#LETTA. / inspiration

[soulsballad]

tag drop; path to nowhere. ( p. 4 )

[musouie]

LETTA. hello my love

for your wip/ask game i want to know more about 'grey matter' if you would be so kind as to share...>:3

I WOULD LOVE TO ACTUALLY !! thank you for asking, lina ;33

‘grey matter’ is a wip that i’ve had since …. february (ᵕ—ᴗ—), and it’s a levi ackerman x f!reader fic ! i took inspiration for it from the series ‘killing eve’ jjkhj bc i love it and i love the two mc’s dynamic sooo much

(if you haven’t seen it -> “The series follows Eve Polastri (Sandra Oh), a British intelligence investigator tasked with capturing psychopathic assassin Villanelle (Jodie Comer). As the chase progresses, the two develop a mutual obsession.”

and i’ve decided to make levi the detective and reader the assassin !)

… have i already said how much i love it ??! i have a few thousand words down for it, but i haven’t touched it since may unfortunately, but i’m trying to pick it back up again !!

aaaand, i’ll share this …i named it grey matter because of the brain tissue, and also bc of levi’s eye colour. mhmmm i felt so witty coming up with it 😋

a few ‘grey matter’ morsels:

BUT DEAR LINA, thank you sm for indulging me hehe … will be visiting your inbox very soon

[schismusic]

Æon Flux and the end of all things

I don't remember the first time I heard of Æon Flux but I sure as hell remember the first time I watched it, and it wasn't too long ago which would technically not warrant the level of obsession I have for that shit, but here we are anyway.

I was knocked the fuck out on painkillers, two of my wisdom teeth freshly removed, not even remotely worried about the exam that I had coming up in like two days from then. So I was barely moving away from my swivel chair and sleeping on a whole ass armored pillow to prevent from tossing and turning and shit felt so surreal to me. It was like the eating chair from the last Cronenberg movie. So I delved into Æon Flux essentially blind and bingewatched the shit out of it. Twice. Ended up downloading the whole thing from some sketchy ass 1080p remastered torrent, rewatched it again, and spread it around personally in a more cauterized Google Drive folder (so if you guys got a nasty ass virtual STD from it, my bad I guess), not even a month after watching the series. Shit was fucked, in short, and every rewatch just fueled this obsession even further.

(image taken from Episode 1, Season 1)

One thing about me: when I obsess over stuff I want to draw something at the very least inspired by it. Happens to me a lot with Autechre, who are actually one of maybe three bands I would not hesitate to call my favourite based on an absolutely objective principle which is absolutely not up for discussion and which might be the object of a future post at this point. But the point is fucking Æon Flux is essentially impossible to replicate because Peter Chung's character designs are so recognizable that you start seeing them in literally every other movie that came out in the late '90s/early 2000s - and for reference, Æon Flux was brought to an end in 1995. Consequently, all attempts at drawing Æon Flux-inspired stuff end up either feeling very derivative or looking like fucking trash. Artistry is a weird thing because sometimes it inspires other people, other times it just inspires man-slaughtering rage.

Somewhat many of my friends are or have at one point tried to be accomplished visual artists. Some have made it to professional/teaching level, some others have an art school diploma or degree - and I'll be using this space to shout out @coto-letta aka V., who has recently rejoined Tumblr after years of absence. We met on here, when her handle was much different, and I mistook her for an ex of mine (whom, surprisingly, we are still on relatively good - if quiet - terms with) so I slid into her DMs as you do, and she was like "yeah actually I have no clue who the fuck you are I just think your blog is neat and dropped a follow" which was quite a fundamental moment in understanding that while my life was written like a dodgy soap-opera, that didn't mean I was the centre of the entire world. Anyway, the reason I'm shouting her out is because sometimes something deeper and older than you remember has a way of finding you again when you least expect it and that's what happened when in January 2023 (after V. had left Tumblr for at that point about two years and we had exchanged Instagram accounts) I somehow ended up on her Insta and found out she had been tagged in a picture taken somewhere that looked suspiciously like my university's conference hall and I could not fucking believe she was in my city. I slid into her DMs again, as you do, and found out that no, that wasn't my uni's aula magna, but yes, she was in fact relocating in my city for her master's. So we met up after maybe seven years of on-and-off Internet friendship. It's a neat story, sure, but how the fuck do we tie it into Æon Flux?

(image taken from Episode 3, Season 2: Leisure)

Not trying to be overly dramatic here, but Æon Flux to me is just about a condensation of everything that "art" can mean. Not just visual flare or style, not just deep meaning or interesting ways of putting across one or more questions and never a definitive answer to any of them (more often than not, it's sets of possible answers - usually two, neither of which ends up covering the whole array of possibilities, both of which actually leave a lot to be desired in a number of different ways), not just this insane fucking music that toys with everything you expect from animation courtesy of Drew Neumann who may just rank as one of the best soundtrack artists ever in virtue of this single work. It's the whole package. You would think it'd work taken in pieces, and it does, no objection to that: but it works even better as a whole package. If the moral questioning (and the philosophical musings of season 3, which is unjustly underrated because "it's too normal" by hipster wannabe critic dilettantes who like to think that they could do better than that. Everybody else on the other hand is generally able to stop pull their head out their own ass and recognize, at the very least, the excellent craftsmanship and talent that went into the ten long episodes) wasn't accompanied by the weird fetishistic sex it'd be somewhat less impactful, almost like a cauterized Tenshi no tamago made into a series for mainstream late-night TV audiences. The twist was that MTV's executives, at the time, "didn't understand [the double entendres], they didn't even notice them. So, we were okay", in producer Japhet Asher's own words in the short documentary Investigation: The History of Æon Flux. The network was, in fact, trying to break into the mainstream - they simply couldn't keep their creatives at bay. No wonder they turned to Jersey Shore as they went along.

(image taken from Episode 5, Season 3: The Demiurge)

Even just the main characters' purported edginess, clearly something "of its time", is never played entirely straight. Both leads are way too complex, and very clearly presented as such, to be just summed up by "Æon Flux is an anarchist/Trevor Goodchild is a dictator". Both of which are true, by the way, they're just one part of a full picture. Even within the context of its necessary linearity - this is still an animated short and as such moves only in one direction, even though a number of episodes (specifically Mirror and Chronophasia) deliberately fuck with the viewer's perception of times on varying degrees of diegesis and extradiegesis - the series could be perceived as, indeed, a sandbox: consequently, the viewer could set sail and explore it. This is further encouraged by the series's active weirdness to whoever would want to try and make sense of the world's story. There is no history, there is just the story at hand: an eternal present which you can't understand ("un eterno presente che capire non sai": Ferretti knew his shit, regardless of how it went after CCCP) and which Æon and Trevor are not interested in even trying to contextualize. Not a surprise then that they'd be into each other: their closeness in body and heart doesn't exist at the mind's level, and the whole thing falls apart miserably every time it looks like they could be finally let their weapons down. But as Æon completely understands, and as Trevor seems to actively try to ignore, the fight is already the whole point: star-cross'd as they may be, the entire act of playfully hunting each other for sport both in the bedroom and on the battlefield is what Trevor Goodchild and Æon Flux thrive on. Trevor wants stability but an Æon who doesn't fight back is simply not Æon; Æon does not want the stability, but she definitely likes Trevor to an extent and finds more in common with him that she would probably be willing to admit (I would like to thank Tumblr user @brw on thons very good analysis of the episode A Last Time for Everything, which heavily inspired this section of the post!). In short: if Trevor seems to embody Pier Paolo Pasolini's idea that "there is nothing more anarchistic than power" ("non c'è nulla di più anarchico del potere") then Æon flips the statement on its head: "there is nothing more powerful than anarchism". That is, of course, until we once again confront my signature ad-hoc elephant in the room that this statement just summoned.

(Image taken from Episode 1, Season 1)

No spoilers intended, but if you so much as google the name of the series you will easily find out that Æon Flux dies a whole lot throughout the series*. Season 1 and all the shorts from season 2 end with her dying ungrateful deaths and a couple of the long episodes leave much to be desired in the way of positive closure, with Ether Drift Theory representing a peak in bleakness for season 3. Most of the shorts where Æon dies imply that either absolutely nothing changes in the world around when she's lost or that Trevor Goodchild literally just succeeds in all of his goals (see Season 1's finale), and one could make a case that even if she did carry her missions through there would be absolutely nothing to show for it: somebody goes up the chain of power, everything is restored, there is one more tyrant to murder. Not to be that one guy who quotes Nietzsche about everything, but the eternal recurrence of the same is the first thing that comes to mind when watching Æon Flux, especially exemplified and even literalized by the episode War, possibly the best of the short ones: it's the same fucking story four times over a five-minute run time and nothing ever gets better for anyone. The body count in the episode is unquantifiably large - every one of the fallen a potential new Æon Flux or Trevor Goodchild. But this, in a way, implies that Æon keeps being reborn, and one could argue that the act of capturing a fly with her venus-fly-trap eye could simply be her coming back to life, as it were; stopping the most evident sign of decay, turning her eyes outward yet again, to face the eternal return of the same again and again and again…

(Image taken from Episode 8, Season 3: Ether Drift Theory)

You can find Æon Flux for free on the Internet Archive.

*as I was discussing the final draft of this post with my friend @oldshittydog we had a pretty interesting discussion which I thought should be added here for an even clearer, fuller picture:

[lara-prism-light]

just any of your character designs in general. nothing specific in mind, just any design ideas of your characters that you scraped from the original.

Oh well.

This is a very old design of a character of mine from a long-time project of mine.

Her latest design is this one:

Basically, she was a character I hadn't worked on much in the past. The theme remains the same, the characters all have animal traits, and in her case they are butterflies. When I initially designed her (of which I lost the original ;-;) I was watching Sonic Boom at the time, so I took some inspiration from the show. She had super speed powers, I still don't know why I thought of that should have bean her power.🤷🏻‍♀️

After one I changed and now her power is light, she has some shades of white and red to contrast with the pink. And now she's a dark-haired Latina.

Her name went from Flay to Letta, and maybe I'll change it again in the future.

Other characters in her story had changes too and others were completely cut.

Honestly, I've been wanting to talk about these characters and this project for a long time! One day I will talk more about It!

[stellanslashgeode]

I'm still a pretty new author over at AO3 and it's interesting what takes off, and gets traction and what doesn't.

My most loved story is Heart of Kyber, a Barrissoka six-chapter short with a still dark Barriss and Ahsoka as point-of-view narrator post her solo novel. It has just over 780 hits but almost 40 kudos.

My most read and most controversial is Inferno, a little angry barb of a short story I banged out in a week of inspiration, it hit me like a fever. It's a post Rogue Jedi AU where Letta Thurmond had a whole movement behind her that ends the war, messily. It has over 870 hits, under 30 kudos but the most comments. I think I made some folks big mad with that one.

My silly little rarepair erotica short I wrote on valentines day finally got 100 views recently. I'm not surprised, not many people look out for that one but I just think it's neat.

And my oldest, my beloved ideal Barriss redemption arc I'll never get, chugging along with a little over 400 hits. It's still my first baby and I love it so much.

[swagstarz]

Touch my purple BALLS 💜

Okay so I'm tryna write a love letta for my girl but at the same time I just spilled tea on it

I'm making it inspired by Yuri's last poem now ✌

[amamfengutv]

A Homage to South African Women in Jazz.

By Makeeda Swan

We take a look at some of the women who shaped the jazz scene here in South Africa. In a country overflowing with talented women, narrowing down the spotlight to fit into one blog post alone was no easy task. But the women featured here- Miriam Makeba and the Skylarks, Letta Mbulu, Dolly Rathebe and Dorothy Masuka- were true pioneers, not only in their innovative music but also as beautiful, shining lights during such dark and troubled times.

Letta Mbulu

Born and raised in Soweto, South Africa, she has been active as a singer since the 1960s. While still a teenager she toured with the musical King Kong — but left for the United States in 1964 due to Apartheid.

In New York City, she connected with other South African exiles, including Miriam Makeba, Hugh Masekela and Jonas Gwangwa and went on to work with Cannonball Adderley, David Axelrod and Harry Belafonte.

On screen, her singing can also be heard in Roots, The Color Purple (1985), and the 1973 film A Warm December, and she was a guest on a Season 6 episode of Soul Train. Mbulu also provided the Swahili chant in Michael Jackson's single, "Liberian Girl". Producer Quincy Jones has said of her: "Mbulu is the roots lady, projecting a sophistication and warmth which stirs hope for attaining pure love, beauty, and unity in the world."

She is the founding member of the South African Artists United (SAAU), an organisation that was established in 1986.

Miriam Makeba

Miriam Makeba was a revolutionary artist who used her voice to shape history. As swing dancers, her legacy as “Mama Africa” should resonate deeply within our hearts, as it draws parallels to the unity and joy we find on the dance floor.

Miriam Makeba, born in 1932 in Johannesburg, South Africa, was an artist whose harmonious voice and compelling performances transcended borders, much like the way swing dancing breaks down cultural barriers and brings people together. With each note she sang, Makeba carried a message of hope, resilience, and unity that resonated with people around the world.

Makeba’s musical journey began at a young age when her unique voice drew attention. In the 1950s, her partnership with the Manhattan Brothers catapulted her into the spotlight. Her solo career flourished, and her enchanting melodies fused indigenous South African sounds with international influences, creating a unique genre of her own.

As Makeba’s fame grew, so did her commitment to justice. While her music charmed audiences across the globe, she used her platform to shine a light on the brutal realities of apartheid. A noteworthy example of this is her heartfelt address to the United Nations Special Committee, which added momentum to the anti-apartheid movement.

One of Makeba’s most renowned hits, Pata Pata, became a global sensation, capturing the rhythm of the African soul and inspiring dance floors everywhere. The song’s infectious melody carried a profound message of joy amidst struggle, showcasing Makeba’s ability to infuse activism into her music.

Makeba’s return to South Africa after 31 years of exile was a triumphant homecoming. Her presence during the nation’s transition to democracy was a testament to her unwavering commitment to justice. Her voice, which had transcended continents, now echoed the dreams of her fellow South Africans.

Miriam Makeba’s legacy is etched into the annals of history. Her music remains a timeless testament to the power of art as a catalyst for change, a concept that deeply resonates with our swing dance community’s mission and values. As “Mama Africa,” she continues to inspire artists and activists, embodying the spirit of a nation’s struggle and the triumph of its people. Swing dance endevours to embody the spirit of unity and celebration of diversity, and this is why it’s so important to pay homage to the artists, like Makeba, who set the wheels of change in motion.

In addition to Pata Pata, Makeba is also famous for the song entitled The Click Song, which you can listen to here, further showcasing the diverse and captivating range of her musical contributions.

The Skylarks

The Skylarks were an all-woman South African ensemble, founded by Miriam Makeba in the 1950s. At one time they were the most popular black singing band in the country. Emerging from the lively townships that brim with creativity, each member of the Skylarks nurtured their craft from a young age. They were a remarkable musical group that embraced and celebrated our rich South African cultural heritage by mixing jazz with more traditional local music, resulting in a new, unique genre of African Jazz. Comprising the extraordinary talents of Letta Mbulu, Abigail Kubeka, Mary Rabotapi, Sanna Mabusela and Thembi Mathe (among others, who all contributed at different points in time), their music weaves a beautiful story of tradition and modernity. Our swing dance community can truly resonate with this celebration of cultural heritage and musical innovation.

Drawing inspiration from the rhythmic heartbeats of our ancestors, the Skylarks infuse their music with echoes of Isicathamiya, Mbube, and Marabi, taking us on a nostalgic journey through the sounds of our past. Their harmonious melodies pay homage to our roots while embracing the contemporary spirit that unites us as South Africans.

At the heart of the Skylarks’ music beats a message of hope, love, and unity—values that resonate deeply within our swing dance community. Through their soul-stirring performances, they embody the spirit of togetherness, much like our dancers who come together on the dance floor to share moments of joy and connection. Their harmonies, like the universal language of dance, bridge linguistic boundaries, touching every South African heart.

Over the years, the Skylarks received well-deserved acclaim and graced stages worldwide. From prestigious music festivals to intimate community gatherings, their soul-stirring music has touched the lives of many, inspiring cultural pride and celebrating the spirit of Ubuntu.

The Skylarks’ legacy lives on through their timeless songs like Hush and Inkoma Zodwa, which you can listen to here.

Dolly Rathebe

Dolly Rathebe, a name synonymous with grace and talent, was an artist who danced through life. Born in 1928 in Randfontein and growing up in Sophiatown, Johannesburg, she displayed an early passion for performing and singing, which would lead her to become one of the most cherished icons of her time. Rathebe’s captivating voice and charismatic presence left an indelible mark on the nation’s entertainment landscape.

Blessed with a rich and soulful voice, Rathebe found her calling in the world of jazz music, a genre that, like swing dance, thrives on rhythm and improvisation. Her silky-smooth vocals, often described as captivating and unforgettable, earned her a dedicated fan base across the country. Rathebe’s performances at renowned jazz clubs like The Pelican in Orlando West became the stuff of legends, and she soon gained recognition as one of South Africa’s jazz sensations.

Rathebe’s talent was not limited to music; she also ventured into acting with equal prowess. Her silver screen debut in the 1951 film Jim Comes to Jo’burg– the first film to portray urban Africans in a positive light- resonates with the themes of breaking boundaries and embracing diversity. Dolly’s on-screen presence and emotive performances earned her critical acclaim, making her one of the country’s most celebrated actresses in apartheid-era cinema.

Rathebe’s artistry broke down racial barriers in the entertainment industry. As an African woman, she achieved significant milestones during a time when opportunities for black artists were limited. Through her music and acting, she shattered stereotypes and inspired a generation, proving that talent knows no boundaries.

Rathebe’s legacy continues to inspire aspiring artists. Her music and films serve as a testament to the power of artistic expression in shaping society, a concept deeply cherished by our dance community.

Throughout her illustrious career, Rathebe received numerous accolades and honours for her outstanding contributions to the arts. Her impact on South African culture led her to be revered not just as a talented artist but also as an icon of resilience and artistic excellence. Her memory lives on, uniting generations and celebrating the beauty of artistic heritage.

Although  Dolly Rathebe left this world in 2004, her legacy lives on in the hearts of South Africans. Her songs and films are cherished by generations, and her influence continues to resonate with music lovers and film enthusiasts alike. Rathebe remains an eternal symbol of the beauty and power of South Africa’s artistic heritage.

Dorothy Masuka

Dorothy Masuka, born in 1935 in Bulawayo, Zimbabwe (formerly Southern Rhodesia) and raised in Johannesburg, was a trailblazing jazz artist who left a significant mark on South Africa’s musical landscape. Her powerful and evocative voice was a conduit for storytelling, conveying themes of love, social injustice, and the pursuit of freedom.

Masuka’s musical journey began at a young age when she discovered her passion for singing and performing. In the 1950s, she moved to South Africa, where she quickly gained recognition for her exceptional talent. Her early compositions, infused with jazz, mbaqanga, and township rhythms, showcased her unique ability to connect with audiences and resonate with their hearts.

Masuka’s music became a source of inspiration and comfort during the oppressive years of apartheid. Her soulful and emotive performances carried messages of hope and resilience, giving voice to the struggles and aspirations of the marginalized communities. She wrote and performed songs like Hamba Nontsokolo, which became anthems of the anti-apartheid movement, uplifting the spirits of those fighting for freedom.

Despite facing exile due to her outspoken stance against apartheid, Masuka continued to use her music as a tool for activism, amplifying the voices of those in need. Her performances at international venues and political gatherings mirror our community’s efforts to use dance as a means of spreading positivity and awareness on a global scale.

Masuka’s triumphant return to South Africa after 31 years in exile aligns with the resilience and unity celebrated within the global swing dance community. Her legacy lives on, much like the enduring spirit of swing dance, as a symbol of hope and progress.

Throughout her illustrious career, Masuka received numerous awards and honors, acknowledging her significant contributions to the arts. She was not only celebrated for her musical brilliance but also admired for her role as a powerful voice in the fight against apartheid.

Her passing in 2019 marked the end of a remarkable era, yet her legacy continues to inspire music enthusiasts and activists.

In addition to Hamba Nontsokolo, Masuka is famous for the songs Lendaba and My Parents, which you can listen to here.

Here she is performing at the Mandela Theatre in 2010.

Thank you to these phenomenal women. May their legacy live on and may we always remember not only their music but also their resilience and social impact. Their pursuit of unity, freedom and innovation is something that our swing dance community holds dear.

[ponderousorb]

So my inspiration for this: I love crossovers and I love when gangs of villains cross over, especially ones with similar themes. I imagine they all meet in one of those villain bars tv shows love. I love the idea of Letta seeing Ace as a punk kid and them clashing heads, meanwhile the others haven't got the memo they should be fighting yet. Olga is doing her School Nurse thing and so Arturo brings Billy for a checkup, with the promise of a lollipop and a balloon - she thinks they are sweet boys. Grubber is on his best behaviour (as seen in Schoolhouse Rocked) as Sludge shows him pictures of her numerous kids, because it pays to be polite to the cool old lady he just saw play darts with throwing knives.

The bikers probably have gone out to get Tammy over the whole Brad breakup thing, she'll never love again etc etc until she locks eyes on Snake and decides this is her next bad decision. Snake likes being bossed around however, and hanging out with Tammy involves a lot less being punched in the face than hanging out with Ace does, so they're intrigued. See those two will being the two minions in any future crossover just making heart eyes at one another from different corners of the battlefield.

My latest venture - only have the flats done for now

Gangreen Gang meets the Space Bikers

[lucky-numberme]

here's a WIP (emphasis on the "in progress") of some beautiful characters by @meg-moira. If you haven't read Eindred and the Witch, you are missing out on some beautiful gay storytime.

can't wait to see how this piece comes out 🥰

[libriselvaggi]

Benvenuti!  Welcome to Libri Selvaggi!

English: My name is Ariana and I am an Italian and German Studies major at Cornell University (graduating in December of 2021). I am embarking on my book blogging journey through Libri Selvaggi (or wild books)  to reflect on what I’ve been reading and to inspire your book list. Reading has always been a part of my life and I was lucky to have always been read to as a child in both English and Italian. Books have provided me with a contemporaneous sense of stability and escape and helped me foster my intellectual curiosity through my studies in Italian and German, with a strong focus on literature. 

I try to rotate my book roster between titles from the English, Italian, German and Portuguese-speaking worlds. Posts will all be written in English and additionally in the original language of the book. This blog will explore fiction, poetry and the occasional sprinkle of non-fiction. 

Benvenuti! 

Italiano: Mi chiamo Ariana e mi laureo in italiano e tedesco a Cornell University in Dicembre 2021. Comincio con la mia avventura di fare la “book blogger” tramite Libri Selvaggi per riflettere su ciò che leggo, approfondire qualche argomento che mi interessa e influire la tua lista di lettura. La lettura è sempre stata una parte importante nella mia vita. Da bambina ero fortunata di essere stata letta così tanto dalla mia mamma e da mia nonna con le favole in italiano. I libri mi offrono un senso di stabilità e pure di scampo dalla realtà e mi hanno aiutato ad alimentare la mia curiosità intellettuale con i miei studi di italiano e tedesco con una concentrazione sulla letteratura.    

Provo a cambiare spesso la mia scelta tra titoli in inglese, italiano, tedesco e portoghese. Tutti i miei posts saranno scritti in inglese e anche nella lingua originale del libro. Questo blog esplorerà la finzione, la poesia e a volte i libri di saggistica. 

Willkommen! 

Deutsch: Mein Name ist Ariana und ich studiere Italianistik und Germanistik an der Universität Cornell und ich absolviere die Uni in Dezember 2021. Ich beginne mein Abenteuer als Buchbloggerin durch Libri Selvaggi (oder wilde Bücher). Ich möchte darüber nachdenken, was ich gelesen habe, einige Themen vertiefen und eure Leseliste beeinflussen. Lesen ist immer ein wichtiger Teil meines Lebens. Als ich noch ein kleines Mädchen war, las meine Mutter mir immer vor und meine Oma auch, aber auf Italienisch. Bücher baten mir immer Stabilität und Entkommen an. Lesen ist auch eine Möglichkeit, dadurch ich meine intellektuelle Neugier fördern kann. Deswegen in meinem Studium konzentriere ich mich auf deutsche und italienische Literatur. 

Ich werde es versuchen, die Sprache meiner Buchauswahl zu wechseln. Meine Beiträge werden alle in English geschrieben und auch in der originalen Sprache des Buches. Dieser Blog wird Fiktion, Lyrik und manchmal Sachliteratur  erkunden. 

Bem-vindos! 

Português: O meu nome é Ariana e eu estudo italiano e alemão na Cornell University e me formarei em Dezembro 2021. Estudo português no nível avançado também. Começo com a minha aventura de me tornar uma blogueira de livros através de Livros Selvagens para refletir sobre o que eu leio, aprofundar alguns temas literários e influenciar a sua lista de leitura. A leitura sempre fez parte da minha vida. Quando eu era criança, tive sorte que minha mãe lesse para mim e que minha vó lesse em italiano para mim. Com livros consigo me estabilizar e escapar no mesmo tempo. A leitura ajudou-me a fomentar a minha curiosidade intelectual, o que faço no meu estudo da literatura italiana e alemã. 

Tento mudar de idioma quando leio. Então todas as postagens no blog serão escritas em inglês e na língua na qual o livro foi originalmente escrito. Eu queria explorar títulos de ficção, poesia e não-ficção. 

[wheredidhiseyebrowsgo]

Hi! Do you know any Sterek Cinderella fics? Or any fairy tale besides little red riding hood? Thanks!!!

I LOVE SOME GOOD OL’ STEREK FAIRY TALES!!!! -Letta

Grumpy Frog Look-alike by literaryoblivion

(1/1 | 1,905 | Teen)

Stiles finds a frog in one of his searches for the missing Prince Derek, and he befriends it and talks to it. After a while it kind of looks like Prince Derek to him, but maybe he's just lonely and going crazy with boredom.

Don't Say No by ObliqueOptimism

(1/1 | 1,906 | Teen)

Everyone knew the story. Stiles grew up watching the Disney version, little did he know that he would live out his own tale of the story.

Bibbidi-Bobbidi-Boo by orphan_account

(1/1 | 2,349 | Gen)

“The Stilinskis are of royal blood, Lydia, and the Hales –”

“– are piss-poor peasants after having disgraced themselves in battle centuries ago?”

Derek looks away again. “Yes,” he says miserably. “I’ll never be good enough for him.” He feels more than hears Lydia sigh and step away.

“We’ll just have to make him forget about politics, then,” she says softly. “He won’t care what house you’re from the moment he sets eyes on you.”

“In these clothes?”

“Don’t be idiotic.” Lydia raises her wand and bites her lip contemplatively. “I’m your fairy godmother, Derek. I think I can work a little magic. But first – we’ll need a pumpkin and some mice.”

--

In which Derek is a Disney princess, but not really, and Stiles is the prince who actually remembers what Cinderella looks like.

Forevermore by AsagiStilinski

(1/1 | 3,098 | NR)

Once upon a time, there was a wolf prince, who's family was slaughtered by an evil huntress, legend says that he resides locked in a tower in the burned remains of his kingdom, waiting for someone to save him, and Stiles is about to become that someone

Fathoms Below by Saucery

(1/1  | 3,163 | Teen)

An absolutely shameless fusion with The Little Mermaid. Shh, just come.

The Prince and The Cobbler by FairyNiamh

(1/1 | 3,699 | Teen)

After his Royal Ball, Derek seeks out a certain cobbler with a familiar shoe. Really? Stiles is no Cinderella!

wander and wait by sinequanon

(1/1 | 3,714 | Teen)

Wherein Kate is an evil stepmother, Scott misses his friend, and Stiles ultimately has his revenge.

The Beauty and the Wolf by Shinigami24

(8/8 | 3,748 | M)

The tale of the beauty who loves the beast becomes the next matchmaking attempt.

Beneath the Trees Where Nobody Sees by LessonsFromMoths

(1/1 | 3,948 | Teen)

The boy snorted. It was an ugly sound. Not one you would expect from a...princess? “Well obviously the fairytale didn't get everything right.”

Obviously. Derek’s eyes trailed over the slender boy. Rose-red lips, pink-tainted cheeks, slender frame, skin as white as snow. The fairytale got enough right. “And your dwarves?”

The boy outright laughed then. “Less like dwarves, more like nuisances.”

In which Stiles is Snow White, Derek is confused, and fairy tales aren't all that they cracked up to be.

The Little Glass Button by RossellyBea

(1/1 | 4,208 | Teen)

“Scott, I love you like a brother, but come on. Why in the world would an omega ever pick me? Let alone an omega prince? I may be an alpha, but the chance of me getting the prince's attention is non-existent. Non-existent.”

Omegaverse Sterek Cinderella. That pretty much sums it up.

The Hale Swans by ophelianipples

(5/5 | 4,715 | Gen)

“But remember -” said the fairy - “from the moment you commence your task, until it is finished, even should it occupy years of your life, you must not speak. The first word you utter will pierce through the hearts of your sisters like a deadly dagger. Their lives hang upon your tongue.”

An AU of 'The Wild Swans' in which Derek tries to save his sisters and Stiles is fascinated by his odd behaviour (and stunning good looks).

Under The Sea by myrandomnesslife

(1/1 | 6,246 | Teen)

In which Stiles is Ariel and Derek is Eric. With a twist.

The Rest Is Unwritten by mikkimouse

(2/2 | 6,267 | Teen)

Once upon a time, the werewolf king and queen invited five fairies to the christening of their only son. The fairies bestowed the boy with gifts—beauty, grace, wit, and the most adorable teeth in all the land.

But before the fifth fairy could give her gift, a wicked fairy from the other Court arrived and cast a terrible curse on the baby prince. He would have a life full of tragedies, she declared, and die young, of a broken heart.

The king and queen were beside themselves with grief. It was very old, powerful magic, so there was little they could do to break it. However, the fifth fairy had yet to give her gift. The curse could not be broken, she told them, but it could be altered.

She bestowed upon the prince the gift of perseverance, so that he would never lose his will to live, even in the face of countless tragedies. And when he found the one who would stand by his side and face those tragedies with him without fail, that is when the curse would be broken. Because the fairy knew there was nothing in all the world more powerful than true love. Not even a wicked fairy's curse.

A Tale Spun from Love and Void by Toxin

(1/1 | 7,230 | Teen)

When Kate Argent kills most of his family, Derek makes a deal with a Nogitsune in order to avenge their deaths. In exchange for killing his first love, however, the Nogitsune demands Derek’s next one as payment, whenever Derek falls again. Never believing he’d make the mistake of opening his heart to anyone else, Derek takes the deal.

Fortunately, the only thing the Nogitsune likes more than pain is riddles, and when it finally comes for Stiles, it offers Derek a chance: if he can guess the Nogitsune’s name before the time runs out, Derek can keep the boy. The only problem is, Derek doesn’t even know Stiles’ actual name, and that soon becomes an issue in and of itself.

Or,

A Teen Wolf twist on the Rumpelstiltskin tale, initially inspired by the fact that Stiles’ name is nearly impossible to guess in three tries. Written for the Sterek Writing Room's 'Fairy Tale September' prompt.

[cross-border-communications]

For a new model of doing business and diplomacy. Tota Pulchra Association

Image source Tota Pulchra Association

Business Diplomacy: Worlds — Businesses — Governments    

This awareness calls for a new way of doing business and developing partnerships while establishing a working relationship based on mutual trust.

Wherever there is economic trade, the odds of war to break out are less likely. Frédéric Bastiat (Bayonne, 1801 — Rome, 1850), a French philosopher and economist of inspiration of liberal critics, taught: “si les marchandises ne traversent pas les frontières, les soldats le feront,” (When goods don’t cross borders, soldiers will).

He gave further developments to the fundamental doctrines (pronuntiata maiora) belonging to St. Thomas Aquinas and the philosophers of the School of Salamanca, by Huig de Groot (Ugo Grozio) and John Locke, anticipating thus the theories of the Austrian School of economics.

Today, in the global marketplace, fathoming the interplay between worlds, companies, and governments serve as a significant turning point for a successful strategy towards internationalization.

All these topics and diplomacy, at the service of the Italian and European productive fabric, were discussed last June 17th, during the “Business Diplomacy” event, organized on the occasion of its 10 first years of activity at the “Residenza di Ripetta” Congress Center, by the political consultancy company “Cui Prodest “- Political Intelligence, Public affairs, Lobbying.

The lecture was crowned with the prestigious patronage of the “American Chamber of Commerce in Italy” and the “Deutsch-Italienische-Heldskammer.” Enrico Letta, President of the “Italia ANSEAN” Association, Giulio Tremonti, President of “Aspen Institute Italia”, Marco Alberti (Enel), and Erwin Rauhe (Basf), President of the “Italian-German Chamber of Commerce” took part in the convention. Giuseppe Volpe, Managing Partner of “Cui prodest” was the moderator.

Many of the elites of the highest Italian government institutions were present in the room, as well as ambassadors, diplomatic staff and delegates of multinational companies. Jean Marie Gervais, Coadjutor Prefect of the Vatican Chapter and member of the press office of “Tota Pulchra Association, as a personal friend of Giuseppe Ciraolo, senior analyst of “Cui Prodest,” was accompanied by Simone Onori, interior designer, of the Tota Pulchra’s team.

However, we are currently suffering from a lack of competitiveness in the present diversity. As it happens, the new tariff barriers, uncontrolled mass communication phenomena, frequently complex relations between states and self-defeating regulations are the major diverging cause-and-effects of this process. Taken as a whole, they contrast with the challenges and opportunities that an increasingly global world is offering us.

Business Diplomacy, instead is a cure-all, the answer. It acts as an active business and peace driving force: where goods cross over, soldiers will not. A principle that we must not forget in the present confusion of souls.

27th August 2019, Article initially published by Tota Pulchra Association.   English text provided: Per un modo nuovo di fare business e diplomazia. 

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The Dawn of the Renaissance, namely the Sweet New Style 

Speranza_Concert. It means a lot for young artists. Tota Pulchra Association.  

Overview

Tota Pulchra is a Cultural Association of Social Promotion. It is meant to host and give room to artists, particularly to younger applicants as well as those in need. Check out: - Who They Are -

Appreciate when you reach out to me on: Giancarlo Antonini. Thank You. 

[honey-nut-cheeri-hoes]

Book 1 Chapter 2

Oho! Look who is still alive! Yeah, I’m still here to read this book and hopefully I’ll be a bit more consistent with the updates. One a day, maybe? We’ll see. 

Now, in this chapter, we get to see the Clock of the Time Dragon, which is overall a Very Bad Thing for Frex because of the gossip it inspires about literally everyone. I believe this chapter cuts out right as he goes to deliver his sermon? That’s how I’ll be treating it.

My thoughts:

I’m not sure what purpose the dope ass dragon in the musical served when compared to the Time Dragon here. Granted, I suppose this far in we can’t be certain what purpose this thing serves in the sense of the full story. However, I am so, so glad the musical had a DOPE ASS DRAGON.

So......Um. Grine and Letta and the daughter. Um. Okay look I’m gonna say it and I’m gonna say it ONCE, Grine is Sollux Captor because two dicks. But like, what the fuck. How would you have a penis on your back? It has to feel pain as it stated such in the book. Does it ejaculate? Urinate? How deep does this go? What are the logistics of this dick? God? Are you there?

There’s a drought going on. Faith in Unionism (can I call it that?) is decaying. This seems relevant (because it is, I presume, having speed read this book and seen the musical).

[writing-frenzy]

I feel this soul deep (now that I have one)

I’d like to thank @crowsketches for helping to inspire this; if I wasn’t bouncing ideas with you, I probably would have never had the inspiration to write this! From this AU Idea, I bring you angst!

Warning: descriptions of violence, pain, and suffering along with some mental instability. If you can’t handle that well, be careful!

No own Cuphead!

It’s interesting, how the simplest of things can knock down, mess up, and even destroy the best laid plans of monsters and fools alike. An unexpected gust, a misplaced word, a little hope have more power than most would ever expect.

In this story, it was a simple observation that caused all the chaos that would change everything in it.

(And yet, sometimes it all just boils down to luck in the end, giving everyone a chance at least once.)

Letting the last of his parchments in his hands enter the hellish fires before him, one Mugman couldn’t have been more pleased with himself then he was now. They beat The Devil himself after all, that should more than enough be a reason to feel just a little proud here! Almost made the punishing chores Elder Kettle would surely give them for this stunt seem just a little more insignificant in the grand scheme of things.

...They did after all have to get into their grandpa’s potions, which were not cheap, or easy to make at all, especially since Peashooter was usually very expensive, if not one of the most expensive ones... So resupplying the old potioneer’s ingredient stash, as well as assisting in making them would be the least the boys can do for their grandfather after he stuck his livelihood out for them. Still, that did not mean it would be in any shape or form fun; there was a reason the old kettle either ordered out or hired professionals to get the things he needed for his concoctions… At least the brothers could now defend themselves as they did it...

Heh heh, heeh, oh, it was going to royally suck.

Sighing, Mugman decided to look around, to get his mind off his chore filled future as well as curious about his surroundings, having never seen an actual throne room and all, even if it was a demons. Seeing said demon still dazed as all those little explosions twirled around them from their throne, and that Cuphead was still burning his contracts, what with him holding more, the blue mug moved a bit, just to take in the vast hall all around them.

It really was ridiculously lavish, gold, marble and what the mug was sure was silk everywhere, with a high ceiling to fit it all in, maybe also show just how small a person was. The younger brother could see how a demon like the Devil could probably like it, seeing as it this space was probably needed to fit their ego. Chancing another look over at the said being, a familiar item on their side table caught his attention.

Was that? Could it really?... Hesitant, as it would put him in proximity to the demon again, yet curious all the same (especially if he was right), Mugman tiptoed over to the rather large table, for him, the mug managed to sneak a peek at the papers that caught his attention, his eyes widening as he took them in.

‘They are! There are more soul contracts!’ was Mugman’s thoughts, taking in the many papers on the table, all laid out before him, along with a number of binders prime and ready to be used.

‘The Devil must have been confident he would win, already planning how he would sort everything here and now…’ Mugman frowned, even as he narrowed his dark eyes at the tables contents. ‘Well, let’s just show him the error in that arrogance of his!’ and with that, the young man grabbed the contracts on the table, a slight smirk on his face as he took them over to Cuphead.

“Hey bro, look what I found!” Mugman nearly chirped, getting his bro’s attention easily, making him look up, seeing just what he had found.

“Ha, nice one Mugman! Whoa!” Cuphead said, before exclaiming as the one he grabbed let out a lot of dust with the rough grabbing movement. “Looks like some of these are pretty old; probably have to be careful not to get tetanus or something” the older brother frowned, glaring at the offending parchment.

“I rather doubt we’ll get something like that; surely they make sure to properly care for items such as these.” Mugman said, even as he threw a few of the contracts into the fire, making sure they burned.

“The Casino is run by the Devil, and is over a literal hell mouth; I doubt they have the best health regulations around.” Cuphead answered, getting his brother to blink over at him as they finally threw their own contracts into the flame.

“...You know, if you had more sensible moments like these, I might stop being surprised every time you say something that actually makes sense.”

“Ha ha, I’ll have you know I’m sensible all the time.”

“You bet our souls to the devil.”

“I SAID I WAS SORRY!”

“Still never gonna let that go bro; neither will Elder Kettle.”

“...Shit…”

“My thoughts exactly.”

One King Dice, Manager of the Devil’s Casino and right hand man of the being, knew he probably deserved some sort of reward for not drinking even one drop of alcohol the whole day.

And boy, if there was a day to get roaring drunk, it would certainly be today.

“Yes, I would like the schedule the reconstruction of the Devil’s Casino at your most convenient timing. Yes, you will be payed- No, we will not pay upfront- No, you will not be paid that mu- I can easily wait for assistance from the mainland, don’t think we can’t… You will be payed a fifth of the payment upfront, which should be enough for building supplies, and not a damn coin more, do we understand each other… Good, glad you see things my way.” King Dice finished, having to force those words through gritted teeth, his eyes green from frustration and anger. Letting out an even breath, the man allowed himself to sit down on a nearby barstool, a gloved hand going to rub at the tension gathering right above his eyes of his die. Unfortunately, this also allowed darker thoughts to start circling.

‘Would a ‘lacky’ be able to do this? Would a good for nothing be able to pull this dump back together again, piece by piece? That bastard better be glad I owe him for saving my ass, otherwise-’ Gritting his teeth, eyes bright green now, the die winced as the tension in his head spiked, having to close his eyes for a bit in pain as he did.

He… needed a moment. Just… To stop thinking for a bit; a distraction would very much be appreciated right now.

“Everything okay Sir?” was said, thankfully getting the manager’s attention, making him look over to the familiar stack of poker chips that was his co-worker.

“Hmph, it will be eventually Bettigan; the construction company will be here in the week, so the casino should be fixed up as good as new pretty soon… How is Wheezy doing?” Dice asked, the green finally leaving his now dark eyes, showing just how tired they were as they stared at the other man.

“A bit touch and go there for a bit Sir, but your quick thinking saved him in the end; with just a bit of rest, he should be okay.” Chips answered, voice in a soft drawl as they looked at their boss in concern and no little respect.

“Please, all I did was push him into his ash pile where he belonged; I just didn’t want to have to deal with the audits he would no doubt leave behind for me to handle.” Dice huffed, scowling even as he heard Chips chuckle in reply, though making sure to look innocent all the same.

“Sure boss, I’ll be sure to tell him that.” the texan drawled, even as he gave the most fake innocent smile to pair with his look, making King shake his head.

Really, sometimes he wondered about his employees.

“Anyone else damaged?”

“The Tispy Troop, along with Pip and Dot got out the lightest in battle, though they are still kicking themselves over the lost. Hopus’s magic went a bit wild for minute, but that’s been calmed easy with some carrot juice.” Chips started, closing his eyes as he thought of his coworkers, “Phear and Mr. Chimes both got out alright too, though they're still smarting over their damaged equipment; won’t be cheap to replace…” Chips grimaced, Dice doing so as well as the bills just kept on piling up.

Luckily they had insurance, even if that was going to be a bitch to go through later, it would make the hit the casino took at least a little less.

“Mangosteen and Pirouletta, next to Wheezy, are the runners up on this shit list; Mango got sick real bad, damaged a rib, while Letta broke her leg and some burns. They should both be fine in a week though, so there’s that if anything.” Chips explained, face grim even as he delivered the hard news, getting a sigh from Dice.

Thank hell for magic; made everything so much easier when it wasn’t being an utter pain in his ass.

“Good to know… Though you did forget someone in your report Bettigan.” Dice said, narrowing his dark eyes on the stack of poker chips, which blinked up at him in confusion, before understanding lit up their eyes.

“No worries here boss; might have looked bad, but I’m used to pulling myself back together easily. Second nature now.” Chips assured, even as his boss’s eyes started going green.

“Be that as it may, you will have a check up at the infirmary before the day is done, am I clear?”

“I’ll be right behind ya boss.” was the reply he got in turn, make the die roll his eyes.

“I am fine, so need to get your chips out of place over it.”

“That would be easier to believe sir if you didn’t look like you would pass out at any moment.” was the blunt reply the texan gave, getting a glare for his cheek.

Unfortunately, he did have a point; matching black eyes and a missing tooth, combined with his cracked die and rather tattered outfit probably didn’t paint the best picture. Not to mention he honestly felt how he looked, sore and tattered in places he hadn’t known existed; Bettigan was right in his observation, King Dice was not at his best right now, and could probably use an aspirin or two.

Did not mean he wanted it pointed out though.

“Thank you for your opinion, it has been noted; now, if you’re well enough to blather about, you can surely help with the paperwork.” Dice said, motioning to the rather large stack he had going on at one of the few intact tables, one he had been interrupted from with the construction company’s callback.

That managed to elicit a nervous chuckle, “You know what, maybe I should go for just a quick check in, never hurts to have someone else double check you know.” they managed, even as they backed away warily.

“Be sure that you do-” a sharp feeling in his chest cut him off, a gloved hand reaching there, even as he suddenly gagged, feeling as if something was choking him, strangling from his neck to chest.

“Boss!” was all he managed to hear, only for darkness to steal away his senses all together after that.

King Dice frowned, feeling at a lost as he stared into the inky blackness all around him, not even able to see his own hand in front of him, though at least able to feel it, judging by the pressure on his face.

This… was rather disconcerting… The die just opened his mouth, wondering if his hearing was just as impaired as his sight, when an utterly profound, painful, near awful feeling came over him. He couldn’t even scream, the pain so much in his simple flesh and blood, taking over everything thought, every action, every single point of focus in this all encompassing darkness.

And yet, despite the agony he was going through, despite all the pain that brought a wet heat to his eyes, Dice could never remember feeling so complete as he was now. Like fixing a dislocated limb, it was as if one were jamming a missing piece he had been unaware this whole time into his very being. The process ever so painful, and yet so filling it left the proud man in tears.

Oh,but it didn’t just end there; with this completed feeling, images soon came to join with the pain, some going so fast he could barely comprehend the emotions with them.

(somanyfacessomanysmilesjustforhimsmilinglaughingteasingloving.)

Others though seemed to slow down, letting the man actually take them in, savor their emotions for just a bit before they too were just as gone from his grasp.

(A smiling woman, so full of love, her hugs just as warm as a mother’s should be, always open for one more.)

Gasping, King grabbed at his head, curling into himself as the barrage continued, the slow/fast pace of it all nearly impossibly for his mind to handle.

(astrangerwithhoneyedwordsandmouthcharmingpromisingseducing.)

Until suddenly, it wasn’t just in his head anymore, the tide seemingly curbed for now as a glow in the darkness shined out, easily getting his attention. Despite the lingering ache his body was in, King forced himself forward, even as each step towards it seemed to rip and tear at his very being when finally, he made it to where the glow originated from.

Before him, what was shining was a mirror, barely being able to call it as such because it looked like just merely a reflective sheet of glass. No, what made it so was when Dice looked into it, it was as if he was staring into an amusement park one, the sight inside giving the man a shock.

Tired, yet glowing yellow-gold eyes stared hard back into pained glowing greens, twin faces similar in looks, though one done in purple while the reflection was red.

For this moment in time, Dice could only just stare at this other version of himself, so many thoughts and feeling welling up in him even as he did, so many questions as well accompanied them. Just as he was about to voice his confusion, the die blinked when his reflection beat him to the punch, their lips moving, yet no sound coming out.

It was more than enough for the master manipulator though, lip reading just one of their many skills.

You need to remember.

“What?” Dice couldn’t help but ask, only to take a hasty step back when he heard a thunderous crack, the mirror before him filling with them, even as the reflection continued to stare on forlornly.

Remember what is important. Was all the the red pip die was able to managed, just as they shattered before his very eyes.

And yet, even as he stared on, those shining shards of mirror falling all around the horrified die, Dice did.

He was remembering.

Two people, a young die and a handsome man, dancing under a fun moon’s glow, candlelight surrounding them even as they moved all around.

“Do you love me?”

“I do.”

“More than anything?”

“Of course!”

“How much?”

“I love you, with all my heart and soul- wha?”

“Haha, I was hoping you would say that.

“I-I don’t, whats?”

“Amazing really, the most damning things said in love.”

A youth running, hurrying, fast as they can, getting away from that monsterdemondevil on their tail.

“Can’t let him, I-I can’t let him get them…”

‘Have protect them’

“My-hack-family.”

‘Can’t let that bastard get to them; not now, not ever.’

“Gotta warn... them.”

‘No matter what.’

The two figures are back together again, except there is no tenderness here with a devil revealed, as the young die at their feet screamed, pain all but consuming them from the magic taking place here tonight.

“You have cost me most powerful souls, welp. For that, I will not forgive… But we will have time to make sure you learn your lesson, won’t we?”

Glowing yellow eyes burned bright up at their tormentor, even as slowly, inching deeper and deeper, a hypnotic green started filling them, much like an infection, the pips gaining a purplish color to them on the die’s head.

“Heh, yeah; you’ll have plenty of time to learn your place.

“...” Dice stared, just taking it all in, gathering as much thought as he could managed together even as he felt himself falling, falling, falling ever so slowly downward, upward, side to side.

His entire life was a lie… His loyalty, his trust, himself… Just a sham, a fake… Not even his memories were spared...

The Devil tricked him out of his soul, messed with his mind, and lied to him his own life...

Stunned as he was, shocked by what he had seen, the die didn’t even realize he was awake until he felt something wet on his face.

Blinking, the casino king brought a gloved hand to his face, trying to find the source of the dripping he was feeling. It took him an embarrassingly good chunk of time to realize he was the source, the wetness on his face tears.

That… That was new. Or at least, King couldn’t remember the last time he actually cried.

-waswhenthedeviltorturedhim- wincing at the pain, King closed his eyes, hissing between clenched teeth.

Oh, he was going to be in for one hell of a time, the die could already tell… Question was, just how was he going to spend the experience? Could he really stay at the casino, with-

NO.

King let out a full body shudder, not even needing to finish the thought; that had been a stupid question honestly.

(Who knew just what he would do to his old boss, if he saw them now?)

Looking around, King felt a bit of relief seeing that he was in the infirmary, as not only could he get some pain medication here before he left, it was conveniently close to the Casino’s back door entrance. Lucky him, it seems.

Getting up, cringing slightly as how even this simple movement brought him pain, the injures from before still there along with the painful ache of getting his soul back, Dice made his way to the medical supplies. Easily finding the aspirin and downing two dry before deciding to pocket the bottle, they paused at the sight of bit of red from the corner of his eye. Blinking, Dice turned slightly, wondering if he was bleeding, only to stop in his tracks as he fully registered what he was seeing.

It was the red pip die he had seen in his ‘dream’, except much older and injured than before, though those tired yellow glowing eyes were still the same. Bringing up a hand, Dice touched the reflection, with it mirroring his action in return.

...So, this is what he looked like with a soul…

(How was he suppose to feel about this? Happy? Angry? He really didn’t know.)

Shaking his head and turning to leave, Dice was only stopped by a pointed cough in the corner of the room. Frown now firmly in place, they turned yet again, only to blink in surprise at the familiar sight of one of his coworkers, Wheezy, in bed.

And boy, did they look like they needed it; a bit burnt out, and smoking slightly on the darker side, the cigar had a few more cuts to his name, with a paleness that would only disappear in time. And yet, even pained, those yellowed-red eyes were still sharp, narrowed in on his boss as they frowned right back, concern and worry easy to see in the lines of his face and brow.

Blinking slightly, Dice wondered at that, not remembering them being particularly close, but then again, while King’s always had a good ability of reading people and using it to his advantage, the reasons behind why and how they could come about were always a mystery to him…

(Then again, those without souls weren’t the best with emotions, understandably.)

And yet, he looked at Wheezy, and could see that the man respected him, cared for maybe, from how long they have worked together and all, so the worry wasn’t misplaced… In fact, it was returned, Dice just as concerned about his co-workers own damage as he was with his own...

Guess having one’s soul back brought out the emotions in people…

(Wasn’t sure he liked that or not.)

“Leaving already King? Not even a goodbye kiss to remember you by?” Wheezy rumbled, eyes unblinking, keeping an even stare with the man standing, playing casual even as their whole body was run through with tension and pain.

“Like you could even handle one in your state; you’d probably keel over before anything could even start.” Dice replied back automatically, grimacing slightly at the rather weak retort. He could usually come up with something more cutting than that, but considering his mind’s state right now, he’ll give himself a pass on it.  

At that, the Cigar gave him an unreadable look, gone so fast the die didn’t even get a chance to try and decipher it. The other let out a breath, dark smoke coming out heavily with it, twirling in the air and leaving the smell of spices and tobacco over the sterile environment, before motioning over to something on his left with an uninjured hand.  

“True enough there, but at least I don’t forget the essentials when I’m leaving a place; lucky you have some helping hands looking out for you.” The Cigar said, which was what prompted Dice to look over, eyebrows rising in surprise.

Right on the table next to what had to have been his bed, the sheets and pillows all in disarray, was his black suitcase, his gloves and cards jumping all about, but then standing to attention when they noticed they had his. But what really got his notice was a simple paper atop his case, already filled out and just needing a signature to finish it.

It was a resignation letter, just one simple page and written beautifully full of backhanded compliments and dry subtext.

Dice choked, hand going to his mouth even as he could feel those damn tears start up again. Closing his eyes, taking a deep breath, the former casino manager grabbed the pen on the table, writing his name down, surer in this then he was in anything else right now.

He knew it was best for him to leave; if nothing else, his mental health would need the time away… and yet, he still felt pained, the thought of leaving this hell.

(Amazing, the places one can grow fond of even as you hate them.)

“Dice.” was called, making the desired man look up, eyebrows raising as he saw Wheezy holding a paper of his own. “Make sure to keep in contact; if you get found in a ditch, who knows how that will impact the casino’s good name.”

“...Probably might just improve it, really.” Dice said dryly, a weak smile on his face, even as he went for the paper in the cigar’s hands, getting a laugh at his words.

Looks like he wasn’t as alone in this little misadventure; somehow, that made things look a little brighter at least..

Far away from the magic and chaos of Inkwell and a certain casino, a woman that could only be described as a goddess done up in reds, yellows, and black blinked, her wine colored eyes going to her glowing pendant on his chest. The shining sun that glowed in the garden she was in did not do anything to hide said glow, as the pendant shown red in the woman’s hands.

“My Lady Luck, is everything well?” a servant asked, even as they delivered a most lovely tea to the classy lady, only the best for such an elegant being.

“Oh, nothing to worry yourself; just a mother’s worry.” Lady Luck answered absentmindedly, the red jeweled die in her hands still giving off a light most ominous.

Whatever this would bode for in the future, the mother could only hope her child would make it through alright.

(She’s already lost him in spirit; she doesn’t want to lose him forever.)

[bringinbackpod]

Interview with Joy Denalane

We had the pleasure of interviewing Joy Denalane over Zoom video!

R&B songstress Joy Denalane aka Germany’s queen of soul shares her US debut album LET YOURSELF BE LOVED via Motown Records. Listen here.

"I wanted to make a classic soul album", says Joy Denalane. "Stylistically, I wanted to move in the phase from the end of the sixties to about 1973."

With LET YOURSELF BE LOVED Joy is making her definitive soul statement. The Motown album is in equal parts self-assertion, genealogy and homage to the great classics of the genre. A musical masterpiece where Denalane confidently brings together all the strands of her previous work. Nevertheless, she is not interested in vintage simulations of old soul recordings. She is driven by showing her musical identity. The album includes her singles “I Believe (Feat. BJ The Chicago Kid)” “I Gotta Know” and “Top Of My Love.” Recently Joy performed her track “Be Here In The Morning (Feat. CS Armstrong)” on COLORS. 

Joy has collaborated with the likes of Raekwon, Lupe Fiasco, Bilal, Common, Hugh Masakela and more. Joy’s talent, emotional honesty, the culturally complex story of her life and natural beauty make her an incredibly attractive and versatile artist. Joy is the essence of the modern, global, black woman. She is the daughter of a South African father and a German mother and was born in the divided city of Berlin. Her access to African music and rhythms as well as her love of American soul music made her an enthusiastic follower and participant of the up-and-coming Hip-Hop movement, which found a home in the culturally diverse city of Berlin at an early age. At the same time, she was inspired by singers like Aretha Franklin, Letta M'Bulu and Mary J Blige, who gave her the energy and courage to combine all these musical backgrounds and create her own unique style. She is strong, beautiful, sensitive, a working mother and an ambitious artist.

LET YOURSELF BE LOVED Tracklist

Wounded Love

Be Here In The Morning (Feat. CS Armstrong)

I Believe (Feat. BJ The Chicago Kid)

The Ride

I Gotta Know

Hey Dreamer

Stand

Love Your Love

Top Of My Love

Let Yourself Be Loved

Put In Work

We want to hear from you! Please email Tera@BringinitBackwards.com.

www.BringinitBackwards.com

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source https://bringin-it-backwards.simplecast.com/episodes/interview-with-joy-denalane-GkiELp2o

[thebrokenscript]

Not A Fallen Jedi - Part 3

and finally here it is: the last part of the wrong jedi arc from rex’s pov. this part is a rewrite of the wrong jedi and continues immediately after where it left off in part 2. it was a lot of fun doing this rewrite so i hope you guys like it!

@finish-the-clone-wars

don’t tag as rexsok/a

Part One | Part Two | Part Three

Anakin and Ahsoka stepped out, snapping Rex and Wolffe back to attention. “Let’s go, Rex,” Anakin said, not stopping as he passed them. Grabbing his helmet and nodding slightly to Wolffe, Rex hurried to catch up to them.

The tension was palpable. Ahsoka wouldn’t meet Rex’s gaze and one look to Anakin sent unease trickling down his spine. “We’re going to the Chamber of Judgment,” Anakin said shortly. “You won’t be allowed in there, but I want you outside.”

Rex nodded, deciding not to question Anakin. He didn’t know much about Jedi trials. Nobody outside the Order did, really, but he assumed that the Jedi would be able to see that Ahsoka was innocent. Still- the fact that Anakin was more or less ordering him to stand outside the Chamber was slightly concerning. He hoped Anakin didn’t have anything in mind that would get them into trouble.

They turned down a hall that was eerily quiet. Temple guards stood motionless as they passed, staring dead ahead, their lightsabers not ignited, but ready in hand. Rex knew they were watching them. He took his emotions and thoughts and silenced them, fixing his gaze on the chamber ahead.

When they reached the chamber, the guards standing at the side broke their stances, moving to block the entrance.

“The clone must stay outside.”

Anakin flashed a glance at Rex. He nodded and stepped back. And then his gaze fell to Ahsoka. Her gaze was dull, fixed more on the floor than anything. She looked exhausted. Had they tended to her injuries? They couldn’t have fixed such serious injuries so quickly. Would they really send her to trial like that? As far as he knew she hadn’t gotten any rest in the past day. She had to be tired and hurting and that wasn’t even touching on how the accusation was affecting her.

“Ahsoka,” he said quietly. She finally looked to him.

Exhausted.

Scared.

And there was nothing he could do to comfort her but whisper, “Good luck.”

The idea of a smile ghosted across her face and she nodded slightly before Anakin guided her into the chamber, leaving Rex alone in the crushing silence of the hall.

He stood there for a moment after the door shut, staring at it as if it would open again and he would be permitted to enter. It didn’t. He flashed a glance at the guards, knowing both of them were watching him. Not liking the idea that they could see his face and he couldn’t see theirs, he put his helmet on, then turned and moved to stand off to the side.

He waited.

But he didn’t wait long. Not long enough to even begin to wonder what was going on in the Chamber, not long enough to begin to worry, not long enough at all.

The doors slid open and for a moment all he saw were guards. And then in the center of them-

Ahsoka. In restraints. Disbelief and fear and betrayal all playing out on her face. She caught Rex’s gaze as she passed and for a moment he was drowning in her fear. No- Rex took an unconscious step forward, not understanding. Why was she out so soon? Where were they taking her?

A guard was suddenly in front of him, blocking her from his view. “Stand down,” they ordered. Rex’s gaze snapped to them, heart tripping as adrenaline flooded through him.

“Where are they taking her?” he demanded.

The guard took a threatening step closer to him. Rex stepped back mechanically, before turning back to the chamber, searching for Anakin. Where was he? Surely he wouldn’t let them take her-

Anakin’s voice drifted into the hall from the chamber.

“You can’t do this to her! She dedicated her life to the Order- how can you just cast her aside?”

The world slowed around Rex. Cast her aside? What was he talking about? The chamber fell silent. Rex could only guess someone was trying to calm Anakin. They failed.

“If none of you will stand by her then I will! We know she’s innocent. You’re wrong! All of you!”

An inexplicable wave of cold suddenly flooded the hall as Anakin stalked out of the chamber. His gaze caught on Rex and the guard. A frown twisted across his face. “Rex.”

Rex sidestepped the guard and hurried to catch up to Anakin. “Sir what’s going on?” he asked urgently. “The trial was too short, what did they-”

“They had already made a decision,” Anakin growled. “They expelled her and sent her to have a Republic trial.”

Rex missed a step.

Expelled?

They cast her out?

Fury suddenly slammed through him, choking the shock out. How could they do that to her? She was a Jedi- she was one of them! How could they just turn on her like that?

“What are we going to do, sir?” he asked tightly.

“We need to get Padmé, she’s the best person to represent Ahsoka. And,” his voice dropped to a snarl. “I am going to find out who did this and bring them in.”

“Ventress,” Rex growled. “It had to be her. She was the only one with Ahsoka and she’s a Sith.”

“I know.”

Rex’s mood only darkened as they strode out of the Temple. They got in the speeder, Anakin taking off fast enough to give them both whiplash. Rex’s gaze fell back to the Temple. It gleamed magnificently in the sun, looking as majestic and awe inspiring as it always did. But Rex couldn’t see any of it. It was as if the Temple had been stained- blackened with corruption.

The Senate building quickly came into view. Anakin was talking quickly into his com. Rex caught something about Padmé and Ahsoka before he tuned out. Senator Amidala was an immensely capable lawyer. It helped as well that she was close to Anakin. Too close for a Jedi, but it didn’t matter now. What mattered was that it wouldn’t take anything but Anakin asking for her to agree to represent Ahsoka.

While Padmé fought for Ahsoka, he and Anakin would catch Ventress. Hate for the bogwitch boiled inside of him. He wanted to kill her more than he’d ever wanted to kill anyone. Noticing that his hands were shaking, he clenched them into fists to stop it.

The speeder came to a swooping halt in front of the Senate building and there was Senator Amidala, hurrying toward them. Rex moved to the back so Padmé could take the front seat and hear the explanation.

“They just cast her out?” Padmé asked, voice ringing with disbelief.

“They made their decision before they even called us down,” Anakin snapped. “The trial was just a formality. They expelled her and sent her to trial in the Republic court.”

Padmé’s jaw tightened. “What evidence is against her?”

“She was alone with Letta Turmond when she died and then she broke out of prison. They believe she killed clones in her escape, and then when she was on the run she was seen with Ventress and caught in the presence of nanodroids.”

Rex’s heart sank as he listened. The cards were completely stacked against Ahsoka. With how things looked- He ground his teeth together. Nothing short of a confession from Ventress would save her.

They came to a stop at the prison and jumped out, walking quickly toward the entrance.

Rex hung back as Anakin and Padmé entered the cell. Best not to overwhelm her with so many people.

Anakin came out after a moment, resolve hardening in his gaze. “Ahsoka thinks it was Ventress too.”

“Then we know who to catch,” Rex said. Anakin glanced away slightly, a movement that made Rex slow down. “What is it, sir?”

“You’re not coming, Rex.”

Anakin might as well have slapped him.

“What?”

“You’re not coming.”

“But- sir, why not?” he asked, struggling to keep the desperation out of his tone.

Anakin shook his head. “You won’t be able to keep up. Like it or not, you can’t use the Force. Ventress can.”

“I’ve faced her before, sir,” he snapped. “I’m still here.”

“I said no, Rex!”

Frustration and fury flooded Rex. He was not going to just stay back and twiddle his thumbs while Ventress was out there and Ahsoka was on trial for crimes she didn’t commit. He knew he was toeing a dangerous line, arguing with his General after being given an order twice, but he couldn’t bring himself to care.

“All due respect, General, you can’t do this alone. You need help.”

Anakin ignored him, stalking quickly toward his speeder.

Rex only slowed for a heartbeat, then sped up and cut in front of Anakin, blocking him from the speeder with one hand pressed firmly against the Jedi’s chest. “Anakin, please,” he said harshly.

Anakin stopped, finally meeting Rex’s gaze. “Rex, I know you want to help. I understand. But I need to find Ventress. You can do a lot more here than you could trying to keep up with me,” he said, taking Rex’s hand off his chest. “I’m sorry, Rex. But that’s my final word. Stay here. You can relay me information about the trial and how things are going.”

He stepped past Rex and climbed into the speeder, leaving Rex wrestling with fury and a sense of abandonment. Before Anakin took off, however, he paused and looked back. “Rex- if I’m not back in time- if something happens, if they- if they charge her as guilty, you need to be there for her,” he said quietly.

Rex’s fury collapsed. If they charged her as guilty, it could very well be a death sentence. “I understand,” he murmured. “I will.” He then straightened, setting his jaw. “Catch Ventress.”

A bitter scoff escaped Anakin and his gaze darkened. “Oh believe me, Rex. I will,” he growled, then took off. Rex watched him go through narrowed eyes. Anakin would catch Ventress. Nobody could evade him when he was like that. But Rex had more pressing matters to worry him.

The trial. How would he get in? Could he even get in? Would they let him through? He was only a clone, after all, never mind being a captain. Hands clasping behind his back, he spun around and stalked back toward the building.

He made it to the entrance, nodding sharply to the clones guarding the door and made it past them without any trouble. But he still had serious doubts about getting into the trial. It wouldn’t be open for the public. He didn’t think they would let him in. Not that he wouldn’t try to convince them, but if they wouldn’t let him in he would have to sneak in. And risk his own imprisonment? He slowed fractionally.

If he was caught he could be arrested. He couldn’t help Ahsoka if he was imprisoned. Perhaps Senator Amidala could help him. They were both bound by their compassion for Anakin and Ahsoka. Surely she would help him. Stopping, he turned back, heading for the main hall from the prison.

--

Rex stood in the box with the Jedi, back in the corner. Padmé had managed to get him in only if he was unarmed and the Jedi were there to stop any... protest. Rex flashed a sideways glance at the Jedi. These Jedi, who had condemned one of their own. How could they? His gaze fell particularly on Obi-wan. 

How could you?

Everyone suddenly came to attention. Rex’s gaze fell down into the courtroom where Ahsoka was walking out.  She looked so tiny from where he stood. Distant. He couldn’t even see her face to gauge how she was doing.

“Ahsoka Tano.”

Rex straightened at the sound of the Chancellor’s voice. Anakin was close to the Chancellor. Perhaps that would help Ahsoka’s case.

“You have been charged with sedition against the Jedi Order and the Republic itself,” the Chancellor continued. “This court will decide your fate. Prosecution, you may begin your arguments.”

Rex glanced to the screen to see Admiral Tarkin stepping forward. He frowned only slightly. He remember the man from the disastrous Citadel escape. He’d expressed doubt in the Jedi and neither Anakin nor Ahsoka had seemed to care much for him.

“Former Padawan Tano, I shall prove that you were the mastermind behind the attack on the Jedi Temple and that once your accomplices carried out your orders, you eliminated them one by one.” A chill ran down Rex’s spine. “When you are found guilty, I ask that the full extent of the law be brought down upon you; including penalty of death.”

What?

Rex’s heart stopped, his eyes widening. Penalty of death? No- no surely he had heard wrong. He must have. He knew it had been an option but surely they wouldn’t go that far-

But looking at the grim faces of the Jedi, he knew that he had heard right. Nobody stepped forward. Nobody protested it. Were they fine with this? How could they do this to her? She was one of them!

Padmé then stepped forward. Rex forced himself to calm down. She was a very capable lawyer. She would successfully defend Ahsoka. Anakin was also out hunting Ventress. He would be able to clear Ahsoka beyond any doubt.

“Look at the facts,” Padmé began. “Letta Turmond summoned Ahsoka to her cell to reveal the name of the true mastermind behind the bombing of the Jedi Temple. Letta told Ahsoka she was afraid. She told her the mastermind was a Jedi and before she could reveal the Jedi’s name, Letta Turmond was strangled to death by way of the force. Why would Ahsoka kill Letta with a method that would so obviously tie the murder to her? A Jedi may be responsible for the murder, but that Jedi is not Ahsoka Tano. Members of the court, you are prosecuting the wrong Jedi!”

A wave of relief washed over Rex as Padmé spoke. She was right. Ahsoka was too smart to kill someone in a way that would lead directly to her, let alone do it where she would obviously be caught.

Clapping suddenly filled the courtroom. Tarkin stepped forward, a smug look on his face. “Well said, Senator Amidala. However, if she is innocent, then why was she seen conspiring with known Separatist terrorist Asajj Ventress?”

“Ventress set me up! My Master will prove that!” Ahsoka snapped.

“And where is your master?” Tarkin asked coldly.

“He’s trying to find the real murderer!”

“Then maybe he should be looking at you!”

Fury slammed through Rex, a snarl twisting his expression behind his helmet. How dare he? Ahsoka was innocent! They had to know she was innocent! They had the wrong person. It was so obvious, why couldn’t they see it?

“Ahsoka,” Padmé said. “Please explain to the Court why you were seen with Ventress.”

Forcing his fury down, Rex turned his attention to Ahsoka. He still hadn’t heard the whole story about why she had been with Ventress. He knew she hadn’t been working with her, but it would be a relief to hear the entire story.

“At first Ventress only caught me to turn me in for the bounty,” Ahsoka said. “But I couldn’t let her do that, so I told her that if she helped me I would speak to the Council about getting her a full pardon.”

Rex blinked. Surely Ahsoka had been lying when she told Ventress that. Ventress was a war criminal and a Sith. She deserved nothing less than to finally be caught and be brought to justice.

“We had a mutual understanding, or so I thought. When she brought me to the abandoned warehouse she attacked me.”

“And why, pray tell, would she have done that when offered a full pardon?” Tarkin asked, then waved a hand to cut Ahsoka off. “Besides, nobody reported seeing Ventress at the warehouse. How do we know she was even there?”

“When Ahsoka was found she was severely wounded,” Padmé said. “The Healers reported heavy bruising mostly on her back and fractured ribs. Where else would she have gotten these wounds if not in a fight?”

“A fight, perhaps, but with Ventress? How do we know these wounds were not inflicted in her clash with the clone troopers when they confronted her?”

Rex’s gaze drifted over to the Senate members. Doubt shadowed their expressions. Horror trickled down Rex’s spine. Surely they didn’t believe Tarkin? Rex loved his brothers and knew they were excellent fighters but he would also be the first to admit that it was beyond difficult to fight Force users. They would have had to get extremely lucky to hurt Ahsoka so badly.

“Rex?”

Rex snapped to attention as Anakin’s voice flooded the com. Quickly deafening his helmet so he could speak with disturbing the others, he said, “Yes sir?”

“How are things going?”

“Senator Amidala is defending her well.”

“...But?”

“But Admiral Tarkin is poking holes all through their defense, sir. I’m... concerned,” he said, watching the Senators. Tarkin was speaking again, and it was having a visible effect on them. “Did you find Ventress?”

“Ventress wasn’t the attacker.”

Shock crashed unpleasantly through him. “Sir?” His voice came out strained.

“She said someone attacked her and took her lightsabers.”

But that would mean- Rex’s mind was spinning. Nobody could just take lightsabers from Ventress. It would have to be another Force user. Another Jedi?

“Do you have any leads, sir?” he asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his tone.

“One. I... don’t know how good it will be, though.” Anakin sounded tired and angry.

Rex’s gaze flickered back down to Ahsoka. “You’d better hurry,” he said. “I don’t know how much longer the trial will go on for.”

“I will. I’ll be in contact.”

“Yes sir. Good luck.”

The connection broke, leaving Rex staring blankly down into the courtroom. If it wasn’t Ventress then who? Who could have done this?

The courtroom was suddenly filled with a deafening silence. Everyone’s gaze turned expectantly to the Chancellor.

“I’m sure many of you look at this former Jedi and think surely she can’t be this murderer or saboteur that they speak of,” he said, looking around the courtroom. “And yet, think of all the times we have been fooled by the Separatists and how they have infiltrated the republic and ask yourselves is this another Separatist scheme? Another way to rip the Jedi, and subsequently all of us, apart?”

Rex stared at the Chancellor, horror rising far too quickly to contain. What was he doing? Why was he implying that Ahsoka was part of a Separatist scheme? Ahsoka was Anakin’s padawan and Anakin was so close to the Chancellor- shouldn’t he be leaning toward Ahsoka’s innocence? A vile taste rose in Rex’s mouth as the Senators rose and departed to make their decision.

How could the Chancellor do this? Was he that desperate to find someone guilty that he would sacrifice Ahsoka? Was this the Republic he was fighting for?

A darkness settled over him, not unlike the one that had shadowed him after Umbara. He knew that the Republic wasn’t perfect. He knew sometimes it was far from perfect. But he had done his best to make his peace with that knowledge. Even if the Republic was broken in places, it was still better than the Separatists.

But there was some things he could never shake, no matter how hard he tried. The enslavement of the clones, how disposable he and his brothers were, how they were viewed by others, and now possibly this. How could he possibly rationalize fighting for a Republic who condemned the innocent just to make a problem go away?

He didn’t think he could.

“Rex are you there?” Anakin.

“Yes sir,” Rex said. “Did you find anything?”

“Oh yes,” Anakin growled. “I found the person who did it all.”

Rex’s legs suddenly felt too weak to support him as relief seeped through him. “Oh thank the gods.”

“What’s going on right now?”

“The Senate is meeting right now. We’re waiting for their verdict.”

Anakin cursed quietly then gathered himself. “I’ll be there shortly. Don’t let them do anything to her.”

“Yes sir.”

The connection broke. Rex flashed a sharp glance at the door where the Senate had vanished into. How long would they take to decide? How long did court cases normally take to decide? He didn’t know. But he should tell the Chancellor about Anakin- Rex stopped mid thought.

The Chancellor was staring directly at him.

Unease crept through Rex. Why was he watching him? Did he know? No that was impossible- maybe Padmé simply hadn’t told him that he would be present. But that didn’t make sense, Padmé would have gone to the Chancellor first to clear it. So why?

Rex started sharply as the door to the courtroom opened, his fingers twitching toward guns that weren’t there. The Senators walked back to their seats and settled. One stood.

“The members of the court have reached a decision.” They pressed a button and the vote was sent to Mas Amedda. Rex watched him read it, then hand it to the Chancellor.

The Chancellor read it, then nodded and stood. Fear suddenly flooded Rex.

“Ahsoka Tano, by an overwhelming count of-”

“Chancellor!” Anakin’s voice flooded the courtroom. Everyone’s gaze snapped to him, the four Temple guards, and the dark figure in the center.

Ahsoka was saved.

Rex blinked quickly, trying to clear his burning vision so he could focus.

“I hope you have reason for bursting into our proceedings Master Skywalker,” the Chancellor said, sounding vaguely disapproving.

Anakin stalked forward, head raised high. “I am here with evidence and a confession from the person responsible for all the crimes Ahsoka has been accused of.” He and two of the guards stepped aside. “Barriss Offee! Member of the Jedi Order and traitor.” Venom bled from his voice.

A stunned silence filled the courtroom. Rex couldn’t believe what he was hearing. Barriss Offee? Traitor? No- no that wasn’t possible either. She was a good Jedi- one of the best. She had healed and helped so many of his brothers. She was Ahsoka’s friend, surely she couldn’t have-

“Barriss?” Ahsoka’s tiny voice echoed deafeningly in the silence. “Is that true?” She was pleading, begging for Barriss to say it wasn’t.

“Tell them the truth,” Anakin snarled.

Barriss was silent for a moment, then stepped forward. The cameras all switched from Ahsoka to her.

“I did it.”

She sounded so quiet. Rex couldn’t understand. This padawan wasn’t- she couldn’t be-

Barriss continued, her voice suddenly gaining strength. “Because I’ve come to realize what many people in the Republic have come to realize. That the Jedi are the ones responsible for this war! That we’ve so lost our way that we have become villains in this conflict! That we are the ones that should be put on trial! ALL OF US! And my attack on the Temple was an attack on what the Jedi have become. An army fighting for the dark side, fallen from the light that we once held so dear. This Republic is failing! It’s only a matter of time.”

Rex couldn’t believe what he was hearing. She had done it. She’d set Ahsoka up and been prepared to let her friend take the fall for her crimes. Fury and disgust boiling within him as he stared down at her. But even then he felt a tiny prick of understanding. The actions of the Jedi and the Republic had cast them into a new light for him.

“Take her away,” the Chancellor said. Rex watched as the guards surrounded Barriss again and led her out. Anakin stayed, turning to Ahsoka. He couldn’t see Anakin’s face, but he could imagine the relief on it.

“Ahsoka Tano,” the Chancellor’s voice boomed out again. Rex froze, turning to look at him. “In light of this new evidence, the Court finds you not guilty of all charges. You are free to go. Court dismissed.”

A breath Rex hadn’t realized he was holding escaped him. Ahsoka bowed slightly, then made her way to Anakin.

The Senators and Jedi rose, murmurs and whispers rising amongst them. Rex immediately headed for the door to meet Anakin and Ahsoka on their way out. Walking quickly, he pulled his helmet off, grateful for the fresh air. Catching sight of his Jedi with Padmé, he made his way over to them.

“Thank you for representing me, Padmé,” Ahsoka was saying. “It means a lot.”

“Of course Ahsoka,” Padmé said warmly, drawing Ahsoka into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re free now.”

Ahsoka smiled faintly and pulled away. Noticing Rex, she offered him a slight nod.

“Good to see you free, kid,” he said with a smile.

“Heh. Yeah,” she said, trying to return the smile but ultimately glancing away.

Obi-wan then approached. “Ahsoka,” he said with a warm nod. He then turned to address both Anakin and Ahsoka. “The Council would like to see both of you when we get back to the Temple.”

“Yes Master,” they said, bowing slightly. Obi-wan nodded and left.

Anakin turned to Padmé. “We have to go, but thank you again for being with Ahsoka on such short notice.”

“Of course,” Padmé said, then stopped, looking to Ahsoka. “Ahsoka, why don’t you stop by later?”

Ahsoka glanced up slightly. “Wh- oh. Sure.”

Concern flooded Rex. Something was wrong with Ahsoka. Was it Barriss? He wouldn’t be surprised. The two of them had been rather close. He imagined it would be like if Cody turned on him. A wave of empathy for her filled him. At least she was safe now.

The three of them walked out to the speeder and climbed in. The ride to the Temple was silent. When they landed, Anakin turned to Rex. “The 501st should be back soon. Why don’t you go meet with them? I’ll talk to you later.”

Rex nodded. “Alright sir.”

--

“She left.”

Rex started at the sudden words crackling through the comlink. “Sir?”

“She left the Jedi Order.”

Kix trailed off from his report, staring at Rex. Rex met his gaze, feeling frozen in place.

“I- don’t understand, sir,” he finally forced out.

“The Council betrayed her!” Anakin suddenly snarled, making both Rex and Kix start slightly. “They turned their back on her when she needed us most! And now she’s gone.”

Kix looked confused and startled. Rex hadn’t told the 501st about the trial yet. All they knew was that Ahsoka had gotten in a bit of trouble. He shook his head slightly at the medic. Later.

“Where did she go, sir?”

“I don’t know.”

Where would she go? She was a Jedi- former Jedi. She didn’t have any ties but the Temple. Friends? All Jedi that he knew of-  Padmé.

She would have gone to see Padmé.

Rex only hesitated for a second, then turned on his heel and swept out of the room.

--

He landed the speeder on the platform outside Padmé’s office. Technically he wasn’t doing anything wrong, but that didn’t make him feel any less like an intruder as he climbed out of the speeder and stood on the platform, waiting. He was done hunting her down. If she came to him, they would talk, if she didn’t, he would accept it and leave. He was done.

Eternities passed. He watched the sun sink lower and lower in the sky. And then the doors opened and she walked out. She walked toward him, stopping a good distance from him.

“I’m not going back.”

“I’m not here to take you back, Ahsoka.”

She looked at him hesitantly, confusion and something closed off crossing her face. “I have to go.”

“I know.”

Surprise and relief and sorrow all flooded her expression. Rex’s heart thudded dully in his chest. Would he ever see her again? There was no way to know. Tears burned at his eyes, but he forced them back.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I wish I could say goodbye to everyone, but-” She shook her head again.

“It’s alright, kid,” he said gently. “I understand.”

She looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears. “You’ll tell them for me, right? That it wasn’t their fault or anything?”

Rex nodded. “Of course I will.”

“Thank you.” Her voice came out in a near whisper, as if she was suffocating. She started to turn away, then stopped. “Can I ask you something else?”

“Of course.”

“Will you keep an eye on Anakin? I know- I know this is going to be hard for him and that he doesn’t understand.”

Rex’s heart sank. Anakin. He wouldn’t take it well. He already wasn’t. Rex knew things were already strained with Anakin and the rest of the Jedi. Anybody could see that. This was going to make it worse. Much worse.

“I’ll do what I can,” he said. And then his gaze softened. “Ahsoka, if you need anything, you know you can contact me.”

“Rex...”

He shook his head, handing her a communicator. “Take it. You can pitch it into the underworld after I leave,” he said with a faint smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

She rolled her eyes slightly, a glimpse of the Ahsoka he knew, then stepped forward to take the communicator. She stared at it for a moment, then put it on her belt and looked up to Rex.

“Take care of yourself.”

“You too.”

She nodded, then turned away and finally left. She didn’t look back, nor did he expect her to. He would miss her. They would all miss her. But he respected her choice.

“May the Force be with you,” he whispered to the empty air, then turned away and climbed back into the speeder.

Back to the war that had stolen yet another life.