she has no other choice. The next stage for Azula is to offer her another choice, a different path to live, a chance (no it's not the second).

Azula shows capacity to change her approach to things, even if they're shallow and stupid.

Conclusion:

This is a show with goals of peace and harmony and a theme of change. It's central message is that anyone is capable of great good and great evil. Azula reflects these themes and messages as well.

I have to remind everyone that Azula has no casualties during her participation in war, which is good thing to start over a new leaf.

[splintered-emotions]

2021 end of the year fic review

thanks @yellow-feathered-faerie for the tag!

How many stories did you complete?

2 at the moment, but i'm hoping to finish transported before the year's over so we'll see

What is your total word count for the year?

apparently it's 153,620 words, which is a fucking ridiculous number that i don't think human brains are meant to comprehend

What fandoms did you write for this year?

uh just the hobbit and lotr for posting, but i also started a couple of star wars wips that i haven't gotten that far into

Did you write more, less of roughly about what you expected?

more, definitely more even though i've been freaking out about the new 151k word count on transported for a few days

What’s your favourite story of the year?

for this one, i'd have to say transported both because of the sheer amount of time and effort and because of the fact that it's the most self indulgent thing i've ever written and will continue to write

What is your most underappreciated story of the year?

that would have to be the heartbreak that aches far too much to be shunned for sure. it hasn't had as much traffic either of the other two stories i've posted

Biggest fanfic-related disappointment of 2021?

that i didn't finish transported before my birthday. it was honestly just because i wanted to say that i had written it all being the same age as the mc, but also because it's just very important to me

Biggest fanfic-related surprise of 2021?

how popular Transported got. like it's not the biggest fic in the fandom by any means, but it's definitely my most popular fic ever

Something you look forward to working on in 2022?

possibly finishing off transported and/or working on its second arc. also going back for edits so i can finally print and bookbind my work of over a year

also maybe working on that Mandis x Beedle fic with @yellow-feathered-faerie because it's going to be so much fun

tagging: @beenovel, @tolkien-fantasy, @gossip-girl-of-middle-earth, and anyone else who wants to do it, just pretend i tagged you too

[firelxdykatara]

not gonna lie I would love to hear more about the drama and infighting that went on in The Vampire Diaries fandom if you have the time (and also want to use that time to give your experience with the fandom, which from the snippets you've told sounds Not Fun so I get it if you don't want to lol)

oh god, there was like, SO MUCH, i just

i really feel like tvd is one of those fandoms that is so hard to describe without a lot of ‘you’d have to have been there’, but it really felt like this huge and all-consuming beast for about five years until the show finally imploded and the fandom basically turned on it en masse. (you ever see that post going around that’s like ‘if you ever want to know what true regret feels like, ask someone who once called tvd their favorite show’? still a mood, all these years later. basically the entire fandom thought the show should have just bowed out with whatever shreds of dignity it had left at the end of season 6, and became more of a hatedom than a fandom for the last two seasons. when you have an entire fandom cheering news of your show’s cancellation, i think that’s a sign you done fucked up, julie.)

first and most infamous, of course, are the ship wars. which are pretty much inevitable in any teen-centered drama, and i really think the CW fucking thrives on them, but it was particularly egregious in TVD’s case because not only was the base premise of the show a love triangle, but the two main romantic leads were brothers that the show constantly pit against one another--in pursuit of elena’s affections, but also because it kept up this insistence on the ‘good brother/bad brother’ dichotomy which stopped making sense after about season 2 (by which time we have found out that the good brother was never as good as he appeared, and the bad brother has been growing and isn’t nearly as bad as he pretends to be)--and the question of which brother ‘deserved’ elena (and no, what elena wanted very rarely factored into these discussions, especially in the team stefan camp because they turned on her when what she wanted was no longer The Good Brother, but i’ll get to that in a bit) was hotly contested.

i’m not kidding when i say the shipping wars were vicious. i started watching tvd shortly after it began to air, which was late 2009, and kept up with it fairly sporadically over the years. i didn’t come onto tumblr until 2011/2012, and by then, the fandom was already pretty much a garbagefire. there were anti ship and anti character blogs, any time something bad happened for one ship the rival ship would invade the tags to gloat about it (seasons 3 and 4 were especially rough, and i’m not gonna pretend delena fans weren’t just as bad about tag invasion and shit, but as that was my side of the road i saw a lot more of the stelena shippers being assholes, which soured my opinion on the ship a long time before i started rewatching and realized the red flags were there from the start), confessions blogs were popular also toxic as fuck (so much fighting happened in the notes of those posts, good gods), and this was right around when twitter’s popularity was on the rise and the line between Celebrity and Fan was thinning, so the fandom was absolutely atrocious to much of the tvd cast and crew.

(some of them deserved a lot of the later backlash, but in the early years a lot of it was ‘how dare you write the story in a way i dont like, you terrible fucking person’, and gods don’t get me started on the dobsley vs nian Thing)

i think what really encapsulates my feelings on the tvd fandom as a whole, though, is the way they (to this DAY) treated elena gilbert, which can be summed up in one meme that gained a lot of traction around season 3 if i remember right: that gif of pam from true blood, with the text altered to read “i’m so OVER elena and her precious doppelganger vagina!”

i swear at one time i had over half the active tvd fan accounts on tumblr blocked, because i got to a point where i would no longer tolerate elena hate, and she was (and still is, in what remains of the fandom; you’ll see a lot of ‘elena was one of the worst things about the show’ takes from ex-fans, too) one of the most widely despised characters in the entire fandom. because she -checks smudged writing on hand- was a traumatized teenage girl who -reads off a crumpled notecard- couldn’t always perfectly sort out her own feelings and -squints at the ceiling- sometimes made mistakes or bad decisions. (except a lot of the fandom also insisted that she was a mary sue who had no character traits or flaws or faults and it was like....make up your fucking minds???? is she a calculating conniving bitch whose somehow manipulating these centuries old vampires to tie them around her little finger or is she a boring flat character with no depth and no flaws??? jfc)

there was this massive double standard, too--like, stefan and damon could fuck whoever they wanted and that was fine, but elena was constantly raked over the coals for the crime of developing romantic feelings for the two men who had become constants in her life and whom she cared for deeply, and oh my GOD the slut shaming that happened when elena slept with damon was fucking wild. (and also happened in canon lmfao. like the show had one of elena’s best friends basically call her diseased on screen for falling in love with someone other than stefan. it was gross and ridiculous and the friend in question was also being a giant hypocrite at the time since she was happily flirting with someone who was directly responsible for the deaths of like four of elena’s loved ones and her own boyfriend’s mother but that’s beside the point) but like elena was called a slut and a bitch and a whore for ‘cheating’ on stefan (she hadn’t, and she had in fact broken up with him on screen the episode earlier) and ‘immediately’ jumping into bed with damon, even though none of them said fucking boo when stefan had one night stands or damon had fuckbuddies or whatever.

shit, caroline didn’t get any of this treatment when she started falling for tyler while dating matt! which isn’t to say i think she should have, just that i think it’s fucking ridiculous that elena was absolutely demonized by the fandom for daring to have feelings for two guys at once and eventually acting on them--despite the fact that the entire premise of the show was a love triangle. it’s not a love triangle if both sides don’t eventually get explored, and the crew had been pretty explicit about the fact that delena was going to happen at some point--but when it did, a huge chunk of the fandom absolutely threw a fit.

and a lot of these elena haters were alleged stelena stans, and i say alleged because they hated her so much for not wanting stefan’s dick anymore that it was clear they were really stefan stans and only wanted stelena to be endgame because they wanted stefan to ‘win’ at the end of the day, because ‘he’s the good brother’ so he deserved elena more.

it was all very gross and very misogynistic and very sex shaming (apparently delena was a ‘shallow’ and ‘superficial’ relationship because they had sex after two years of unrequited feelings slowly becoming requited and then pining for ages on both sides, and because they had a lot of on screen chemistry that the show capitalized on for years so of course they did a lot of making out and shit but it’s not like stelena didn’t have its fair share of making out and sex scenes, stefan was just too much of a coward to let elena top i’d apologize for that joke but i’m really not sorry because it’s true), and when i say it was egged on by the crew, that’s because they refused to let the love triangle die back in season 4 when it should have.

they insisted on stringing stelena fans along, dropping little bread crumbs to keep them invested, like dreams of a future where they were married and revealing that stefan was also a doppelganger and he and elena were descended from a pair of star-crossed lovers (a plot that ultimately went nowhere, to no one’s great surprise), and then fucking like. julie plec turned around and threw nina under the bus after she chose not to extend her contract and pretended that stelena might have happened again if she hadn’t left the show, which....i mean frankly i wouldn’t put it past her, but it would have been shitty writing. then again, she thought having a vampire pregnancy where a uterus was magically transplanted from a witch into a vampire that could somehow......carry the babies to term.... made sense and was a good way to accomodate candice’s RL pregnancy rather than like literally ANYTHING else, soooooo. but anyway julie saying that around like, end of s6 sparked off a new wave of nina hate and elena hate and ship wars bc they SEers took it as ‘confirmation’ that stelena was REALLY meant to be endgame and it was all just a hot fucking mess

another thing is that, while tvd was in its prime before the anti/purity culture shit started picking up any real steam, there was still this pervasive attitude throughout the fandom that if you liked Damon, you were A Bad Person. liking damon was apparently grounds for insults and harassment, and apparently he was The Worst Person on the Show even though literally nothing he does on screen is any worse than shit we know stefan has done (and frankly every other vampire too, but i mention stefan specifically because he was always held up--in the show but especially in the fandom--as the Good Brother while damon was the Bad One, and if you liked damon more then that had to mean your morals were dodgy and you clearly couldn’t appreciate what a heroic and saintly figure dear stefan was and....oops, i’m sorry, my salt keeps leaking -cough-).

meanwhile klaus quickly became a fandom darling despite not even really having much of a redemption arc (on tvd anyway, he just became more ‘affably evil’ as the show went on and more inclined to work with the main characters rather than try to kill them; i have no idea what went on over on his show, though), and like i can 100% appreciate liking villains and not caring that they do dodgy villainous shit, even just liking them bc they’re hot and wanting them to kiss a main character bc they have insanely good chemistry (yes i ship klaroline, no i won’t apologize for it, they could have been Really Great), it’s just really the double standard that gets me.

and all of this, incidentally, required ignoring some truly gross shit stefan was responsible for wrt his relationship with elena, that frankly it has always bothered me never really got addressed in the show. i get why elena herself would never be able to actually call him on it, but the fact is that he stalked her for months after he first saw her and thought she was katherine (meanwhile it only took damon .5 seconds to realize she was someone else entirely, but that’s another topic entirely), and then he deliberately inserted himself into her life because, in his words, ‘i have to know her’. he never gave a thought to how his presence in her life might affect her (or rather, he did, and tormented himself about it in his internal monologue, but never let this actually dissuade him from disrupting her life), and elena would wind up blaming herself for every tragedy that befell her friends and loved ones as a result of getting mixed up in vampire bullshit even though none of it was her fault--she literally blamed herself for existing but most of the fandom didn’t give a fuck about that lmfao--and stefan did shit like find out that she was adopted and then withhold this information from her until she got pissed about another secret he was keeping (her resemblence to katherine) and drop it on her to try and distract her from her very reasonable anger, and like... i should stop before this becomes a whole rant about how much i hate stefan fucking salvatore, but the point is, he did a lot of really sketchy shit he never answered for and elena never really took him to task for, and the fandom just kept eating up his insistence that he was the Good Brother and therefore he deserved to have elena, and if she didn’t want him anymore it was because she was a heinous bitch who didn’t deserve him.

uh.....i think i got off track there. and there’s probably a lot of shit i missed, like i think i was incandescent with rage for most of seasons 5 and 6 so i missed a lot of the interfandom shit cause i was too busy being increasingly pissed off at the show itself, but if nothing else this should give you an idea of how much of a goddamn cesspit the fandom was while the show as in its prime. there’s a reason both the show and the fandom have such a lousy reputation lmfao.