#i've made a similar post to this one before i think but

[maddascanbe-blog]

Nice to see you again Ma'am. This is the only redesign I'm going to both posting new for and not just update the original picture. Some of this was simple changes in style, and due to resizing issues Chloé's line art got really grainy. But more importantly I want to change Chloé in terms of my re-write, and I want to acknowledge my improvment.

Before we get to that lets talk small design changes. I likes my Anti-bug design originally but it waned on me over time. Recently I did a doodle of Chloé with the actual Ladybug miraculous (a hypothetical heroic) if you would. And translating that to Anti-bug made me much more satisfied with her.

I gave Queen Bee rounded stripes on her OG-redesign, but after looking at cannon again, she just is better suited for sharper shapes. So I changed her legs to something closer to her cannon design, the thigh-high boots feel much more Chloé.

Similar with Queen Wasp, just small changes, this time with her leg stripes just getting wider. I also decided to change her wings back to blue albeit a much darker color than Queen Bee's

Civilian Chloé and Zoé are the same, I already updated kid Zoé a bit for her page so I was able to just keep that asset and move it here.

Re-write. I've changed my opinion on Chloé a bit since I initially planned her re-write. Put simply, the only way I could think to redeem Chloé before was to make her an entirely different person.

Well not anymore. We're gonna rebuild her story from the ground up. First and foremost, Chloé is still a bully. She wants what she wants and doesn't care who gets hurt to help her get it. Now, she's not a full blown villain, because she doesn't need to be. But she does need to be selfish.

Chloé has a very short list of people she cares about. At the moment that includes Adrien, her Father, and Sabrina. Specifically she needs to care about Sabrina for the sake of her downfall and turn around, and later this list would include Ladybug, Chat Noir, and Zoé. She cares about them, and shows it, but everyone else isn't worth her time. This Chloé wouldn't insult Sabrina for not wanting to go through with a plot but she would still go and steal Marinette's diary.

But she also isn't oblivious, Chloé knows the class doesn't like her, he just doesn't care. She can still get what she wants, Marinette's seat, the Class Rep position, Ms. Bustier's favoritism, without the class liking her. Oh uh- small change her though, Chloé was bad at the student complaints and suggestions on day to day school stuff but I head cannon she was good at event organizing. As much of a pain as she was to work with, the school dances 'til now were spectacular. Mostly because I think Chloé needs to be good at something, and event planning is probable.

The first time she realizes her actions may have consequences (at least ones she cares about) is when she gets akumatized. She likes Ladybug, and Chat Noir if not as much. Her actions, her tantrum, not only didn't get her what she wanted but actively hurt two people she actually likes. This doesn't super change her behavior, but it does trigger the realization that she can't get everything she wants, and will in fact do things she doesnt want and cant fix in her wake.

The next is Lila showing up. Because she's spent her whole life around businessmen and politicians. She knows a liar when she sees one. But hey, if her class are idiots its not her business to educate them, its a little frustrating that Sabrina doesn't believe her. She just makes sure Adrien knows, and is surprised to know Marinette also already figured it out.

Then Zombizou happens, and everyone in the class are refusing to leave her alone and are protecting her. On one hand, no she doesn't want to be a zombie. But two, she thinks their idiots for sacrificing themselves over and over. They aren't friends, so why would they care? Then in a split second decision, Chloé gets between the zombies and the heroes. At this point she's acknowledged she's more a burden than a help, and that the heroes will be able to work better if she's out of their way. It's fine, they'll save her anyway. And they do.

This is where her character arc is actually going to start. Not with just with Bustier, but with her just gradually getting less antagonistic. She has her low moments of course. Since she hasn't exactly gotten better, just quieter the incident with the fire department causes Adrien to break off their friendship. And Lila successfully pulls Sabrina away from her. Now Chloé has no one.

And this is when she meets Pollen. Unintentional, but Chloé still loves Ladybug, so of course she wants to help. She doesn't give Pollen back at first, but she wasn't stupid enough to reveal her identity. Chloé is specifically not an idiot. She's actually one of the few who seems to regard Hawkmoth with as much fear as the heroes. She isn't expecting Marinette to turn down the opportunity and for the first time, Chloé see's her mother the way everyone else does. Flighty and Vicious, and uncapable of loving anyone but herself. And at the same moment she realizes that's the direction she's going.

Chloé realizes she's got to change. And she'd going to have to do it alone. Ladybug can support her, but not carry her. Marinette still doesn't trust her has far as she can throw her, and Adrien has his own stuff to worry about.

Then Zoé happens.

[hellishunicorn]

No, because I'm not done talking about Burt.

After last episode I've seen a few people saying how they genuinely thought outie Burt had retired in season 1, which confused me, because I thought it had been obvious from the start that he didn't retire. He was fired. In the video his outie made, he never specifies retiring, just that it's his last day, like I already covered in my post here.

The thing that bugs me, however, is that he was for sure fired because he was the one to form the connection between the two departments, MDR and O&D, that are not supposed to interact with each other, when, in episode 4 in season 1, he shows up at MDR with the tote bags, with a map to O&D and an invite for them to come over and visit. Then later, when all of MDR go to O&D in episode 6, Burt is the one to make a concrete plan for him and Mark to go check out the mammalians nurturable together. Now, granted I don't think he was intentionally working against Lumon at that point, but that's not the point. He is still offering members from a different department over to his, therefore creating a connection that can spread along the severed floor, ending, possibly, in an uprising against the company, when they eventually find out what exactly is going on there.

Now, I understand why they might not have wanted to tell him that reason, since that might lead him to start some investigation on the outside, similar to what maybe Irving was up to (if the list of severed employees and the news article are anything to go by). So, they go with the other thing he did, form a romantic connection with another severed employee (although they vastly embellished that description) as a reason for why he was fired, not knowing, of course, that innie Irving would find him, show up on his doorstep, shouting his name, leading outie Burt to get suspicious and follow him around, before offering him over to his house for ham and a talk.

[soelstress]

First Words

Pairing: Steve Rogers x female!reader

Summary: Your baby boy surprises you.

Warnings: mild language (sorry Steve!)

Word count: 1.1k

A/N - Hello lovelies! I know I've not posted for a while. Sadly my plot bunnies are hibernating but I promise I've not forgotten the requests some of you have made. This is just a lil fluff piece based on similar real life events.

The divider is from the amazing @buck-star - Thank you Sydney! 🥰

The gif is sourced from Google

Do not Steal, Copy or Plagiarize any part of my work

“Language!” 

When you heard your husband's voice from the adjoining room you figured he was on the phone or communicating via FRIDAY. When another shout sounded you grinned, thinking Tony or Nat were really teasing him today. But it wasn’t until Steve came through with a scowl that you paused in folding the laundry. “What’s wrong Steve?”

“I feel like I should be asking you that. Why are you cursing so much?”

Confusion swept through you followed by slight annoyance. “I’m not sure if your attitude or your hearing needs checking first, Captain.” Steve’s brow quickly melted when you called him by his title. “I’m not a child Steve. I can swear as much as I please. But I don’t for two reasons as you well know by now. And besides I’ve been in here humming ‘Baby Shark’ yet again. So whoever is offending your delicate ears, it’s not me.” You crossed your arms defiantly. 

Steve smiled contritely as he held up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry honey. You’re right. You’re not a child, you are my wife and though I’m not a fan of cursing I shouldn’t have asked like that. It’s just-” His head suddenly tilted before he darted out of the room. 

Nonplussed you followed and saw him peering into your son's bedroom. Your 10 month old child was toddling around his playpen on chubby little legs before falling on his bum next to his blanket and teddy without a sound. He looked around with blue wide eyes then began tugging his blanket and frowned when it wouldn’t move. Before you could take a step to help him, his mouth opened and you expected to hear the soft babbles of annoyance.

“Fuck.”

Your stomach swooped. At a loss for words both you and Steve stared at each other before silently creeping into the room and watching as your son managed to lift his blanket before dropping it again. “Fuck!”

“His first word?” You choked out, unable to believe what had just happened. 

Upon hearing your voice your son smiled and raised his arms while babbling excitedly. Steve picked him up almost robotically, mind still stuck that his son’s first word was a curse word. When you first met you had sworn like a sailor but dialed it back due to Steve’s discomfort, even more so after giving birth. Of course both of you had teasingly wagered if the first word would be ‘Mama’ or ‘Dada’.

“Steve, I haven’t-”

Immediately Steve cupped your cheek with his free hand. “I know honey. You’ve not said that word since the day he was born.” Your gazes met as you both briefly before flicking back down to the child cooing away in his daddy’s hold. “So where did he-“ Your gazes met once more.

“STARK!” You stormed out of your shared quarters and down the hall to the living area where some of the Avengers were dotted about the room. Specifically the one whose armour would not protect him from your wrath.

Tony stood when he heard you shout, trademark smirk faltering when he saw you striding toward him with Steve hot on your heels as your son giggled at the fast pace. Steve carefully lowered the baby to the floor near the edge of the couch where Nat and Sam sat watching with wide grins. ”Woah Mama Bear, what’s going on?”

You poked Tony with every word. “What. Did. You. Do?” Steve stood close behind you, ready to step in though he too was beyond annoyed.  Although Tony himself was a father he was more likely to slip up with his colourful language than the rest of the team. 

Eyes wide, Tony shook his head. Usually he would snark and quip his way out of trouble but when he saw how angry you were, that Steve was making no attempt to stop you and that your child was close by instead of being kept away from the conflict meant this was serious. Tony opened his mouth to speak or more accurately plead for more details of what he had done. 

“Fuck?” 

All eyes darted to the miniature Steve Rogers who was looking under the sofa.

Natasha’s eyes darted between you and Tony and back to the eager scavenger near her feet. Sam looked stunned. “Was- did he-”

The colour drained from Tony’s face as he realised what had made you so angry. 

”Fuck!” Your son sat back on his bum, clutching something in his chubby little hand. 

It took you a moment to recognise the item and you frowned before exhaling heavily in relief. ”Oh thank goodness.”

Steve’s eyes, so wide and blue like his son’s, were dazed with confusion. “Honey?”

Smiling, you crouched to brush your hand through your child’s silky hair. “Truck. He was looking for his truck.” Sighs filled the air, soft chuckles turning into laughter.

“What’s going on?”

Steve glanced over to see his best friend standing at the edge of the room, totally bewildered at the scene before him with no apparent explanation. “Hey Buck.”

“Fuck!” Bucky crouched down to catch the little blur that rushed over to him. As Steve followed and started to explain to Bucky what had happened you glanced to where the abandoned truck sat on the floor to your son who currently sat in his godfather's arms and back again.

Your loud groan interrupted Steve’s story, his brows furrowing in concern. But your original suspect in all of this had also caught on to your realisation. “The kid was trying to say Terminator’s name!”

Bucky nodded but was slightly confused as to why everyone either looked amused or annoyed. “Yeah, I thought ‘Buck’ was easier than ‘Bucky’. For now anyway. He’s said it a few times already-“

”Woah hang on Buck. He’s spoken before now and you didn’t tell us?!” Steve’s face was a mixture of anger and disappointment. Not only was his son's first word his Godfather’s name but it wasn't even the first time and Bucky had said nothing.

“It was earlier this morning! I was gonna show you when I came back from my run!” Bucky pleaded, stepping back but giving big puppy eyes to Steve. 

Tony scoffed as colour finally returned to his previously pale face. “Barnes, you dipshit.”

“Sit!”

“STARK!!!”

[oceangirl24]

Fandom drama finally over (next chapter on the way).

Well, this month has been surreal.

For those of you who have been following me for a while you know I have dealt with plagiarism and harassment by a fandom writer since October of 2022- exactly twenty years after I posted the first chapter of AiP on FFN.

Totally gone.

Everything has been deleted everywhere.

The name has been scrubbed, even on pages that tagged her. Only a few gift fics on FFN and a few stories on WhoFic.com remain.

Gone like she never existed.

I've held off saying anything in case it was a just a dream, but it's real.

She is gone!

It's over.

Finally!

I cannot tell you what a massive relief this is.

I have never named her publicly through all of this, although I know some of you figured out who it was.

MrsFizzle. Kaylie Night.

I never shared the extent of what went on for several reasons, but mostly because I knew my socials were being watched and I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of knowing that what she was doing was so badly affecting my physical and mental health.

I was already dealing with a severe bout of depression and anxiety when she contacted me on FFN in October 2022. At that time, I did not have any socials linked to my FF accounts other than my art account on FFN. I was just getting back into fandom and hadn't decided how I wanted to engage yet. We had been talking in comments on AO3, and instead of asking me if I wanted to talk privately, she just appeared in my dms saying she wanted to talk so she "found" me. This was disturbing, especially since she indicated she was aware I likely did not want to hear from her, but I brushed it off as anxiety talking. I had said I wanted fandom friends after all. And I had no reason not to talk to her.

I should have listened to my instinct.

She straight up told me what she was going to do and how she was going to do it- take my work and Audrey to chop up and use as she pleased. She immediately began to gaslight me by saying she had all of this already written and was giving me a heads up so I wouldn't think she copied. Later, she insisted she would not change anything about Ashley, which made her previous offer to change her name not sincere.

I felt I couldn't say anything about this, not even saying yes, please change the name. What right did I have anyway? It's fanfiction. Mine is the only story like it in the fandom and recognizable, so she'll credit me, and I'll get over it.

I hated it, though. I hated what I thought she was trying to do, and I hated myself for thinking that of someone new to and excited about the fandom. I've been in BMW fanfiction since 2002 and have always had a great experience with it and the people in it. I convinced myself that I was reading into things, and that depression and anxiety were skewing my perception.

Over a year later, while putting the report together, I saw her own words in comments with the dates on them telling me she read AiP and Flashbacks before writing her story, I just didn't catch it. I also saw all the lies she told her readers about the situation. I saw the little comments picking at my characters and story line, the ones she said she loved so much to make herself look better. I can't imagine what she was telling people privately with how bold as she was publicly.

She lied to me about everything from why Ashley's name was so similar to Audrey's to the plot she had planned for her "little family". Told me our OCs had to be the same because they were written for the same character. They had to be younger than Jon, had to have a traumatic backstory, and had to be good with teens, very pretty, etc. There were differences: her character wasn't as young as mine and "had more of an edge to her".

Also she said she couldn't tag Ashley as an OC because she wasn't. Not really. To say she was original would be "presumptuous". She existed in GMW.

Somehow Audrey did not nor did any other OC love interest for Jon even though they too were nurses like in canon. Unbelievably, she even told a reader Ashley was a canon character.

We talked for one week.

It was a miserable seven days. I set my discord status to invisible to get rid of the pressure to respond right away when she messaged. She didn't like this and wanted to know why she couldn't tell when I was online.

No one else ever shows up like that she said, why do you?

I made something up and said a bunch of things to appease her, but I was worried about why this was such an issue, especially since many of my friends were also permanently invisible. The fear she was watching my online movement just had to be my anxiety driving paranoia, right? She couldn't be. Who has time for that?

A fandom friend I had been talking to about the conversations as they happened advised me to get out. She said I shouldn't be afraid and anxious when talking to someone about fandom things.

I finally got the courage to end it. She didn't like being cut off. I tried to be nice about it and took all the blame on myself for this fandom friendship not working out, but that wasn't enough. I finally had to be forceful (or honest I suppose) and tell her I felt like I was being lied to because what she told me was different than what she was telling other people.

She denied it of course and was very offended.

"May God deal with me as He sees fit if I have intentionally decieved you."

This closed out one of her last FFN messages and always bothered me. Was it purposely worded like that or a Freudian slip? In hindsight, now that she's deleted everything, maybe He did just that.

I found out later that the "repetitive stress injury paired with hypermobility" in her wrists that left her unable to type for a year was not her story. See I have hypermobility in my lower body, really bad in my hips. In talking to her, a lot of what she said didn't make sense and she often wouldn't give direct answers. Later on Reddit she announced that her wrists were suddenly healed, all better now. I had no clue you could be cured of hypermobility (you can't).

When compiling the plagiarism report, I came across the AN on a story written by a close friend of hers (I was blocking all close associates). What was it about? A repetitive stress wrist injury paired with hypermobility. It looked like it went up during the time we were talking.

She told me one thing about why she left her job in the AO3 comments. Then she used my own AN about why I left teaching (internal school politics) to come up with a different reason for leaving education on FFN that honestly made no sense to me but I didn't question her. She then told Reddit something different.

There were other instances where she took someone else's story and claimed it as her own real-life tale. Some of this was public, too. Either she thought no one would pick up on it, or she thought she could say anything she wanted and not be held accountable. I don't know.

Then there was the drive to push me out of the fandom using what weaknesses she knew I had to do it. Looking back, she was very good at it. Too good for it to be the first time she'd done this to someone. She claimed I was the first person since high school she'd had drama with and the first ever online. I highly doubt that now.

I had Cameos from Tony Quinn and had spoken to him in dms. I mentioned these to her, and she insisted on seeing them. I didn't want to share them. They were special to me with a lot of personal things said. But I was selfish by not sharing, right? So, I gave in, edited out the personal stuff, and sent them to her.

Immediately I regretted it.

As soon as she indicated she's seen them, I deleted them. Then she said she hadn't seen part of one and none of the others, could I send again? I ended up making an excuse as to why I couldn't - too much personal info. Truthfully, I had the inexplicable fear she was going to take the videos and claim them as her own.

You see, she didn't care anything about Tony whom I've been a big fan of since 1994 when we first started talking. He was just some old guy to her. Until she found out how much I liked him. Then suddenly she was his biggest fan and just had to meet him because he was so wonderful. They lived in the same state after all. Oh, but don't worry I would get to meet him too someday for sure, she told me... on the other side of heaven. 🙄

When I told my friend about this one, she said to cut contact.

(Ironically, by the time we started talking, Tony had already moved back to my home state, where he and his wife are from. Learned that from his Pod Meets World interview that came out a month after we stopped talking. I cried-laughed the first time I listened to the interview.)

She liked to point out how old I was. I never told her, she did the math and figured it out she said. She was wrong, but it didn't matter. She was aware of personal insecurities and liked to push this one. I told her things I should not have but I was desperate for another friend and I convinced myself that all the warning sirens I was hearing in my head was just anxiety.

Towards the end of our time talking on Discord, she had started the subtle dismantling of my confidence in AiP. I was very aware that my work was outside of the norm for the fandom at the time and was often insecure about it. With little feedback at the time, I didn't know what to do.

It's a trilogy, split it into three parts maybe, so the word count isn't so intimidating?

She told me the story was too long, and even splitting it into three parts wouldn't help- no one reads sequels or will go back to read the first parts. On the other hand, no one would be interested in giving it a chance because of the length. Also, the story wasn't healing- and that is why people read, you know. Her attitude toward Audrey grew chilly and very, "she's an OC, people don't like OC main characters." This was a drastic departure from her comments on AiP.

Then she started bragging about how well her story was doing and all the comments she got. Fans were just begging her for more.

After I cut contact, she blocked me on Reddit and purposely took over the Jon and Jon and Shawn threads so I couldn't participate. This continued until I blocked her. She didn't like having her participation limited.

Blocks on both sides were lifted for awhile. I wish I hadn't lifted mine. But I had been so looking forward to season 2 of PMW and wanted to talk to others about it and Mr. Turner. I thought I could handle dealing with her more out there takes.

During this time, I noticed a sharp drop in interaction on my stories.

Readers not from Reddit or FFN disappeared. I always wondered about the timing. Readers gushed over her, though, and several indicated they were talking to her on Discord, too.

She knew how much fandom connection meant to me and took every opportunity to flaunt hers, whether in her comments or on Reddit. She had a thing for following me around and posting where I did, including on other people stories.

I mentioned this feeling of being left out and wondering if there was a Discord server for BMW I didn't know about. She said there was none she knew of and told me no one wanted to talk about BMW in a discord server anyway. All the people she talked to were uncomfortable with that. They only wanted to talk to her privately.

Turns out that was another lie.

Not only did I find that people wanted a discord server, in a comment thread with her and another reader about wanting to discuss head canon offsite, one of those readers "uncomfortable with discord servers" created one of their own and dropped a link inviting them to it some months before that conversation.

It wasn't the existence of a private server that bothered me so much. If there was, there was. It was the way she told me: everyone wanted her, nobody wanted me.

Had it not been for readers alerting me to the stolen work, I would never have known any of this. I'd still be wondering why the fanfiction side of the fandom wanted little to do with me when I sincerely tried to give back as much as I got and tried to welcome/encourage writers, especially new Jon & Shawn writers.

Then she contacted me on Christmas Eve 2022 on Reddit. After I made it clear I wanted nothing to do with her. As always, I was too nice. I still blamed myself and the anxiety for everything that happened. She offered friendship and apologies and then abruptly ripped the offer away when I expressed having reservations. When I didn't do what she wanted, she got mean.

Admittedly, her hurtful words about having "tons" of fandom friends to talk to when I didn't upset me. Since she liked to talk about God and being a Christian, I shot her some Bible verses about words and told her how cruel she was.

That didn't go over well.

Later I felt bad about it. Maybe I was too harsh, too judgemental, too sensitive. Blaming my anxiety for my reaction, I stupidly reached out on Valentine's Day 2023 to try to make peace with her.

She was even meaner and now saying she was afraid of me. She said I had hurt her so much she couldn't trust me. She admitted that she'd hurt me too but wouldn't say how, just that we kept hurting each other, so she was too scared to talk to me.

What?

I was talking about her, she claimed. And that was too much. She couldn't take the pain and stress of being talked about online. Oh, and her depression was worse and she struggled more, so what I was going through didn't matter.

Did I talk about her online?

In the aftermath of the Discord chats, I was angry she wouldn't leave me alone when asked. I resented her trying to push me out of a fandom I've been in since I was a little kid. I vented my frustration by making a wildest opinion that fans had heard over the years post on Reddit. Mine was that Jon was a coward for letting Shawn go back to Chet. I never named her or how I'd heard this opinion. I didn't think she was even still around the subreddit.

She outed herself.

I think the biggest problem with the post was that no one agreed with her take. I deleted the post not long after it was made and apologized to her for it later, but it wasn't good enough.

The next thing wasn't even about her. I told her that when she contacted me on Reddit. Someone had posted about having to block someone online and why. I responded sympathetically, referencing something that had happened before I met her. She refused to accept that my comment wasn't about her. Of course, I was talking about her, how could I not be?

Everything was about her no matter what the topic was.

But these were the terrible things I did to her that made her afraid of me. She couldn't come up with anything else. Turns out what she was really afraid of was that I would find out what she was doing and what she was telling others.

For 16 months I was so stressed and depressed that I started having panic attacks again. @lizettevanessa and later @mrsmungus virtually held my hand and talked me through these. They spent hours trying to help me calm down and get me to think rationally over that time.

I have type 1 diabetes and stress is a killer for me. Throughout this ordeal, my blood sugar was stuck at over 300 for hours on end and it seemed that no matter how much insulin I used it wasn't enough. And then the bottom would fall out and my blood sugar crashed. It was a never-ending cycle of trying to bring down highs and bring up lows. This led to stomach problems, constant migraines, and eventually hair loss. I had so many nights where I couldn't sleep. I was so depressed I couldn't work out and I couldn't cope with online or rl situations that shouldn't have been a big deal.

It also triggered the ED.

I hadn't had a relapse in years.

Online I was always looking over my shoulder wondering if the people in fandom were being honest with me or if they were pretending to be my friend while reporting back to her. I know for a fact one person in the BMW server was doing this. I know at least a couple of readers/friends were involved and that she created alts impersonating others.

Trying to run an inclusive, welcoming fandom server while trying to protect myself was a nightmare.

I honestly can't put into words how much damage she did. It was only because of my chaos family and sis @mrsmungus that I didn't quit everything. No exaggeration. I came very close several times to deleting over 20 years of work and history because of her.

What I've just told you is a just a part of what I've dealt with since late 2022.

The worst part is I think she'd be pleased to know how effective her tactics were. I don't know what was going on in her life that drove her to do this. I don't know if she is just that jealous, entitled, and petty a person or if she was lashing out because of something done to her and this was the only way she could get revenge- by going after an easy target and inflicting the same hurt she'd suffered.

What did she gain by doing all of this? If if I had left the fandom, what was the end goal? There were/are a lot of Jon and Shawn adoption writers out there. Would she drive them out to so she could be the BNF of BMW?

I've been in online fandom for over 20 years and I've learned that fandom is cyclical. Favorite tropes, characters, etc. change over time, falling out of favor and then becoming popular again. It would be a full-time job plus overtime trying to stay on top.

As for me, all she had to do is admit where her inspiration came, just once, just a note. Instead, she chose to lie, manipulate, and harass me just so she didn't have to admit it.

It's incredibly stupid if you stop to think about it.

But she is gone now and all of that is gone with her.

I don't know what happened that made her nuke everything and I do not care. It doesn't matter.

I used to want that story rewritten or gone. But in all honesty, I am ecstatic to see she's gone.

Good riddance.

Looking back, I get the feeling she is a very privileged person who has been sheltered from having to deal with the consequences of her actions for a long time and not just online.

Going back over all the private correspondences with her, the ones she had a with a mutual reader that were sent to me, and her response to AO3 that was removed by staff, in them is a trend in claiming something awful happened to her making it impossible for anything to be her fault when confronted with something negative. Flu, injury, baby, computer theft, ID theft, etc. There was always an excuse. She was always the victim.

She got away with it until she didn't.

I really do hope she deals with whatever caused her to act this way. It's terrible for those who cross her path who aren't her constant cheerleader, but it's worse for her in the end.

You can't be like that and be happy.

You know what is sad?

She's actually a talented writer. She could have taken that story and really done something special with it. The foundation was there. She could have taken Ashley and made her into a fully developed, living, breathing character who could have shaped her family unit in a way that didn't look anything like mine even if the same basic elements were there. It would have been so easy for her to do. Instead, she picked what she wanted from mine, minced it up, and harassed me over what she was doing.

AO3's verdict on my report, which was still out a year later, no longer matters since she deleted everything.

If by chance Kaylie is reading this or does read this someday, let me be very clear: Do not think I feel sorry for you in any way. Do NOT contact me for any reason, not even to apologize. Do not come at me with new accounts anywhere. I do not care if it's ten years from now. I want nothing to do with you.

Yet out of all this mess, there were some incredible things that came of it. Because of her behavior, it drove me to get involved with fanfiction outside of the fandom and find my online family. If I had the chance to go back in time and avoid her, but it meant not finding my family, I'd decline. Her nonsense was worth finding them.

Because of her, I did become afraid to get involved with fandom people and very nearly missed meeting someone who is very dear to me. @justanotherpersonwhowrites posted her story on FFN and I completely panicked when I saw the description of her OC. Thankfully she posted on Tumblr and AO3 later on as I was finding my family. I reread her story and fell in love with her OC. I got up the courage to reach out and I am so glad I did. She is an amazing person, a talented writer, and an incredible friend.

Also the BMW discord server happened because of Kaylie. I didn't want others to be isolated from the fandom like I was and Reddit is good for some things but not others. Not only is it an archive for the show but a place for fans to find each other. It is also a safe place for fanfiction writers to get together.

So what happens now?

Autumn in Philadelphia will go on, without a doubt. And I will be picking up my other stories that were more lighthearted and fun. I have a series of Jondrey one shots that I really want to do too. A lot fun stuff and art. I'll be more active on here and in the BMW server.

The AN that's on every story will be changed to link to this post.

As for blocks, they will remain for now.

The reason is I've been through too many bouts of silence only for her to resurface. Although she can't return in the same way, I don't know that she doesn't still have former readers acting as her eyes and ears. Eventually all blocks will be lifted except on those I know to be her friends because she named them as such.

I still have the report, the screencaps (soooo many screencaps), all her messages, and a copy of that story. I took screenshots of all the places she used to exist but doesn't anymore because it still doesn't seem real. I thought about purging everything, but they are now a part of AiP's history. Someday I'll get around to building that neocities site as a tribute to the era this all began in and I will include everything: the fantastic, the strange, and the nightmarish.

I want to extend my eternal gratitude to one of my dearest friends, @lizettevanessa, to my sis @mrsmungus, to little sis @justanotherpersonwhowrites, to @lena-hills @kayedium-writes @hylianjo @sliebman10 @axolotlsupremacyowo @udaberriwrites @fattybattysblog @narcissasdaffodil @danceswithdarkspawn and the rest of my Chaos family for your love and support during the past two years. I owe you everything.

And to my readers, who've been with me whether from the beginning or just joined, THANK YOU. I love and appreciate you more than you know.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

-Aria

[frostycatblr-fandom-files]

One chapter a month is pretty good progress! :) And you never have to worry about going on a "bit long" either; I always love seeing what stands out to you (and any of my readers, for that matter)! 🩷

I just love a good excuse for using some of my favorite archetype-specific tropes I've discovered over the years. Uncertain if there's a better way to put it than "Snipers see everything you're doing." because this may not be an "official" trope, but perhaps that helps explain or expanding on why only Ricochet noticed the amount of time Wolffe spent with Arcadia (slightly less tangible), as opposed to both Hash and Ric noticing who had their commander's blaster (something more tangible/noticeable) in the conversation that took place. 😊

This Orchid and Soapsuds exchange. Goodness, it still amuses me so much - no matter how many times I've re-read this chapter! Sweet ol' Suds truly didn't intend to (maliciously) air out his brother's "dirty laundry", but it's a 1000% fanfiction. 🤭

And I'm trying to think of how to say this is a "Fun Fact" kind of manner (not in a "please read my other stuff!" way) but I have planned on Orchid's reading habits and a "good friend of the 104th" making a special appearance in my OC storyline just because tying the stories together in some way sounded fun. Many of the characters have pretty similar reactions to the one you did, which is why I'm mentioning it at all.

Without checking, I don't remember if you've stated that in previous chapters. However, I do know he's your favorite Jedi from some posts and tags that you added in your reblogs - my memory is sharp enough for that, at least! 😊 And I'm delighted to see that I must've nailed the "fatherly" aspect of his character because that's exactly what I was going for here. 🥰

I have to ask, is this a nod to C-3PO? “No, General. Hasn’t been a protocol droid aboard in some time.” Rather than regret, the reply seems like masked relief.

Yeah, it is! Couldn't resist. 🤭

Same goes for Wolffe's lingering grasp on the sketchbook and path of reassurance. (And the slip-up he quickly tried to correct!) Having Wolffe be very direct about both of these felt a little too out-of-character. So doing this felt like it made more sense for him without sacrificing the intention of these actions. Very subdued, but still kind acts.

All of that, of course, before Wolffe goes for the complete opposite by using himself as a protective shield. Far from subdued or subtle!!

There's so much I could go on about here regarding this segment alone, but perhaps I'll save it for a time when I can be a little more coherent about it. Stayed awake slightly later than I meant trying to wrap up my reply and schedule it for the morning, haha. But very worth it. Your in-depth commentaries/reactions are seriously among some of the best comments I could ever hope for my work to be blessed with. 🥲🥰🩷

Poets and Painters (Deep Night) - Wolffe x Reader [Mature Fic]

Warnings and Information: In desperate need of just one day to take his and his men's mind off the war, Plo Koon orders that everyone make a stop on a relatively uninhabited planet in a peaceful sector of the galaxy to… have a picnic? Just what does he have in mind? A certain flint-gray Commander is finding it hard to believe that they're just on the planet for a day of R&R in the middle of a war, so he isn't letting his guard down. Perhaps someone will help Commander Wolffe find some way to help him relax before the day is over…

2nd person POV. Reader is undescribed save for minor details like personal touches to a uniform, and has a gender-neutral alias. Allusions to canon-typical violence, mention of injury and loss. Plo just being a dad to the 104th Battalion in the background. Swearing. Discussion of more adult themes and some lewd jokes (this is not an Explicit fic but it is Mature; Minors please DNI). Takes place on a fictional planet. 

Word-count: 7,300

Deep Night

Since Commander Wolffe left you with the sketch in your hands so suddenly, you've been in something of a daze, trying to make sense and meaning out of the phrase he left behind below the sketch of you in phase two armor. 

‘Behind the teeth and claws, there is a beating heart.’

You don't understand. Is this supposed to be about you? Is the phrase in reference to him? And regarding what, for that matter: how he feels about himself, or something he sees in you? 

You selfishly wish he would have explained what he means with the deliberate fashion of these nine words before answering the Jedi's summons. Who are these words meant for, and why did you choose them? will have to wait until Wolffe is dismissed, however. He, Sinker, Boost and Plo Koon have been locked in something of a private discussion for what feels like the last half hour.

Arguing. 

(If you can call it that.)

“We should contact another general and let them know what's going on in the event something happens.” Wolffe has insisted for the fifth time. 

“And exactly what are you expecting to happen, sir?” Boost asks just as insistently for the fifth time. He's known that his brother and leader has been on edge all day, he’s been far from blind to it. But the perceived unwillingness, perhaps even stubbornness to refuse to elaborate on what it is Wolffe fears will happen to the battalion in this encounter is starting to get on Boost’s nerves. Why won't you tell us? you're sure he wants to come right out and ask. 

“This is a largely uninhabited planet. We don't know by whom, or how many times Little Archossi has been visited by someone other than us.” 

“What are you getting at?” comes the half-snarled reply to Commander Wolffe. You’re not sure which sergeant the question came from. Or why the Kel Dor hasn’t said a single word in this whole time. General Plo, in your opinion (and experience with risk analysis), is not helping matters by choosing to remain silent rather than encouraging his commanding officers to pause and take a few clarifying breaths before tackling the concerns at hand. 

Paranoia and overcautious stratagem verses being a smidge too lax. 

Commander Wolffe must be paranoid enough for the whole of the battalion. These are his men, his brothers. Whether it was drilled into him under Kamino's rainy skies, or taken up as his own, personal creed since the Abregado battle, he sees to it that they will stay safe at all times whenever they are not in the thick of battle. 

That much is clear to you now.

Were it not for a duty to the Republic, his General, you want to, almost could imagine him abandoning his post and absconding with every brother he can, or at least wish to. I refuse to lose you to war, were I a more selfish man. 

Not another brother lost. 

And throw a largely-untrained civilian in the mix, someone without those primary and secondary instincts these men rely on, it’s hardly surprising that you hear your name cropping up in hushed or hissed voices that have only become easier to hear since everyone has been instructed to ‘tighten formation’, more or less. 

“Hold on- Is- Isn’t that one of the Commander’s blasters? Why does Arcadia have one of Commander Wolffe’s blasters?” one Clone asks, nudging a brother with the edge of his elbow. 

Their voices drop into deep, conferring whispers for a moment, and they either work out that it was offered to you for the purposes of self defense, or come up with their own creative explanation. You can't hear a word they say before the second man turns to the first and tries confirming suspicions. 

“You think maybe the two of them-? What? Don't look at me like that! Commander Wolffe has been spending an awful lot of time with Arcadia today, don't tell me you haven't seen it, Hash!” 

Hash shakes his head and answers he hasn't been paying much attention to what everyone else is doing today, murmuring something about how it ‘must be a sniper’s thing’ to pay that much attention to everyone at all times. He's been too busy daydreaming about new and unique ways to lay waste to the Seppie clankers the next time the 104th battalion faces them. 

“It is not just a “sniper's thing”, Hash...” 

The brother's glowering look is answered with a confused (or maybe unconvinced) shrug. “Sure, Ricochet, if you say so.” Ricochet sighs bitterly, the words forget it jumping from his lips in that same breath. Getting up, he brushes away what he can see of the wet, loose blades of grass that cling to the sterile white plastoid, and politely excuses himself before Hash calls out to remind him of something left behind in the grass. 

“Wait, Ric, your rifle!”

Everyone has been reminded of the sentiment from this morning that above all, if it can be helped, the one-oh-fourth should not appear to the inhabitants of this little, largely unrecorded planet as an open threat. You’re all encouraged to keep your weaponry close as a precautionary measure. Besides: say you did have the means to contact them in the early morning, what could you have said? 

Come to think of it, would either party understand each other’s intentions if there was a barrier in language? Hmm…  Suddenly that’s of some concern to you, but you’re not willing to crash the discussion being had by the Jedi and his commanding officers, now that Plo has stepped in to offer his thoughts and insight. Now doesn’t seem like a good time, given what concentrated expressions you can make out in the moonlight, so you’re going to give it a few minutes, at least.

That should give you the time to come up with some solutions to offer them, actually. In the event you find the inhabitants don’t speak Basic, how best could you come up with a way to draw or show such broad concepts like peace, or convey a message that promises you mean them no harm in the spiral bound pages of your sketchbook or the screen of someone’s datapad?

… This is proving harder than you thought. 

And you are not alone in your confusion, your mild frustration, that the conversation between Plo Koon and Commander Wolffe, has continued even now that Sergeants Sinker and Boost have been dismissed. (What could they be talking about now given the comforting nature of the Kel Dor’s hand clasped over the Clone’s shoulder, just above the symbol of the wolf head?) It’s none of your business, but you’re certainly free to wonder, free to let your mind wander in the same way the fireflies continue to float through the glade.

Roused from your thoughts, you find someone calling your name. “Man, the Commander's still busy… Arcadia! Hey, Arcadia, do you want to join us for a quick strategy game or something?” Tack offers, holding up his datapad in demonstration. “It's real simple. I can teach it to you while we play since it's team-based.” 

What the hell. Why not? “Who are we playing against?” you ask with a curious perk of your brow. You pull your datapad out of the canvas bag among your other things, hiding the art book away for the time being as you scoot over next to Tack in the grass.

“Suds and Orchid.” says Tack.

“Oh hells,” Soapsuds moans in mock-complaint, “we're doomed.”

“Don’t be such a cadet about it, Suds, we'll be fine! Just gimme a second to finish what I'm reading…” Orchid insists, halfheartedly raising his right index finger to say one minute please.

Soapsuds makes the mistake of leaning sideways to read off the screen of his shoulder-partner’s datapad, lips fluttering wordlessly as he indulges curiosity. He swears for the first time all day to your knowledge. “What the fuck are you reading? ‘There was only one bacta tank’...?” 

“Great flying Aiwhas, shut up!” Orchid demands in panic, trying to flip over the screen where it lands face-down in the grass in his hurry. “If you're gonna look, don't read anything out loud, bucket-brain!!”

A knuckle is stuffed into your mouth in efforts to keep yourself from giggling at Orchid's expense; you feel it's only fair after how he covered for you this afternoon. What you read is your own business. Just like what he reads is his. If fanfiction (because there's no damn way that's not a fanfiction trope) for some medical holo-drama is Orchid's guilty pleasure, then good for him. Tack pointedly says nothing altogether, instead taking it upon himself to make sure you either have or need the necessary game installed to your datapad. 

Orchid groans defeatedly when he picks up his device. “Oh fuck, I lost my place…” Sighing, he says everyone might as well start playing the strategy game. He won't look Suds in the eye right away, either, clearly frustrated. 

“I'm sorry.” Suds says timidly, gap between the top of his shoulders and his ears shrinking in shame.

“I… I know you are, Suds, you just-” Shaking his head, the Clone with the namesake of a flower just silences himself before he says something he might either regret, or knows will only serve to hurt a brother's feelings in order to spare his own. “Let's talk about something else.” Orchid mumbles after a rather pregnant pause. “Have you played this game before, Arcadia?”

“Not sure what we’re playing and if I have,” you say, trying to find a more comfortable position to sit in, “but Tack’s offered to teach me.”

Suds visibly perks up, retracting his teasing statement from earlier. “So maybe we’re not doomed.” The optimism is short-lived, but it’s precious to see in the moment. 

“Don’t be so sure about that...” Tack returns ominously with a shit-eating grin and a wagging finger just for the sake of theatrics. “We’re all going to play a short and simple game so Arcadia gets a feel for it before anything, and then we’ll play one round for real.” While he walks you through the settings, Tack explains that the game is an espionage simulator of sorts, and a proper game can carry on for ages, making it perfect for those prolonged periods of deep-space travel. Maybe the next time the one-oh-fourth is tasked with a peace mission, they’ll come find you if they can and wrangle you into someone’s team so you get the full experience.

You find that offer very sweet. “Heh. I think I’d like that very much. Sounds like a plan.” 

Just as Commander Wolffe predicted: his brothers would likely wish you were around more, or looked to include you when it came to “doing nothing”. Surprised that it happened this soon, perhaps? Whatever. You’ll take whatever reason, whatever excuse to keep your mind from gravitating towards worrying about what could come crawling out of that living sea of bark and leaf and twig that goes beyond the pale of typical anxieties.

You’re not going to demonize or vilify or think poorly of the inhabitants before you even meet them, of course, that would be wrong of you. Same way it would have been wrong of you to pass verbal judgment of Commander Wolffe this morning before talking to Tack, before giving Wolffe a chance to prove his character to you.

He was a touch dour, at times, certainly… but wouldn’t you likely be, too, if you endured such things and survived? When you survive hard times, you are forever changed by them; the evidence of your ordeal clings to you like thousands of tiny, root-like tendrils, invisible to all but your own eyes.

But forgetting all that for a moment, you really should focus! You’ve been invited to play a game, and while the nature of it invites ample opportunity to sit in long stretches of silence and thought, you can’t keep getting distracted while Tack has offered to teach you the ropes.

You can spend as much time as you want thinking about the once-maroon commander’s history when you’ve completed the game and raised your concerns to him and the Jedi about communication with the people of Little Archossi.

It’s been easy enough so far, helping Tack deploy countermeasures and set up defenses in hopes of trapping Orchid and Soapsuds while each team navigates a large, digital compound in order to steal generically labeled “galactic secrets”. The idea is each team must contend with not only the facility’s failsafes, but deliberate sabotage efforts that will trigger impassable blockades meant to slow the other infiltrating team down, and find an alternate route. Soon enough, you and Tack are roughly neck-and-neck with Orchid and Suds.

It’s currently their turn to make a move, leaving you and the Clone researcher to wait. Suds taps Orchid’s shoulder-plate to get his attention “Hey what if…?” Orchid shakes his head, showing what he has in mind. Suds doesn’t seem to approve, grimacing. “I dunno… Bit much to execute that on someone who’s never played before, don’t you think?”

“Mm? That’s not what I- Oh, sithspit, sorry. Showed you the wrong thing.” Orchid apologizes, making a few hurried taps along his screen to fix the mistake. “This. I meant this.”

“... that’ll work.” 

They activate the responsive measure, meaning you and Tack are now sealed off from taking that route, and they’re a step ahead in claiming the prize. You’ll have to take a longer route to get around the doors, unless you want to waste time and risk the codeslicing at the control panel failing. 

“What happens if codeslicing fails?” you ask everyone as you and Tack plot your new path, “Like what can happen, as some general examples?” 

“Failing to codeslice triggers a few things, and it’s all randomized.” Orchid jumpstarts the explanation for everyone. You might end up sealing up the entire compound and locking everyone in by mistake. Sometimes you end up electrocuting yourself… somehow. Sometimes the wrong thing opens, instead, like a trapdoor. There’s a couple of other outcomes that you’d have to worry about if you were playing on a higher difficulty, or against others of their brothers who believed in ‘gunning for it’, too. All and all it’s a rather informative summary. 

(Never blindly agree to play against an ARC trooper, is heavily emphasized advice.)

“Huh… yeah, think I’ll leave any slicing to the researcher, just in case.” you offer with a slightly nervous chuckle as you adjust the position of your legs. You’re not used to sitting for most of the day, and you’re uncertain if you’re becoming antsy, or if the slight tingle in your toes hails to a budding circulation issue. You never really thought about just how much walking you do around the durasteel halls of the Triumphant until your expectation of a typical day had been taken and turned on its head. When you spend so much time on your feet, so little time at rest, you kinda just get used to being on the move. 

Kinda like Commander Wolffe, actually… Except you’re privileged enough to know how to relax; to even have that option.

The game is over rather swiftly, Orchid and Suds beating your team by a matter of seconds. Incredibly, the secret files contain actual information, always in the form of either a recipe, or some general trivia. It’s a recipe for roasted nuna legs on a bed of your least favorite vegetable, glazed with bantha butter, in this case. Orchid generously offers to share the spoils with you and Tack even though you lost since he’d want a brother, or a friend, to do the same for him. 

You make sure to tell him that’s rather kind of him, smiling over the transferred file name he sends. (anythins_better_than_rations.file)

“Hey, good effort, Arcadia.” Suds tells you encouragingly, and not just as a show of good sportsmanship. “I think you did pretty good! Seemed like Arcadia was picking it up pretty quickly, right, Tack? Was going really smoothly for the first time playing.”

Tack agrees with a wink while you gather up your things. “You’ll get even better next time. But where are you off to in such a hurry? I thought you were interested in doing a real round after the practice.” 

There’s a slight slowdown in your gathering, wondering how to explain yourself.  “I, uh, had a question for the General and-  and…” you say haltingly,  glancing in the direction of where both Commander Wolffe and General Plo had been, only to find it is now just the Kel Dor on the crown of the hill. “... where’d Commander Wolffe go?” He won’t be far, surely, but with some cloud cover creeping in, it’s limited your visibility allowed by the moonlight. Dawning on you now, you don’t have a ‘plastoid sunbonnet’ to utilize night vision like the rest of the Clones in the 104th who are compensating for the shifting environmental conditions without so much as a murmur while each man dons his helmet.

“Question about what?” Tack tries to ask, hoping that with a bit of gentle prodding, he can make sense of why you’re acting like this. Maybe he thinks you’re feeling fearful, apprehensive of the pressing dark while more and more men don their helmets, the soft hiss of setting seals sounding off all around you. “Do you need a light, or something?”

You shake your head politely. You can probably make your way to the other hill even in the semi-darkness safely enough without one, if you mind your footing. By what moonlight you still have, and maybe a little guiding glow of a datapad or a light clipped to someone, you're confident you'll make it okay. 

You’re not a lamb, you tell yourself. You only look the part among so many armored men in the glade. You find you feel more instances of courage than fear in your steps as a lamb walking among so many wolves, today. 

“I’ll be okay.” you promise. 

With a subtle turn of his head, your approach is acknowledged before you’ve spoken a word of greeting to Plo Koon, his eyes trained on the space between two trees in particular. Trees where the moonlight has not yet been snuffed out by the continual, creeping cloud cover. 

He greets you first, while you’re distracted, your name almost a pleased purr. “Arcadia… What can I help you with?”

Plo Koon breaks apart the loose lacing of his fingers and lays one of those same steady hands, previously folded against his stomach, on your own shoulder in a gesture of comfort, a silent measure of guidance. “I… well I had a question for both you and Commander Wolffe, General Plo, but I’m not seeing him.” you explain, any tightness of fear in your voice answered by a slow stroke of his thumb along the top of your shoulder. You suppose you could just tell the Jedi from Dorin, if needed, but… you’d rather Wolffe was there too. 

You think the Force-wielder can sense that, too.

“Don’t worry, Wolffe will return from the gunships in a moment. We’ve put some preparations in place before I intend to return to the settlement discovered earlier.” you’re promised in a tender tone, though he makes no elaboration of the preparations. The shoulder he grasps is graced with a comforting squeeze, just for a moment. It reminds you of times involving your family, your relatives, the people you call your close friends have offered you some of your greatest comfort. “If you would prefer, we’ll wait until he returns before you pull out your sketchbook and explain what concerns you before I depart.”

Voicing your amazement can’t be helped. “How’d you know I had something in my-? The Force?” 

“Mmm… Perhaps…” Plo Koon suggests. “Many gifts can be found in the Force, little one.” he adds sagely. (Deduction likely swings in his favor when people are creatures of habit, as well, if one thinks about this from all sides.)

“That sounds… That must be very overwhelming.” Admittance that it sounds rather confusing is traded for sympathy in its place. If the Force is in every living thing, surrounding and combining everything in an inexplicable weaving, then making sense of all the extra noise must be nothing short of challenging. That’s the moment when the usual comfort found in ‘the Force is available to all lifeforms’ sentiments becomes perverted and transformed by doubt and fear. How can you use the Force to calm your mind - like the young troopers were shown just the morning - when you’ve received no training, you wonder. 

Because as far as you understand there involves some level of training in order to wield it, no matter one’s capacity. 

Certainly doesn’t take training to discern the sound of boots picking their way through the grass and knowing they belong to Commander Wolffe before you and the General turn around to acknowledge him. After hearing him patrolling the edge of the clearing for hours this morning, the perfectly-paced drumming of his feet even across uneven terrain has become well known to you.

“General Plo. Arcadia.” His bucket is neatly tucked to his waist in the crook of his arm, rather than adorning his head, when he draws nearer. Action-ready best describes his appearance, even in the thick of twilight. “Didn’t I see you with Tack, Orchid and Soapsuds, just over there?” He’s asking you more to be sure of something, rather than accuse. “Unless, I’m mistaken. Apologies, if I… perhaps kept you waiting.”

The honeyed timbre of his voice sparks an odd warmth in your chest. “N-no, I was over there. They were teaching me a game, while you and the General were talking.” Suds offers an endearing, jovial wave when he sees the three of you looking in their direction. 

Saving the two of you from yourselves in the slow bloom of bashfulness he notices taking root, Plo Koon steps in, offering assurance and spurring the conversation along. “We haven’t been waiting long. Arcadia had something to ask us, Commander.” The unspoken oh, good in the release of Wolffe’s previously tense brow and overall expression is promising. If he hasn’t kept you waiting long, then there’s no need for further apologies. 

Instead, he’d like to get straight to it. “Understood, sir. When you’re ready, Arcadia.”

Extracting your spiral-bound, you quickly flip past all the spent pages once it’s in your hands to what you need, but you hold off on showing them the loose, airy sketches in graphite and ink right away. “I had a concern about a language barrier, in the event the native peoples don’t speak Basic. Is there a plan for that?” 

The Kel Dor and the Clone trade silent looks, only briefly. It gives you pause. If you went with your gut and hazarded a guess, you’d conclude that they have no such plan. 

In place of cupping his chin, Plo Koon taps a component of his anti-ox mask once in thought. “I don’t recall a protocol droid currently aboard the Triumphant… Commander?” 

“No, General. Hasn’t been a protocol droid aboard in some time.” Rather than regret, the reply seems like masked relief. “Which is unfortunate for today.” Wolffe adds a little too quickly to be a casual afterthought or a follow-up. 

“There are soldiers with experience in communications,” the Force-wielder points out, “so it would be wise to make them aware of these valid concerns.” While it is always a relief to have one’s concerns validated, validity given your current situation feels that much richer paired with the comforting hand that finds its place once more on your shoulder. “I will ask them to be prepared, soon, if that would bring you comfort, Arcadia.”

“It would. Thank you, General Plo.”

You can sort of tell, or at least guess, that Commander Wolffe is wrestling with something to say following up with this; in the end all he can offer you is a curt nod. Funny, that a simple gesture can tell you so much. 

That answers that. Glad your concerns could be addressed. 

Expressing further relief, further gratitude, you laugh off those dark graphite illustrations you tried coming up with. “Guess that also means we - heh - likely won’t need to fall back on these right away.” Though it will force him to either clip his bucket to his belt, or set it at his feet, you choose to give the art book to Wolffe to look at everything you tried coming up with. Giving it to Plo Koon, you worry he’d see his commander’s sketch of you by mistake, and doing so would put him on the spot. Force an explanation out of him in an inorganic manner, maybe. “I… I had the thought to start making those. Just in case we- well, y'know.” 

Again, all he offers is that same, curt nod while looking over the simplistic depictions. Each page is examined silently, tucked back tenderly when he's seen all there is to see. Loosely-shaped silhouettes, some with the ends of their arms overlapping - meant to depict shaking hands - makes him smile when he comes to that page square in the middle of the rest of the spread. 

“Friendship or peace?” he asks you, showing you your own creation and offering the general the chance to see it himself. 

You offer a shrug. “Either. Both.” 

Closing the book, Wolffe extends his hand to return your property to its rightful place. You reach out to take it, expecting him to release his own hold, only it remains in his hand as well. Just for a moment. 

One singular, eternal moment disturbed only with the low whistle of the wind through the forest and the glade. And the look on his face, between the scar, the cybernetic eye, you see an understanding of sorts. Sympathy. It’s a pity to him that you’ve done so much to help his anxieties today, and now you’re experiencing anxieties of your own and he feels he can do, say, so damn little to help. 

“Mmm. I suppose I see both.” he says at last, his voice a low, throaty hum when he prompts you to take the book back from him. “Here, you should hold onto this, for the time being, Arcadia.”

“I’ll keep it handy, just in case.” you promise in a short, breathless whisper. “Should you and the General decide to show it to the… the uh…” There was a flash of something in the trees in the now-scant rays of light from the moon, just over his shoulder, something swooping through the peripheral zone where forest meets clearing. It had been so swift, so silent, you can’t be completely certain you saw something to begin with.

The right, scarred brow quirks with curiosity before it furrows with concern. “Arcadia?” 

You point over his shoulder to both the Jedi and the Clone. “I saw something in the trees… just for a moment.” Instinctually, a gloved hand reaches for one of his DeeCees before the flint-gray commander fully turns around, facing down the forest. Just when the prickling dread begins to fade into the thought that your eyes are playing tricks on you and filling in information due to the low light, there’s a second sighting that is entirely enveloped in shadow, moving just as swiftly and as nimbly as before. A slight tremor begins in your hands, making it difficult to put away your things within the canvas bag you brought today. 

If they suspected danger, you’d likely be asked to shelter in the center-most LAAT. Something. You trust they’d keep you safe, without question. Without doubt.

“Quick, small. Movement pattern suggests it's likely a bird.” Wolffe determines as he resettles the weapon into its holster while turning to face you once more. “Nothing to be too frightened of.” He places the softest of emphasis he possibly can on the fourth word, a small action of assurance and compassion. I understand that you are scared, but I think you can relax. You’ll be safe. 

The initial, innocent murmur of reply that he’s right, it’s just a bird is followed up with self-scoldings and further rambling. You feel silly for feeling this anxious. Actually, you’re not even sure why you do feel this anxious. Yeah, everyone’s nervous of course about General Plo’s intent to return to the settlement and make contact with them, even though it’s a relief he won’t be going alone this time, but- Wait. Who’s even supposed to go with him? 

The general begins with an apology. “My apologies for failing to bring this up sooner, dear Arcadia…” He had forgotten momentarily, and had meant to inform you that in the discussion with the sergeants and the commander, you had been considered among those who would be coming with him. Commander Wolffe will be making this venture, along with Sergeant Sinker and a few other Clones while Sergeant Boost was left in command of those remaining behind in the clearing. But if you would prefer, you could stay with Boost instead. 

It should be your choice to go, no one will pressure you, or question your decision because you are not a soldier.

It feels like an incredible honor, a privilege even, to have been counted among those considered given your civilian status. But you’re not sure. Yes, you’d love to be of further help - because that’s what you’re here for, this is what you signed yourself up for. But what if things go wrong? Yes. you’re oh, so very curious about the Archossians. But there were so many concerns you were unaware of before, worries that had not previously existed. You’d be so exposed, ill-equipped compared to a Jedi and members of the wolfpack.

“C-can I have time to think about this? I’m sorry, I just think that bird got me a little worked up.” 

Yes of course, you’re promised. Taking time to think about this would be for the best, would have been given to you anyway had Plo remembered to tell you when he meant to. You don’t need to apologize or feel poorly for the nerves, either. That was only too understandable. 

It is Plo Koon who speaks, but Commander Wolffe’s hand that is laid on your shoulder this time, heavy and grounding. He is so warm through the raven-black gloves, the slate gray of your uniform. These are not insignificant layers, so how is he so warm? It could be because the ambient planetary temperature has dropped, but the heightened awareness of his touch makes it feel so much more intense. How does the entirety of something so small like his hand remind you of times you’ve basked in the glow of firelight, the warmth that encompassed you, cradled you head to toe simply sitting near it?

(Oh, Maker. How could one be so warm when he’s cloaked in glacier-cold plastoid?)

“We will leave, only once you’ve decided. Take what time you need.” General Koon promises, bowing his head as a mark of his sincerity to you. 

The warmth of his touch remains with you even after he’s released you, even after imparting his advice to you with an encouraging nod and a kinder, more tender tone you can’t recall him speaking to any other civilian crew before now. Before you. 

When he tells you “Go take a walk to clear your head, Arcadia.” you hear it in the voice of a concerned friend, rather than that of a superior.

“I’ll- We’ll wait for you.”

On forested planets, the fresh air should feel so rejuvenating, so invigorating. It should remind you of those beautiful vernal times in your life, the tender sprouts of new growth so precious, so timeless, poking through winter-hardened soil. It should bring to mind things like frog-spawn and the skittish, hooved things that stare at you in mingled fear and wonder as they stand shock-still; their thorning, arching crowns of bone that always look too heavy for such a delicately shaped creature. You should think of those wispy childhood memories punctuated with the presence of crisp linens and budding fruit and petrichor in a place like this. 

So why do you feel so suffocated instead?

You told your fellow crewmates that you were staying. Staying for whatever reason. First you’d be armed with Soapsuds’ blaster. Now it’s one belonging to the flint-gray commander. There had been no initial, serious qualms about meeting with the Archossians, but now, you’re practically dragging a growing web of worry after you with every additional step in the ankle-high grass as you ponder. Every step is measured, deliberate. For safety, you shouldn’t get too close to the trees while you plot along in your pondering patrol.

You had been considered. But you don’t have to go. Maybe you had been wanted for your risk analysis. But they would have said as much, when they told you. Perhaps Plo Koon, his commander, thought you’d be safest if you were kept in closer proximity to them, being responsible for your safety. So surely, they would have laid that out as their reason, were that the case?

And what in the Maker’s name is going on when it comes to your thoughts of - for - the gray commander anyway? Where are all these thoughts coming from now that the sun has been felled from the sky, and the pewter moon has taken her place?

“What is wrong with you, Arcadia…?” you hiss under your breath, not for the first time, or the fifth. Not even the nineteenth, if you count all your unspoken self-questioning. Something just feels amiss. There’s something that’s wormed its way in between the folds of ever-churning thought and new observations from today.

Commander Wolffe is the epicenter of all of it. 

You’re sure of it. 

The planet, the patrolling, the history of the armor paint, the sketches both done by you and of you… it’s all becoming so connected to him. You could never disentangle him from what’s transpired today. From tension to tenderness, you’ve been witness to too much to forget anytime soon.

You almost fear you’ve gotten yourself too involved too soon, entangled yourself too tightly by making your goodness and your heart so freely available to a man who only just this morning had you questioning if a briefing was overboard. Now it just seemed so harmless. Tame, even.

Ground rules laid out with good intentions, his brothers’ safety in mind… How could you think he was overbearing for that?

You didn’t know. Tack had to tell you, was the one who volunteered information about Abregado to help you understand as someone fairly green to the one-oh-fourth. It was the researcher who first divulged that a formidable enemy to the Jedi was responsible for claiming his commanding officer’s right eye. Eyes that have watched you, studied you, tracked you since calling across the other hill to ask what you were doing from his place under the tree. 

Terra cotta, marigold and sunflower leaves. Fawn trunk. Sage grass. And no gray coloring pencil.

You struggled with allowing yourself to call him a friend only a short time ago, but now, that doesn’t feel like it’s enough for the profound respect and sympathy he’s extracted from you. No. There’s something more.

Is what you're feeling merely limerence? Is it love? Has Wolffe charmed you so quickly - perhaps without even truly trying - that you're in such a tumultuous tailspin that you're… almost scared? Almost afraid that should you continue to chip past a grizzled exterior and the ever-roiling anxieties Commander Wolffe keeps a lid on, you'll find yourself truly and too deeply entrenched? Know for a fact that you are falling in love? (Loved by him in return?) 

Distracted in all your storm of thoughts, you’ve strayed too close to the edge of the clearing without realizing; for this, you are targeted. 

The people of Little Archossi are awake. 

Something lands with a sharp thunk! at your feet, narrowly missing your left foot. In the darkness, with the moon still enshrouded in clouds, it’s hard to make out exactly what it is, but it looks to be a… A blow dart?

"What the-?"

"Arcadia, GET DOWN!" Commander Wolffe shouts, nearer than you’d think. You're suddenly pulled backwards, and Wolffe, in most of his kit, throws himself on top of you. You're trembling and twitching in fright below him; wracked with disbelief that he's using his body as a shield for you, of all people. 

You're not one of his men. You're not too important to the crew of the Triumphant. You're by and large unimportant. But it's you who Commander Wolffe has put himself in harm's way for, growling into the sensitive skin of your neck to stop squirming as he tries to ensure you're properly covered under him and make sense of why you’re flailing so much. "Are you hurt? Arcadia, were you hit?" The combined, pressing weight of his body and his armor feels crushing with him practically sharing oxygen with you. 

His helmet must lie in the tall grass somewhere, forgotten. There is no narrow, oddly crimped visor that can soften, or break the strength of his roaming gaze over you now. Storm gray and warm hickory bore into you, and you’re sure nearly through you with the intensity of that gaze. And it’s not the burning, lustful intensity you’d read about in some trashy, guilty-pleasure romance novel either: it's the intensity that you find in the desperate and frightened.

"You're heavy!" you wheeze, fingers clutching the grass for some semblance of support or as an anchor. "Ge-get off!!" Being forcibly pinned down, almost caged, by the man on top of you is a hair's breadth away from triggering your fight or flight response. 

You understand he's trying to protect you - shield you from harm as there's a few more muted phoomp!s coming from the treeline - logically, but… Instinctually, your brain is saying this unexpected bodily contact needs to be fought off. 

Suddenly an amber emergency flare sings into the sky with a shrill FWEEEEeeeeeeeee! before bursting apart far above the glade, and there's a cacophony of panicked voices from the hills. 

"The Commander's been hit!" you hear Soapsuds call - he must have been the one who shot off the emergency flare. 

You do your best to shout back, trying again to shove Wolffe off of you as you hear someone racing down the last hill with the tell-tale buzz of a kyber-blade drawing near. "No! No, we're fine!" One of your palms is planted on the chest plate of his armor, and it just so happens that it's directly above the Commander's heart. Even through the firm and immovable shell of the plastoid, you feel his heart hammering madly. 

You've never felt a heart beating quite so fast in all your life. 

Has he been hit? 

"R-right?" 

The Kel Dor expresses his concern for his soldier as he encourages Wolffe to sit up, "Come now; let little Arcadia breathe… Are you hurt, Commander Wolffe?"

"N-no, General," Wolffe fails to swallow back his stammers, at last pushing himself off just enough to allow you the clearance to scramble backwards out from under him, "I only… I was only trying to pro-protect Arcadia…" 

Plo disengages his lightsaber, and first looks into the thick shadows of the treeline, then up the hill where more soldiers have gathered, weapons drawn. "Wolfpack, stand down." 

On your feet, you take a cautious half-step closer to bridge the distance between yourself and the strangers before you, peeling themselves in increasing number from the treeline. You hear the Clones bristling in their nervousness behind you, feet scuffling through the grass and soil as they shift their weight, and the soft squeeze of their gloves as they slowly, deliberately re-holster most of their blasters at the order of the Jedi. 

“Steady…”

Hands raised to chest height, you show them flat, empty palms to prove you don’t intend to do any harm with the weaponry tucked in your waistband. The darts were merely warning shots, you assume. Another half-step. A half of a half.

“He-hello-” Your voice comes out in a slight tremor, but it's nothing you can’t recover from. “My name is Arcadia. I’m sorry for coming too close to your forest before we had a chance to introduce ourselves to you.” The other party in this delicate encounter only stare back in return; not immediately extending their own greeting or lowering most of their own weaponry.

It’s apparent, at least from what you can immediately see, that the weaponry they possess is a lot more traditional than modern. You’re seeing bo staffs and short, hooking knives in the hands of those with graying hair, adorned in copper-based jewelry that has lost most of its luster thanks to the gradual development of patina from the look of things. There are very few who boast something that looks like it would be only slightly out of place in the weaponry of the Grand Army of the Republic; these… Archossian (you don’t know what else to call them!), some men, some women, are younger, their hair dark like shadow and tied with twine up out of their faces.

The features are familiar and human; the most marked difference in their appearance when compared to you or the Clones is the ash-colored, leathery skin and the long, unbroken lines of what appears to be either chalk or mud painted on the skin of their arms from shoulder to wrist. Their nails are long, almost claw-like, as well. 

All eyes, pale yellows like the color of starmelt, are trained on you rather than Plo Koon, who is much closer to them than you are. You seem to be the only one who can’t seem to fucking shut up no matter how urgently either Sinker or Boost advises silence. “We don’t mean any harm. What… what do you call yourselves?” Commander Wolffe has been steadily creeping closer, just an arm’s length away from reaching you and possibly saving you from yourself, intent on pulling you back and away.

“Arcadia… What are you doing?” He’s nearly pleading with you to come to your senses, to let the General take it from here as he intends. 

One of the Archossi raises their left hand in a futile attempt to stay the Commander’s, speaking for the first time in raspy, imperfect Basic. “Now come, gray one, there is no need to silence your messenger. The one who calls themselves Arcadia was speaking, had not yet invited us to speak. Merely being polite.” It’s an elderly man with a bent back who leans on his staff for support that addresses you and the commander, likely some figurehead to the people you’ve encountered, or at least someone who is deeply respected. Many nod in show of agreement when he concludes the word polite. “We are the Chossi. Simple, humble star worshipers.” 

“Chossi. What a unique name.” 

The compliment is paid in hopes that it will settle everyone, temper the challenging expressions given by those presumed to be young adults of their people at the very rear of their group. This is when you notice some women and men alike are carrying children on their backs. From the inhale that hitches in many men’s throats behind you, the Clones have noticed too. 

Breaching the thick blanket of mounting silence, Plo Koon addresses one of the curious children who has walked forward with a Dorin greeting and a solemn oath. Offering his hand to the child, the Force-wielder speaks, “Koh-to-ya, little one. As my friend Arcadia promised, we mean your people no harm.”

Humble clone-simp baffled that the story continues to gain more segments. Okay, not really. Commander Wolffe and Arcadia (Reader) just had other plans for me and I wasn't about to subject anyone to a chapter larger than it already was. Taglist form, for any interested, can be found here.

Taglist: @msmeredithrose @lonely-day3636

[FFF Masterlist] [Series Masterlist] [TCW Masterlist]

[Early Morning] [Midday] [Late Afternoon] [Evening] [Here] [Golden Dawn part 1]

[Golden Dawn part 2]

[carlandrea]

i'm actually really into Elves Can't Get Divorced like ohhh you could get soooo fucked up with that

[claitea]

read through the shadow triad's quotes page again and i'm wondering why they (or at least, one of them bc they only say this once) still say "Lord N" in bw2. if they're all loyal to ghetsis they shouldn't really care about n since he was just ghetsis's pawn right? they could have been calling n lord in bw1 to keep up appearances that n is the true king of team plasma but they don't have to do that into the sequel. wondering exactly how loyal they are to n

on a related note they do Not say "Lord Ghetsis" until the second game, even after the reveal that ghetsis was using n. then, after ghetsis's defeat, they stop using the word lord again but call themselves "royal servants" which is interesting to me. i think its some kind of honor thing where ghetsis lost the privilege of being called lord in their eyes but they're still part of the kingdom he attempted to build and so they're royal. but then why Not call him lord ghetsis in bw1? the first time they refer to him by name is while they're still serving n, so that could again be keeping up appearances, and the rest of the times are after ghetsis is defeated so it could be the honor thing again?

[kandicon]

*writes the same exact headcannons in slightly different scenarios over and over again*

[a-s-levynn]

"Even if the sky cracks in mourning / And the heavens just won't open up for me" A Series of Small Offerings - II/12 - day20

[averlym]

"what could possibly go wrong?"

[dungeonrabbits]

i still think its really funny when people emphasis chilchick status as an 'old man' 'grandpa' ect, when hes really only three years older than laios

[userlaylivia]

you know s2 of the 100 will always be my favorite season, it was brilliant and the writing was absolutely incredible and I don't think any season will ever top it but saying that, S4 does come close!!! it was exciting and the writing was good and the storyline of trying to save everyone was so good and bellarke actually interacted most of the episodes maybe that's partly why I loved it lol also loved s6 though mostly for bellarke but also the storyline was decent! i understand why some didn't like s5 it wasn't my favorite but I never would've wanted the 100 to be cancelled before s6 because some of those bellarke moments in S5&6 were incredible and 6x10 is one of my favorite episodes and if we hadn't had that episode I would've been so sad!! jroth is a petty pos they wrote a scene where bellarke got together in 6x11 then he changed his mind because he sucks and they did a total 180 and rewrote it ugh anyone that watched the show and didn't think bellarke was leading to endgame was in denial truly!! all the foreshadowing, all the parallels and quotes about love and etc they were supposed to be endgame end of the story! whether you hate them or not it was supposed to be them together!! I got off topic I always do because I'm so upset and angry they weren't endgame but yeah!! I'm actually on the S4 finale in my rewatch and I genuinely did love that season for more than just bellarke but yeah!

also s7 doesn't exist bye lol

[lexicals]

List of my main ttrpg characters in order of creation:

The crushing weight of expectation (family values edition)

Gay yearning and repression and the mortifying ordeal of being known

The terrifying responsibility of being stronger than those you care about

The crushing weight of expectation (mutability of the self edition)

[anothermonikan]

Man high school was fucked up. You ever think about that. Thank fucking god I'm not in high school anymore

[harrysfolklore]

did you see that video of tom holland pushing the paparazzi off zendaya? Yeah I thinking about something similar but with Charles Leclerc x famous!reader

something short and sweet bc i'm not posting a new fic this week but i hope you enjoy it!

The flash of cameras was something you were used to, but tonight felt different. As you stepped out of the car at the prestigious event, Charles' hand firmly in yours, the crowd of paparazzi seemed more aggressive than usual. The combination of an A-list actress and a Formula 1 star had created a media frenzy.

"YN! Over here!" "Charles! This way!" "Are you two official?" "YN, how does it feel dating a racing driver?" "Charles, what's it like dating a Hollywood star?"

The shouting was overwhelming, and despite your years of experience handling red carpets, you felt yourself tense as the photographers pressed closer, their cameras mere inches from your face.

"Stay close to me," Charles murmured, his thumb stroking reassuringly over your knuckles.

"I'm used to this," you whispered back, trying to maintain your composed smile.

"I know, but this is crazy even for me."

You felt Charles' grip on your hand tighten protectively as one particularly aggressive photographer pushed forward, nearly causing you to stumble in your heels.

"Watch it!" Charles snapped, his accent thickening with anger as he steadied you. In an instant, his demeanor changed from polite to protective. He moved swiftly, positioning himself between you and the crowd.

"Back off," he said firmly. "I said back off! You're being too aggressive."

His arm wrapped securely around your waist, creating a barrier between you and the chaos. "That's enough. We'll pose for photos, but give us space."

"Charles, it's okay," you tried to soothe him, though you appreciated his protection.

"No, it's not okay," he responded, his jaw clenched. "They don't get to push you around just because you're a public figure."

The authority in his voice made several photographers take a step back. You could feel the tenseness in his body as he guided you through the crowd.

"Almost there," he assured you quietly. "Just a few more steps."

"YN! One more shot!" "Charles! Look this way!" "Are you living together?"

"Just ignore them," you whispered to Charles, sensing his growing irritation.

As you finally reached the relative safety of the venue's entrance, Charles's posture relaxed slightly, but his protective hold remained. He pressed a gentle kiss to your temple, completely ignoring the renewed frenzy of camera flashes the gesture triggered.

"Are you sure you're okay?" he asked, his green eyes scanning your face with concern. "I've never seen them this aggressive."

"I'm fine," you assured him, straightening his tie affectionately. "I'm used to it, remember? Though I have to admit, having my own personal bodyguard is nice."

He smiled softly, but his eyes remained serious. "Nobody gets to treat you like that," he said, his thumb gently caressing your cheek. "Not even if they have cameras. I don't care if it's part of the job."

"My hero," you teased, trying to lighten his mood.

"I'm serious, mon coeur. I know this comes with both our careers, but there's a line."

In that moment, despite the chaos around you, you couldn't help but smile. You'd dealt with aggressive paparazzi before, but having someone who instinctively moved to protect you, who prioritized your comfort over the perfect photo op - that was new.

"Thank you," you said softly, standing on your tiptoes to kiss his cheek. "For having my back."

"Always," he promised, taking your hand again. "Ready to go face the slightly more civilized cameras inside?"

You laughed, squeezing his hand. "Lead the way, Leclerc."

[tizeline]

Presenting: The AU I accidentally created OOPSIE!! 😬😬😬

And yes, I know, it's another Seperation AU, and yes YES, I KNOW, they're a bit overdone at this point, bUT LISTEN!! That's precisely how I ended up in this situation!!!

So there's a lot of Seperation AUs exploring a lot of different scenarios with the turtles being raised, well, seperately. I've seen quite a few of them at this point, and despite whatever the combination is when it comes to turtle + parental figure, I'm sure I'm not the only one who has noticed a pattern of specifically Donnie often being raised by a villain. Which makes sense, he has a tendency to put on this evil-mad-scientist-act in the show, so of course a lot of us want to see what Donnie would actually be like as a proper antagonist. But that just made me think think of the opposite possibility, of Donnie being the singular good guy while his brothers are all bad guys. Mind you, I'm sure SOMEONE must've thought of this concept before me, but I haven't seen it! So here we are!

In this AU (which doesn't have a name so don't ask!) Splinter only managed to yoink Donnie during The Incident™, so he ended up an only child, while Raph, Leo and Mikey were raised by Draxum. I also imagine Draxum being at least a decent dad considering the circumstances, so the kids he raised ended up with pretty similar personalities to what they have in canon.

Because of that we get Hero Donnie who acts all villainous cuz he's a total theaterkid, and Villain Raph, Leo and Mikey who act all heroic cuz they honestly believe they're doing the right thing in literally destroying all of humankind and as a result developed an intense case of main character syndrome.

Anyway here's some references-

I don't know how far I'll explore this AU. I fully intended to just make like one or two posts rambling about the basic concept, but when I was drawing these images my brain went into full Brain Blast mode and I started coming up with a bunch of other ideas so uh... we'll see how this turns out later I guess haha