#why clones when we could use bones?

[evilminji]

You know, i just had the mental image of a sith in star wars finding a ritual or something to summon a ghost and end up summoning danny, while in space. The sith is struggling to try and convince this otherworldly being to help them do evil and their just staring out the nearest viewport in awe about the amount of new space things to discover.

How does it feel? To have such a big and wrinkly brain? So full of smartness?? :O

That? Is Brilliant~☆

It could be a Krell situation. Stress of the war got to be too much. Or a Dooku situation, discontent fed and fed until it burst. Like a silently festering wound, left unseen and untreated.

Regardless of HOW it happened?

The lil shit steals from Madame Nu. Like a CRAZY PERSON.

Rightfully terrified that she will Kick Their Ass into the stratosphere for touching HER archives, they head straight for the "Sith Stuff". What does it DO? What RESEARCH did they do? HA! You ask too much of them! There is no PLAN here!

Their brain has gone to SOUP with the Dark Side. It's all wild mood swings and impulse decisions! Research and careful precautions takes PATIENCE. Planning. The calm and rationality they just THREW OUT AN AIR LOCK.

They are high on the initial high of the Dark Side that few, if any, Dark Siders ever SURVIVE. That TEST of their character and control, as they stand in the storm they have unleashed upon themselves.

You want POWER?

Okay.

HAVE IT.

Like trying to swallow a waterfall. Drink the ocean, one cup at a time. Endless, yes, but equally so? It is BRINE. Not the life giving waters of the Light. The more you drink... the deeper your thirst. The faster you die. Can you control yourself? Suffer it? For that's all that's left... suffering. Thirst. Endless, Endless Thirst.

Water water everywhere, and it shall grind your bones to DUST when next you drink.

Welcome to the Dark Side! Was it WORTH it?

But, ah, our Fallen's brain is muddled soup. They think so. They are not themselves. May never be again. That's why it's a tragedy. Because it both IS and ISN'T their hands that takes that Sith artifact. Because who they WERE would be appalled.

They don't even know what they are grabbing, do they? No one does. Seized from the ruins of a laboratory. Long dead horrors, painted upon the walls. A Sith's obsession with the afterlife of his people. Ghosts. Beings that were, supposedly, DIFFERENT then Force Ghosts.

The notes speak of "green". A vision or experience in his youth. Brief. The world tearing open. A gate to somewhere "green". The Sith believed it was the afterlife. Felt death inside the gate. Described as "peaceful, joyful, driven, and eternal", he was ultimately unable to full articulate the full scope of what he believed he saw.

Now his last device is in the hands of a fallen jedi.

Who is going to USE it.

P A N I C

Obviously, the Temple gaurds chase the crazy mofo as hard as they can. Without a DOUBT, every master on hand and available, is roped in by Madame Nu to FOLLOW that psychopath, before he unleashs FORCE KNOWS WHAT, directly over CORUSCANT AIRSPACE!!! The SENATE. THE TEMPLE?! HUNDREDS OF MILLIONS OF LIVES!?

Fallen McFuckface? Clearly did not think this through (nooooo, REALLY? Everyone is SHOCKED! Shocked, they tell you!), panics. Which is, unfortunately, the LAST thing they wanted them to do. FUCK™.

Masters and Knights are LITERALLY cutting through the hull, kicking down the door, they can survive limited Space exposure and honestly? We're not THAT high yet! Let's see you jump to hyperspace with HOLES in your ship! (Fucking, DONT GIVE THEM IDEAS! They're insane, remember?!) (Shit. You're right.)

When?

.......Green...~¤~

Hilariously? The Sith can plan all they want. But you can NEVER plan for stupid. Make a plan idiot proof, as they say, and the Universe will just build a better idiot. All that carefully curated misery, hatred, and suffering? That DISPAIR. The webs upon webs of Darkness carefully spread across the Senate district? Choking the Temple?

Mmmmm, tasty kindling. Good fuel! Sith Artifact LIKEY~!

It RIPS and TEARS. A screaming MAW IN THE SKY. A black hole for Dark Side energy that takes and takes and TAKES. Dropping people all across the district below. KILLING the particularly irredeemably monstrous. After all~!

The Force? Is in all things.

You DON'T have to be Force Sensitive, to Fall. Just a BASTARD. Just cruel and selfish, hateful and needlessly petty. All the things that would sour and turn a Jedi? Can sour and turn YOU too. Just slower, quiter, and with less explosions. But! It still wraps the Dark around your bones. Feeds it into your blood.

Kills you, when it all gets ripped away.

One must wonder.... how many Senators die instantly? And how many die in the days to come? Slowly, painfully, bed-bound as they reflect on who they had become? The fall out will be SPECTACULAR.

The Jedi's fault? How? How is their being stretched so thin they could not mount a proper response THEIR fault? How is YOUR corruption, THEIR fault? Please note all the individuals who were FINE! Baffled, but FINE!

But perhaps you are correct.

Perhaps, for the safety of ALL, we should MOVE our main Temple.

We've done it before. We can do it again. Or do you not want to HAVE that conversation? Hmmm? No, no, we wouldn't want to be a THREAT to you FINE people! You HONORABLE senators! Please, continue to yell and make demands! SEE HOW FAR IT GETS YOU!

Would they normally send someone more diplomatic? Yes. But STRANGELY all of THEM had weird SITH Darkness on them that got violently ripped off! They are in the halls of healing. Unconscious. Because getting Sith shit, that was hooked into your brain, violently ripped out? Not GREAT! 0 out of 10 healers recommend!

Fuuuuck you! Yes, I bite! And be warned, my Race is VENOMOUS! *aggravated Jedi Senior Padawan noises, hissing*

Danny? Got pulled out in FULL regalia. Just FULL on Ice and Stars. Full "I am the Cosmos beholding itself, I am the dead child you could not save.", beyond vanta-black armor and cape like a window to ever shifting stars, crown of aurora borealis playing off the eternal ice, all upon a youngling that seems forever floating... frozen in time. By death.

Was it sacrifice? Natural? Is it just a shape the spirit takes? IS he a youngling?

They both can and can not feel him.

Both can and can not SEE him.

He is so young....

A child king, hsmiles with such shared grief, when they look upon that too large crown, upon a head that should never have been forced to wear it. Like a child, forced to wear his father's mantle too soon. Is that what happened? Was it something worse? They can not bring themselves to ask.

Not when he is so... so DELIGHTED?

Playing with the younglings. In AWE of each and everyone of them. The things they learned each day. "Who wants to go flying?" "Try to float me!" "I believe in you." Oh, he BASKS in their Light like a desperate thing. Showers them with praise and attention, gentle corrections and undivided attention.

He is empathic. Alive and dead. Fascinated by the stars.

And of course... King™.

No, no, he's not interested in your Senate. Doesn't like um, Doesn't trust um. The vibes are RANCID. But I mean... if you REALLY need an army so bad? Since it seems you guys are pushing yourself WAY outside of your normal duties? Like, he doesn't know, uhhh farmers burning crops to prevent starvation? Something like that.

Just? Since you hate it? But are worried people will die? Or those Clone guys (Sweet! Clones! Ellie is gonna be HYPED.) Are gonna die? He could, you know... fix that for you?

JUST you.

We're gonna have to get it in writing. And they won't do anything BUT stop the robots and help people. They don't actually answer to you. Soooo.....?

.......are you offering us an army? (Yeah. An endless skeleton army. Lead by the greatest Generals to have ever died.).....(they get bored.)

And SUDDENLY? Oh look! The Galactic suffering levels? Just fucking DROPPED. All those SENTIENT Clone soldiers! Dying in vain, in agony, ALONE? Not happening! Skeletons can get blasted apart, fade, reassemble, and march RIGHT BACK OUT! This is GREAT fun!

And even better? Unlike with Pariah? THIS time they march? King PHANTOM is sending them to HELP people! Woooooo! Destroy metal crunchy things! Help clean up rubble! Build a house! Rescue trapped people from rubble! Tireless effort! Honor and service! Thanks for the FREE METAL! *rips apart your robots*

There are no anti-ecto technologies here! The BEST they have is Force users! Which? Ha ha ha! GOOD LUCK. That's what? One? TWO? Of you?? To HOW MANY of us??? *cackles in bone army*

And! If they happen upon OTHER things they don't like? Whoop! Should'a thought of that! Before being a DICK! King Phantom says slavery is ILLEGAL. And we, the FORMER slave army of King Pariah, have Millennium Long ISSUES with that! (Easy to remove that chip, when you can reach THROUGH a person. Here you Slaver FUCK. YOU have it! In fact! Have ALL of them. From each and every slave.)

Anikin LOVES his new Bone friends. They are WONDERFUL. Him n them? Bonded. He's made them all speech boards. They're plotting the gruesome end of the Hutt cartel together. He's showing them the holo of his wedding. They're making Super Advanced Chip scan-.....

W....Why is his scanner going off? There should be nothing near by for it to recognize. The only thing HERE is him, his Bone Buddies, and Rex for supervision.... *mounting horror as he slowly waves the device around* *beep*

R-Rex?

...

......

The Clones? De-chipped in like... two days. There are too many skeletons to NOT have them be able to just? *reach in, feel for the Non-Clone bit, grab it, pull out* didn't even need surgery! But boy, oh, boy! Is Anikin upset. That sure is a Slave chip! Hey, Kamino! Have a Chosen One and his Bones Bros! Some Clones in orbit with Real Big Guns.

And Palatine? Is? PISSED.

His whole ass Empire is dissolving in his hands. The Sith Master Plan! Going up in smoke! Walls are closing in! All because of ONE(1) glowing BRAT.

Wanna bet he goes after him... with LIGHTNING? In human form, of course. Danny. Who DIED to electricity. Who has, throughout ALL of this? Been chilling in the Jedi temple, finally... FINALLY! Unwinding. Putting down the stress on his shoulders. Healing from his childhood. Cuddling cute babies and laying on the grass to nap, listen to the waterfall. Be at PEACE, surrounded by the Light of the Jedi.

Danny, who has been making friends. Enjoying the archives. For once in his stressful, STRESSFUL life? Letting OTHER PEOPLE deal with it. Playing with alien puppies and weird not-cats. Trying new foods! Seeing about adopting some droids that Tucker might get on with. Sorry "buying" some droids. (As though those Restraining Bolts aren't coming off the SECOND they droids are in his hands.)

It's been cool. Relaxing. Great for his mental health.

They have folks LITERALLY called Mind Healers here! Jazz would love it!

So obviously Sith face ruins it. Hurts his friends and blasts him with LIGHTNING. The kids are crying and terrified. This was supposed to be some sort of "learn about how the Republic works" day trip to the Senate! He was helping chaperone. They are being so, SO brave. Staying together. Trying to get their teacher out of harms ways.

He? Is? PISSED.

How DARE you. How FUCKING DARE YOU?! A fight between adults? Not his Reality, not his business. Clockwork drilled that into his head. He CAN'T keep the Multiverse together. Fight every fight for everyone, save everything. People have free will. Have to decide for THEMSELVES. Choose to do the right thing.

It doesn't mean SHIT if they don't save themselves. Wont last, in the end, because they won't have LEARNED a damn thing. He GETS that! But KIDS?! Ooooh ho ho! He DRAWS THE LINE AT KIDS! At shocking the SHIT out of him with LIGHTNING!

You want to poke the sleeping titan 'til it wakes up?

Well congrats!

YOU HAVE HIS ATTENTION NOW!

*inhale*

*Wail*

Palpatine goes through the HOLE where about fifteen walls USED to be. Half of Coruscant physically hears it and EVERYONE with even a TOUCH of Force sensitivity FEELS it. Across the entire planet and up into orbit.

Dying screams and the crackle of electricity. Regret. Fear. The desperate need to protect, in your final moment. Pain and pressure, the cool slide of Death come to take it all away. You were just fourteen. You were just fourteen! You died screaming, you came back screaming, in the place between... will you ever stop screaming?

You are the Galaxy, the Cosmos, the INFINITE. You are just a child.

How many souls died screaming?

Can't you hear ALL OF THEM?

Pissed or not, kids come first. Fuuuuuck that guy. Danny picks up the teacher, the kids, and back to the Temple they go. Teacher survives. Kids cling. Senate gets itself into a snit over the "unprovoked attack". But the thing is? A whole CLASS of Baby Jedi say the Chancellor is the Sith Lord. Look too spooked to be lying. Their teacher, too WOUNDED for this to be a prank.

The Jedi close rank.

Palpatine tries to use the Clones.

You know... the De-chipped by their Bone Bros Clones.

Commander Fox? Gets to finally, FINALLY(!!!) live out his long time fantasy... of shooting the fucker. Slug thrower. Tragically, fails to kill him. But the attempt WAS enthusiastic! We applaud his attempt. Commander Fox gets to join Danny in the Gardens, under a Crechelings pile, staring at the stain glass ceiling and Not Thinking Or Having Responsibilities.

Huh.... kid's right. This IS nice.

Fox enjoys being a climb-able lump for the Crechelings. Welcome to the club, my dude.

The other Jedi? THEY can figure it out. The Temple is literally unassailable. If needs be, his army can PICK IT UP AND MOVE IT. Danny is Vibin. Have a fruit. You hear about Skywalker? Making pretty good ground on his whole "one man and massive bone army campaign against Slavery" thing. Missed the whole.... his buddy was an asshole reveal. Apparently reception is spotty. *shrugs*

His wife's nice though! *various married Jedi agree, Obi-Wan continues to sulk because: "REALLY?! You didn't even INVITE ME!? My own Padawan! To his WEDDING! Anikin how COULD YO-!?"*

[lazycats-stuff]

I wanted to know if you could make another request for the Bat Brother that was created to be a weapon when the Black Canary said he was ready to go to school, Bruce put him in one, but a boy tried to intimidate him and the Bat Brother broke his arm. He still couldn't understand what he did wrong because of his training.

I sure can. I love that idea. Also, this gif is Bruce explaining to the Bat Bro, that no, you can't go break people's arms.

Summary: (Y/N) doesn't understand that intimidation doesn't require broken bones.

Warnings: Bruce is a tired dad, (Y/N) is a weapon, but nothing specific about training, mentions of attacking, but nothing specific

Bruce sighed as he got a call from the Justice League. Another child that was created to be a weapon. Why? And why is he the first person they call? Damian was with him, since he was on patrol with him since they got the call.

" Father, why are we here? " Damian asked as the two used the Zeta tubes. Bruce sighed yet again.

" Because they think I'm an expert when it comes to children who are murderous. Just because I made sure you are tame I presume, " Bruce replied and Damian scoffed and rolled his eyes.

" Oh please. I'm not murderous. "

" Should I start talking about shrubbery? My beloved animal statues are still recovering. You started at what, 5 am? I did eradicate that habit of yours, didn't I? "

Damian huffed again, crossing his arms.

And yes, if you somewhat managed to tame Damian, a child murderous as him if you don't have Damian, you are officially an expert. That's why everyone turns to him when there is a murderous child. Bruce should start teaching them how to deal with such children.

" Superman. " Bruce nodded in his direction and Superman nodded back.

" Evening you two. We've managed to get the boy's name. His name is (Y/N), last name still unknown. We found him in one of Lex's labs. Under some nth alias. " Superman crossed his arms and Bruce scoffed.

Of course. When in doubt who else could be creating clones? Lex Luthor.

" Why isn't he thrown in prison when there is overwhelming amount of evidence against him? " Damian questioned and Bruce more often than not wondered the exact same thing.

The answer?

" Connections Damian, connections. " Bruce rubbed his chin and Damian scoffed, muttering an of course underneath his breath.

" But don't worry. He'll fall down eventually. If my hunch is right, he is probably messing with taxes. And if there's one thing that America doesn't like, is when you mess with taxes. That's how they took down Al Capone, " Bruce said to Damian, who nodded.

" We'll be waiting for a while then. " Damian crossed his arms now and Bruce chuckled.

" Don't worry Damian. IRS will take care of him. And once he's down, we'll strike as well and put him away for life. Don't worry about it. And how is (Y/N) doing? " Bruce asked, turning back to look at Clark.

" He's... Well, he had to be sedated. He broke Flash's nose. And we checked on him via cameras and he seems... Calm, but I've known you long enough to know that he is simmering deep down inside. " Clark chuckled and Bruce smirked.

" So you called me because the boy is mini me? " Bruce mused and Clark chuckled, shaking his head in amusement.

" Yup. I wouldn't recommend meeting him now though. He is pissed off. Black Canary will come by in the afternoon so she can talk to him. I know that she can take care of herself, but you should be here, just in case. " Clark scratched the back of his head, yawning.

" Tired already Superman? " Bruce teased and Clark chuckled.

" I'm going back to the cave father. Should I tell the others about (Y/N)? "

" Please do Damian. Warn them about the new addition that is going to come. I'll be back in about 20 minutes. Tell the others to sleep as well, " Bruce told Damian and the Robin nodded, disappearing through the Zeta tubes.

Bruce turned back to Clark, who offered him a tablet with the information that Bruce was interesting in. They both knew each other so well.

" Everything here is an estimate, besides the physical appearance. The age and all that stuff, " Clark explained and Bruce nodded as he read over everything. " He's a mini you Bruce, " Clark added and Bruce rolled his eyes underneath the mask.

" Alright. I'll transfer these to the Batcave and just text me the time when Black Canary is coming so I can ditch work. I'm pretty sure I can ditch a boring meeting. " Bruce smirked to himself as he started the transfer.

" Ah yes, the infinite meetings of a CEO. " Clark chuckled and Bruce handed him the tablet back.

" The boy will be fine, I'm sure of it. With some therapy and stability, he'll be good, " Bruce said and Clark nodded.

" I can only hope so. "

Months went by since that last conversation. (Y/N) was aggressive at first and outright refused to talk to Black Canary, who had Bruce behind her, just in case. And yes, Bruce had to restrain (Y/N) to make sure that he didn't hurt himself or Black Canary when he has decided to attack.

And attacks were frequent at first. More often than not, Bruce had to restrain him just so that they could get through a single session. And slowly but surely, therapy has started to work. (Y/N) was slowly but surely starting to opening up and became less and less hostile. Of course, there was a long way to go still, but he was making decent progress.

Bruce brought his boys to socialize with (Y/N). The boys are all trained and if (Y/N) does get hostile, they can take care of themselves. Bruce has warned them about it, so they were all prepared.

And (Y/N) seemed to appreciate the gesture, although distrusting of them at first. So, the boys have decided to take a different approach. Dick has decided to bring some books to (Y/N), some of his own favorites, so that he wouldn't be left to his own devices, aka, his mind and be pissed.

So Dick brought a lot of books. (Y/N) liked them all and Dick was proud to say that he had a great taste in books.

Jason has simply decided to talk to (Y/N) about stupid things he could think of. (Y/N) had a lot of questions for him and Jason was more than happy to answer them. He found (Y/N) nice, but too similar to Damian when he first joined.

So Damian and (Y/N) bonded quickly over their experiences. Damian opened up about his own experiences, sharing techniques on how to remain calm in certain situations. Offered meditation techniques as well and gave him advice on how to accept certain things.

And Tim brought him a tablet where he could watch cartoons, movies, whatever he wanted to get familiar with the world outside of fighting. Essentially, it felt like they were socializing a little puppy. (Y/N) really liked the tablet and took great care of it.

Black Canary also like the approach that the boys were taking and (Y/N) has been even less hostile in their sessions and has actually started to open up to Black Canary. Bruce was also a constant in their sessions, and while he may have looked like a brooding figure, he actually helped (Y/N) be calm.

Soon enough, (Y/N) went to school since Black Canary deemed him ready enough. Was Bruce nervous beyond belief for the first time in a long time? Yes. Damian might have been raised to be a weapon in some sort of capacity, but he was raised as an assassin and assassins are to supposed to blend in. And be somewhat sociable.

(Y/N) was not really raised to fit in. He was raised to be a weapon. Not to fit in. Only to kill. So was Bruce nervous beyond belief during the first week. He has hoped he wouldn't get called in to the principal's office.

But hope doesn't last forever.

Bruce was in Wayne Enterprises, in his office, doing some paperwork when the phone rang and Bruce recognized the number. It was the principal of the school. Bruce knows that number since he used to get a lot of calls from the same man while Jason was still going there.

It's burned into his memory.

He had a feeling it was about (Y/N) and was proven right. He muttered a simple ' I'm coming.' Bruce pinched the bridge of his nose and took a deep breath. This was going to be one rather uncomfortable conversation.

(Y/N) got suspended for 2 weeks. Bruce was not happy in the slightest. (Y/N) broke the poor boy's arm just because the boy decided to intimidate him. Was intimidating (Y/N) fair? No. But was breaking someone's arm just because of that justified?

Absolutely not.

Bruce sat (Y/N) down in the kitchen, thinking that the others wouldn't be home. Oh he was very wrong. They boys were back earlier since they had heard what happened. How? Bruce can't exactly know, but he knows that he has trained those boys. So somehow, they all found out and were ready to listen in.

" (Y/N)... We've talked about what to do when someone is intimidating you. You can't put your hands on them. " Bruce put his hands on his hips and (Y/N) crossed his arms.

The four boys were enjoying this. Jason snickered to himself and Damian smirked.

" I mean, (Y/N) isn't technically in the wrong. Why was the kid intimidating him in the first place? " Jason muttered to himself and Damian nodded, agreeing with Jason.

" It was a form of self defense. "

Tim shook his head and Dick chuckled to himself.

" No, self defense would mean that he put his hands on you first. But he didn't. You did. Which is assault. Thank God that by paying the medical bills would keep them off our back. " Bruce now crossed his arms, trying to be calm and patient. " I know it's not easy to live a normal life when you weren't raised like that, but you have to adapt. Black Canary and myself have taught you that. Where is the disconnect? " Bruce inquired.

" Well, he threatened me. Soon enough, he would turn into a real threat, " (Y/N) defended himself and Bruce swore that (Y/N) was like an another version of Damian.

" It doesn't matter. It's not self defense. I've texted Black Canary and you are going to have your sessions double during these 2 weeks, " Bruce declared and (Y/N) scoffed, showing some sort of sass.

Bruce wanted to rip his hair out.

" Go to your room and reflect on what I told you. I'll call you down when dinner is done, " Bruce sighed, rubbing his forehead. (Y/N) clenched his jaw as he walked upstairs.

Damian and Jason were smirking, knowing exactly how he felt. Tim and Dick sighed to themselves. They knew that (Y/N) felt frustrated and angry. They had another version of Damian on their hands. Maybe an even more difficult version.

[marvelstars]

Anakin Skywalker, the Republic and Politics

Shmi cut me off. “The Republic doesn’t exist out here, ” she said sharply. “We must survive on our own.”

I have placed all my faith in the Republic. Its laws are formalized, enforced throughout the galaxies. Yet there are places, whole worlds, where they are ignored.

Am I placing too much faith in the Senate? It is all I have. But is depending on it to right the wrongs of the Naboo asking too much?

Padmé Amidala | Episode I Journal: Queen Amidala

It´s quite simple really why would a former slave trust the Republic to enforce their laws if they failed so epically at enforcing their "no slavery allowed" law on Tatooine and other planets and not only that but part of their politicians openly practice it? and as a Jedi he wasn´t asked to help free slaves on Tatooine as a guardian of peace and justice but he was made to save the heir of the main slaver in his home planet.

No wonder Anakin was of the mind that Republic citizens need to be given the tools to take care of their own needs, see security during the clone wars, because the alternative, the republic doing something about it, was next to zero.

He became authoritarian because of Palpatine but even as Vader if he didn´t trust a Grand admiral he didn´t just let them know that but it was kind of Vader´s job to keep them in line or be done with them which the Emperor allowed, we can´t allow an admiral become too powerful to become a menace for the Emperor, the only untouchable one was Tarkin and still I am pretty sure the main reason Vader was on Death Star I was to make sure Tarkin didn´t got any ideas about using the weapon agaisnt Palpatine to take over the Empire with the power of the Death Star. As Vader he believed he could bring order to the galaxy with the power of the Empire but also wanted a Senate to represent the system, Vader didn´t agree on the use of the death star or the dissapareance of the Senate.

Anakin Skywalker at heart wasn´t left or right, he certainly hold ideals "The biggest problem in the galaxy is that no one helps each other" and "Lest free all the slaves" but I don´t think he believed politicians from either ideology truly represented those ideals and star wars is pretty vague about the ideology of the politicians during Republic time, in fact neither did Obi-Wan and that´s quite interesting given they expend a lot of time around politicians and using diplomacy, they didn´t get those ideas from ignorance, they got those ideas from interacting with politicians and most often than not, they saw Politicians used those ideals to get power and didn´t care for much else besides that.

Anakin looks to me like an idealist - realist who later became a pragmatic who supported an authoritation regime, his heart was idealist but his mind told him the galaxy moved to the sound of realpolitik and that´s what he practiced as General in the clone wars and later as Darth Vader.

He loved and trusted Padme because he knew with every fibre of his being that she was honest and truly cared and that´s the example he wanted Ahsoka to learn from, that´s why he send Ahsoka to learn politics from Padme, not from Palpatine but he trusted and listened to Palpatine because he appealed to his more pragmatic side.

Anakin would have loved to think the galaxy worked as Padme wanted it to work but his mind and his past told him that in practice power was what truly moved the galaxy highest espheres just as it worked when he was a kid. His actions in the clone wars reflect that, he served all his orders but also made an extra effort to help those who were not the priority of anybody in a position of power, be it Plo Koon and his men, the clones, Saw Guerrera, Neutral planets in the war, citizens with no bone to pick with either side, etc.

TBH while he probably didn´t agree with Satine on her peaceful stance towards the war, he didn´t criticize her for seeking a peaceful end to the war as Obi-Wan did, in fact he tried to talk with her on her terms, telling her they were at her service as guardians not soldiers even if she and he knew what he really meant, Anakin certainly approved of her distrust towards the Republic and didn´t argue with her about the Jedi becoming soldiers because that was exactly what they had become, Anakin doesn´t argue with reality, he just did´t think that was permanent and that they could get back to what they were once the war was done. He also agreed with Satine wish to keep her people out of the war "She is a remarkable woman" Anakin told Obi-Wan.

His problem was that he didn´t got to voice those oppinions or discuss them in a serious way with Padme or Obi-Wan because he knew they probably woulnd not agree with him and promptly expect him to follow their lead, he only did so with Palpatine because he apparently listened to him or at least let him express himself Anakin truly wanted to agree with the people he loved most in the galaxy but he didn´t ,not on this matter.

I believe fandom and sometimes the clone wars and new material doesn´t truly explore Anakin´s political ideas in part because Lucas made the mistake of reducing them to a tease between Anakin and Padme on their firt date to give more chance to the tragic part of his story but originally (OT)Vader fell to the darkside because of his politics and his relationship to the Emperor, the story is still there and it´s a real shame fandom just makes fun of them when they add so much to the story, Anakin brings the realism into the fairlytale in many ways, including the political one.

[jamdoughnutmagician]

Teenage Dreams (13 going on 30 AU) - part 1

Eddie Munson x Reader

Being 13 sucked, all the cliques and groups in school, fighting for popularity and all you wanted to be was 30, flirty and thriving, just like the cool girls in Star Magazine.

Next Part ->

Word Count:2,763.

SERIES MASTERLIST

Masterlist // Eddie Munson Masterlist

*dividers by @saradika-graphics

Thirteen, what a terribly awkward age for anyone to be. Never quite sure about where you were supposed to fit in. All the popular girls would pour over the latest gossip magazine, nattering about which heart-throb of the month they thought was hotter. You couldn’t help but overhear the shrill giggling about how far they’d gone with their boyfriends, with a scandalised scream from the group when Stacy Evans revealed how she had made out with her boyfriend at Jessie Miller’s party last week. The boys weren’t much better either, all hanging out in their groups, guffawing and joking, rating seemingly every girl in the cafeteria on a scale of one to ten.

And you weren’t an exception to this, no. As you carefully weave your way through the bustling school’s cafeteria, balancing your tray in your arms you catch the attention of Jason Carver, the most bone-headed of all the boys, but he was a promising young talent in the school’s basketball team, so he got away with a lot of the stuff he did and said, with nothing more than a light warning breezing past him.

“Nice Hello Kitty shirt, did your mommy pick that out for you?” comes Jason’s shouted remark, high-fiving his crew when they laughed at his joke.

“Hey, Carver, leave her alone! All you care about is throwing balls into laundry baskets anyway!” and there was Eddie, your best friend in the whole world, always at your side through thick and thin. He slings a friendly arm over your shoulder as he walks with you to your usual seats. “How’s it feel to be turning the big one-three, you’re officially a teenager now!” He laughs playfully.

“Don’t remind me!” you squeal back, shoving his shoulder with a laugh of your own.

As you walk with him to your seats, you are once again stopped in your tracks, confronted by Nancy Wheeler, the school’s resident popular girl and her small army of followers who went with her everywhere.

“Hey, bestie can I talk to you for a moment?” she narrows her eyes towards Eddie “Y’know, just us girls.”

“Alright, I can take the hint, Wheeler. I’ll catch up with you later, okay?” Eddie smiles before walking off.

“The girls and I were so excited about coming to your birthday party tonight, and I told Steve Harrington about it and he said he wanted to come with us,” Nancy started, twirling a dark, bouncy curl around her finger.

“Really?”

“Yeah, but Mrs.O’Donnell is up our ass about this group project, and Steve said he would help us out, so I guess nobody is going to be able to make it, which is a shame, because we really all wanted to come.” she says with a tilt of her head and an almost pleading look in her blue eyes.

“I could write your report for you.” you offer.

“Fabulous!” she cheers, her pink lip gloss glinting under the fluorescent lights “Then I’ll see you at your party I guess.” She smiles, and with that, Nancy is gone, her gaggle of girls following closely behind her.

Eddie walks beside you as you make your way home, your backpack slouching down your shoulders with every step.

“Y’know I can’t believe you invited Nancy and her army of girls to your party tonight.” Eddie grumbles

“They’re my friends!” you defend.

“Nancy and her clones are not your friends, okay?”

“Well not yet anyway, but they’re so popular and I just think if I could get them to like me, maybe I could hang out with them.” you explain. “I mean it’s middle school, right? And not being popular is like, total social suicide.”

“I thought you didn’t care about that stuff! Why would you even want to hang out with them in the first place? You’re way cooler than them. They’re always so concerned about following “the latest trends”, they’re all so unoriginal!”

“I don’t want to be original, Eddie, I want to be cool!” you whine.

Eddie shakes his head at you dismissively, before reaching into his pocket.

“Want some skittles?” he asks, pulling out the brightly coloured packet.

“Skittles are for kids, Eddie.” you scoff with a laugh before holding your hand open to him.

“Yeah, that’s what I thought.” he smiles, dumping a handful of skittles into your palm. “I’ll see you at your party later, birthday girl.” 

You wrap your arms around him in a hug, saying your goodbyes,  before going your separate ways.

You fluff your hair in the mirror, swiping on a sparkly layer of strawberry pink lip gloss and adding the finishing touches to your baby blue eyeshadow. The electric sound of Van Halen’s ‘Jump’ stream through the tape player in your bedroom, it was a mixtape Eddie had put together for you for your birthday last year full of all the songs that he knew you liked plus a few more that he thought you might enjoy.

You turn yourself around in the mirror one final time, smoothing down the wrinkles on your flouncy pink party dress with your hands before putting down your lip gloss on your cluttered vanity table when you hear your mother knocking at your bedroom door.

“Honey! Can I come in?” she calls out.

You offer her a grumble of affirmation and she swings her way into your room.

“There’s my little birthday girl!” she squeals, pinching your cheeks.

You pull away from her, groaning with embarrassment.

“Mom! Stop teasing me, I’m not a little girl anymore, okay! I’ve got to look perfect if I want to get in with Nancy and her friends!”

“Oh, darling, you don’t need to worry about stuff like that. Just because you don’t look like the girls in Star Magazine, doesn’t mean that you’re not beautiful in your own way.”

“But I don’t wanna be beautiful in my own way!” you whine. “I wanna be like these girls.” you say, pointing to the beautiful, fashion model in the magazine spread out on your bed. They seemed to have it all figured out, always looking so effortlessly beautiful and carefree, without the stress of teen angst looming over them at all times. Thirty, flirty and thriving, the article had read, and that’s what you wanted. To be a flirty thirty-year-old without a care in the world.

“Sweetie, there’s a reason you don’t look like these girls, they’re models.” comes your mother’s response.

“I want to be thirty.” you pout.

Your mother hugs you close, placing a kiss to your forehead.

“You’ll get there one day, but until then, you’re my beautiful thirteen-year-old daughter.”

You’re alone in the basement of your house where it’s been decorated to within an inch of it’s life, brightly coloured streamers hang from the ceiling and a sparkly ‘happy birthday’ banner is plastered to the wall.

Michael Jackson’s ‘Thriller’ music video plays from the small tv in the corner of the room, and you can’t help but join in with the familiar dance. When the music video first came out, you and Eddie had spent ages learning the routine religiously, it was one of the few songs that you both liked, the music being fun and funky enough for your tastes, whilst the music video was the right amount of creepy and spooky to capture Eddie’s attention.

You get lost in the music, the dance moves so ingrained in your brain that they come second nature to you, so much so that you fail to hear the creaking footsteps as Eddie descends his way down the steps to the basement.

“Happy Birthday!” he shouts, carrying a large pink box in his arms all neatly tied up with a sparkly bow. “I’ve got you a special present!”

“Oh my god, Eddie!”  you beam. “You know you didn’t have to get me anything!”

“And come to my best friend’s birthday party empty-handed, come on, you know that’s not my style.” he smirks as he sets down the box on the table. 

“What is it?” you look at him eagerly.

“Well it’s your birthday present, why don’t you go ahead and open it up and find out?”

You pull at the ribbon bow and lift open the box to reveal a carefully hand-built princess castle dollhouse. It’s carefully made with lots of little cardboard boxes stuck together, painted a soft baby pink, complete with hand-painted twirling vine flowers climbing up the spiral towers. Inside the walls are lined with lavender paper and colourful candy wrappers in place of stained glass windows.

“Remember, how you said you wanted the Barbie princess castle for your birthday last year? Well I wanted to give you something better than Barbie’s castle, and give you your own castle.” he smiles. “Look, and there you are, the birthday princess in her castle!” he smiles, nodding towards the miniature princess figurine, painted to look exactly like you in the mock-up throne room. “It was a D&D miniature I had been saving for this exact moment!”

“Oh Eddie this is beautiful!” you bubble, this was the sweetest thing that anybody had ever done for you.

“Wait! I almost forgot the best bit!” he smirks, reaching into his pocket to pull out another miniature D&D figure. “Can’t have a princess castle without a knight in shining armour to protect it now, can you?” It was a small knight, painted to look like Eddie, with his long dark curls, holding up a sword and a shield. “Thought you might need me to help protect you and your castle from those pesky dragons.”

You marvel at the amount of thought, care and attention to detail that Eddie had put into your present, your smile beaming across your face.

“And for the finishing touch, just a sprinkle of wishing dust!” he says, sprinkling a small amount of iridescent silver glitter over the castle.

“Wishing dust?” 

“Yeah, wishing dust knows what’s in your heart of hearts, your true desires and will make all your dreams come true.”

You and Eddie have a moment of peace, before the doorbell sounds out across the house.

“Oh they’re here!” you squeak, rushing around to tidy up as best as you can before letting Nancy in. “I’m just going to put this away for a moment, just so there’s room for everyone here.” you say picking up Eddie’s hand-made castle and putting it in the broom closet.  “Put on some music, please Eddie!”

You make your way to the front door, quickly smoothing your hands down your party dress before opening the door to Nancy and her gang of girls.

“Come on in, the party’s downstairs.” you smile, gesturing for everyone to make their way into your house. One by one all the girls follow Nancy inside, everybody shedding their jackets and dumping them into your arms as they go.

Just as you were about to close the door, Steve Harrington rolls up, with his friends Tommy and Billy trailing closely behind him. He was so cute, way more popular than you’ll ever be, but it never stopped you having a crush on him. He was the boy that all the girls wanted, with his head full of soft, shiny, bouncy hair and charming smile, it wasn’t hard to see why he had all the girls falling at his feet. The most popular guy in school, and he was coming to your birthday party. 

“Hey, Steve!” you wave him in, trying to play it cool. “The party's just getting started, come on in!”

Downstairs everyone was gathered together, and Eddie had put on his music, a noisy mix of screeching guitar strings and heavy drum beats. I suppose in leaving him in charge of the music, he was bound to play a little Metallica.

Although, however much Eddie was rocking out to Master Of Puppets, everyone else turned their nose up at his music choices. Particularly Nancy, who took it upon herself to wander over to the stereo, flick the switch off and eject the tape from the player, filling the room with immediate silence.

“You know, it’s only you who actually likes this music, freak.” Nancy sneers, pushing the tape into Eddie’s hands.

“Whatever,” Eddie shakes his head, making his way over to you “I’m going to head next door, go get my guitar, okay?” 

“Do whatever you want, Eddie. It’s not like I need a play-by-play of everything.” you tell him, in an effort to look cool in front of Nancy and her friends, which earns you a tittering giggle from the group.

“See you later, loser!” comes a whining laugh from one of Nancy’s friends as Eddie walks away.

“Hey, I have an idea of how we could spice up this party!” Nancy pipes up, flouncing across the room. “We could play Seven Minutes in heaven!” 

Everyone nods, a murmur of agreement sounding.

“..And since you’re the birthday girl, it’s only fitting that you go first.” she smirks, taking her satin scarf from around her neck and tying around your eyes as a blindfold, before walking you towards the open door of the broom closet. “You just go in there, and we’ll choose some lucky guy to follow you in, and then he gets to do whatever he wants with you for seven whole minutes. I know Steve is dying to spend some one-on-one time with you” comes her bubblegum sweet voice in your ear.

Nancy steers you into the closet, her hands on your shoulders.

“Before I forget, you did write my project report for Mrs. O'Donnell's class, right?” she asks.

“Yeah it’s on the table.” you nod.

“Thanks. Remember, keep that blindfold on and no peeking! Oh! And by the way, Steve’s big on going to second base.”

Nancy quietly locks the closet door, leaving you stuck inside waiting for your perfect first kiss with Steve Harrington.

Nancy and her gaggle of girls, along with Steve, Billy and Tommy make their way out of your basement, walking back up the stairs, passing Eddie as he comes back down.

“What’s going on?” Eddie asks, his eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

“She’s waiting for you in that closet over there!” and with that Nancy leaves, quickly dashing from the party in favour of something more her scene.

Eddie shakes his head, Nancy had been bitchy enough to think that it was funny to leave you locked up in the cramped space of the broom-closet. He unlocks the door to see you sitting on the floor of the cramped up space, with the scarf tied around your eyes.

“I thought you weren’t going to come.” you say softly, thinking that finally you were going to get the chance to kiss Steve Harrington. “Where are you? I can’t feel you.” your soft voice comes out as you reach your hands out to find your man of mystery.

Eddie quietly allows himself the moment to reach his hand out to yours, letting his fingers interlock with yours.

“Oh Steve, I knew you were worth waiting for.” you sigh dreamily.

“Sorry to burst your bubble” Eddie laughs uncomfortably.

“Eddie?! What are you doing here?” you gasp, pulling the blindfold from your eyes. “Where’s Steve? Where’s everybody gone?” 

“They all left!” 

“What did you do?” you ask accusatorily.

“I didn’t do anything! I just went to get my guitar, and when I came back everyone was leaving!” Eddie defends.

You feel the red hot flare of embarrassment eating away in the pit of your stomach. Embarrassed that Nancy would actually want to be your friend, embarrassed that someone like Steve would actually go for a girl like you, but most of all upset at the fact that in reality, nobody wanted to come to your birthday party.

“No, get out!” you cry, pushing Eddie away from you.

“Wait! Please just let me talk to you! Please!” he pleads, but it all falls on deaf ears as you sink back into the closet, closing the door, leaving you to sit with your emotions.

“Leave me alone Eddie! I hate you, I hate me, I hate everybody!” you cry out shrinking into yourself, bringing your knees up to your chest, and slumping your head in your folded arms, letting your frustrated tears fall freely.

“I want to be thirty!” you cry out. “I wish I was thirty, flirty and thriving!”

A glistening sparkle washes over you, as you hug yourself tighter, wishing so hard that all of this was just a bad dream, that you were going to wake up from this and be living your dream life.

Thirty, flirty and thriving.

@paybacksawitch @penguinsandpotterheads @ali-r3n @aphrogeneias @eddiesxangel @mrsjellymunson @munsonology @onegirlmanytales @xxbimbobunnyxx

[the-bi-space-ace]

Echo is angry when Crosshair shoots Wrecker. He has this fire in his chest that burns and threatens to consume him whole if he lets it.

He’s angry when he thinks about Crosshair on the platform on Kamino. Why was he being so damn stubborn? Why couldn’t he just accept that they were right and come with them? Shouldn’t loyalty mean something to Crosshair? It always did before. Once that damn chip went off in his head all of that loyalty was gone. How is that fair?

He’s angry when he learns that Crosshair is stuck in Tantiss. When he hears that he’s being held as a prisoner, tortured, abused by those empire scientists that have no regard for the lives of the clones. He knows how that feels. Being trapped, touched, used, against his will. Was that what the chip was like? He couldn’t stomach it when Wrecker described how it felt, that helplessness, powerless to stop it. That’s how it was when the chip activated, wasn’t it? It tore them apart and didn’t think twice and stole all that was Crosshair and he’d never forgive or forget what was taken from them, from all of them. That feeling tries to choke him when he rips his helmet off in the quiet of the cockpit, coughing and trying not to let the sting in his eyes become more.

He’s angry when he sees Crosshair for the first time on Pabu. His chest feels hot, throat too tight, body flushed with burning anger so bad he wants to… do something. Trying to joke with him, get back what they had, how could he fall back into old patterns just like that? Crosshair had to know better than that. He had to.

That anger simmers when he finds Crosshair in the ship after Barton IV. Stepping foot on that outpost reminded him of how Rishi felt after the battle. Quiet. Empty. Devoid of the life it once had. It isn’t anger he feels as he sits down next to Crosshair’s curled up body, shaking and breathing harshly. It certainly isn’t anger that makes him put an arm around the man who, now, seems so much smaller than he remembers. It’s something else that gets him to pull Crosshair to his side, let him bury his head in Echo’s neck.

It’s something else entirely that has him talking. Saying he understands. Saying it’s okay, he’s forgiven, whatever happened they’ll figure it out, I’m sorry, I wish we found you sooner, he understands, he understands, he understands.

Echo was angry. Every day all that anger did was hurt. Claw. Burn into his skins like molten lava and tear apart his bones.

Hurt. Echo was hurt.

[memoiich]

Hey !!!

i just wanted to ask if you could write a Captain Rex x reader where reader is a medic? Thanky you so much i really liked the last fic

POLL WINNER DING DING DING

(thank you for the request ❤︎︎)

In service of serenithy

Medic!reader x Captain Rex

Wc: 1,2k

Tw: light angst and setup

Read on ao3: here!! ->Part2

It wasn't an uncommon sight anymore. Covered in cuts and quickly mended bones, troops staggered out of their ships at the coruscant plaindoc. Wayworn faces that all carried a sole sadness. Maybe they had lost friends and companions or their own blood. Your heart couldn’t help but burn for them. Yet they wore the knowledge that battle would call in a fourth night as a protective shield against their own tears. Brave eyes almost all the same color shined true.

Sure it has shocked you the first time, but after the last 4 months the med-bay got used to it. Some of your colleagues grumbled about the clone’s recklessness, others complained about their medic’s competence. The odd one here or there questions the need to heal a dying army. Almost all saw the downgrade from the hall of healing to army medic as an insult. A strange sentiment for a bunch of healers.

You put on a more welcoming face. All you cared for was to help the wounded, clone or jedi it did not matter. Both had shed blood in the endless war and both carried scar far deeper than skin.Your hands dropped to the bag on your hip. Having been taking in as a child in the halls,you had the time to create your own personal medkit. You skimmed past the bacta patches. They clearly needed more than that.

A clone like many others made his way over with a small wobble to his left leg. You quickly walked over in hope to not burden him. Before you could form a sentence he spoke panicked, “Could you please follow me our captain is in dire need” you nodded immediately.

“I tried to suture the wound as best as I could but we were running low on supplies” the man added while jogging you through the port to a white ship. As you stepped inside you noticed the trooper's medic logo on his arm. That explained why he carried the monster known as guilt with him “Sadly a common problem Sir” Your tongue cut through the claws of the beast leaving the poor medic to breath for a second.

You were brought to a chamber that looked like a very small version of the floor you worked on. By a centered bed there sat a Jedi master you presumed with his padawan. You were confused for just a second, they both looked fine. The medic next to you spoke up once again “General Skywalker, I brought the medic from the heeling halls.” “Thank you kix” as he spoke, the Jedi and his padawan both sat away from the bed. Leaving you space to slide next to the bed.

As you laid your eyes upon the man you quickly started to take the wraps of the cash on his abdomen. You were used to these kinds of injuries, blasts that were strong enough to pierce their breastplates. You opened your medical kit near your hip when a squeaky girl voice spoke up, “Is he going to be alright?” The padawan to your left asked.

You took a second to assess the damage better. “He should be” a wave of relief came over the room. Whoever this man was, he was well loved. You moved quickly cutting open the stitches Kix (as you now know) had inserted. Maker, this man was lucky, as far as you could see no vital organs were hurt. You drained the wound knowing that infection was a painful silent killer. After that, you dressed and tended to the wound. Once you were done you wiped your forehead with your sleeve.

You finally looked over to his face. He was truly lucky. His blond short hair suited him. You could not deny that he was handsome. You quickly avert your gaze to Kix. “Here” you handed him a bottle out of your pack “he should take these 2 times a day for the next 2 weeks” Kix nodded as the Jedi stood up next to him “And make sure to redress that wound every 2 days. If he doesn’t improve in 3 days, bring him in straight away to the med-bay” Kix was about to turn away to what you presume store away the bottle. “Kix” his head whipped around “You did well with what you had. You should bear no guilt” You wanted him to know that. He looked a little less lost. A soft smile appeared slowly as he left the room.

“ How long would it take before he is able to work again?” The jedi to your left asked guilty. Normally who would recommend 3 weeks but you knew they didn’t have time. No one has these days. “ In a week he should be able to stand and the pain should be subdued a little” they both looked hopeful but you couldn’t send a wounded man out “ give him at least 10 days general skyewalker “ the young togruta still looked a little stressed. You gave her a reassuring smile “ he will heal and if you would be sent out before those 10 days, he’s always welcome in the halls of healing”

You took one last glance to the man’s abdomen to check your work of course. The jedi cleared his throat to catch your attention. “Uh, could you take a look at my other men?” He asked while a knowing smirk played on his lips “Of course” you answered far too fast. You walked out to go help the others who only had minor injuries.

Rex woke up groggy. He tried to sit up straight but was held back by a stabbing pain and the sour muscles from the last 5 months of labour.A dumb reminder of an even dumber mistake. Jumping between a crossfire is as stupid as can be . Ahsoka was in the middle of a battle herself when a blast was aimed at her back. He understood that she could have parryd it easily but the risk wasn’t worth it to him.

An image of Kix Frustrated state trying to stitch him up fleshed to his mind. He pulled the blanket off him, expecting a festering wound but instead he found his stomach neatly wrapped in soft, white cotton gauze. Before he could question where those supplies even came from Ashoka rushed in.

“Rex! You’re finally awake!” She yelled excitedly as she raced past the door. He looked back up to her confused by his mended middle. Ahsoka wiggled her eyebrows “That was done by this really pretty medic.” She was about to continue when her face went a little blank “Now that I think about it she didn’t give me her name.” “Y/n” Anakin said smugly as he walked in “but that doesn’t matter. You could always go visit her in the halls of healing” Both of his commanders gushed out in fits of giggles.

Rex was even more confused than before. He knew of the healers, having accompanied Anakin on one of his many injuries. They were the top of the medical world, specifically for the Jedi. Years and years of knowledge filled those halls, when you walked past them (as Rex had done a few times) you could smell the old ink and parchment flowing by. Libraries filled with hopeful students patiently studying their teachers' brilliance with passion that could rival the jedi they so cared for .So why did they help a clone?

Rex ended up too far in his own thoughts again, he didn’t hear Anakin or Ahsoka speak or really anything for that matter. Finally he decided to lay his head back. Sleep would not quiet the storm raging in his head; it would also help his injury.

꧁Masterlist꧂

I am going to make this a tiny series just because its set through a few weeks and otherwise it would be a lot of timeskips and past days.

I hope you enjoyed it and thank you for reading ❤︎︎

[cyberspacenine]

something that bothers me about Clone Wars as a show is, for how much time we get to spend with different Clones & get to know them, we barely ever see anything about them that's not defined by their quality/duty as soldiers.

as of starting season 7, there's only one episode i remember showcasing a soldier who has left the military, and has absolutely no desire to return. in every other instance, everything we get know about individual soldiers is always tied to who they are within the army, the battlefield, etc. Many of their quirks/differences are tied back to different fighting styles or uniform adjustments, which is not bad, but it's a little off-putting when it's the only thing.

what do they do on shore leave? if they barely ever get shore leave and are worked to the bone, to the point of not being able to have a life outside of "duty", why do the characters not acknowledge it? this show spanned six seasons (before the conclusion), and i guarantee you some storylines could have been cut, in lieu of having an episode or two dedicated to exploring these characters outside of the war they were made for.

it's not that the show never critiques the way the republic uses & discards clones, we do get a very compelling storyline with Fives for example, but the show still never manages to see them as fully realized people outside of the battlefield. the status quo is critiqued but never outright challenged, and it's easy to draw parallels with other media with/about the military, so of course clone wars is not the only one doing this.

like i'm not trying to bash the entire show, just expressing my frustration at the fact that it sort of fails at in my opinion one of the most important aspects of its themes.

[elliebyrrdwrites]

The Marriage Law Trope:

It doesn’t even matter what kind of person you are. Good, bad, total fucking wack-job? You could be a fucking Saint and it wouldn’t matter. Because the world is made and it is ruled by a few. Just a handful of people who decide what we do. They decide what the rules are and we just fucking follow them.

Because all we are, to them, are sheep. Sheep that are soldiers who give up everything for their gain. Not our own. They gain more money and more power and we die. Eventually, we just die, all broken and battered. Often, we die tragically.

It’s all by design. We are like a cancer, growing and growing. We are metastasizing into something that cannot be stopped. So, the powers that be, they take us and give us a purpose. The purpose, it serves them and them alone.

Because people breed like fucking mice. We fuck and fuck and pop out little clones of ourselves programmed to do the same fucking thing. So, the little handful of powerful people take advantage of it. And we just keep going, fucking and surviving. We migrate and fuck other races and we evolve. We grow accustomed to the climate changes, the ecological conditions that seem ever changing.

At least, that is the way it’s supposed to happen. Survival of the fittest, right?

But the funny thing is, wizarding kind isn’t like people.

We’re special. We have magic and we can cure illness and create potions that regenerate our organs and our bones. We rarely get sick. But when we do, it’s devastating. And, we’re worse than pandas. Because we fuck and we fuck, often by force, and we still cannot produce enough offspring to give our kind any hope of survival. Because we’re not the fittest. Despite all of the blood purity garbage, we are not supposed to be here.

I’m not supposed to be here.

And the point is, that no matter how hard my father tries, he is not one of those few powerful men. Because it took three years for Shaklebot to start losing pull after the war ended. Three years for him to start losing popularity amongst the rich and greedy. Three years for him to cave into the roll of every other minister before him. A puppet. Which is what my father wants me to become. Which is why all of this is fucking beautiful and sick.

And the sick fucks can see that our kind is at risk for becoming endangered. Soon, if we don’t migrate and acclimatize to a new environment, we will die off. We will become extinct. We we ill be exterminated by our own bigotry.

Oh, the irony.

And the point is, I am not attracted to my fiancé. It has nothing to do with how frail and sickly she is. I’ve never liked her. Not before our fathers signed a contract promising us to each other, not before and not a second after.

When your libido drops, you do things that help you feel like a man. Because I can’t fuck my fiancé and that is embarrassing. So, I work out. I run every day, sometimes for hours. I visit old classmates and we get drunk and we fight. sometimes with each other, sometimes with others. It took three years for her to come down with some rare blood illness. And the point is, the night before I was supposed to walk down the aisle and marry Astoria Greengrass, a decree came down from the minister himself, stopping me from my impending doom.

The point is, the ministry decided that it was time to stop fucking our cousins and began to turn to muggle born witches for breeding. We must marry half bloods and mudbloods in order to save Wizarding Kind. We must fuck them, fill them with our seed and produce heirs who will, eventually, taut their blood status. Because, in a handful of years, twenty or thirty, the law will be revoked and then the heirs of the sacred twenty eight wont know that their blood is tainted by mud. They will be able to stick their fucking noses in the air and start the cycle all over again.

Like I said, survival of the fittest, right?

And I don’t belong here because right now, there’s a solicitor standing in our foyer, breaking the news to me and to my parents. they’re breaking the news to Astoria and to her parents.

She is too sick and, essentially, useless. They need to grow the population. They need to create new alleles that will be passed down and down and ensure that we survive.

I’m lounging on the settee and I’m watching the solicitor rub at the back of his neck as he attempts to tell the Malfoy’s and the Greengrasses why they cannot go through with the wedding that has been planned for the past three years.

“James,” My father calls the man by his name because he knows him. James was one of those men who used to bustle in and out of my fathers studies. He was supposed to accept his bribes and push my fathers agenda. My fathers agenda was power for the Malfoy name.

But a couple of weeks ago, the man stopped stopping by. Things were getting tense. Because there had been a decision that didn’t involve my father and his money.

“You’re expecting us to cancel a wedding that has cost us a small fortune, and all for what?”

“It’s a direct order from the minister, himself, Lucius.” James is rolling and rolling the parchment with the declaration that mine and Astoria’s nuptials would be unlawful. Because as of midnight tonight, the law will be passed. And just as my father chose and sold me off to the highest bidder within the pureblood circle, the minister has ordered me to do the same. But not to Astoria. No, the minister has had his finest men and women put their heads together and come up with some sort of formula that has decided who would work best with my magic, and be more willing to accept my see.

“Can we at least, petition for a half breed?” My mother asks and everyone’s eyes dart to her. Astoria is pale as ever, terrified of what her future may bring. She doesn’t know if she will be paired with some mudblood wizard, or if she will be deemed to sickly to be sold off. Too weak to enslave.

“Isn’t it better than a mudblood?” Mother says to father, who purses his lip and lifts his eyebrows in assent before we all look back at James for a response.

“I’m afraid the matches will be non-negotiable.”

“That’s absurd!” My father growls.

“Well, at least your money won’t be a total waste. There can still be a wedding.” James gestures to the flowers filling the foyer. White flowers fill the entire manor. Spilling into the halls and out into the gardens, where the ceremony was to be held.

“Who is it, then?” I finally ask, before taking another sip of my drink. The thing is, I’m barely present. I know what’s going on, but it’s like the volume on the world is turned down and there’s a blanket thrown over the speaker, muffling all of the noise and my movements feel heavy. Like I am trudging through mud deep under the sea.

“Most wont know their matches until tomorrow afternoon.”

Most are not Malfoy’s. They are not wealthy and semi-powerful.

“But, I did manage to look at yours,” He nods to me before his eyes shift, uneasily, toward my father.

The name falls from James lips and something incredible happens. My father’s face turns a shade of red, speckled with green bits around and just under his eyes. His lips pale out, turning almost white instead of pink. Because, James has just said the name of a witch I hadn’t seen or heard from in at least three years. The name of a witch I hadn’t even recalled for the past three years.

I can't decide if this name being thrown onto me like a cold cup of water is a miracle or a my impending doom.

Hermione Granger.

Granger probably wants to cry. No, worse. She probably wants to rage. She probably wanted to tear down the walls of a world that had betrayed her. Over and over again, she was betrayed. She probably felt skinned alive and abandoned. Maybe she wasn’t enough, because she was a mudblood. She was a hero. She was too much, because she was insatiably hungry for knowledge. She was their only hope, because she was a muggle born.

Because she was a muggle born, they needed to take her and use her. She was to be caged and used like an animal. Nothing more than a mare meant for breeding.

And she had no say in the matter. They probably waxed and tweezed and groomed her until her cheeks were red and the skin between her thighs stung. 

She was probably being thanked for her bravery. Praised for her contribution to the good of wizarding kind.

But, really, they were dooming her. They hadn’t even given her a choice. The ministry had decided her fate that had been calculated by people who didn’t even know her.

She knew things had changed, and that things had become dark again. Because she was smart. Granger was the brightest witch of our age.

But this. 

This was pure evil. Granger probably felt like she had been plucked right out of her life and inserted into the middle of a dystopian future where Voldemort had won and the pure bloods ruled. 

And in a way, we did. Because we still hold the vast majority of the riches. They still held the most garner and control of the Wizengamot. 

Perhaps she had been naïve and ignorantly secured in her little bubble. Perhaps her and her two puppy dogs had failed to realize that the real war was not held on battlefields. It was inside of the dark, smoky studies of pureblood wizards. 

And they had won.

But this wasn’t about war. This was for the good of Wizarding kind, they probably told her. They probably told her that she really was the golden girl, savior of the world!

Because she will be cornered by ministry officials and order her to pack her things. They will order her to answer a summons from the minister himself. Because she was going to be forced to marry someone she hated. Someone she had not seen in three years and when she last saw him, was probably terrible to her. Because I am that kind of a wizard. I am my fathers son. I am a good little asshole. I say terrible things to wonderful people and I never think of them again.

And the point is, that is a lie.

Because I have thought about Granger. Nearly every morning, I wake up with the memory of a dream that gets leaves me with a painful erection. Every night, I blink and drift off into lucid dreams that borderline on erotic. Sometimes they are pointless. None of them ever make sense.

Because I’m a prisoner and prisoners tend to hold onto the little things from their past. Little moments that keep them going. That allow them to survive in conditions meant to break them. And I am. I’m broken and dirty and terrible.

I’m everything my father wants me to be.

Except that in my mind, there is Granger and her big sunset eyes. Her sunset eyes are golden brown and they shine on me from across the space of the school library. It’s not even a moment, it’s a snippet of a moment that meant nothing. Nothing at all, except that they are warm eyes and when I sit in my cold, frigid cell, I use it. I use the memory of the warmth and bask in it.

I’ve learned how to Occlude. Dodd insisted, actually. Told me to build my walls and compartmentalize all of my anxiety and stuff it into some sort of a box inside of my head and lock it away. But with this new ability, I found that there is this little nugget of gold just laying there.

Granger, sitting across the library, studying and I’m just watching her. Waiting. For what, I can’t tell. I don’t know. But when she looks at me, her eyes are all bright and warm and her lips lift in a little smile and then I’m finding the memory to be special, precious even. And it doesn’t make sense, because I’m a Malfoy and she is a mudblood and I hate her.

Always have, and always will.

The point is, she doesn’t belong here. She doesn’t belong in my world and she doesn't belong in my head. Still, I wonder what she looks like these days. I heard that she was going to school, again. What a novelty. Hermione Granger couldn’t stop studying. She couldn’t stop getting praises for her high marks and the fucking genius that she was.

But those are thoughts that only come to me when I’m gone, drifting high above the earth while I dream.

And when I’m awake, I don’t think of her. I think of nothing.

Because that’s what I am.

I am nothing. Because I do not belong here. This world is for mere men and I am something more, something ancient and tired. Life is tedious and boring.

And Granger is probably in the ministers office right now, screaming her argument until she’s blue in the face. She’s probably trembling at the idea of becoming the former Death Eaters little wife. Forced to let him fuck her as he pleased. She wouldn’t go down without a fight.

The realization of a pink faced, bright eyed Granger causes a bit of a stir somewhere deep inside of my guts. It’s warm and prickly all at once. It feels like waking up in the morning with a full nights rest only to find yourself in the middle of a barren cell with no heat clinging to the cold stone walls.

Trust me, I know.

[captainkirkk]

✩ WEEKLY FIC ROUND-UP ✩

All the fics I’ve read and really enjoyed in the past week-ish. Reminder: This list features any and all ratings and themes. Please look at tags and warnings on ao3 before reading.

Clone Wars/Star Wars

The Sun Swings East by kj_feybarn (+ podfic)

Over and over, Obi-Wan woke up and wished he hadn't.

Palpatine wouldn't stop until Obi-Wan had Fallen, wouldn't stop until Obi-Wan gave Palpatine a shattered galaxy in payment for his release.

He couldn't save himself, Obi-Wan had come to terms with that.

What he hadn't realized was that didn't mean there was no way to be saved.

broken surface by qigiined

"The water is not talking to you, Obi-Wan,” Feemor says without chastisement in his tone. “That’s the force you’re feeling, from the trees maybe.” The clippers turn back on. “Or a fish.” “Bones,” Obi-Wan says. The clippers turn off again. “Bones,” Obi-Wan repeats. “I want to be bones.” “You’re already bones. Where’d you get that idea?” Qui-Gon steps quietly closer to the door. “You’re scaring me, O’Ben,” Feemor says softly.

(Obi-Wan suffers from a genetic and force-based condition that makes him want to drown himself in a bog. And sometimes that bog is the shape of a sink.)

cultural ed by qigiined

PDS: so Kenobi would have been 23? 24? When the padawan came along?

WLF: so probably around 22 for conception. They need time to bake.

PDS: no one can make natborns that young.

FOX: I’m telling you all. Natborns are REALLY good at making other natborns that young. It’s their specialty.

(Cal is assigned to do some cultural education with Obi-Wan on board The Negotiator for a few days and Cody and his batch come to some understandable conclusions.)

and through the spaces of the dark by blackkat (+ podfic)

Jon's attempts to avoid a war he wants no part in are ended when Dark Woman drags him to Coruscant and straight to a posting with the Guard. He intends to keep his head down and do his work, but the mysteries around the Guard - and Fox - immediately have him in out of his depth and on uncertain ground/

Nine Worlds series (Victoria Goddard)

An Impossible Dream by SunInGlory

His Radiancy makes a proposal to his secretary. It probably isn't a real proposal...or is it?

an honorable and enviable role. by mage-pie (looselipssinksubs)

"Get up get up get up!” Something heavy landed on Varro’s stomach. He sat up just as Zerafin turned the lights on. “What?” Zerafin was grinning. The thing he’d thrown at Varro was a duffel bag. “We’re going on vacation! Get up, start packing, we’re leaving at dawn!”

That’s right, iiiiit’s… Vangavayen Vacation Time! Featuring our very favorite captive audience and peanut gallery, the highly trained and extremely professional innermost members of the Imperial Guard! Please give them your applause and moral support; they’re going to need it.

Privacy by Penguinity

Rhodin sipped his coffee. “Are us roommates cramping your style?”

“No,” Conju demurred, in a way which clearly meant yes. “I value you all deeply and am satisfied with a . . . laissez-faire . . . living situation in our retirement.”

Ludvic stirred his coffee. Rhodin peeled a banana in a desultory way. They waited.

Conju sighed. “It’s just–“ Ludvic and Rhodin leaned forward as Conju continued, “– why does he have to be underfoot all the time? Overnight?! I came down for a drink last week and nearly broke my neck tripping over a middle-aged aristocrat. It’s undignified."

Disobedience by alfgifu

You glanced down at the new paper with mild concern and felt your emotions congeal into cold terror.

It was not a standard Council paper, though it came with the usual cover slip.

It was a warrant for Cliopher’s execution.

A touch of home by alfgifu

I might have felt extremely boring coming back to the Palace through the front door in all our finery, but as Kip had pointed out, there was really no need to alarm the guards by climbing in a window when we could shock the world simply by showing up as ourselves.

[lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom]

I’d love to request a fic with a female reader and a angsty/comfort storyline with the Bad Batch.

For a broad storyline I was thinking something by along the lines of a female reader joining the Bad Batch (per Hunter’s idea) and Crosshair and/or Echo not being very happy about it. However they eventually they come around to having another girl in the group.❤️

Winning Approval

Clone Force 99 x Platonic!Reader

Summary- You felt as if you were living a purpose-less life, so when Hunter asks you to join his crew, you say yes! Not everyone on the force is as happy though... Takes place during and after Season 1, Ep. 2.

A/N- Thank you so much for requesting! I appreciate it so much, but I think I'm done writing platonic xD. This was sooo hard for me to write. I love the challenge, but i'm not sure how great my platonic writing skills are!

Word Count- 1,454

Growing up, helping people seemed natural. You remember discovering this when your old friend Kaiya fell and scratched her knee. It was second nature to dress her wound and comfort her. You were nine at the time.

Your mother enrolled you in medical classes as much as she could, you learned how to set bones, stitch holes, and treat infections. Amongst many other skills.

The city you lived in was soon taken over by the empire, but you found a way out before it was too late. That's where you found yourself- living with Suu and her husband Cut. The two had taken you in when they found out your home had been destroyed.

It didn't hurt when you found out you and Suu's parents knew each other in their youth.

When you had stumbled onto Hunter- he and his crew had set off a trap you had set in the fields. Your gun raised at him was lowered by Cut, claiming he knew them.

Things blurred together since then, everything moved so fast. Having to relocate away from the empire again was not something you fashioned. You were tired of running, and expressed your concerns.

Hunter initially suggested dropping you off at the planet of your choice, (a repayment for taking care of one of Omegas wounds).

Crash landing on a moon wasn't on anyone's roster, but it happened nonetheless. It did, however, give yourself an opportunity to prove yourself to them.

You helped Tech repair a part of the hyper-drive, earning his favor.

You shared your rations with Wrecker, earning his approval.

You played and entertained with Omega, earning her and Hunters trust.

Last was Echo. You wanted him to like you, as you enjoyed everyone's company. They were so kind to you, and didn't pay any mind to flaws. They knew themselves that they were defective- what was one more defect?

Maybe you were in over your head, would they really accept you as a member of their squad? They just met you a week ago. For all they knew you were an Empire spy... You couldn't deny that you wanted to stay though. You felt like you belonged- finally.

When Echo still avoided you like the plague and the ship was ready to fly again, you felt like you had run out of time. You sulked around the ship for awhile, waiting for Hunter to ask where you wanted to be dropped off.

That was until you noticed- he hadn't asked you. It had been hours and he had said nothing about you leaving.

This made you crack, anxiety like ice through your veins.

"Hunter, I mean this in the least selfish way possible. But, why haven't you asked where I wanted to go yet? What planet?" You thought you messed up when his face fell. He looked dissapointed?

"Well, we were hoping you would want to stay. We were going to formally ask, but Wrecker and Omega are still making the poster." He rubbed the pack of his neck and chuckled a little bit. "Would you like to join us? If not, that's completely understandable. Just name the planet and we will be headed there." He stated, making sure you knew you had options.

"R-really? You guys want me to join you?" You wanted to smack your head at how cliche you sounded. Though, you didn't have time to think on it, as Hunter started talking again.

"We don't have an official medic. While Tech possesses all the knowledge needed, he doesn't have a, uh how do I put it? A steady hand when it comes to medical means." He reasoned.

"You are more than capable as we've seen, and between Wrecker and Omega we need a medic- bad." You smiled at this. You felt a purpose. Someone needed you! You would be able to help your squad and civilians you came across on any journey.

Before you could respond, Omega and Wrecker barreled through the mid-section of the ship. Omega held a small banner in her hand, and Wrecker a large sheet of paper. It was full of colorful pictures, drawn by the two.

Your heart warmed at the effort they put in, all to make you feel welcomed.

"How could I say no? You guys have been so perfect to me, and I want to help you guys as much as I can." You smiled up at Hunter, he patted you on the shoulder. His way of officially letting you on the squad.

After that day, things started to move more smoothly. Yeah, you had some bad run-ins, almost got captured a few times, and had many near-death experiences. But, you were with your family through it all. The only problem was Echo.

Maybe 'problem' wasn't too nice of a word. Echo never did anything wrong. He just, never seemed to like your company. You guessed he didn't have to like you, not everyone would. Because of this, you pushed back your guilty feelings surrounding him. That was until you over-heard a conversation between him and Hunter.

"Something feels off about her." Echo told Hunter. You couldn't see either of them, and didn't want to expose your position by moving.

"Yeah, and what's that?"

"I can't place it. I don't understand how everyone can just accept her, no questions asked." Echo sounded confused.

"She's shown us many times that she can handle herself. Plus, Omega needs another female on the ship.'' Hunter defended you, but still wanted to hear Echos concerns.

"She's not a clone. She doesn't think like us!" Ah, so that's why he's been so put-off by you. It was because you weren't a clone. You assumed he was so used to clones, that of course you were an odd piece in their clone family.

You slowly moved back to your sleeping cot. You sunk down slowly. It wasn't your fault, really. You can't control where or how you were born. Thoughts surrounded you. Was it that obvious? Were you that different from them?

As much as you wanted to pack your bags and not burden anyone else, you decided to talk to Echo first.

After landing on a planet to resupply, you asked to speak to Echo alone.

"Uh, sure." He replied, skeptical. You both exited the ship, though keeping close.

"Echo, I didn't really know how to bring this up. I figured I should just get straight to the point?" You asked, not wanting to waste his time.

He nodded, looking straight to you.

"I overheard you and Hunter talking last rotation..." You nervously picked at a nail. He still stared, not wavering.

"I can't help that i'm not a clone. I'm not sorry either, but I do want to know what I can do. To gain your trust." You dropped your hand, eager for his response.

He licked his lips, thinking. "I'm sorry you heard that..."

"Echo, I don't care. I just- I want to be a part of this family..." You mustered out. Now or never!

This surprised him, "What are you talking about. You already are!"

He seemed, mad? Was he really that disgusted by 'normal' humans?

"I can't help that i'm not a clone!" You regrettably yelled, throwing you arms up.

"That doesn't matter, everyone accepts you anyways!" His words were strained, like he didn't want anyone to know.

"Why don't you?" You whispered.

He sighed and took a step back. "When I first joined force 99, it wasn't as easy."

You couldn't imagine what he was referring to. You knew he was a regular clone before joining Hunter, but what did that have to do with anything?

After seeing your confused look, he continued. "I wasn't born a defective clone, I became one. It took a lot of time to understand how to use this. But you fit in so easily." He gestured to his mechanical arm.

"I had no idea you felt that way... I wasn't trying to mean anything-" He cut you off.

"I know, and really, we do need a medic. I was just being resentful, I'm sorry."

"I'm not trying to take anyone's place. The team wouldn't be the same without you. Besides, Omega adores you, and I think Hunter will do whatever it takes to keep her happy." You laughed, he luckily gave out a chuckle as well.

"Thanks. I think It'll just take some time to get used to the difference." He said, honestly.

"I get that, just let me know if there's anything I can do... Ya know, to speed things up?" You smiled up at him. It was then that you knew everything would be fine. That you really had found your family, and nothing could take you from them.

A/N- Thank you so much for reading! I am sorry if this isn't what you had in mind! Feel free to send in another request if you would like a more specific plot! Again, sorry that my platonic writing skills aren't that sharp! Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @knight-of-flowerss

[shadowofthelamp]

Creation

Summary: Bill decides he wants a kid with Ford, and when someone's given themselves to you entirely, you can do a lot with that.

Beatrice creation story! Rated T basically for a cut to black at the end/a brief non-descriptive use of magic making him feel good, but nothing explicit is shown and the kid is created by magic. Set in the 'muse' era shortly before everything spirals.

Warning: Mpreg

Wordcount: 1200

“So, smart guy!” Bill had been grinning. It was in the way the corners of his eyes pinched up, how his pulsing glow on each word was brighter. “You want to help me with something, don’t you?”

“Of course!” Ford floated easily towards him, gravity a mere suggestion that could be brushed aside here in the place where dreams become reality and reality twisted to the wildest fancies of the imagination. "Why wouldn't I? It has to be more interesting than watching the gnomes trying to capture bath squirrels again. The forest is starting to really settle down for winter."

“See, this is why I like you, Fordsie, always asking just the right questions!” Bill lightly tapped a finger on Ford’s nose, and a rush of lava spiraled down his nerves at the touch. “Now, you promised your body to me, and I’ve been using it plenty well- keeping you up and running past those silly human limits so we can get the really important work done, fixing the little stresses here and there, things like that. There’s something I’ve been wanting for eons, but no one else was good enough- not until you.”

“Bill, I-” Even without the limitations of the human body present in the projection, instinctively Ford found himself swallowing at the compliment. “Thank you. I’ll do my best to live up to whatever it is. So! What do you need? Does it have anything to do with the portal?”

“You’re the human vessel to help carry my- our genius to the masses, you already knew that, but I’ve got even bigger plans for this hunk of rock.” Bill snapped his fingers with another ‘smile’ (perhaps sharper than usual, eye a bit more narrowed?) and a deal-flame burned bright blue-

-Before he plunged it directly into Ford’s stomach.

The red-hot pain that ignited every soft organ below the lungs was almost enough to throw Ford back into the waking world, but Bill’s fingers merely curled inside of him as he whistled, rummaging around until a new pain of something swelling, growing, mixed with a wave of pleasure to counter the agony currently cauterizing his organs. Wave after wave of mixed sensations radiated out from the intrusion as a noise even he couldn't define slipped from his lips, and he clawed at the air with moans muffled into the infinity of the Mindscape.

“There we go, figured I might as well toss you a bone for dealing with this! Woo, this is going to be a lot to handle for an oily sweat beast meat-sack like you, but you’re a good human, you’ll manage.”

“Wh- what is?” Ford managed to stutter as Bill pulled his hand out, thick red with sparks of starlight dripping from the sleek black fingers all the way up to the elbow. Nothing existed in his mind but questions, even as the pain sucked into itself like a black hole and disappeared. “What did you do to- what did you put in there?”

“Why, our child, of course!”

There was a moment’s silence as Ford processed that before an actual record scratch sounded somewhere in the Mindscape, which just made Bill slap his knee and cackle.

“Oh, oh that is perfect timing. Your brain is a riot, Sixer, you know that?”

“Our child…?” Ford’s eyes had widened to the point that the lids had nearly receded into the skull, and one hand instinctively dropped to the still-oozing stomach, droplets of flickering silver mixing with deep maroon. “That can’t be-”

“Exactamundo, our child! Offspring, half-clone, spawn, whatever you want to call it!” Bill summoned his cane specifically to spin it and jab the end into Ford’s chest. “I’ve told you my whole tragic backstory-” (Ford’s eyes instinctively darted up to the hat and he felt a pang unrelated to the whole hand-shoving-through-guts thing) “-But I figured it was time to move on fully, starting a family of my own. And you’re the lucky candidate that I’d like to spend the rest of your life with! You’re smart, you’re a freak, you’ve already given me complete control over your body, and I wouldn’t mind a little rugrat running around with your cute little face on the part of the time they don’t look like me!”

“The part of the-” Ford shook his head to himself. That was not the thing to focus on, and his fingers curled around the stomach of his sweater tight enough that the threads unwound in the non-air. “Bill, I don’t have the- the- equipment for this!”

“And I’m a triangle, but do you really think I can’t make a few adjustments on that little problem? You wound me! Seahorses do it, it’s just a design flaw that humans can’t, really!” Bill rested his palm atop Ford’s knuckles. “I just needed to scoop out a little extra space- you don’t need all of those organs, so I just combined a few. They should work just as well!” He waved his free hand. “Besides, you said you wanted to do something for me. I’ve barely asked you for anything, and this is an honor!”

“Bill, I-” Ford’s free hand raised to tangle in his hair as the dream deity pressed up against his middle as if listening for a heartbeat already. “It’s not that I’m not flattered-”

“Then what is it, brainiac?” Bill tilted upward. “We’re already changing the world, and you’ve already pledged your life to me. We can be happy together. What’s one more string sewing us together? I picked you for a reason.”

He floated up, gripping a cheek in each hand as his single eye met both of Ford’s, sticky silver and ruby blood mixing together and oozing down the skin. “I already told you, I can’t imagine anyone else I’d want to do this with, and isn’t this what humans are meant to do, squirt out squirmy little genetic reproductions of themselves? Let’s face it, you’re never going to meet a girl, and this way you’ll change the world with the portal and by carrying the first new member of my species in a trillion years!”

His thumb stroked the skin as he tilted slightly, as if turning his head. “You’re the only one I’d want this with. Don’t you trust me, Fordsy?”

It may have been the leftover heat of the deal-fire from whatever Bill had done before, but Ford found his cheeks burning as his mouth fell open slightly, a puff of breath escaping.

“...Yes.” The truth of the admission came from deep within, even as doubts squirmed like pinned insects. “I- I have given myself body and soul, you know that.”

“Good boy.” Bill’s bloody fingers shifted, one thumb sliding between Ford’s wet lips, and Ford instinctively sucked, getting a pat with the other hand as liquid stardust slipped down his throat, igniting his stomach with a far more pleasurable flame that shot further south. “Now then! This is the fun part!”

Ford was about to ask, but Bill’s other hand had slipped beneath the neckline of his sweater at the same time his form began to crack along the bricks to spill free something ancient and starving, and there very quickly ceased to be any possible questions.

[evilminji]

You know all those Cults in Gotham?

Bet at least ONE of them could spring for both a Legit Magic User and a Cloning pod.

Because The Wayne's? Hearts of Gold. Long standing pains in the asses. Probably the only thing standing between this gods forsaken wasteland of a city and Their Dark Lord. For GENERATIONS no less!

It's sooooo obnoxious!

So they want to Curse Um dead. Just a good ol fashioned bloodline curse. Destroy um from within, etc. BUT! To do THAT? You kinda need a blood relative to sacrifice!

And Bruce is... well... rather infamously An Orphan With No Biological Kids (at that point).

So? What do you do? Make one, obviously. You send in some of your own on a Holy Mission. Honeypot that playboy! Get us a kid to sacrifice! Our God will reward you etc! But... FFS! What? Are brunettes not your TYPE or something?! Pretty lady! Throwing herself at you!!

TAKE THE BAIT!

But he DOESN'T. Because he's both really used to that behavior, as The Wayne Heir and a False Playboy, AND because? He's fuckin Batman. He can see through your schemes.

Okay.

Okay!

Plan B!

Get us some DNA. We'll CLONE the sucker. That should be doable, right?

........OH COME ON! How?!

Batman: [REDACTED] / Cultists: 0

Fuck it! This is impossible! How are we supposed too... *eyes drift over to the Wayne Family Private Graveyard* .......Idea? Ideeeeaaaa~! Someone get us a shovel!

So they, cultist bastards that they are? Fuckin rob a grave for some DNA.

OBVIOUSLY though, it can't be one of the more RECENT graves! He probably VISITS those! Watches them! No we gotta be SNEAKY! Get one a bit further back! Mwahahahaha! We're so brilliant! Our God is gonna give us SUCH a Good Grade in follower!

A thing that is both REAL and possible to achieve!

So, while a Weirdly FURIOUS Batman? Is just... VIOLENTLY breaking ALL of their bones? Cultist 17 is furiously digging like his life depends on it. Either somebody snitched or Batman was hunting them down! Either way?

Gotta! Get! That! DNA!!! *digs faster*

Ah HA! Got it!

Fucking SCATTER! Run you fools, RUN!!! *everyone bolts*

And AT LAST! They have it! Wayne DNA! Now? Pop that sucker into the machine and make us a baby! Too sacrifice! *relieved noises* Man, that was hard work you guys. But we DID it!

Except??

Theoretical Babies? And "Real, slowly forming in front of me and becoming a human child" type babies? VERY DIFFERENT psychologically. It's ONE thing to sacrifice a HYPOTHETICAL baby... but when you're the guy running and monitoring the Cloning machine? Watching it slowly form and come together into... into a CHILD?

You start asking questions of yourself. Of God.

Of what, EXACTLY, you are willing to do.

What lines you find yourself unwilling to cross.

And yeah, your life was SHIT before the cult. Yeah, you were alone. Adrift. Without purpose. Angry at the world for all of its ugliness and failings. But... sitting, alone, in a dark room? Nothing but the steady hum of machines and the cool light of that pod? You are left with nothing but time... and your thoughts.

And the baby.

The one... the one YOU made.

Almost... he's almost like a son, in a way. Your son. Floating there, innocent and unknowing. Destined to be born, only to die painfully, for a cause he could not even begin to understand. Because he's too young. Too small. Just... just a baby.

The baby YOU made.

Doubt seeps in like mist. Creeping into the cracks forming in your faith. Surely there's another way, right? Why not save up for a better magician? Or... or hire a hitman? Why involve a child? Surely... surely your God would not WANT this, right? Or if He did! Surely, he would want the boy to be able to CHOOSE, right? A noble sacrifice, for the cause?

The pressure builds. Batman is tearing the city APART looking for your fellow Believers. Leadership is pressuring you to get "It" ready all ready.

He's not an "it".

They are dismissing your questions. Threatening and posturing, as you grapple with your faith. Where? Where is the COMMUNITY that you joined? The camaraderie? Every day, Believers are being torn down. The faith has lost so many!

How can this be WORTH it?

Your faith is slowly, cruelly, strangled in your chest. A death, by ten thousand silences, and ten thousand more cruelties.

Your son is ready.

You do not tell them.

The Clone of Bruce Wayne's great-grandfather is small, but healthy, in your arms. A tiny warm body, with a strong beating little heart. You call the police. Leave your phone, call running, on the desk. No one thinks to stop you, as you calmly walk out the back door.

Why would they doubt?

You are Faithful.

You drive. Pray to a God you have lost faith in, beg forgiveness for what you do now. Your beat up old junker of a car makes decent time, as you leave Gotham. Your son, asleep in a carefully made nest of blankets, on the seat next to you. You drive. You keep driving.

Past towns.

Past cities.

Out of the state.

Stopping only to feed your son and fuel your car. You... you can not bring yourself to care about what will happen to you now. You know they will find you. Know this is the end. But something ancient burns in your chest. A caring you never thought was REAL.

You are afraid.

But you will not let them harm your son.

Finally, a town. Far from Gotham. Quite and cheerful. It calls to you.

Here. It... it has to be here.

You find the hospital. Tears choking you. There is a place to drop of children. You've seen them before. How strange, that now you stand before it and HURT. Your arms not listening to your command. You... you have to do this. You HAVE too.

He is just a baby.

He is your son.

You have to keep him safe. And... and that can not be with you.

You gently put your baby boy into the drop off. Press the buzzer. And then? You make yourself walk away.

Get back in your car, and drive. The gun in your glove box will insure they can never pry from you, what you have done. Where he is. He is safe now. He has to be. You... you did your job. As his father. You made sure he was safe.

You can barely see the road, through your tears.

You take your secrets to the grave.

And Danny? He grows up. Is adopted young and never knows different. Both a Fenton and a Wayne. Knowing only one of these, to be his. But... that Wayne? Was a damn fine man. A pillar of his community and a champion of the people.

Got tossed more then a few blessings, in his life.

They weren't the STRONGEST. But they added up. And more importantly? Were hardly the refined magics of the more powerful. They were cast onto "Him". By blood and bone, more often then not. Which was all well and good!

When there was only ONE of "Him".

Cloning technology did not exsist. So why would you word carefully against it? Danny becomes a VERY lucky boy. Survives many things he should not. In fact, the kindness and hard work of his original? Gifted back in magically powered well wishes? By this, he survives something NO ONE could possibly expect him too.

It saves his life.

His template would be quite pleased, knowing that. That his life of good deeds, saved the life of the child he never got a chance to meet. That it protected his children, from even beyond death.

And in Gotham? At long, long last. The program Bruce made in his helplessness and despair, to search EVERY child until the child made of his bloodline was found? Spits out a match.

A Watchtower engineer.

Daniel J. Fenton.

@hdgnj @hypewinter @lolottes @babbling-babull @nerdpoe @mutable-manifestation

[filamentlights]

Water in Our Bird Bones

Clone x OC Week - Day 3, Conflict || Wolffe x OC

SUMMARY: Of all the brilliant ideas the Senate’s come up with, a Core World dance troupe performing for the men for “morale” was up there on Wolffe’s list of Stupid Things Politicians Do. Still, the reprieve is nice. That is until he’s confronted with some ugly truths about his armor…and his dancing abilities. 

Word count: 3.3k

Tags & Warnings: social & political commentary I guess, environmentalism, descriptions of canon typical violence, brief talks about terrorism and violence, folk dancer oc, inspired by Tibetan folk dances, Wolffe learns to dance

“You’re delusional. What you’re suggesting is treasonous. I know the Chancellor; he is a good man!”

Wolffe had his helmet off, so he had to fight to keep an impassive face. For all Skywalker bitched about how he “wasn’t a messenger bird” for the Chancellor, he sure was quick to come to the old politician’s defense.

She looked at Anakin. A small, lithe frame, a good head shorter than the Jedi. Wolffe recalled her name was Mirjala, when she’d introduced herself to them walking off a ship ramp with flashy, glittery eye makeup. She opened her mouth. Then closed it. Wolffe noted, with some unease, that she seemed unsure how to react. Almost frightened. He couldn’t blame her—the General was quite a bit taller and definitely broader, with an accusing stance that was anything but friendly. If it were one of his brothers, he’d smack the dumb kriffer up the back of his head for being so imposing on a being so clearly smaller and weaker. He exchanged a small glance with Rex. She breathed in.

“Do you…. do you know why this troupe exists, Knight Skywalker?” Mirjala asked politely, fiddling with her fingerless gloves—plucking at the woolen fibers. Around them, people bustled around moving boxes and setting up the large stage.

“No,” General Skywalker replied tersely. General Koon made to intervene but Skywalker plowed on. “How does this relate?”

“Humor me.”

Wolffe watched Skywalker twitch, half amused at the man’s clearly volcanic temper and half wanting to tell him to sit the kark down.

“Fine.” Skywalker bit out, giving Wolffe another reason to want to put his face to a cheese grater. Fucking bantha balls, how could they let this man have a child. “Tell us why.”

She bit her bottom lip. Still pulling at fibers, but looking unperturbed, oddly enough.

“Twenty years ago, you could find our dances anywhere on Alshaka.” Her face turned distant. Not so much looking at them as she was looking past. “My people have always loved art. Our greatest achievements were our monuments. Every child learned the steps to the Geshan in their afterschool hours. Our most popular places were our museums, our theaters, our studios.”

The small woman exhaled shakily.

“And then, ten years ago—I was only nine at the time—there was an uprising. A civil war, of sorts. It had started as a small band of extremists, who claimed that we were being kept docile and happy with our arts because it made us easier to control. A laughable sentiment, really, as our arts were our greatest export in the sector and it made us loved. But slowly, the small band grew larger. Louder. But it all changed when a private military group, an off-world PMC, decided to throw their lot in with the extremists. And suddenly it wasn’t so much a small band of malcontents as it was a makeshift army.”

Mirjala closed her eyes. Glitzy blue paint covered her eyelids, lined with rhinestones.

“I’m sure you can infer what happened next. They destroyed everything. Eight thousand years of history. Burned.” Mirjala murmured. Her voice, however soft, commanded their attention entirely. “We begged the Republic for aid and, to their credit, they did give it to us. They got rid of the extremists, stopped the riots and the lootings and the burnings, on only one condition.”

She opened her eyes. Staring straight at Wolffe, he suddenly felt naked. Perceived.

“May I see your vambrace, Commander?” She inquired politely.

He looked around. Skywalker’s face was unreadable, but General Koon gave a weary nod. He unclipped his right vambrace that didn’t have his comms, and handed it to her. She took it gently.

Handling the piece of armor with care, she turned it over in her bird-like hands. Wolffe almost wanted to snort. That thing had been through shitty mud-filled sinkholes and Seppie-made acid rain; it could survive more than a little rough handling.

“How long have you had this for, sir?”

He wanted to laugh. She definitely shouldn’t be calling him sir.

“A year and ah half ma’am. Lost my first in a downed ship.” He said crisply. She nodded.

“It’s served you well.” Wolffe thought she was looking at his banged up vambrace with a little too much reverence. Everything on him was standard issue stuff. Still, she handled it carefully.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She ran her thumb over the strip of gray paint, and traced the edges where the polish chipped. “You’ve taken great care for it. The plastoid is holding up remarkably for its age. ”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

She handed the vambrace back to him with a soft smile. Downturned eyes.

“They gave us humanitarian aid and representation in the Senate as a system on the condition that we allow the Republic to mine our lands for peraleum. Plastoid is produced from peraleum.”

“My people were left scarred from the uprising. The streets were quiet. There was nothing to celebrate when we were burying by the masses. Our grief was too great. There was too much damage. The surface of Alshaka is tough, and it takes great time to create proper burial sites. Many families, mine included, had to burn their dead because it would take too long to properly bury them, and the bodies would rot. My brother now sleeps with the wind, instead of in the earth with our ancestors.” Wolffe watched her eyes follow his vambrace as he gently clicked it back in place, feeling a bit like he should apologize for even wearing the armor.

“I’m sorry,” Skywalker offered. It was mournful, something also on the tip of Wolffe’s own tongue, but it sounded too pathetic for what she was saying. “Your people have suffered greatly. But that has nothing to do with the Chancellor.”

You also haven’t told us about why this troupe exists, Wolffe mentally added.

He stayed silent.

“My people have recovered much faster than was thought possible thanks to the economical boon that is the peraleum mining industry. But it’s left our land barren and poisoned our air from the fumes that come from processing plants. In turn, we have fueled the Grand Army of the Republic by supplying its soldiers with armor.” Mirjala nodded towards where Wolffe and Rex stood. “But sometimes I wonder whether this would have happened had that period of instability not granted the Republic foothold in our land. The same PMC that nearly destroyed us would later dissolve and find work as trainers on Kamino. To train soldiers. Sanctioned by Chancellor Palpatine’s administration.”

You could hear a pin drop in the silence she left, Wolffe thought. One look at Rex’s stiff shoulders told him he was as tense as Wolffe.

“We dance on the stages of Coruscant, stomach the degradation of our art for your ignoble elites who view us as exotic puppets, for charity. For the children back home.”

She inhaled sharply. She bowed.

“Thank you for inviting us here to perform for your brave soldiers, we are honored. We will dance here. However tell your Chancellor we will not perform for his private gala, as we are a charity organization of prestigious dancers, not circus monkeys at his beck and call.” And with that, she disappeared into the throng of people.

Wolffe stood by the edge of the stage, tapping his foot impatiently. Dancers in colorful, cascading costumes passed by. There was going to be a dance performance meant to boost morale for the men. They were an elite core-world troupe that people in the upper echelons of Coruscant would apparently sell their left kidneys to get tickets to see. Elite, artistic, and so far up above his pay grade. Ha.

He noted that they seemed to move in flocks, tittering with bird-like hands and gliding across the floors like clouds. In contrast, his and the 501st men looked worn. Dirty. Clusters of men slumped over, finding busywork for their hands cleaning blasters and such. And each time the two groups met, it was like watching water roll off stones. Dancers flowing gracefully past clumps of walled-off, weary men.

“Commander,” a soft voice greeted him. He looked up to see Mirjala. She had on a long royal blue skirt lined with fur and a fitted yellow top the color of wheat. Without the fingerless gloves on, he could truly see how delicate her fine-boned hands were, connected to slim but well-defined arms. Her hair fell in two braids woven with silky blue ribbons. She smiled kindly. “Thank you for agreeing to meet me. I am sure you are quite busy.”

Truth be told, he could be using this time to catch up on reports. Still, he afforded her a small shrug. There was something in the fact that this curious woman, dressed like a folklore, had called him over that pushed away his irritation. “What do you need?”

She smiled prettily, this time with teeth, giving Wolffe a somewhat foreboding feeling.

“No.”

Mirjala rolled her eyes.

“Oh please, you haven’t heard me out yet.”

“I am not dancing on a stage.” True to his title, his tone was commanding; expectant that she listen without question.

“It wouldn’t be onstage,” she protested. By now she was sitting cross-legged on the stage, her skirt pooling around her, though that still gave her some height above the broad soldier, so she crouched down to meet him eye-level, propping her head on her hands. “We’ll come down to the floor and invite all the audience members to join us. I just want you to be the first.”

“Why?”

Mirjala fought against her second eye-roll of the day, but the commander’s deadpan expression told her he caught it. Her mouth twitched.

“Because,” she began patiently, mentally pretending this was just a petulant child she was speaking to. It is just a bothersome student, she told herself. “Your men are understandably tired and a little wary of us.” She waved a hand at the clusters of people, separated like oil and water. “I want you to be the first one to join us because then others would be more likely to follow your example. They’ll be comfortable once they see their commander and fellow soldier join our dance. The idea is everyone can dance together and have fun.”

“But why?” For a fully grown man fighting a galactic scale war, Wolffe was surely competing with her youngling students for the most Mirjala eye-rolls in one conversation. Skies, she could hear a whine in his voice.

“It’s to make the performance engaging. Meaningful,” she emphasized. She huffed, immediately seeing the disinterest in him. He did have an excellent poker face, but she could sense the disdain from his pointed silence. “Commander, it’s nice and all to watch people perform in front of you. However I’m sure I’m not the only one to notice how removed the dancers are from your soldiers. We can dance however much we want and as well as we can, but there is a fundamental difference between us.” He scoffed.

“Because we’re clones?”

“Because we have fundamentally different experiences of life,” Mirjala corrected. “What resonates for us won’t resonate here. Our dances are all nice and pretty to you, I’m sure. But it’s totally different if we can immerse the troopers in a dance; connect and celebrate on the same level.” Mirjala was well aware of what their position was. This was a Senate ordered performance; a paltry offering to “boost morale” for the soldiers dying for their political squabbles. None of the troopers here care about glitzy, shimmering dances. Not with any real depth at least. To them, they were just another band of merry little Core worlders ordered by the Senate to twirl in pretty dresses as a bandaid solution to their struggles.

She could see the gears turning in the commander’s head. Daring to push it, Mirjala clasped her hands together and looked at him with wide, doe eyes.

“Please, commander,” she implored softly. “I think it could really cheer them up.”

He held her gaze stonily for a long moment.

“Fine,” he groused. “It’s a good idea, but I can’t go up there.”

“Why not?” Mirjala pressed. She was so close to getting him to agree!

“Can’t dance.” He grumbled with a glare, looking like the world was at fault for giving him these inabilities.

“Oh! I’ll show you.” She quickly stood up, brushing off her skirt. At his reluctant look, she waved him up frantically. “Come on, it’s easy. The steps are easy.” Hesitantly, Wolffe jumped onto the stage in such a clean jump that she envied his ease of movement. He was clearly well-trained and athletic. He stood beside her at the center of the stage awkwardly.

“You can set your helmet down,” Mirjala offered.

“Right.”

He set the thing to the edge of the stage, more gentle than he normally would. After hearing her talk about his vambrace, it felt wrong to just throw it.

“Okay,” she cheered. “Just start with your hands at your sides, loose and relaxed. Now first just swing your arm from the back, going up into a circle, and coming down on the opposite side in front of your torso.”

Wolffe swung his arm.

“Okay, good, again!” Mirjala gave him a thumbs up. “Just less I’m gonna hit you and more gentle.” She demonstrated the movement again, making her arm arc over her head before laying it softly in front of her. “Now try it with your other arm.” She wanted to giggle, seeing his face scrunch in concentration.

“Yup, just one arm up and down. Other arm, up, over, and down. Softly, softly. Yup, that’s good! Big circles!” She cheered, doing a happy little jump while he waved his arms around like a fool, making Wolffe feel like a particularly accomplished ceiling fan. He glared at Sinker and Boost, who were snickering from beneath the stage.

“Don’t pay attention to them,” Mirjala murmured, moving her body to block the pair from sight. “Performance is all about confidence. Okay, now let’s add the legs. Just lift one leg in a small hop—opposite leg, opposite arm—and move in time with your arm circles. Yes, yes! Soft hands!”

Wolffe relaxed his hands.

“Ok, but hands strong!”

“You just said soft hands.”

“Yes, soft hands but strongly.”

“Pretty sure that’s an oxymoron.” She ignored his muttering.

“Loose and relaxed, instead of looking like you’re about to form fists.” Mirjala reprimanded playfully. “But still you need to put energy in them so your hands are straight and long. It’s should lengthen your lines.”

“Like this?” Wolffe tried, uhh, energizing his hands. The blasted woman just giggled. He did not pout.

“Relax, relax,” Mirjala wheezed between giggles. She took a hand into hers and shook it. “You’re overthinking it and it’s making your hands clam up.” Mirjala stroked his hands, holding his large palm and brushing his fingers out from their curled positions.

“You’re very concentrated on getting it right,” she continued, patting his gloved hand. “But you need to relax and enjoy the dance. Don’t think about anything, just enjoy how your body feels. Relish in the movements. Let it connect through you. Be free.”

Mirjala looked up to realize a blush was steadily creeping up the commander’s neck. She released his hand with a gentle smile.

“That doesn’t make sense.” Stars, he was acting like a cadet.

“Not any logical sense, no,” she agreed. “But dance is about emotion, not logic. Let’s try again. Just circle your arms and try to connect it through your body.”

“I look like an idiot.” He didn’t want to admit to grumbling, but Wolffe knew he sounded more petulant than he’d like. His ears burned, knowing this woman was watching him fumble around.

“All dancers start this way. Unsure, because all we do with our bodies these days is work, work, work. Even I did.” Mirjala glanced at him. His eyes were downcast, clearly not believing her. “But you have a better start than most.” She grinned when she saw him look up, eyes snapping to hers questioningly.

“It’s true.” Mirjala continued, smiling reassuringly. “Since you’re so athletic, your movements are sharp. Clean. Many dancers have to work hard and build up the muscles to have such clear movements. But you already move fluidly, aware of your own body and of each muscle, thanks to your training.” Mirjala watched him slowly brighten up—well, brighten up as much as he could.

“Alright,” he sighed.

“Okay, let’s just do this arm movement together.” She began whistling a simple tune. One arm up and over, and then the other. She continued until Wolffe started to keep up, his movements getting less tentative with each try. Plucking up his courage, Wolffe then added in the little hop. One arm up and over with a hop, and then the other, repeat. Mirjala smiled at him blindingly, and he was surprised to find himself grinning back. Faster and faster, they danced. In time with her simple, cheery tune, they hopped around onstage wildly. Wolffe felt himself get more comfortable, throwing his arms in the air quicker and quicker.

He then- shit. Wolffe stumbled and his hand hit hers, squarely nestling his palm into hers.

He made to pull away and apologize but she just grabbed his other hand and began spinning them around hand in hand. Her whistling grew louder, and grew faster and jauntier. He found himself humming along. Wolffe followed her lead and bounced with each step. They spun around the stage, making her thick blue skirt flare out in dazzling circles around her. Wolffe took a step towards her, taking the lead, and twirled her, one arm holding her hand above her head. Someone below the stage wolf-whistled, but he ignored them.

“The next part of the dance, we hold hands in a large circle,” she explained to him, breathless. Following her lead, he released one hand so they stood next to each other with only one pair of hands linked. He copied her movements of bouncing each step on the balls of his feet, traveling to the left of the stage, and then to the right. But once he got bored of it, he began twirling her again with one hand. Mirjala stopped whistling to laugh. He watched her throw her head back, a flush in the apples of her cheeks from smiling so hard.

Eventually, when they were both tired and breathless, they slowed to a dizzy halt and flopped down in the middle of the stage, lying side by side.

“You really love dancing.” Wolffe watched her relax in the sun, seemingly soaking it all in. A light sheen of sweat coated her forehead and flushed cheeks, and he had no doubt he looked the same.

“Yes,” she breathed. She closed her eyes and exhaled, smiling. “The feeling of it, the freedom. The stage beneath my feet and the air under my arms. When I dance, I’m free.”

She turned to him, settling heavy eyes on him. “Thank you, Wolffe.”

“For what?”

Mirjala smiled, and Wolffe thought it made her shine brighter.

“I haven’t danced like that in a long time,” she admitted, sounding a bit shameful. “Don’t get me wrong, I love my troupe, but we’re all…you know, dancers already. We’re all…” she trailed off, searching for the word.

“Too good?” Wolffe offered, somewhat sarcastically but also recognizing her meaning. She huffed, and he took it as an affirmative.

“We do the same things with only a few variations, and we dance like circus monkeys for the Coruscanti rich and elite. They don’t get it. Art is emotion, and it is for the people. Everyone. And we put everything in it: our grief, our pain, our blood. But they buy up all the tickets, hoard our shows, and give them away to their rich friends as bartering tools for their next political campaign, and watch us all like a menagerie of exotic birds. Donating to our charity cause like giving sour jogan fruit to beggars. They don’t get it. That’s not how it should be.” She looked at him, and he felt like his soul was on display.

“Fuck the Senate,” he managed to squeeze out. She broke out laughing, shutting her eyes and breaking their eye contact to guffaw, and Wolffe felt like he got his soul back. Or maybe she still had it, because his head was spinning and he felt all too light.

“Yeah, fuck those guys.” Mirjala grabbed his hand and lifted it, beaming, and looking like a woman from folklore.

“This is what it should be.”

A/N: The dance Mirjala and Wolffe do is inspired by Tibetan Guozhuang folk dances! It’s meant to be a big dance with many participants, usually community members, in a circle while singing. From what I understand, it seems like a big communal bonding experience where people of all ages join and dance together, from grannies to little kids, and I’ve even seen videos where even foreigners were brought in and everyone vibes together, and I just think it’s beautiful. And Mirjala’s costume is heavily inspired by traditional Tibetan wear. Also sorry to Anakin stans, but he's a bit of an ass in this one.  Also, you've probably caught on, but the beginning is a thinly veiled commentary on how environmental protection is gutted for the profit of corporations, and how that usually impacts low-income marginalized communities the most. I'm about as slick with “peraleum” as George Lucas is with naming the greedy corrupt senator Halle Burtoni (Halliburton is a fracking company)

@orangez3st @clonexocweek

[pinejayy]

╰┈➤ Scarlet Witch S/O || Demon Slayer Headcanons

Including: hantengu clones and zohakuten // for zohakuten is only platonically 

requested by @phoenix-supremecy

summary: clones reacting to their s/o having powers like scarlet witch, and to the clones reacting to reader ripping off sekido’s jaw/lips off for yelling at them.

warnings: blood, reader ripping sekido’s jaw off, some nsfw implied (on karaku’s part) cuss words,

Sekido

Now the red eyed demon is quite impressed with your powers! He’s so amazed on how a human can hold these great powers, and he admires how strong you are. But you’ll never be as strong as him and he let’s you know by his harsh words.

His harsh words are the reason of your guy’s argument. You don’t understand why he’s always talking down on you and that he’s always reminding you that he’s better than you. 

One day you were in a bad mood, and you were just relaxing with the other clones and that’s when he came in and started to yell at you and only you. “Why in the Hell are you just sitting around! Get the fuck up, we need to train! If you want to improve on your skills you need to train!” 

And you just sat there, narrowing your eyes at him. The other clones looked at you expecting you to listen to him, but everyone was shocked when they heard flesh ripping away from the body and bones popping out of place. And that’s when you were holding Sekido’s jaw in your hand. Blood was pouring all over his clothing, and all you could hear was him choking on his blood. 

Aw, you want this back?” You asked him, to which he just nodded and you smirked. “Well if I give this back to you, you have to get off my back.” And he just shook your head which made you shake your head and turn around, and as you were about to turn around you heard him choke on his blood even more.

Looking at him. “Aw, I take that as a yes then.” You say and throw him his jaw at his face and walk away with a huge smile on his face. The other clones are probably laughing at him.

Karaku

Now the green eyed demon is probably turned on by your powers! He loves how powerful you are and honestly with this power you have he thinks your sexy/handsome, and he loves it whenever you use your powers in the bedroom, it makes things more excited.

So you and your green eyed demon love fool around a lot in the bedroom which pisses off sekido alot! Maybe it’s because of the loud moans or noises you guys make, or maybe the fact he doesn’t have someone who can please him. So Sekido is always yelling you and at Karaku.

Today you and Karaku were in a separate room, you on his lap. Both of you sharing a deep and passionate kiss and that’s when Sekido came in yelling at both of you. “Are you guy’s seriously at it again! Y/N shouldn’t you be training so you can improve on your powers! And yet here you are being a whore with your boyfriend.

And that’s when you slowly started to turn your head towards him, your head snapping to the side. You stare at Sekido’s eyes. His red eyes piercing into yours. And that’s when the room was filling with the scent of blood, and fleshing ripping away from the body. 

And right there you were holding onto a chunk of Sekido’s mouth on the palm of your hand. You just smile at him. “You want this back huh?”  And you could hear was him choking on his own blood. Karaku couldn’t help but laugh out loud. 

And you stood up. “Okay then, go get it boy!” You say, and throw his ripped mouth/lips out of the room. “Go fetch!” And with that he ran out of the room. And look at Karaku. “God that was so hot babe.” He told you.

Aizetsu

Now the gentle Demon is so kind towards you, he’s so amazed by your powers. And he’s so happy that you belong with him, and he’s always willing to help you improve on your powers because he believes that some day you can surpass him and the other clones. 

Aizetsu is quite clingy with you, he loves you with all his heart. He wants to protect you but he knows that you can handle yourself with your powers. But that doesn’t mean he’ll stop protecting you. With that being said, Sekido hates the fact that you have powers and he hates that maybe one day you’ll be more powerful than him,

So you and Sekido are always fighting and yelling at each other, which makes the blue eyed demon very sad, and it breaks his heart seeing two people he’s close with fight all the time. “Please don’t fight guys, it’s making me very sad.” 

And Sekido couldn’t help but snap at him, slapping him across the face and hissing at his comment. “Shut the hell up, I don’t care if it makes you sad. You’re an Upper Moon! Grow a pair of ba-” 

You didn’t give him an opportunity to finish his sentence, since he was choking on his own blood. You ripping off his throat with your powers. And he tried getting back his bloody throat which you backed away. “If you ever touch him again, I’ll rip something else off next time. Now get out of my sight.” You say throwing his throat at his face.

You smile and turn back to your boyfriend, he was so shocked as no one ever stood up for him like that. He looked at you with so much love! “Wow you did that for me my love?” 

Urogi

Now this chicken nugget is so happy that he found someone who isn’t just a normal weak human! He found you with these beautiful powers! And he’s so impressed with your skills, and with your powers he doesn’t have to treat you like glass, he can roughhouse with you.

Both of you guys love messing around and love playing around the woods, you guys could be playing tag and with your powers and his wings its a very fun game of tag. But with you guys playing around it makes Sekido very upset. 

Sekido thinks you shouldn’t be wasting your powers on stupid childish games, he believes that you should be working on your powers and be thinking about improving on yourself!

“Come on Y/N! Stop with these stupid games! You need to improve on your powers if you want to be useful to us!” He said snapping at you! “Stop playing with Chicken Fingers!” 

You watched him as he talked down on you and Urogi and you smiled at him, and your left eye twitched soft. And the area was filled with bones snapping and cracking. Sekido stood there with a dislocated jaw, he couldn’t speak. Urogi looked at you, his eyes wide open. He was shocked and he laughed nervously. 

Before Sekido could jump you Urogi grabbed you and carried you and flew off and away from the demon. He couldn’t help but laugh nervously “Remind me not to piss you off my dear!”

Zohakuten (PLATONICALLY )

Now he looked at you as parent figure and he does care for you. And with your powers he’s wants to protect you no matter what. You’re the only good thing in his life. The other Clones piss him off to the extreme and he hates it. So yeah!! Please protect him and he’ll protect you. 

Now he likes the idea of you improving your powers because he wouldn't have to worry about you getting hurt, he knows your strong and can take care of yourself but still, he worries about you.

As he dislikes the other clones he mostly gets in fights with Sekido. How great right? Two angry red eye demons fighting. So you were enjoying some time with Zohakuten and the other clones. And you don’t know what happened but both Sekido and Zohakuten were yelling at each other. And you didn’t like the idea of Sekdio yelling at him, it made you feel uneasy. 

And you could tell Zohakuten was getting angrier by the second and you knew you had to step in, since the other clones weren’t doing anything but just watching. So you did the best option, you ripped off Sekido’s tongue off with your powers, he was choking on his blood. The bloody tongue was on the floor and you spoke up. “Don’t you yell at him, you’re lucky that was only your tonuge.” 

The clones were shocked, but Zohakuten looked at Sekido’s struggling as he choked on his own blood. Zohakuten couldn’t help but laugh out loud. A deep laugh filled the room. It made your blood run cold. And the other clones went pale, as his laugh was uneasy. 

Zohakuten grabbed your wrist “Come on Y/N, let’s go. Let this fool choke on his blood.” 

[somethingtizz]

Wandy Lore!

(Incase I never fully explained. This is going to contain a lot of lore and some of it may be a ramble I'm sorry in advance. But if you'd like to know more about this lil creature, then please do read):

So basically, after another unsuccessful day of invading due to Wander and Sylvia getting in the way, Hater goes into one of those funk modes again like in The Funk episode but is actually starting to question if he's doing shit wrong and Peepers is also frustrated.

Not much of a Funk but he's getting there and he decides to do a pitch meeting, like in the brainstorm episode and just brainstorm ideas until something sticks and gets both of their mojos back. Hater begins mentioning about wanting folks to see Wander as untrustworthy cause he'd like to laugh at how everyone fucking hates him. And Peepers makes a comment on Destroying his reputation, but the both of them couldn't do it since everyone knew them and the propaganda wouldn't work out in their favour.

And a mention of a clone is brought up by the both of them by Hater in a more "if only he had a twin that we could make evil" and Peeper's talking about a clone.

And that eventually sticks as the both of them start talking about how they can get an exact copy of Wander and Peepers brings up the DNA.

Eventually a few months in and Peepers in his lab is putting the DNA samples into the experiment, using a strang of fur/hair off of Wander that was on Haters cloak cause the bitch is always on him. And (idk what DNA Hater uses, someone said bone marrow at one point, or spit? But uh, let's pretend he doesn't say how he gave DNA) and Peepers adding his DNA in too cause he doesn't want the clone coming out like an idiot.

A couple of months go by and the planets are starting to become more of life again after dominator rain of terror and thankfully no one suspects a thing in the skullship, even the Watchdogs haven't a clue about what's being made. Only Peeper's and Hater know of the clone being made and it's whereabouts on the skullship. The clone grows slowly but eventually reaches to a child form, and Hater being an impatient man throws a fit shouting at Peepers on why the stupid clone is taking FOREVER to make.

Cue a whole fit/tantrum, lightning bolts accidentally strike the test tube and it shatters, thankfully the clone is fine and opens its eyes, just staring whilst the two adults are freaking out. (Still working on the first meetings and stuff) the clone is just silent the whole time, watching the two and blinking, not really doing much even after Peepers suggested about scrapping it and making a new one but mentioned that would be even longer of a wait now that the test tube is broken. Hater gives in and agrees to keeping this one since it technically looks like Wander, just a little shorter and with green eyes, (but they could always just use blue contacts).

The clone is either referred to "it" "wander clone" "thing" "clone" or "that" and is only taught on how to act when out on invasions. I imagine that the clone stays in the lab most of the time and doesn't exactly go out of the room unless needed for an invasion and it's working with the plan of giving Wander a bad reputation. The clone rarely speaks but when it does, it's usually if it's hungry or wants to know about something it saw whilst outside or just for knowledge, which Peepers is happy to indulge in. Eventually though, the clone begins questioning itself and it's appearance, it had never met this Wander it hears so much about but it does know that it hates him.

Out of the influence maybe, but mostly because it had to pretend to be it. So if the creators of it hated Wander and the clone was an exact copy of him, did they hate him too?

A couple of weeks go by and the clone begins experimenting himself, one morning rolling out of bed for another training session with Commander Peepers and wakes up, looks in the mirror, seeing his fur all messy and puffed up and ends up staring again but this time with a genuine smile cause it's not like looking at a stranger anymore. So he keeps his fur messy for that day, Peepers let's him get away with it cause no invasions are happening as of now, mostly planning. So the clone sees it as a sign of being able to continue being like this whilst inside the skullship, even asking for certain things in his room, which Peepers obliges to along with Hater since the clone is doing good at his job. They both know that it's a child version of Wander and therefore set boundaries and rules, which he follows..for now.

At some point though, the clone began asking if he could have a different name and not be referred to as a clone. Which takes a long time of being called a preferred name, Hater coming up with the name Wandy and Wandy sticking to it since he liked the sound of it. It's not completely away from the Wander person but it's still different in a way that works for him.

He actually gets his lil heeled boots as a present for a proper successful invasion after helping Peepers with the planning on one and asking if he could take the lead to show how much he's learnt from the both of them. Both Peepers and Hater (despite not being the one to give it him) contributed and gifted the kid the boots, which Wandy is deeply DEEPLY attached to and would throw a fit if he lost them cause they mean so much to him.

Eventually he starts becoming more and more childlike and enjoying being evil just like the two adults! They eventually begin to get a bit more lenient with him and treat him more like a kid that causes trouble but still gets his work done, and have noticed that despite his fluffy appearance and that they can see the difference, a lot of others around the galaxy still view him as a copy of Wander therefore they're fine with the appearance and don't force him to dress like Wander anymore. He also gets his own bedroom at some point, but it takes a while to make and such. Other than that, he just lives to continue working with his creators(or as he calls them dad's) which Hater is still getting used to, as well as Peepers but eventually take the roles of it more seriously as the years go by.

(Sorry for the huge ramble)

A little bit of lore art too! Planning on colouring this very soon!

[arc-misadventures]

In. The krptonian au have they runninto a bixxarro Jaune

A Civilized Discussion

Jaune: So, you enjoying your drink?

: I despise this drink.

Jaune: Want more?

: No, thanks

Jaune: Cookies?

: No, thank you.

Jaune: So, meet any pretty girls lately?

: No.

Jaune: Oh really now? Is she… A blonde?

: Yes.

Jaune: A brunette then?

: Yes.

Jaune: Is she a redhead?

: No.

Jaune: Ohh! Redheads, gotta love redheads!

: I hate redheads.

Jaune: Is she a faunas?

: No, she’s a human.

Jaune: Oh, good. Then she isn’t my redhead. What kind of faunas is she?

: She’s a dog faunas.

Jaune: A cat faunas?

: No.

Jaune: Does she have ears, or a tail?

: She has a tail.

Jaune: A redhead cat faunas with cat ears. That sounds nice. She must be a pretty lady, isn’t she?

: She look’s absolutely disgusting.

Jaune: You gonna ask her out, or is she already taken?

: She’s taken, so I’m not going to ask her out.

Jaune: Well, good luck to you pal. If she can get past the speech barrier, you should be fine. Relatively speaking. It is asking a girl out on a date after all, fighting, Grimm sounds easier then asking that girl out.

: What about you; any boys catch your eye?

Jaune: One, or two. Whether anything will come out of it though… I don’t know… Like I said, killing, Grimm is easier then asking a girl out, at least you can kill, Grimm.

: You can’t do it buddy. You just need to be a coward, and reject her advances. Who would want to go on a date with a ugly bastard like you?

Jaune: I know you don’t mean it like that, but come on, did you have to call me a bastard?

: No.

Jaune: Ha! You jerk.

: Intellectual.

Jaune: Okay, what would that one mean?

Ruby: Hey, Jaune how’s it… Uhh…? What…?

Yang: Do you have a twin?

Weiss: Is he? Most twins look identical, they don’t.

Jaune: Hey, guys this is, Zaune. And, he isn’t my twin. He’s more of a… clone?

Blake: A clone?

Zaune: The good twin.

Jaune: I wouldn’t call yourself bad, you’re a bit of a goody two shoes really.

Zaune: Yes I am!

Jaune: Anyway, Zaune, meet my friends, This is, Ruby Rose…

Ruby: Hello!

Zaune: Hello.

Jaune: Weiss Schnee.

Weiss: It’s a pleasure to meet you.

Zaune: I don’t think so.

Weiss: I, what?

Jaune: Blake Belladonna.

Zaune: He’s a human, yes?

Blake: He?

Jaune: Yes she is. And, lastly, Yang Xiao Long.

Yang: Hey there big fella!

Zaune: She’s really ugly.

Yang: E-Excuse me?

Jaune: I think she is too.

Yang: Excuse me?!

Jaune: Something wrong, Yang?

Yang: Hell yeah there is; you two just called me ugly you assholes!

Zaune: Yes, you are ugly.

Yang: Oh that is it!

Jaune: Waitwaitwaitwaitwait! Zaune didn’t mean that!

Zaune: Yes I did.

Yang: He just said it again!

Jaune: No he didn’t! Zaune speaks in opposites. When he said you’re ugly, what he meant is that you’re pretty.

Yang: Wait, you think I’m pretty.

Zaune: No, I think you are really ugly.

Yang: Oh… T-Thank you…

Weiss: Oh, so that was a pleased to me you too, wasn’t it?

Zaune: No.

Ruby: Was my hello, a hello, or was it…?

Jaune: Best not to think about it.

Ruby: Okay…

Blake: Wait! When you said, ‘He’s a human.’ You meant, ‘She’s a faunas,’ right?

Jaune: Yes.

Zaune: No.

Blake: How did you know that?

Jaune: X-Ray vision. We share similar powers, that is just one of them.

Blake: But, didn’t you say you could only see bones, not under my ribbon?

Jaune: I lied, I can see a lot of things.

Blake: That means you have peaked on us, you degenerate!

(Whack!)

Blake: AHHHHHH?! Why do I keep on thinking that will work?!

Jaune: Because you’re too busy trying to get me to notice that you’re wearing a thong. And, I didn’t, nor would peak to know that. I have seven sisters, so I know that those tights of yours would leave an impression from wearing underwear. Then again you could be going commando for all I know. But, I honestly don’t wanna know that.

Zaune: I would peak.

Blake: You would!

Jaune: Opposites! He speaks in opposites you degenerate!

Blake: Oh, yeah…

Jaune: Why must you be like this?

Yang: Do you seriously want an answer to that.

Jaune: It was a rhetorical question, Yang.

Ruby: Okay… So, Zaune? You interested in a game of, World of Remnant? We were about to play a round, but you can take, Weiss’s place. She sucks at this game.

Weiss: Hey?!

Zaune: I would hate…?!

: Oh Zaune~?

Zaune: …

Zaune: Oh joy…

Jaune: Uh oh indeed…

Ruby: Is that, Nora?

Jaune: You better run boy, least, Nora catches you.

Zaune: I think I will stay. Nice meeting you everyone!

Ruby: Uhh… Bye, Zaune?

Nora: Zaune! Zaune come back here, and play with me!

Zaune: Yessssssss!

Ruby: Well, he seems like a nice person.

Yang: So, Jaune, what was that about me being pretty~?

Jaune: …

Jaune: Uh oh…

///

I haven’t forgotten about this AU, it was just I couldn’t come up with anything good to write.

Do enjoy~!