#442nd

[holy-ghost-fire]

A group of Japanese American soldiers and a white soldier pose with captured Japanese bolt-action rifles on Okinawa, July 1945. The soldiers are T/3 Akira Nakamura, 1st Lt. John Flagler, T/3 Shigeru Sato, T/3 Frank Mizuno, T/3 Harry Okano, T/3 Robert Oda.

[victusinveritas]

Bill Mauldin’s cartoon, even the most pointed ones, could more readily be called “wry” in their observations than “fucking savage.” But not always.

[mastersoftheair]

on the point of including black people in the show (or any period show), a lot of the outrage can sometimes come across as performative to me. it's one thing to feel upset about how little screentime black characters get compared to white characters (a valid criticism, believe me, I Know! give me an hour and i could talk your ear off about how this constantly annoys me as a black person who's damned to enjoy period pieces), but it's another to Only get upset while not actually creating content for said black characters, Especially when fandom (not just hbo war, but in general) is famous for taking Extremely minor characters and creating entire worlds with them, to the point where you wouldn't know they're minor characters at all until you check out the source yourself. richard macon, alexander jefferson, and robert daniels each have only 20 or less posts about them (at the time of publishing this post). in my own fandom experience (within fandoms both big and small and old and new, whatever), i've seen more content (posts, art pieces, analyses, fics, etc) made for minor white characters in less than a mere week's time (it's not a competiton lol i'm just giving a perspective here). so idk. obviously, there's nothing anyone here can do about a show that's already been filmed and released. we got what we got. thas it. at least in the great wide world of fandom, you can actually do something about it, turning the big into small. there's precedent for that. otherwise it just feels like complaining for the sake of complaining

[danielslaw]

RALPH MACCHIO AS DANIEL LARUSSO COBRA KAI SEASON 2 EPISODE 10

[nocternalrandomness]

In the flare at Whiteman  AFB, MO

[veny-many]

*Plo Koon will be appeared in the Clone Wars many screen time*

442nd: Finally, our time has come!

*With great 104th battalion!*

442nd: Ayo What

[bardowar]

Speculative Fiction, or Alternate History - AltHist - has always been a favourite read of mine. The art of taking off from a fixed point in history to diverge into an imaginative flight of "what if?" and then either choosing to merge it back again with the original timeline or let it flow into a parallel one gives a writer so many possibilities that when well written, it's a treat for the readers to follow them on the journey

[usnatarchives]

These documents belonged to Army Private First Class Wataru Nakamura, a Japanese American soldier who fought with the acclaimed 442nd Regimental Combat Team during World War II.

Nakamura enlisted in the Army from Camp Rohwer, a Japanese internment camp in Arkansas. Nakamura fought with distinction in #WWII, and later paid the ultimate sacrifice for his heroism in Korea. He was posthumously awarded the Distinguished Service Medal for his bravery.

Nakamura’s military personnel record is among those that were damaged and salvaged after the 1973 fire in St. Louis. After the dirt and debris from the fire were cleaned from these documents, technicians placed these pages in protective polyester sleeves.

[angesaurus]

My husband saying “those plates go there” and pointing as I am unloading the dishwasher for the 442nd time sent me into SUCH a rage.

[holy-ghost-fire]

A Japanese American soldier, equipped with a BAR, goes on night patrol. Date and location unknown.

[ariadnes-red-thread]

Congrats on 150 followers, Aria! ✨💖💕✨ you deserve all of them and more!

My request is for a Fem!Reader or GN!Reader with Wolffe. The prompt is “I thought I lost you.”

Hiiii Vee! I'm so so sorry this took so long. I never forgot about it and I wrote most of it a long time ago but the ending just didn't feel right and I couldn't bring myself to rush it. I hope it was worth the wait. Thanks for all of your love and support, darling!

Pairing: Wolffe x F!Reader

Word Count: 4k

Warning: NSFT *MINORS DNI*, Explicit sexual content, established relationship, Fingering, PiV sex

It had been almost two years since Order 66. Two years since you lost everything. The order, your master, your troops, and him. First, Master Plo fell on Cato Neimoidia. You’d only survived by sheer luck. Your own ship had malfunctioned that morning, and you’d been directing the 442nd and the 104th on the ground. After the battle ended, you ventured into the forests alone for a moment of peace. Instead, the order came down. Plo’s last call was to tell you to run and not look back. The staticky warning, followed by a vengeful rain of blaster fire from men you loved as brothers and more while you fled, still haunted your dreams.  After the battle, the 104th was torn apart and scattered among the Empire’s troops. You looked for a while after, even though you feared what you might find, but there was nothing left. No pieces to find or recover, no trail to follow. They were all gone. Even him. You told yourself that you’d long since given up hope. The focus was on the fight now, but deep within the well of your heart, you knew that wasn’t true. Hope still lurked in those murky shadows, and despite your best efforts to brick it in and let it suffocate in the rot deep within you, it crept out sometimes.

You felt its tendrils now, wrapping around your neck and squeezing. You steadied your breath, taking slow inhales and exhales as you tried to focus on the basics of the mission at hand. You counted the exits for the ninth time. There were five - six if you included the window, but that was a several-story fall that you preferred not to chance. You silently let your gaze fall to your blaster, aimed at the ready. You tilted it slightly so you could see the energy cell, the barrel never moving from its aim on the large doorway one level below. The cell was still full, just as it had been the last time you checked and the time before that.

“You good?” The comforting voice crackled over the comm and echoed in your ear, a welcome intrusion to your own thoughts even if you didn't appreciate the implication.

You let your eyes wander up the skeleton of the old building. Several levels above, you could just barely make out the captain’s outline. Rex was watching you from the shadows of the upper level of the abandoned maintenance center. Your contact chose the location, the abandoned GAR shipyard. You and Rex chose the building. It was a good location for a risky meeting. The middle of the building was hollow and large enough to house a transport ship, leaving plenty of space for hiding and good viewpoints. It helped that both you and Rex knew it well too. In another lifetime, you had walked it many times together and separately. Even now, as you looked up to where he was waiting in the shadows, you could almost see the ghosts of his brothers crawling, working, and laughing all around the rusted-out structure.

“Yeah, just tired of waiting.” You snapped back, your voice barely a whisper. “You sure this information is good?”

“Eh,” There was a muffled crackling in your ear as Rex shifted. “You heard the call. But how good is any of our information these days?”

You sighed. Rex didn’t have to put up with your testy attitude but he always did.

“Sorry, Rex.” 

“Nah, you’re alright.” The mic rustled as he shifted again. “I’m on edge too. It’s just��”

“I know.”

You both fell silent. You and Rex had been on edge since you got the call. It was an extraction request. It had been a long time science you’d gotten one of those. There weren't many clones left to rescue these days. Between the effectiveness of early missions, the elimination of the clone trooper from the Empire’s army, and the assassin program, it had been three months since Rex had heard anything about a clone trooper looking to be rescued.

Then, Senator Organa called late last night. He said he had it on good authority that an insider contact needed to be pulled out and fast. He couldn’t give any more information, only that they would be in the GAR shipyard at 0300, and their code word would be Khorm.

As soon as Bail said the word, you could feel Rex’s eyes on you, gazing over the blue haze of the holo. He waited until Bail hung up.

“It could be anyone.” The words fell halted from his lips as if he was arguing with himself. “Thousands of us fought on Khorm.”

“I know that, Rex.” You replied coolly. “Do you?”

That was the last either of you spoke of it. 

Now, Rex stayed silent on the comms, and despite wracking your brain for something to say, some way to make up for your coarse tone early, you couldn’t think of anything worth saying. It was probably better if you didn’t say anything anyways. You were never good with words. If you had been, you might have told… well that didn’t matter anymore.

Something moved in the shadows. Not a movement, you realized as you scanned the upper levels. A disturbance. You felt something in the force. Familiar but so far away. You searched the dark crevices, looking for anything that might have alerted your senses. Then you realized Rex was too quiet.

You swiftly scaled the scaffolding, moving with a speed and stealth that, if you thought too hard about it, would have reminded you of who you are… who you were. On silent feet and with your cloak wrapped close around you, you skirted around hanging equipment. You couldn't see Rex anymore, but you knew his last location.

You crouched in the darkness, staying low to the ground and keeping your back against the wall as you crept towards the corner where Rex had been. You kept your blaster trained out in front of you as you reached out through the Force, chasing that fleeting feeling from before.

You could sense Rex. He was still there and he was troubled. There was something else, a clouded presence, the same one you felt moments ago. It was near and that made you cautious. The darkness parted as you closed in on them. Endless shadows formed into shapes. You could see Rex again, but he was no longer alone.

Rex was kneeling, his hands resting on the back of his cloaked head and his elbows up in the air. Behind him stood a looming figure. Someone was waiting for you. Haar’chak, you silently cursed in Mando, a habit you picked up from the clones years ago. Dressed in black commando armor, a shrouded man stood with Rex’s blaster in one hand, pointing out into the darkness. He moved it every second or so as he scanned the shadows so he must not have spotted you yet. It was the second blaster that troubled you more. It was pointed directly at the back of Rex’s head.

You sized up the stranger. He was a clone trooper, or at least his armor belonged to one. Was this a set-up? You glanced at the carefully-mapped exits. No one else emerged. You couldn’t feel any other presence. It didn’t feel like a set-up. Not yet anyway. Before you could figure out your next move, the man moved first. His second weapon was suddenly trained on you.

“I see you.”

“Then you see my blaster.” You said, not moving from your crouch but tilting your head to ensure your hood shadowed your face. “Lower your weapon.”

“You’re no clone.” His modulated voice bit at you. So it was a clone beneath the armor, the accented mechanical voice was unmistakable. But something else rumbled deep in your chest. “This is an Empire trap. You lower your weapon, or your partner dies.”

Rex. Your heart stopped. You couldn’t see the Captain’s face under his hood, but you could guess at his expression. Stubborn and defiant. You couldn’t risk his life. You would do anything not to risk his life. You released the trigger on your blaster and held it up in the air.

“No trap.” You had to convince this man you were friendly, whether that was true or not. “Fulcrum.”

He tilted his helmet at the safe word. He waited for a moment, shifting just slightly as he decided whether or not he trusted you.

“Khorm.”

You tried not to flinch at the safe word as you holstered your weapon in a show of good faith. It almost sounded dangerously familiar as it left the shadowed man’s lips.

“Bail sent us.” You nodded to Rex, who was still held at gunpoint. “We’re here to get you out.”

Not quite satisfied, the fugitive clone trooper reached for Rex and slipped the cloak off of his head. His blonde hair shown in the light of the moons and his face was just as stubborn as you’d imagined it would be. Still, the fugitive extended an arm, and Rex accepted it.

“Should have guessed it would be you, Rex’ika.” The clone chuckled. “I always could get the drop on you.”

Your heart seized. There was no denying it now. And even if you had wanted to, the clone stripped his own helmet from his head. Two eyes, one a deep pooling brown, and the other pale and cybertronic met yours.

Your hand flashed to your blaster. It couldn’t be him. This was a trap. Your cloak fell away with the sudden motion. The world threatened to tilt, spinning around you. Only the cool durasteel felt solid and steady as you clasped the gun.

“Cyare.” Wolffe whispered, his voice instantly choked.

Your weapon slipped from grip, its clatter echoing against the empty walls.

…

Rex had long since gone to bed, sleep overtaking him as soon as you were safe on the ship. You and Wolffe sat in the hull of the ship with only a bottle of whiskey and a table between the two of you, but even as you talked into the late hours of the morning, the space felt impossible to breach. He danced around his own story all evening with an evasiveness that you hadn't felt from him since the early days of the war. The way Wolffe pressed you for stories of the rebellion reminded you of your first conversations when he would ask you a thousand and one questions about the temple and being a Jedi, all to avoid talking about himself. You didn’t mind. You just wanted to talk to him back then. Now, you could see through him.

“Wolffe,” You raised an eyebrow at him as you topped off both of your glasses. “You’re going to hear all about the rebels and then some. Where have you been? What happened? What changed?”

He sighed, looking away from you for the first time in hours. It was just for a second before he turned back to you, but you ached in that brief eclipse of a moment. His eyes locked back on yours, and he watched you as he raised the glass and tilted the warm liquor down his throat. He emptied the glass, his tongue darting out to run along his full lower lip. You waited, never flinching under his stare. Finally, he gave you a small smile and a shrug.

“It took a while, but my mind… it slowly cleared. It was too late to do anything. The Jedi were dead, the Wolfpack was gone. I almost couldn’t bear it.” His head hung as his voice became graveled. “Cody tried to get me out at first.” Cody’s alive?, You started at the revelation but Wolffe didn’t notice. “Wanted me to leave with him after we realized what was happening. But I thought, if you were gone, I had nothing else. Nothing besides getting out as many brothers as I could, and pulling the Empire apart from the inside out.”

“I worked with Bail for a long time, passing information to rebels, sabotaging missions.” He raised his head to look at you again. His eyes were narrowed and his words were hushed, as if he was afraid the Empire was still in the room with you. “You know how Bail is - plays his cards close to his chest, that one - but he let something slip one day. That there were Jedi still alive, still in the fight, and I tried not to hope, but I couldn’t help it. It started to eat away at me. Bail never let anything slip about Jedi again, but I knew I had to get out and find out for certain.”

“What made you think it was me?” A shiver went down your spine. He knew and he looked for you.

“I just knew…” His inscrutable face tilted and something twisted deep in your gut. “I knew if there was any chance you were alive, you would still be fighting.”

He looked for you, the truth hit you like a Venator. And you had given up on him a long time ago. Shame burned your cheeks even as the awe of what Wolffe had fought through brought tears to your eyes.

“If there was even a chance you were alive, I had to look. I didn't ask Bail. I knew he couldn’t tell me, so I just asked for an extraction. Said I was done. I never, not in my wildest moments of hope, dreamed you’d be the one to save me.” Wolffe cleared his throat. “I don’t deserve it. Not after… not after I tried to kill you. Not after Plo.”

His eyes fell and his hand trembled around the empty glass. It was the first time he’d said your master’s name. You reached for his hand. He jerked at your touch, pulling away from you, but you chased him, tugging his hand back into your grasp and finally crossing the chasm between you.

“That wasn’t you, Wolffe.” Your voice was quiet. You didn’t want to startle him, not while you finally were holding his hand in yours again. The warmth of his skin sent a shiver to your core as you ran your thumb over his rough palm. 

“It might as well have been.” The scorn in his voice was cutting. “If I’d been in the air or if he’d been on the ground, I would’ve taken that shot. I can’t hide from that.”

“It was Palpatine. All of it was.” You moved to clasp his broad hand in both of yours, “I know you, Wolffe.”

He returned your grasp as his achingly familiar fingers dug into your skin.

“I missed you, cyare.” Wolffe finally met your eyes again. His brow was soft in the dimly lit ship and the gentleness in his look was a sharp contrast to the hungry way his hands gripped yours. “I thought you were dead and that I would never be able to tell you…”

Your heart fluttered. He raised his free hand to your face, tracing along your hairline and down your jaw until his palm came to rest on your cheek. You tilted your head to rest into his palm, your breath light and rushed at his sudden closeness.

“I love you.” Wolffe finally said. “I always have. Even when I thought you were gone and there was nothing I could ever do to see you again. That love stayed with me, the thought of you was like a spark. It spurred me to find Bail, to get my brothers out. I just knew I had to be the man that you always saw in me.”

Tears slipped out from behind your eyes. It was far too late. You should have said all this and more years ago but all you feel was grateful that you could say it now. 

“I love you too, Wolffe.” You tried not to choke on the words.  “I always have. I should have looked harder. I should have torn the Empire apart for you.”

“We’ll tear them apart together now, cyare.” With a large thumb, he brushed the tears from your cheek.

You stood. Without another word or releasing the hand you still held, you pulled him towards your cabin. He followed like a shadow, just skirting your look but never more than a step behind you. 

When the blast door shut behind you, you spun to face him. For a moment, time stood still. You were closer now than you had been in a long time. He looked the same but the few years apart were still evident on both of your faces. Small lines and scars had etched themselves along his skin, and you could see his eyes tracing maps of the slight newness in you. But, despite the differences, the look in his umber orbs hadn’t changed at all. Cool and calm and, yet, still endless hungry. 

You stepped towards him, closing the distance between you. Wolfe lifted a hand to your waist and then stilled, as if he was afraid any other movement would startle you away. Your breath became slow as gravity tugged you towards his lips. You raised a palm to his stubbled cheek and pressed yourself to him. Your lips found his softly at first. Gentle, chaste kisses passed between you as you relearned the taste of him. His lips molded perfectly to yours still, as if he had kissed you every day for the last year. Then, as your mouth slid open and his tongue found yours, it all came rushing back; the way his heart beat against your chest, the heat of his heavy breath mixing with yours, stealing the very air from your lungs. Your teeth clashed as the kiss became anything but gentle. Both of his hands found your waist and fingertips dug into your flesh. You were used to Wolffe leaving marks. His grip had always been strong, and you liked the reminders when you were on separate missions, it was like he still held your body. Now, his hold was different. It was desperate. He clung to you as though he might lose you. And you held onto him the same way as your arms snaked around his neck.

Somehow in the tangle of limbs, you managed to guide him backwards to your bed. Gently pulling him down, his weight landed on you in a way that you had ached for on long and lonely nights. Wolffe broke your kiss for a moment. He stood at the edge of the bed, leveraging his position to find the hem of your shirt and strip it from your body. He turned his furious attention to your pants, tugging them off and tossing them aside. Wolffe bit his lip as his eyes skirted over your naked form. You reached up for him, tugging at his own shirt, silently begging him to join you. 

“I missed you,” Wolffe murmured, desperation edging into his voice as he pulled his shirt over his head.

His pants went next and your breath caught in your throat. His body was every inch as perfect as you remember. Study shoulders, the left one tattooed, his broad chest, strong legs, and his hard member already swollen and throbbing, all for you. 

Wolffe was back on you before you could reply. Any words, any thoughts at all became a low, pathetic mewl that left your parted lips as he found your neck. His mouth traced over your bare skin, pressing smoldering kisses to your flesh. His weathered and battle-worn hands weaved their way through your fingers and pinned your arms above your head as he found your chest. Wolffe nipped and licked at the soft flesh, raising your skin and bringing your nipples to sensitive points. His lips wrapped around one bud as he released your hands so he could tease the other with slow, gentle circles. 

“Wolffe.” You moaned as you writhed beneath him already. 

His hand dropped lower, tracing its way down your skin and leaving a trail of pearled flesh. Wolffe followed the crease of your hip until he brushed up against your lower lips. He softly teased your entrance for a moment before a singular thick finger sunk into your molten core. You bucked into his hand at the touch, another lewd moan escaping you.

Your vision clouded as Wolffe added a second finger and began to slowly fuck you with his hand. His eyes never left your face, his pupils dark and blown as he watched you come apart beneath him. His thumb found your sensitive mound and you cried out.

“I need you. Please.” You begged, desperate to feel all of him.

“Gods, I missed the way you taste.” Wolffe grinned as he slipped his hand from inside you and brought his fingers to his lips, licking them clean. Then he captured your lips again with a promise. “Later.”

You couldn’t help but smile into the kiss as Wolffe flashed a shadow of his playful side. There was so much you missed about him. So much time to make up for. Quickly though, your mind went blank with need again as Wolffe slotted the tip of his member at your soaking entrance. 

“Slowly,” you whispered to him as he began to press in. “It’s been a long time.”

Wolffe nodded, and you noticed a small breath of relief.  

“I won’t last.” He warned through gritted teeth.

“Me either.” You ran a hand along his brow, fingers dancing across bronzed skin, grazing top of the long silver scar and trailing down his cheek.

Wolffe pressed his lips against yours again. Your tongues intertwined as he inched forward slowly, entering you. He moved in sync with your body, letting you adjust to every advance before he pushed again. Finally, he sheathed himself fully within you with a throaty groan. You clenched, an involuntary reaction to how full he made you. His fingertips dug into your hips at the small movement and a whimper left Wolffe’s lips.

“Fuck, you’re so tight.” He muttered. 

“Okay, okay,” Any pain had passed and you were quickly becoming desperate again. “Please move. Please fuck me”

All of Wolffe’s restraint snapped at your plea. His thick cock dragged across your center as he thrusted into you. You canted your hips up to meet him, any pain now replaced by a heavenly stretch that made you pulse around him. His head fell to your neck and his lips latched onto the hollow along your collarbone. You reached for him, gripping a hand into his curls as you began to tremble beneath him. His thumb found your clit, drawing rough circles and sending wave after wave of pleasure through your core.

Finally and still all too quickly, the chord in your belly snapped and you came around him, shaking and crying out. Wolffe followed you, emptying himself inside you with one last thrust.

Hours later, when the sun was surely high in the sky, but you never raised the blinds and Rex had the good decency not to knock, you traced the tattooed star map of the Abregado system. It started on his chest, over his heart, and trailed down his left shoulder to his bicep. He’d had the tattoo as long as you’d known him, and you found that every line was still etched into your memory. His eyes fluttered as you traced the ink. For a moment, this could have been any night. Master Plo could still be alive. His brothers could be in their own bunks outside the door, waiting to tease you both as they helped you sneak back to your quarters. But it wasn’t. You’d lost all that. Somehow though, you’d found each other.

“I can’t believe this.” Wolffe finally spoke as if he could hear the inner workings of your mind. He murmured into the top of your head, his hand trailing down the bare skin of your waist. “I thought I lost you.”

“Never.” You whispered as you clung to him. “You always have me.”

[rockyp77mk3]

US Jeep with two 'Nisei' Japanese-American soldiers near Naples, Italy - October 1943. 442ND RCT.

[musubiki]

Okay this is dumb but how do you say m34th? I keep reading it as "meeth" and I have a suspicion that that isn't correct

NOT DUMB!!!!! actually a surprising amount of people have this question,,..maybe i shouldve picked different numbers..,,. but anyway in my head i say it as "em-thirty-fourth"

(my thought was that you refer to it like you would any military regiment like the 442nd, but the m- is in front to denote it as the only magic-specialized regiment in the central kingdom's capitol guard!!)

[edzephyr]

I think Brad was braced for fisticuffs...the first thing I said, as I cautiously approached, was "I'm not Bill!!"

(I nipped out of a nearby film con to pick up @georgetakei 's book for @tonymoy88, who is illustrating the story of the 442nd Japanese-American Infantry Regiment who fought in WW2 while their families were in the internment camps)

[captain-price-unofficially]

Members of the 442nd Kashinsky Regiment with the remains of a German aircraft, 1916

[veny-many]

Dave Filoni, who successfully made his dream come true

"I like Plo Koon."

"And I like wolf too"

"So as I directing the Clone Wars..."

"...I'm gonna put Plo Koon in almost every episode"

"And make him say awesome lines"

"And make him dad for my OC"

"And make wolf themed battalion just for him, while throwing away the 442nd battalion" (Commander Verd: ayo what)

"And make my favorite Jedi refer himself 'Wolf Leader' for my Wolfpack!"

Lucas: Do your job, not fanboying for that Kel-Dor Jedi for once!!

Lucas: This is why I say that only diseased mind love Plo Koon!