#dominoes writes

[lgbtlunaverse]

To me the most fun part about fix-its is placing dominoes.

Tragedies often consist of escalating series of actions and circumstances which, in isolation, were not clearly leading to the tragic end but form a chain of cause-and-effect directly towards it in hindsight. In equal but opposite fashion, I love starting with small inoccuous changes to canon that in themselves do not obviously fix everything but start a new chain that leads to a better ending.

It's kind of impossible for fix-its to feel fully natural– the reader by definition knows what the original ending was and that this ending will be happier because the writer wants it to be– but it is possible for them to not feel contrived. A big deus-ex-machina, or a character breaking with their pre-established tragic flaws to suddenly make all the "correct" decisions almost always feels unsatisfying to me.

But a few carefully placed small domino pieces slowly knocking over bigger and bigger tiles until the entire story has radically changed? That's a lot more fun.

It recquires the author to both correctly identify the original chain of cause-and-effect and understand the characters well enough to know how they'd react to different circumstances. Because if the story feels like it's fixing the wrong problem or the characters don't act like themselves the magic is lost. But when it works? When it clicks and the reader sees the domino chain laid out in front of them? It's beautiful.

[chamerionwrites]

Also idk but I feel it is important, for reasons of genre understanding, to recognize that good old fashioned murder is like the least violent thing anybody ever does in a proper spy story

[the--firevenus]

Figuring out how to draw Bruce in my style the way I'm comfortable with + him with just domino mask while in batsuit cuz OUGHHH

[minty364]

DPXDC Prompt #86

Danny and Damian are twins but they never get split up. Their life growing up in the league of assassins was rough and unforgiving. Damian was older by a few minutes but Danny was always seen as the lesser twin in Ras eyes. Danny is seen more as a tool to improve the heir instead of his twin. Talia eventually has enough of one of her babies being seen as inferior and she takes both of them to their dad, Bruce Wayne when they turn 10. They become the Robin twins and train under Batman.

4 years go by and Jason is visiting the manor talking about how his new neighbor Jasmine Fenton (He totally has had parents that had a lab and sounded like they were very close to becoming rouges especially since they’re apparently building a portal to another dimension. They decided to raid the house and investigate the lab. Red Robin and Batman were investigating the computer and files. And both Danny and Damian were investigating the giant hole in the wall. Damian is looking at the circuit board panel on the wall and Danny investigated the giant hole in the wall. Oh no he tripped.

[distinctlywhumpthing]

Fresh Start

cw: panic attack, obsessive/compulsive behaviors. leo's usual dubious/clueless caretaker vibes. tiny mention of aiden's self-destructive behaviors. shaky trust being tested, my beloved.

Previous — Masterlist — Next

Movement sends pain radiating through Leo’s back and shoulder. His memory connects the discomfort to the hospital recliner and he bolts upright. 

But they’re home. Safe. 

He’s just paying the price for deciding to sleep on the floor outside Aiden’s room after a bought of anxiety convinced him he wouldn’t be able to hear if Aiden needed him. He—

Aiden’s bed is empty. 

His mind races through worst-case scenarios, heart tripping along to keep pace but as soon as he fully turns around, Aiden is right there. Curled up on the hardwood, no pillow or blanket, just shy of reaching the doorway. Fallen out of bed? Collapsed? Had Leo slept through him needing help after all? He reaches for his shoulder. What if— 

“Aiden? Aiden?” 

The kid startles awake, a small gasp escaping his lips as he clumsily but quickly straightens to kneel. Dark eyes wide even as he blinks away sleep. He crosses his arms, hand cradled carefully in the center of his chest. 

“What happened? Why were you on the floor?” 

“I—I—mmm…mmm…” He shakes his head and lowers his gaze. Not a good sign. “Mmm’sorry—I’m’sorry—” 

 “Are the stitches okay? Is there blood on the bandages? Are you in any pain?” Leo reaches for him and Aiden flinches back, hard. Now he’s certain something is wrong. 

“Mmm’good,” Aiden says, voice wavering. He still won’t make eye contact and he’s slowly, almost imperceptibly inching away from Leo. 

“Did something happen? We’ll call Delia if we need to. I just have to see that you’re okay.” He reaches for him and again Aiden cowers back. He hits the futon frame and whimpers. 

The sound strikes another cord of fear in Leo, doubling his panic. “You’re not in trouble but if the stitches tore or you’re in pain, I need to know.” 

Aiden swallows. “I—I—mmm…mmm…” 

Leo strains to hear him at all and considers just grabbing him. He has to see— 

“I—I—” Aiden shakes his head, gaze still lowered. His hands tremble as he lifts his arms, turning them toward Leo. 

It’s the most anguished surrender he’s ever seen.  

“Hey, woah. Look at me, it’s okay.” 

Aiden lifts his chin. For a split second, his expression looks incredulous before its replaced by a more familiar one of distrust and fear. 

But it was enough. 

The kid’s not even breathing, eyes filmed with tears as he obediently holds Leo’s gaze. 

You’re scaring the shit out of him.

Leo pushes himself back quicker than necessary, earning another flinch from Aiden who crosses his arms back over his chest protectively, curling against the bed frame. Leo moves to sit in the doorway, heart still pumping adrenaline through his veins, and tries to focus on his breath. 

Aiden watches him with open wariness. As defensive as day one. 

This is supposed to be a fresh start, their second chance. In the six weeks since finding Aiden in the snow, Leo succeeded in isolating him and not much else. And here he is, only driving that wedge deeper. He’s supposed to be better equipped now that he’s not completely ignorant but it doesn’t seem to make a goddamn lick of difference. Leo should have admitted months ago that he wasn’t right for this but his selfish denial carried them way past the point of return.

Too little too late isn’t going to cut it anymore. The kid deserves more. Someone who’s going to fucking listen to him. Someone he can trust and rely on. He’s going to need so much support. He can’t shower without wrapping his arms and hand, which he can’t do himself. He’ll need help changing the bandages. Not to mention the antibiotics. He probably never slept well to begin with, if last night is any indication. He barely eats. He was hurting himself all along right under Leo’s nose. He fucking tried to—

Aiden sounds like he’s trying to breathe through a straw, inhales shorter and shorter. Leo looks over to find Aiden already watching him, brow furrowed. 

When Aiden tilts his head, Leo realizes it’s him. 

He’s the one gasping like all the oxygen has been sucked from the room. 

Great.

“I’m sorry,” he forces out, but it’s barely audible. “I just—I need—” 

He stumbles down the hall, sparing both of them from a backward glance, and shuts himself in the bathroom. 

Leaning against the door is no good, he feels pinned there by the pressure in his chest. 

God, like he just cornered Aiden. 

He fumbles to turn on the sink, hands shaking. His fingers feel like precarious stacks of marbles rather than joints, skin slick from perspiration. Why did he have to replace the valve with stupid spoke handles? It takes a few tries before he can cup his hands together to hold onto any water. Given how little he’s breathing, the first splash feels like he’s waterboarding himself. He straightens, gasping and sputtering, but the innate reaction overrides his anxiety and he manages to pull in some deeper breaths. He keeps his hands under the tap and forces focus on the sensation of the cold water against his skin, the air in his lungs. 

One, two, three, four…one, two, three, four…

The panic recedes the more he breathes but guilt is quick to fill the vacancy. He doesn’t know what he was thinking, letting his prescription run out. He’s useless when he’s like this. 

His hands still shake as he twists off the faucet, nerves wrung out and cold. He avoids his reflection and turns to leaning against the counter while he towels his hands dry. His phone’s almost dead from not being charged all night. He stares at the chat with Delia, his string of blue bubbles filling the right side, unanswered. The last one, “What time do you get off today?” is a poor cover for his real question, “How soon can you come over?” Without hesitation, his anxiety is all too happy to supply countless awful explanations for why she hasn’t had three fucking seconds to send a single thumbs up in the last six hours. His pulse steps up again, his fingertips start to tingle. 

Leo drops his phone back into his pocket and scrubs his face with his hands, forces another few rounds of deep breaths. There’s a headache building right behind his eyes. More sleep will help but he has to take care of Aiden first. Starting with an apology. 

He finally turns to meet his tired, bloodshot eyes in the mirror. The lines of his face, deepened by exhaustion, make him look like he’s pushing forty and the fact that he hasn’t shaved since last weekend isn’t exactly helping. He scratches the corner of his jaw where there are a few traitorous white hairs. When he reaches for his toothbrush, he knows he’s stalling but how will he even start explaining his reaction to Aiden? 

At some point, he replaced his toothbrush on the charging stand and started washing his hands. Based on the suds caught in the drain, he already washed them more than once. He can’t get stuck here, not now. His heart starts rushing again and his throat feels tight, panic and frustration balling in his chest. How many times has this happened in the last day alone? 

“It hasn’t been this bad for years,” he whispers in his defense to nobody. 

But he still can’t stop. Not yet. He meets his eyes in the mirror again, ignoring the flare of self-pity and disgust. Just one more time, he tells himself, trying to believe it. 

Four pumps of soap. One Mississippi, two Mississippi, three Mississippi…

The door opens and he immediately loses count; isn’t sure if he wasn’t finished yet or if he’d already started over again. Aiden peeks through the crack, crease between his brow telling Leo he’s also biting his lip. When Leo meets his gaze in the mirror, Aiden ducks back into the hallway. 

Shit. 

Aiden wouldn’t have taken such a liberty without knocking first, probably more than once and only then after Leo was in here for way too long. Another total failure for the list. But at least it was enough to knock him out of the loop. 

The poor kid looks like he’s expecting a hell of a lot more than Leo suggesting breakfast when he comes out into the hall. He’s pressed against the span of wall between the top of the stairs and Leo’s bedroom. Not quite adjacent to where Leo stands in the bathroom door but clearly trying to find some middle ground that isn’t retreating to his room at the end of the hall. 

Leo buys them both a little space by turning to the washer and dryer to switch their laundry from last night. He wonders if Aiden notices the two extra towels he used when he needed more than one shower to feel like he could sleep. God, he’s completely unraveling. 

Aiden is no more relaxed when Leo faces him again. 

“Aiden, look—” he says at the same time Aiden says, “M’sorry.”

He holds up a hand and Aiden flinches. 

Well, that’s about right after what he pulled. But man, if it’s not a kick in the gut while he’s down. To make matters worse, Aiden seems to think it’s his responsibility to set things right after being subjected to Leo’s irrational panic. His guilt starts to turn in to a physical ache in his chest.  

“You don’t have anything to apologize for.” Aiden watches him carefully like he’s waiting for the other shoe to drop, long fingers worrying the cuffs of the hoodie. “You’re not in trouble,” Leo adds, taking a note from Delia. “Just finding you on the floor—” 

“Mmm….you…w-w-w—” Aiden shakes his head, swallows. “Mmm…here…” Leo waits but Aiden doesn’t say anything else, just huffs out a little sigh of exasperation before letting his gaze slide to rest on Leo’s make-shift bed. Which of course he tidied, blanket neatly folded and pillow set on top. His eyes lift to dance around Leo’s face, searching for some sign that he’s getting it. 

“I was sleeping here…” Leo feels obtuse stating the basest fact he can pull out of this exchange but Aiden nods. 

“I—my—” He scrunches his face up and shakes his head. He’s pinching and pulling at the cuffs of his sleeves now, grip tightening. He swallows hard twice before he tries again. “I’mmm…you…here…” 

“You…” Leo hopes he’s not taking too far of a leap. “...moved onto the floor when you saw me there?”  

Aiden turns his head away like he’s expecting to be slapped, gives a tiny nod. 

“That’s okay, it’s okay,” Leo says quickly. “But you didn’t have to sleep on the floor just because I was. Anyway, that runner is actually pretty thick, I—” Aiden bites his lips together like he wants to say something else. “What is it?” 

He knots his fingers together then separates them after a quick glance up at Leo, smoothing them against his thighs. “I—I—mmm…” He takes a deliberate step closer, halving the space between them. Does it with the air of stepping up to the chopping block. He waits for Leo to connect the dots. When he doesn’t, he lifts one of his hands, stopping just shy of brushing the back of Leo’s, before letting it fall again and tucking both behind his back. 

“Oh.” 

Despite his countless missteps, Aiden wanted to be closer to him. 

“Well, that’s okay.” When he realizes it sounds like giving permission he amends, “I mean, of course it’s okay. You can do whatever you want. Sleep wherever you want.” 

Aiden furrows his brow.  

“Sorry. I just mean— We never— I was worried—” Leo takes a breath. “You…” Cried yourself to sleep in my arms. “...fell asleep and I didn’t know if you wanted me to stay. I didn’t want you to be surprised when you woke up.” He sighs. “But I guess you were anyway…” 

Aiden shakes his head. “S’okay.” 

This kid would let him get away with murder…and then try to apologize like he invented death. Leo has to learn to get out ahead of these things if they’re ever going to have a chance.

“Were you—Did you have bad dreams or…” 

He lifts one shoulder in a half-shrug but doesn’t meet Leo’s gaze. 

“We’ll figure something out for tonight, yeah?” 

Aiden nods. He keeps his eyes down but he’s dropped his shoulders from his ears, hands in the pocket of the hoodie. Leo wants to wrap him up in a hug, make sure knows he was never in trouble, and tell him he never has to sleep alone again if he doesn’t want to. 

“I shouldn’t have freaked out like that,” he blurts instead. “I’m sorry for scaring you.”

Dark eyes search his. 

“It’s just— I panicked and I wasn’t thinking straight. After last night— After everything— It’s worse when I haven’t slept enough but it’s not your fault. It has nothing to do with you—” This word-vomit explanation is doing him no favors but he can’t seem to stop. “I promise it won’t happen again. I just want to make sure you know you didn’t do anything wrong, it was all me and I’m going to—” 

Aiden opens his mouth and closes it again. 

“What?” 

He shakes his head, dropping his gaze. 

Leo scrubs a hand over his face. “Short story long, I’m sorry for panicking.” 

Aiden peeks up at him then looks down again. Slow and deliberate, he pulls his good hand out of his pocket. He keeps it low, arm bent just enough to allow him to turn his palm up. A suggestion of an invitation, rather than an overt one, and one that could easily be missed.

Leo can’t help but smile as he squeezes Aiden’s fingers. 

Now Aiden ducks his chin against his chest in a good way. Not quite smiling but almost. 

“How about some breakfast?” 

“Mmm’yeah…mmm’thank…you…” Aiden parses the words carefully.

“Eggs and toast sound okay? I think we’re out of bacon.” 

Aiden nods. “Mhm.” 

He’s agreeing too quickly, making himself easy and accommodating. Is it because he’s afraid or does he think he has something to make up for? Either way, it feels like backward progress and Leo wonders all over again how he will ever rise to this occasion. 

But he can think of worse ways to spend the rest of the day than trying to get a real smile out of Aiden. So at least he has somewhere to start.

Previous — Masterlist — Next

@octopus-reactivated @maracujatangerine @nick-pascal @whumpy-writings @cracked-porcelain-princess

@meetmeinhellcroutons @briars7 @thingsthatgo-whump-inthenight @jo-doe-seeking-inspo @neuro-whump

@painsandconfusion @wolfeyedwitch @skyhawkwolf @haro-whumps @onlybadendings

@peachy-panic @fillthedarkvoid @rabass @crystalquartzwhump @dont-touch-my-soup

@mylifeisonthebookshelf @hold-him-down @guachipongo @creetchure @leyswhumpdump

@aseasonwithclarasblog @catawhumpus @magziemakeswhatever @pigeonwhumps @batfacedliar-yetagain

@whumpinthepot @dustypinetree @whump-in-progress @pirefyrelight @whumps-and-bumps

@i-eat-worlds @hellodecisionparalysis @heartfullofhoney @alternateminds @taterswhump

[thevalleyisjolly]

863 Games (9.9k words)

Select games of rianza played in a jungle yurt at the secret rebel base on Yavin IV between 2BBY and 1BBY.

Happy belated birthday @laneboyheathens <3 May the Force be with you!

Featuring 863 games of rianza, the Yavin jungle yurt, K-2SO really suffering having to third-wheel these two (it's ok, he inflicts some suffering of his own in turn), much ado about sleeping arrangements, game modifications of both the stripping and non-stripping varieties, and really just the least subtle sex jokes you've ever heard. None of these people should try to flirt, ever.

[saturn-sends-hugs]

you ever think about echo and fives

you ever think about how, after rishi, all they had was each other. everything they knew, gone in an instant. except for each other.

you ever think about how they found a place for themselves in the 501st, slowly putting the pieces of their lives back together and finally feeling like they belonged somewhere, somewhere they were wanted and celebrated and loved. They found a family, people that had their backs, and they were able to just be. They could mess around and play and laugh with their brothers because who was gonna stop them??

you ever think that fives came back from the citadel, an empty space at his side, and couldn’t stand it? Couldn’t look at the places he’d thought were safe, couldn’t talk to the friends they’d made together because none of it was right without echo beside him?

you ever think that echo got out of the stasis chamber and just knew, the minute he wasn’t there, that fives was gone? and just like fives, the 501st just felt wrong without his twin? you think that’s why he couldn’t stay?

do you ever think that echo, used to being youngest and looking up to fives and now suddenly he’s the Older Brother in his new group, the one with experience, the one they should be looking up to, you think he felt out of place? watching the empire rise, watching brothers fall and realizing one day that, oh shit, he’s the responsible one. him, echo, one half of the most chaotic duo the 501st had ever seen is now the responsible one, and what the hell happened?

you ever think about how scary that would be? looking back at the life you had and not even getting the chance to mourn it because your new brothers need you, the world is falling apart and you’ve been through more than they have so you have to be the one to help them through it. looking back on the shiny he was and realizing he can never go back.

just. echo and fives.

anyway little league by conan gray is the most domino twins song in the world and my heart is trying to tear itself in half 🫠

[writingmonet]

Now...real-life amnesia is (mostly) irreversible. Like you can't imagine the things of your past and if people tells you about it, it will feels like a another-person life.

To quote this YT video who explained the amnesiac trope so well: "real life amnesia is messy, tragic and [...] unfixable."

So...what if the reason Echo can barely speak about Fives is due to amnesia? He knows that Echo had a twin, a best friend before.

But him? After Skako? He's half-droid, there's no Fives around. He can barely remember anything except the Citadel. So in this scenario, Echo knows that Fives was someone to him before. He's another Echo. He had another family and while he manages to reconnect with Rex...he just can't with a dead person.

Not anymore.

Yeah, okay I go cry in the corner after that.

[tending-the-hearth]

just a friendly reminder that i will never get over the tragedy that is the domino squad

[tealmist55]

Banner by @littletroggo

@galactic-gift-gathering: Gift for @lonewolflupe

Hope you like it! 💙

--

Prompt: Domino Twins Reunion

Genre: Mild angst, sibling fluff

It's also here on AO3.

--

All That Matters

Never before in his life had Echo been nervous to see Fives. His twin’s presence had always fostered security and comfort, but now Echo’s heart was beating anxiously as he awaited Fives' arrival at the medbay.

They hadn’t seen each other in a year and Fives had spent that time believing Echo was dead. Echo knew how reasonable his brother was, but he couldn’t imagine the pain Fives had experienced in the wake of the Citadel. As much as he hoped Fives had made his peace with his twin's death, Echo also hoped he hadn’t. Echo hated to think of his twin hurting, but at the same time he couldn’t contain the anxiety that told him Fives might not need him anymore.

But Echo also knew Fives well enough to know the guilt he would have endured; irrational remorse for an event that had been out of his control. What if all of that overwhelmed him, once he saw that Echo had been subjected to? Echo had been tortured and marred beyond recognition. What if Fives blamed himself? If he even recognized Echo at all.

Would Fives even still see him the same way? Would they be able to regain the bond they’d had? Or had that been lost at the Citadel?

The sound of the medbay door swishing open interrupted Echo’s spiral of thoughts.

Fives stood in the doorway. His ARC armor was the same as Echo remembered, but now duller and battered from use. Fives’ face was mostly the same; the same goatee, Aurebesh five tattoo, and standard haircut with a couple curls loose over his forehead. But his face was as worn as his armor. Dark circles lay beneath his eyes, and the bones of his jaw and cheeks looked sharper, as if he’d lost weight.

Fives stood frozen for a moment; likely taking in Echo’s new appearance, as Echo was taking in Fives’. Then suddenly he rushed forward.

Echo was sitting up on his hospital bed and made to stand to greet his twin, but he was still adjusting to his prosthetic legs and couldn’t stand in time. Fives barreled into him, nearly knocking him backwards onto the bunk. Fives hugged Echo tightly and Echo quickly returned the embrace, resting his forehead on the familiar perch of Fives’ shoulder.

“I’m so glad you’re alive. I missed you so much,” Fives said shakily against Echo’s shoulder.

“I missed you too.” Echo’s own voice was quivering now. “I’m so sorry I left you alone.”

“You, di’kut,” Fives chuckled. “Are you seriously apologizing for getting blown up?”

“Maybe?”

“Well, don’t.” Fives lightly smacked the back of Echo’s head. Then suddenly his voice dropped to a whisper. “Just promise you won’t leave me again.”

“I won’t, I promise.”

Echo sighed contentedly as they continued to hold each other. So much had changed since they last saw each other, but not everything. Fives was still his best friend and that was all that mattered.

[silence-ofthe-llamas]

Figured as I'm updating Domino Milkshake on AO3, I may as well start posting it here, too.

Jazz drunkenly pretends that he's dating Prowl. Only he isn't, and the mech is right behind him.

Read here or on AO3!

Jazz sat in the bar with Blaster, a tall pitcher of bright pink engex on the table in front of them with delightfully shaped glasses to match.

Just a decacycle ago, Jazz had transferred to the Iacon base from Polyhex. Blaster was an old friend who he had known since their days at the academy, and it was high time that they’d had a catch up.

“I’ve only been here, what, a groon? Maybe two? But I’ve already got myself a good network. You would not believe the mechs I’m cosy with, Jazz.”

“Sounds like you’ve been busy.” Jazz replied, sipping on his drink through a curly straw.

Blaster laughed. “Don’t you be like that.” He tutted at him, waggling his finger in his face. “S’all strictly professional!”

“Sure, sure.” Jazz cheekily waved him off. “So, what dirt have you got on my team?”

“On Ops? Nothing. No, honest, I don’t have a thing. You spooks are as secretive as they come.”

“Aw, boo.” Jazz huffed, chin in his hands as he pouted. “They still haven’t warmed up ta me.” He sulked.

“Nah, don’t be too worried about it.” Blaster waved him off. “They’ve all got a reputation for being all standoffish and aloof. Especially that Mirage.” Blaster grimaced. “He’s actually a bit of a dick.” Jazz snorted hard enough to attract the attention of the Praxian mechs at the table next to them, the group turning to look with a mixture of curiosity and annoyance before returning to their own conversation.

“Mech-!” Jazz laughed. “Come on!”

“It’s true and everyone knows it.” Blaster justified as he drank his own drink, pausing for a moment to refill his glass. He held it over Jazz’s as if to pour and looked at him in question. At Jazz’s nod, he refilled Jazz’s glass too.

“So. Onto business.” Blaster smirked. Jazz felt dread settle in his tanks. Oh, this couldn’t be good.

“And what business would that be?” Jazz asked, crossing his legs and leaning backwards in their booth.

“I’ve got a good network, and I’ve been keeping an optic out for someone for you.” Blaster winked at him.

Oh, that dread was oh so very justified. Jazz tried to school his expression as best he could to hide his grimace.

“Blaster, look, I really don’t wanna-”

“Just give it a try, yeah? you’ve been looking real lonely lately.” Blaster placed his chin in his hands and regarded his friend with a look of almost motherly concern.

“I’m really fine, I swear. I can sort myself out.”

“I just don’ want you ta be lonely. It doesn’t suit you.”

Jazz racked his processor. What could he possibly say to get Blaster off of his tail for a bit? He appreciated the concern – he really, really did – but right now he was pretty much married to his job, and not to mention the nature of it...

“I’m actually… kinda, maybe seeing someone right now.” Jazz said, hiding his expression behind his curly straw and rubbing the back of his helm, processor racing as he tried to think of someone to name drop who Blaster couldn’t possibly know. Think, Jazz, think!

He thought back to his orientation. He wasn’t the only bot to transfer in – there was a total of fifteen of them – quite big, all things considered – and one of them stuck out in particular simply because they were quite honestly his opposite, and certainly not someone who Jazz could see himself associating with. And thus, by extension, he couldn’t possibly see Blaster knowing them.

And so, he bit the bullet.

“Oh!” Blasters face lit up and he excitedly wiggled closer to Jazz on his seat, leather squeaking under him. “Who who who?”

“Prowl.” Jazz felt his face heat up slightly. Primus, he couldn’t believe he was doing this. Just how much had he had to drink?! This was so insanely stupid! “You know, the Praxian mech? Red chevron?”

“Prowl?” Blaster choked on his own saliva. “Seriously?”

“You know him?” Jazz asked in shock, energon running cold. Oh, noooo!

“Oh, do I.” Blaster grumbled. “We’ve been stationed together more times than I care ta count.”

Oh, wasn’t that just so lucky for Jazz, then.

“What’s he like?”

“Aren’t you dating already? Shouldn’t you know?” Blaster quirked an optic ridge at him.

“I just want ta know what he’s like when he’s not trying to woo anyone. And I said kinda maybe!” Jazz whined. “Don’t make it so official!”

Blaster didn’t reply, far too busy staring right over Jazz’s shoulder. A hand came down beside Jazz, another mech leaning in next to him.

“Jazz?”

Oh, crap.

A white hand and a white arm, perfectly opposite Jazz’s own colouration. Thick Praxian accent. The smell of wax and new datapads.

Prowl.

“I didn’t see you there!” Jazz fought to recover. “How long’ve you been here?”

“A while.” Prowl replied. “I was about to go and grab another drink, care to join me?”

His tone left no room for any argument, and so Jazz slid out of the booth and fell into step with him, the walk excruciatingly silent. Jazz couldn’t get a read on him, his expression gave nothing and his field was pulled in so tightly Jazz wouldn’t even know he was there.

“That wasn’t particularly wise of you.” Prowl commented as they stood at the bar together. Jazz could feel Blaster watching them, and it was only the fact that he was so well trained that stopped him from looking back. “Not really.” Jazz replied. “Feel free to continue to pretend that I don’t exist.” “I hardly think that is appropriate behaviour for mechs who are supposedly ‘seeing each other’.” Prowl bunny eared. Well trained or not, Jazz couldn’t stop the furious blush. “I panicked, okay? You just happened to be the first mech I thought of.” “While I am flattered, I am curious as to why you lied.” Jazz heaved a sigh. “He keeps wanting to set me up with other mechs. I’m so tired of it right now, I just wanted a break. He means well, but...” Prowl hummed and tapped his chin. “This may work in my own favour, then. I am not unfamiliar with meddlesome mechs. If it gives me five minutes of peace, I am willing to play along.” “You’ve also got mechs tryin’ to set you up?” Prowl grimaced, the first expression that Jazz didn’t have to hunt for. “I am sure they mean just as well as Blaster does for you.” “So it’s settled, then. We pretend for as long of a break as you need.” Jazz couldn’t help but smirk up at him. “Settled indeed.” Prowl replied, expression softening. “What would you like to drink?” ----------------------------------------------------------

They’d ended up spending the night drinking together, Blaster disappearing off at some point and leaving the two very much alone together. Much, much later, Prowl had noticed the time and their intoxicated state, and had insisted that they return to their quarters on base. It was only when Prowl bid him goodnight that he realised he had genuinely enjoyed being in his company, and his absence left him feeling oddly alone.

His bunkmates were all already in recharge as he crept into his berth, quietly turning off his light as he curled up under his blanket. This whole fake dating thing was going to be easier than he thought!

----------------------------------------------------------

Prowl’s evening had started off quietly enough. His younger brother Bluestreak had come up to visit now that both of his brothers were stationed in Iacon, and the three of them had decided (read: Smokescreen dragged Prowl out to a bar, Bluestreak had curiously followed) to go out and enjoy a drink together. Bluestreak was just barely of age, and Prowl had every intention of drinking just one drink before taking Bluestreak back to his hotel and going back to base.

He had almost finished his drink when they noticed the pair sat at the table next to them. Prowl recognised both of them – Blaster he knew from past assignments, and Jazz he recognised from his orientation. His doorwings twitched in curiosity. He had no idea the two knew each other.

“Do you know those two?” Smokescreen asked as he downed the last dregs of his drink.

“Somewhat.” Prowl replied, doorwings flicking dismissively.

“Either of them pique your interest?” Smokescreen wiggled his eyebrows at him, shit eating grin on his face. It was a half serious question – he knew that Prowl hated it when he did this, and he never missed the chance to annoy Prowl. It was his duty as an elder brother.

“Smokescreen-” Prowl began, but trailed off as their attention turned back to the pair at the table next to them.

Bluestreak and Smokescreen’s mouths dropped open as the visored mech mentioned Prowl’s name, Prowl’s doorwings shooting upwards in shock as his optics flashed in surprise. Smokescreen slowly turned to look at Prowl, smiling wildly.

“Oh, Prowl! No wonder you didn’t want to come tonight!”

“What’s his name?” Bluestreak curiously asked.

“Jazz.” Prowl stood, chair scraping. “Excuse me for a moment.”

He moved almost as if on autopilot. He didn’t know what to do. What was an appropriate response to this?! They hadn’t ever spoken outside of their group orientation. He didn’t even know what division Jazz worked in. He could hear Bluestreak and Smokescreen whispering to each other at the edge of his vision, but he couldn’t make out what they were saying over the ambient noise of the bar and the music.

He leaned in next to Jazz, placing his hand on the table, and swallowed hard.

----------------------------------------------------------

Smokescreen had ended up leaving with Bluestreak.

It was late when Prowl got back to the base with Jazz, much much later than he had originally intended on returning. It was a testament to just how much he had enjoyed his evening.

Prowl didn’t expect it when Jazz had suddenly grabbed his hand and squeezed it as they parted on base. His hand felt strangely cold.

“I’ll see you tomorrow!” Jazz called to him with a wave as he walked away, heading towards his quarters. Prowl hesitantly waved back.

His quarters were empty as he lay on his berth. As specially designed quarters for Praxian build mechs, there were no other bunkmates to speak of, and so he felt no shame or fear of being caught as he grabbed his pillow and buried his face into it.

He hoped he didn’t fall too deeply into their charade.

[rendomski]

The Domino Effect

Summary: Shaak Ti was often tempted to save some clone kids. AU, where she finally goes for it. And the ties of siblinghood run strong among the clones.

An impromptu ficlet, ~1000 words. Enjoy 🙂.

Force acts in mysterious ways, thinks Shaak Ti when she walks by the cadet barracks late in their night cycle and overhears the argument. Apparently, someone who doesn’t want to be called Hevy decided to go AWOL, and 99 is trying to persuade him otherwise.

Supervising kids that are raised with a sole purpose—to fight and die for the Republic—is a morally challenging task. Shaak has been tempted multiple times just to take on board as many kids as she can and whisk them far from this madness. Something tips the scales, finally, as she steps into the vast barracks and speaks, “So, you want to get away, cadet?”

They both freeze in shock.

“No, General, sir. Hevy wasn’t going to—” 99 begins, but not-Hevy interrupts him, staring with a desperate defiance.

“Yes, sir. I was planning to go AWOL.”

Shaak stares him back, but the kid, almost a grown-up—or what goes as grown-up nowadays, the cadets are shipped away even at a younger age than at the beginning of the war—does not budge.

“Alright,” says Shaak. “Is this your stuff? Take it and let’s go to my ship.”

“Sir?”

“You want to go AWOL? I can take you off-world on my ship. No one would dare search for you there.”

Not-Hevy grabs the bag with whatever he can claim as his own, but then hesitates.

“Sir, with your permission. My brother, CT-4040. Trainer Bric has it against him. He would do anything so that CT-4040 doesn’t pass his final test.” His eyes go wider as it dawns upon him how implausible the chance Shaak is offering him and how close he might be to failure by asking even more of her. He finishes nonetheless. “May I… may you take him away, too?”

Shaak’s confidence that she is doing the right thing blooms.

“Yes. You may take your brother with you.”

***

“Sir?”

“Yes, CT-4040?”

“Cutup, sir. My name is Cutup,” he glances at CT-782, who is stubbornly not Hevy. “Since tonight. So… Droidbait. CT-782, we’re not leaving him behind, like we did during the simulation, do we?”

Leaving behind during the simulation, this sounds very familiar. “Cadets, what squad are you from?” Shaak asks and nods upon the name, knowing already what comes. “I understand. Go for your brother, and bring Fives and CT-1409 along, too.”

***

“99, I am not leaving without you. We all owe you.”

The aged clone shakes his head, “No, Hevy. You go with the General. As for me, there are a few other troubled brothers that need my support here.”

Of course, five pairs of near-identical eyes stare at Shaak hopefully at the words. “General? You have some more space on your ship, don’t you, sir?”

She sighs. “Just be quiet. It is getting serious, so from now on, let's make it a stealth mission.”

“You've heard the General. It is a stealth mission.”

Exasperated groans, “We're standing right here, Echo,” follow.

***

“Sir?” Fives tugs at her sleeve with suspicious shyness. “It may sound crazy, but… Well, there is a girl here.”

“Oh, not again!”

“Don’t listen to him, General. He is making it all up. He has never met a girl in his life.”

“Well, I did! I keep telling you, and you idiots, refuse to believe me!” Fives snaps. “Sir, there is a girl here, working in the hospital. I met her. I talked to her.”

***

There is a girl, indeed. Experimental Medical Researcher 003, EMR-003 for short, whom Shaak has never met and never seen in any official documents. Moreso, she has never even heard of the Jango female clone program. And this gets extremely suspicious now. Her hunting instincts and the Force both sing to her that she is on the trail of something bigger.

“I am not the only one here, sir. There is one more girl, at least. She is different, but she is also one of us. I can get her out of the lab, I know the way.”

***

Another girl is different, for sure. Shaak can't grasp what is different about this kid—a five-year-old cadet at the most. Not the blond hair, there is a number of blond cadets around. There is something else, something elusive.

“Oh, you want to take us all off-world?” Omega, not EMR-something, notes Shaak, looks at the gang of clones with contagious joy and amazement. Cutup winks at her, and she waves back at him enthusiastically. “We must take my brothers with us!”

“We are all your brothers,” says no-longer-CT-1409-but-still-rather-reluctant Echo serenely.

“I know! But those are… They are my little brothers! And,” she saddens, her childish voice dropping almost to a whisper. “There are only four of them left.”

Shaak sighs. Alright, four more little kids, not a big difference.

***

…they happen to be not quite little kids, and it is finally clear what is different about Omega. The list of questions and problems grows ever longer. Shaak has hunted down and bitten more than she can chew.

She needs to take someone into the partnership in crime—Plo, most likely. And Obi Wan, who found Kamino in the first place, may have some valuable insights…

But first things first. Her navicomputer is still calculating the hyperspace route when a fight erupts in the back of the ship. And Fives is proudly showing EMR-003 around the ship, despite being here for the first time himself. Half of his explanations are totally wrong. Lanky, bespectacled cadet who has confidently strapped himself in the copilot seat and already asked Shaak three questions in a row, turns around and begins to correct him. Someone is asking loudly over the clamour whether her Jedi ship is equipped with guns.

Only 99 gazes silently into the starry void, mesmerised. Looking in his wizened face, Shaak Ti realises that this is his first time in space, despite his long and respectable age of thirteen.

[dystopicjumpsuit]

Headcanons: Watching a Scary Movie Holovid with Torrent Company

I got intense brainrot after seeing this adorable art from @lonewolflupe, and it’s been consuming me ever since. 

As a horror wimp, this is how I imagine things would go.

Jesse 

He’s the one who suggests horror night in the first place.

He is so enthusiastic about it that you don’t have the heart to turn him down.

He promises not to pick anything too scary.

He passes out fifteen minutes into the holovid (“Sorry, cyar’ika, it was leg day”).

You’re too scared to get up and turn it off, so you end up hiding behind him for the whole movie.

You have vowed revenge, but it’s been weeks, and you still haven’t figured out anything that he’s scared of. Kix knows, but refuses to tell you.

Hardcase

He wants to introduce you to the classics, so he picks Alien (1979). “It’s not scary, babe, I promise!”

LIES. IT IS SO SCARY. 

HOW CAN HE BE EATING POPCORN WHEN A KARKING CHESTBURSTER JUST KARKING CHESTBURSTED?!

Ripley kinda 👀

After the sixth jumpscare, your nerves get the best of you and you smack him with a pillow, which successfully instigates The Great Pillow War.

As hostilities escalate, you “accidentally” bump the remote and turn off the holo.

As per the terms of the ceasefire, Hardcase is contractually obligated to cuddle you all night so the facehuggers don’t get you.

Tup

Neither of you even want to watch a kriffing scary holo. Why are you doing this again? Because Hardcase convinced you it was a foundational piece of galactic pop culture, that’s why, Force damn him!

You don’t even make it ten minutes before Tup suggests switching to Hocus Pocus instead.

You have to pause mid-opening credits because you realize you can’t watch Hocus Pocus without eating a battalion’s worth of candy.

You both jump on the sofa to belt out “I Put a Spell On You.”

Twice.

You take a break to make popcorn because you forgot there were only three minutes of the holo left, so then you have to start Halloweentown while you finish eating. One thing leads to another, and you end up binging not-scary Halloween classics until 3 AM.

Dogma

He wants to do a comparative analysis of Nosferatu (1922) with Nosferatu (1979) in preparation for Nosferatu (2024).

He takes notes.

He points out every plot hole and inconsistency.

You’re pretty confident that you can handle the cheesy horror of 1922. You are unprepared for the emotional impact of the third act. 

Dogma puts down his datapad so he can give you a hug. When the holo ends, he makes a pot of tea and the pair of you spend the rest of the evening discussing the film. You never get around to watching 1979, but that’s okay, because you’re going to have another holo night next week. 

The next day, you receive a holomessage with his formal report on the plot, structure, music, and performances. There isn’t a single typo.

He suggests going out for dinner before your next holo night. He knows a great place in Little Mon Cala.

Bonus: Fives and Echo

Chaos in the mess hall.

You don’t even know what holovid they pick because they keep you laughing too hard to pay attention.

Something with werewolves and corsets, you think. Wait, is this just an early ‘00s gothic rock music holo?

Whatever, the night turns into a sugar-fueled impromptu pajama party anyway. Where did they even get nail polish?!

The twins are so loud that the rest of Torrent Company shows up to investigate and ends up crashing the party.

Rex walks in to get a cup of caf the next morning to find you all passed out and covered in candy corn. He turns around and leaves without saying a word. Plausible deniability is his middle name, and he already has enough flimsiwork without adding whatever the kriff just happened in the mess hall to the mix.

[wantonlywindswept]

so all of the fic where the GAR and Coruscant Guard don't get along because the GAR thinks Coruscant is a cushy gig and the Guard are in Literal Hell are 

so fucking chefkiss

like it is a trope i will DEVOUR, i will unhinge my jaw and swallow that shit whole

but 

what about an inverse?

what about a Guard that's the protecting soldier meme except real?

troopers on leave on Coruscant finally feel like they can relax from the war because they know the Guard has their back, and everyone knows that if you need a hand or an ear or a hug you can ask any Guard* and they are always the most patient helpful big brother types ever, they will listen and they will help and they will protecc

(*sole exception: fox**, who shoulders all of the pain and rage and condenses it into a tiny supernova of fury in his chest that he shoves down into a locked box of emotions, and one day he'll die

**except also very much including fox, who rages and rails and might throttle you for being an idiot but he'll also absolutely gut any aggressive natborn that even breathes in your direction)

so they still might think that Coruscant's a cakewalk compared to the frontlines but they're glad that they have brothers protecting the homefront too, they're glad that at least SOME of them can stay gentle and kind and at peace

of course then palpatine and the sith and all the corruption in the senate are exposed

(because TCW canon is for COWARDS and people who like being SAD)

and the GAR realizes all the shit that the Corries went through, all the ostracization and threats and abuse and pain

and it just

made them kind

[lifeofclonewars]

okay wait no. small pause on the Kix feels as I think about how Rex is more by the books than Cody (and lightens up at least a bit on that throughout the war) and how he tells the Domino Twins "reminds me of me, actually" in his lil promoting them to ARC speech and just. how much he latched onto Domino in the first place

this man saw Echo and his by the books-ness and Fives encouraging him to lighten up on certain bits of it and went "oh, they're just like me and Cody" and got attached and indeed continued to see the parallels throughout the war

[bestworstcase]

Anything from Volumes 1-3 that is setup that you don't think is given enough attention or respect for good setup?

Sidenote to this:

Open seat with no person in it + Salem having someone looking for the Choice Relic was hinting at Summer Rose. Did we have anything hinting at her pre Beacon's Fall or just things that she fits given additional context?

regarding summer specifically, while i wouldn’t call them hints per se, there are a handful of beats in v1-3 that smell like foreshadowing to me:

the first is “she was right about you; such arrogance.” – cinder might well be referring to salem here, of course. however. what strikes me about this remark is that arrogance is not a characteristic that salem seems to perceive in ozma; rather she describes him, in her soliloquies and songs, as a self-destructive, deceitful, manipulative fool blinded and trapped by his faith in the old gods. cowardly. fallen from grace. think of what she says to oz in 8.9—look how you’ve diminished, how you’ve lessened yourself—she sees him groveling at the feet of tyrannical monsters and sees debasement.

does it follow for salem to characterize ozpin to cinder as, primarily, arrogant? i’m not convinced it does. but summer rose? well… hm. consider, also, that the full line is “this whole time, right beneath our feet… she was right about you; such arrogance…” <- i think it is more likely than not that “she” is someone inside the brackets of “our,” and in context “our” is either [cinder + ozpin] or [cinder + her associates physically present at beacon].

in the event that “she” is not part of “our” the more naturalistic phrasing is “beneath our feet… salem was right about you” – because “she” otherwise has no antecedent. of course, some allowance here for this to be a narrative choice not to name salem yet, but we’re one (1) episode off from revealing her face and by this point we’ve known for a while that cinder works for someone else, so the choice to drop the name here or in the volume credits is of fairly trivial importance. unless of course cinder isn’t talking about salem.

second: “Oh! We've also stopped some bad guys, too! I guess it's like they say: "like mother, like daughter"! I still wonder why Ozpin let me into the school early…” [laugh track] – obv this part of ruby’s address to summer’s memorial headstone foreshadows ozpin’s conspiracy and team strq’s involvement therein. but it also foreshadows this exchange:

RUBY: We don’t have to kill you to stop you, and we will stop you. SALEM: Your mother said those words to me… she was wrong, too.

and i think it bears pointing out that ruby is wrong here, and later in the volume qrow specifically calls attention to this and lays out why she’s wrong. team rwby didn’t stop the bad guys; they cut off one avenue of attack and cinder circled around from a new direction that took advantage of torchwick’s imprisonment, and this also resulted in the public break between ozpin and ironwood which eroded the cohesion of the inner circle. ergo, ruby thinks she stopped the bad guys but in the long run the consequences of the breach all benefited salem.

looks into the camera like im on the office.

like mother, like daughter!!!

further, that sequence of events ultimately leads to the final confrontation between her and torchwick – wherein he declares “if you can’t beat them, join ’em,” and shortly gets eaten by a grimm right after making it clear that he intends to kill her. torchwick’s death is thematically motivated – a narrative rejection of his cynical every-man-for-himself, dog-eats-dog outlook – but consider that:

summer rose, if she is indeed salem’s willing agent, is certainly at beacon tonight – because she’d be the one who stayed behind to hold the fort.

summer is thus the one salem instructs to “reinforce our numbers at beacon,” meaning the grimm; that instruction only makes sense if the person receiving it can communicate with or command grimm. ergo, summer must have some degree of control over grimm.

ruby is disarmed and on the ground getting beaten by a man who fully intends to kill her, and a grimm swoops down out of nowhere to eliminate him faster than he can blinks. and then… the grimm rears up, roaring at her, and comes down with a sweep of its wings that creates a blast of air that pushes her away. that isn’t aggression!! that’s a defensive threat display!! (the feilong in v4 does the exact same thing – trying to push the boat away). it’s ruby who charges the gryphon, and while it lunges forward in reaction to her charge, all that happens is she gets her feet on its head and pushes off to leap over it, and the grimm goes fucking flying so hard it crashes into the ship’s interior and never emerges. the point being,

math.

it’s plausible that the grimm was drawn to torchwick’s murderous rage. but the way it behaves immediately after it swallows him – that very clear “get away from me please” body language, and ruby -apparently- kicking a grimm the size of a goddamned clydesdale dozens of feet and then through the hull of a literal warship? ruby is strong, but she’s not… that strong. but if the grimm didn’t want to engage her and propelled itself under and past her at the same time as she vaulted off its head? that would explain what happens perfectly – ruby’s kick altered its launch trajectory just enough that it crashed.

minutes later, someone loyal to salem scraped a very badly injured cinder off the top of beacon tower and left ruby alive where qrow would find her. salem’s vested interest in keeping ruby alive is VISIBLE throughout the battle for beacon, and notably include a perfect opportunity to capture her while she’s in a coma atop beacon tower that isn’t taken – suggesting that salem makes her singular attempt to capture ruby solely to reassure cinder that Something is being Done.

and if summer rose has command over grimm and was at beacon that night… the gryphon’s behavior is exactly what i’d expect if all the grimm had marching orders to insure this one girl in particular – the spitting image of their commander – doesn’t come to serious harm. there’s a nonzero chance that gryphon did in fact save ruby On Purpose!

…and that happens in the context of a fight between ruby and the bad guy she thought she stopped (but she was wrong), who joined salem because “if you can’t beat em, join em.” (salem voice) she was wrong, too…

also

<- like mother like daughter. summer had a nevermore’s eye view of the battle for beacon, in this essay i will –

third: this one is something i didn’t really Think About until v9 and specifically the v9 ost dropping, but some of the things cinder says in v2-3 strike me as like – she got that from summer im sure of it. for example, in midnight, cinder’s view of huntsmen is that they’re free, they have power, they can go anywhere and do whatever they want, and rhodes never contradicts this. where did she get “huntsmen and huntresses should conduct themselves with honor and mercy”? who taught her the aspirational moral ideal?

summer rose, maybe.

but in the deeper sense,

where did cinder get the ‘destiny’ conceit? her underlying beliefs about how the world is are a product of her childhood, but the overt framing of fate/destiny isn’t present in midnight; nor has salem ever spoken of destiny and her philosophical views are in many ways a rejection of destiny – salem does not believe in fate, she is the woman who dedicated her life to toppling the gods.

and on close examination this looks like yet another suspiciously summer rose shaped hole!! “you’re special, ruby […] special the way your mom was special […] it was said that those born with silver eyes were destined to lead the life of a warrior.” – in after the fall, ozpin gives coco an entire pep talk whose central conceit is embracing and submitting to the turns of fate – sacrifice “show them gods and deities/blind and keep the people on their knees” & guide my way “you were born to hypnotize them all/they all said their prayers/can you hear me up there?”

cinder, of pyrrha: “people assume she’s fated for victory, when she's really taking fate into her own hands. interesting. add her to the list.” & “it’s not about overpowering the enemy; it’s about taking away what power they have.”

<- that second statement is salem’s strategic doctrine, through and through. but the ‘power’ cinder is talking about here is derived through manipulating the perception of destiny; the self-fulfilling prophecy. the invincible girl cannot be touched because she makes subtle adjustments to insure that no one is able to try. it is pyrrha’s belief in destiny that destroys her, as it destroys ozma. ozpin invokes fate to justify and explain his choices. those born with silver eyes are destined to lead the lives of warriors.

summer rose was destined to live and die fighting the grimm – so the world promised her. maybe she believed, maybe she felt like she had no choice but to accept her prescribed fate. until she met salem, and took fate into her own hands. made a choice. broke the chains. it’s about taking away what power they have, like salem did when she tore the scales from summer’s eyes, like summer did when she refused her destiny and joined hands with the grimm instead.

what does summer rose look like through cinder’s eyes? she was a huntress. she was literally destined to be one of the greatest huntresses in history, a hero, the shining pillar upholding the world order that chose the enslavement of children as a fair price for peace. fate dictated that she be the icon, the idol, the embodiment of the system that brutalized and subjugated cinder – she had every privilege cinder could ever dream of, freedom and security and a home, a loving family – and she chose to walk away.

and if they talked about that like, ever, and specifically if summer talked about that warrior’s destiny as a cage, a curse she had to escape – is it any wonder that cinder would adopt that framing to make sense of what happened to her? if summer rose was fated to stand at the pinnacle, then does it not follow that cinder fall was fated to be ground into the foundations? and likewise, if summer rose can shatter her pedestal and fall from grace, then cinder fall can shatter her chains and rise. summer proves that the idea of destiny is powerful but not inviolate. and it is hollow, it is a lie, a fiction, and that means it can be taken away. revealed as a deception. destroyed.

anyway

to the broader question

i think people really, really do not give the jaundice arc enough credit for the long-term set up it’s doing.

(or the very overt textual statement from THE HISTORY PROFESSOR! placing the blame for the violent radicalization of the white fang squarely on human bigotry and persecution of faunus in general; the white fang arc is clunky and hamstrung by the inadequacy of its vocabulary, but the fandom talking point that the narrative perspective on this subject has “evolved” or “improved” is just. not true. v1 is very emphatically clear that 1. terroristic violence is not activism, 2. ascribing the terroristic violence of a few to an entire minority group to rationalize bigotry is bigoted in and of itself and completely unacceptable, and 3. violent radicalization is created through relentless discrimination and hate, which creates a self-reinforcing circle wherein the justifiable outrage of the persecuted outgroup and the extreme violent reactions provoked by the persecution are distorted into a justification for further persecution by those of the in-group who materially benefit from perpetuating this cycle!!! all of this is explained in an almost afterschool special manner by the main character faunus rights activist and the history professor!!! in volume one!!! what changed is that the writers developed the skill and vocabulary necessary to weave these ideas into their storytelling in a more effective and more cogent way!!! literally begging the rwby fandom to start listening to the actual words the characters say)

ahem. the jaundice arc lays so much of the groundwork for jaune’s and ruby’s character arcs reaching all the way to v9 and undoubtedly beyond; it sets up the first pieces of the ozlem fractal; it foreshadows the white fang arc and sets up blake’s character arc of self-reclamation and figuring out how she wants to use her voice as an activist; it draws attention to the misogynistic cultural norms that define and are defined by the history between ozma and salem; it lays the foundation for the scene in v2 where ozpin questions blake, which hits the way it does because we have the context of anti-faunus harassment occurring openly at ozpin’s school and nobody doing anything about it, and by extension is the first stroke of the salem-faunus connection that is almost certainly the keystone holding the entire narrative together because it is her relation to the faunus that provides the key to decipher the lost fable.

the jaundice arc is a crucial load-bearing pillar that supports the entire narrative and people revile it because nobody in this fandom can be fucking normal about jaune. lmao