#yes i know rex was like the ONLY one to get any speaking lines

[pacificwaternymph]

Bad Batch enjoyers right now.

[din-miller]

We’re Stronger Together

Pairing: Reader + The Bad Batch (Platonic)

Word count: 4.3k

Summary: It was an unspoken rule; you don’t go on solo missions. But when Rex asked you to aid him in taking down a slave ring, you agreed. The Batch takes an issue with that. Especially when you came back smelling strongly of foul men leaving Hunter to struggle with his heightened senses. The only way to fix that is a giant bantha pile.

Warnings: set after S2, tech is alive, harm to children mentioned, slavery mentioned, non-consensual touching mentioned, (none of which are graphic), protective batch, no romance between reader and the batch, platonic cuddling, so much sibling-relationship content, bantha pile > puppy pile, keldable kisses, female reader

You can’t remember the last time you’ve gone on a solo mission or at least a mission where the Batch hadn’t been involved. You had joined them after Order 66 and wherever they went, you went and vice versa.

Inseparable, the lot of you.

Which is why you’re here, chewing your bottom lip nervously as you watch the argument unfold in front of you. Rex said something rational and Hunter glared, then Echo huffed at Hunter’s behaviour but made no move to step in to defend Rex who's three seconds away from throwing his hands up in frustration, “Look boys, I only need her for a couple days, a week max.”

“That’s not happening.”

Honestly, Rex should’ve seen this argument coming and prepared a better speech.

“Yeah, I kinda agree with Sarge. I don’t like it.” Wrecker rubbed the back of his head, looking a tad lost. He’s never been good at picking sides during arguments and you feel bad for him.

“It’s a simple mission, boys. She’ll be in my line of sight at all times.”

“Armed,” All eyes turned to Crosshair, whose head was turned away from them, seemingly unperturbed by the whole situation. When Rex went to speak, Crosshair sneered, “That wasn’t a question.”

“We might consider it once you tell us why you need her.” Echo said, addressing the eldest clone.

“The mission requires more of a…,” Rex trailed off, trying to find the right words that won’t get him shot, “Feminine touch.”

“Absolutely not,” Hunter pushed himself to stand between you and Rex, blocking the older clone’s view of you, “Find someone else.”

“I can do it!” Omega bravely offered, “I can be feminine.”

“No!” Came a chorus of shouts causing Omega to shrink in on herself before Wrecker pulled her into his side with an apology. Hunter ran a tired hand down his face, giving his own apology to the young girl.

“As much as I appreciate your concerns, it’s my decision.” You looked over at Tech for help. Out of all of them, he’ll be the one to back you up.

Tech nodded in your direction, stepping in to join the conversation, “While I don’t particularly agree with one of us being separated, I can see logic in Rex’s thinking-,”

Wreck sent him a look of disbelief, “How?!”

“-If the goal is to distract the target with a certain female attractiveness, I do believe she’s the best candidate for the role.”

“There was never any doubt about that,” Echo stated, “The issue is that we don’t split up. Any of us. Not after Mount Tantiss.”

Omega nodded in agreement, her mouth twisting down at the mention of Mount Tantiss, “Echo’s right. We stick together.”

Tech adjusted his goggles, avoiding eye contact, “As I said, I do not agree with her going with Rex by herself, but we can not stop her from choosing to aid in this mission. The best we can do is offer our support.”

“Thank you Tech. Look, I’ll take my viroblade with me,” You promised them, moving to Rex’s side, “I’ll be fine guys. I was on my own for years before I met you, I know how to handle a few scumbags.”

“You’re not on your own anymore,” Hunter reminded you, before letting out a defeated sigh, “You will be contacting us every chance you get, you’ll report any injuries to Tech or Echo; I don’t care if Rex’s crew has an all-star medic on board, you comm us.”

“Yes, Sarge. Anything else?”

“You’ll take my blade with you, it’s sharper than yours. You will be getting a crash course in disarming bombs with Wrecker before you leave and most importantly; you will be coming home.”

You look down at the kid who’s nodding along to Hunter’s words, a serious look plastered on her face. You feel a twinge of guilt settled in your chest, but from what Rex has told you about the mission you’re not backing down no matter how crestfallen Wrecker looks.

You attempt a reassuring smile, most likely failing as that guilt shows clear as day despite your best shot at playing it cool. You promised nonetheless, “I’ll be back before Wrecker’s able to pronounce ‘worcestershire’.”

“Hey!” Wrecker cried, but a bright smile took over his previous expression and that twinge inside your chest starts to fade away.

Truth be told, a part of you yearns for this mission. To stretch your feet, to use your muscles and brains outside of your normal mundane life on Pabu. To feel useful in a more powerful way. You also understand why your boys’ are so reluctant to let you leave. To do this mission when they’ve all turned Rex down time and time again.

Hunter’s thirst for battle quickly died out when he watched how Omega thrived in her new life. At the peace she is now able to have, away from bloodshed.

Wrecker’s able to use his strength to help the town folk. Lifting crates, furniture, bags of soil and sand. He’s also taken up construction. He’s able to burn energy without bloodshed.

Tech was never one for battle and after Mount Tantiss, he was more than willing to settle on Pabu. To accept Phee’s dinner invitation. Then the key to her place. One day you hope he’ll accept the ring Phee has tucked away. A loving marriage away from bloodshed.

Echo was the one who adjusted the hardest. Whenever Rex required his help on a mission Echo was always on the front line. But one day you watched him emerge from his room, eyes red and swollen. Another sleepless night and you know he’s done with all the bloodshed.

You don’t ask, you don’t have too. You were there, you remember all of it. You remember Echo’s disbelief over your comm as he said he found Tech. You remember running into the room, seeing Tech floating inside a tube, dead bodies scattered across the floor. You remember Echo’s hand laying flat over the glass that separated him from Tech. You remember the bloody handprint left behind when Echo turned to you.

Most of all you remember the scream that rattled the walls around you. You remember how Echo’s mouth parted, Crosshair’s name falling from his lips before he’s racing down the hallway, metal legs creaking at the strain he’s putting on them.

You remember the crying, the begging, that left Crosshair’s mouth, so broken and scared, as Dr. Hemlock held a blade in his hand and Omega’s still body on the medical table beneath him. You remember the smell of blood, how the red of it dripped onto the floor.

You remember the sound of a blaster fire, a body hitting the floor. You remember Echo desperately trying to hold Omega’s stomach together as he cauterised her skin knowing there’s no time for stitches or bacta patches.

You remember it all so kriffing vividly that the crate you had been moving falls from your grip, dropping loudly to the ships metal floor beneath you, the noise drowning out your gasp as the air around you thins and your lungs ache for steady breaths.

“Where do you think you’re going?”

Your head snapped up in Rex’s direction, eyes widening when you spotted the clone trying to bypass Rex and enter the ship, “Crosshair?”

The sniper doesn’t acknowledge you. Instead his attention is solely on the older clone, “You’re sending her into a cantina full of powerful, greedy, vile men who would do anything to have her.”

Rex sighed, “Crosshair-,”

“I understand not wanting the others to be involved, they’re too protective. The second anyone touches her the mission would be ruined and dead bodies make things complicated.”

Rex gave another, deeper sigh, “Your skill sets would prove to be a huge asset to the mission, I’m aware and if I thought you were any different from the rest of them, I would have asked you. I know you Crosshair, you’d be the first to pull the trigger.”

Finally Crosshair’s eyes land in your direction, the subtle pinch of his brow letting you know that the panic that's choking you from the inside is written all over your face. He stared at you, knowingly, “Don’t do this. For your own sake, don’t.”

“The man we’re after is a slave trader. Young kids and helpless women,” You said, although you figured he’s aware of that already, “If you were in my shoes you’d do the same thing. For me, for Omega. Crosshair I need to do this.”

You moved to stand in front of him and you pulled his head down until your foreheads met, an action you’ve only done once before with him. Only this time he’s leaning in instead of pushing you away with a threat of you meeting the barrel of his rifle.

“Take care of the boys and Omega while I’m gone, yeah?”

“I’m not their kriffing babysitter.”

You chuckled and pulled back to meet his gaze, “Take care of yourself too.”

Although the mission only took three days, your body – your soul – is screaming for your family. For their arms around you, their voices reassuring you that you’re okay, that you’re home. That you’re safe.

So when the front door is the only thing that stands between you and them, a weight is lifted from your shoulders. A breath you hadn’t realised you’ve been holding leaves your lungs and you draw in a new one full of relief.

You punched in the house’s code and the green light blinked, lock unlocking. You smiled, opening the door and before you’re fully able to close it behind you, you’re being pushed back against it, Hunter’s face buried in the crook of your neck.

Not exactly the welcome home you’d imagined would be awaiting you.

You looked over at the other boys, hoping to get an explanation. You start with Echo but the clone just leaned back against the couch, a smile on his face. Beside him is Tech; the clone brought a finger up to tap the side of his nose.

Oh

Right. You probably reek of–

“Testosterone.” Hunter snarled, and you can feel the way his nose scrunched up at the smell of male hormones on your person.

“Not the welcoming home I expected,” You joked, trying to push Hunter away but the clone didn’t budge, “Come on I can’t smell that badly, I had a shower on Rex’s ship. Seriously Hunter, at least let me enter the house.”

Hunter finally pulled back, eyes still locked in on the flesh on your neck. You try not to squirm under the intensity of his gaze, or the smug looks from the others. Hunter tilted your head and you're quick to give him access to the other side of your neck despite your earlier protest. He spared no time diving in, head jerking back instantly, nostrils flailing and he growled, “They touched you.”

The smug look on Echo’s face disappeared instantly and he stepped forward, eyes narrowed in on the back of Hunter’s head like he can see the skin where you had been touched through the clone’s skull.

Hunter pressed you back farther against the door, voice demanding as he asked, “Where else?”

“Hunter-,“

“I won’t ask again.”

The sound of tiny feet racing down the hallway saved you from having to answer, from having to admit that they were right. That you weren’t strong enough for the mission. Not without them. Admitting that would make the phantom feeling of hands on your body too real.

You pushed Hunter away and caught the girl just in time, your name falling from her lips as giggles filled the air when you tickled her side. Behind her Wrecker smiled at you, welcoming you home.

“You’re back! I want to hear all about the mission!” Omega said, jumping out of your arms when you tap on her back. She’s grown so much in the last few years and you’re too exhausted to hold her weight, “Sorry, I’m just excited you’re back home. Are you hurt?”

You’re able to give her a quick shake of your head before that phantom touch across your skin is back and you can’t hide the rise of goosebumps on your arms. Not from Hunter at least. The man studies your body language, breathing in the scent of foul men that lingers on your skin, even after using Rex’s refresher to shower.

“Omega, I want every blanket and pillow in this house brought out here,” Hunter turned to address the biggest clone, “Wrecker, clear all the furniture out of the living room.”

“Oh, you betcha!” Wrecker cheered with a grin, “We haven’t had a good ol’ bantha pile in ages!”

“Bantha pile?” You questioned as you watched the two follow Hunter’s orders.

“Yes, it is when a group of people all sleep and/or cuddle together. It was a way for Hunter to memorise our scents growing up. To help calm him,” Tech informed you, “It’s been awhile since we’ve had one, but given that Hunter is indeed struggling with you not smelling like us, the bantha pile is warranted. I’d even say necessary.”

You nodded. It makes a certain amount of sense but you’re not entirely sure it is warranted. To your knowledge they didn’t do this when Crosshair came back, when Tech was found or when Omega healed from her injuries at the hands of Dr. Hemlock. Or maybe they did and you weren’t there, that they didn’t find it necessary to include you.

No, it’s best not to go down that path. You’re here, your boys are crowded around you as you all await for Omega to return and that’s all that matters.

But Tech has always been able to read you and he awkwardly bumped his shoulder against yours, voice hushed, “You’re part of our alitt. You and Echo were dealing with Sid when Hunter and Wrecker welcomed Crosshair, Omega and myself home. We tried waiting for you but Hunter was struggling. It wasn’t an easy call but it was necessary to proceed without you and Echo.”

You brushed a hand over Tech’s and sent him a smile, “I understand, truly. I shouldn’t have questioned my place with you guys.”

“We won’t allow that to happen ever again, ner vod.” He promised and you believe him.

“I got everything!” Omega announced, bouncing back into the room, her voice muffled behind the mountain of fabric balanced in her arms, which Hunter quickly relieved her of. The young clone looked over at Echo, “I got your heated blanket too. I wasn’t sure if our body heat will be enough to keep you warm through the night. Better safe than sorry, right?”

“I…” Echo blinked, accepting his blanket as he fumbled for words. No matter how long you all have known Omega, the smaller clone always finds ways of surprising her family with her never-ending kindness. Echo cleared his throat, “Thank you, Omega.”

She beamed up at him, brushing off his thanks as she grabbed a handful of pillows to scatter around the living room. Wrecker and Hunter followed behind her with blankets. Eventually the room was approved for a bantha pile by Wrecker’s standards and six bodies started to settle in for the night.

With Hunter against your left side, head buried in your neck, his lips gazing the skin over your pulse point and Wrecker snuggled behind him, Echo moved to claim his spot on your other side as Tech sat cross legged by your lower right leg and Omega’s balanced on your chest leaving just Crosshair left to pick his spot.

“There’s still room.” You pointed out to him, silently hoping he’ll join.

Crosshair looked down at the pile, disgust written all over his face, “Not happening.”

“C’mon brother,” Wrecker patted the empty spot behind him, “You know you want to.”

The sniper may be rough around the edges but he’s not immune to his brothers’ pleas. He’ll cave, you know so.

“Not in the slightest. I’d rather eat glass than be sandwiched between you all.”

“Fine, but you’ll regret it.” Wrecker shrugged, snuggling closer into Hunter’s side, his large arm thrown over the smaller body to rest on your arm.

Crosshair rolled his eyes, “Doubt it.”

Tech glanced up from his datapad, “I have informed Phee that I will be staying another night here,” He looked at you, “She is pleased that you have returned unharmed and has invited you for dinner tomorrow if that is to your liking.”

“Tell her there’s no other place I’d rather be.”

He nodded, “I will inform her immediately, she will be happy to hear so.”

Omega frowned, rifling through the blankets, “Where’s Lula?”

Wrecker’s head shot up, alarmed and you glanced around until you spotted her by the hallway entrance. You pointed Omega to the toy, “You must have dropped her.”

Omega looked over at her brother, eyes wide and childlike, “Crosshair? Can you get her?”

The clone looked at her, then the pile of blankets and pillows that were basically drowning her small frame, before blowing out an annoyed sigh, but he went and got the toy anyway. He carelessly threw it in her direction, which earned a cry of protest from Wrecker. Crosshair rolled his eyes in response before crouching down beside Echo, moving his blanket aside.

The former ARC Trooper’s body stiffened when a pair of hands met his pelvic. Then he flinched away from Crosshair’s touch when the clones fingers found the clasps of his prosthetic legs. You watched slightly puzzled at what was happening.

Crosshair’s fingers froze for a fleeting second before he scowled down at Echo, “Relax Reg, if I have to suffer sleeping here tonight I’m at least going to make sure my nuts stay intact.”

A puff of air met your skin as Hunter grunted, “Language Crosshair, the kids here.”

Omega giggled as she settled comfortably on your chest, “I’m not a kid, Hunter.”

Beside you, Echo flicked his youngest brother’s arm, “I don’t move in my sleep.”

Wrecker let out an loud laugh, “Ha, good one Echo!”

“You could sleep on the other side of the bantha pile,” Echo cocked his head over to where Wrecker is, “Snuggle up behind Wrecker. He doesn’t sweat that much.”

“I’d rather not. Now are you going to let me continue?” Crosshair gestured to the prosthetics.

Echo nodded, moving to make it easier for his brother to reach the clasps, “You better not steal my blanket throughout the night.”

“What are you going to do? Chase me?” Crosshair jeered, but his tone held no malice behind it and Echo for his part just playfully shoved the sniper back until his ass met the floor. Beside you Hunter mumbled something incomprehensible into the crook of your neck while Wrecker and Omega laughed as Crosshair scowled up at them.

Once the prosthetics were removed, Crosshair huddled underneath Echo’s heated blanket with him, keeping enough distance from the clone for it not to be weird. Crosshair’s words, not Echo’s. The latter couldn’t care less, especially when the added warmth helped him sleep soundly.

With them both settled in for the night Tech was able to finally curl himself against your thigh, directly underneath Echo, giving the fact that without the clone’s prosthetics there’s now room for Tech to lie down and be close to you.

“This is… nice.” You said, pulling Echo in closer to your body when he struggled to do so himself without use of his prosthetic legs. His prosthetic arm had been taken off too. Most likely so you don’t get hit by it.

“Aw, yeah it is!” Wrecker’s usual loudness is muffled by Hunter’s shirt and the older clone chuckled at the rough vibration that spread across his back.

Omega propped herself up to rest her head in her hands, her elbows pressing against your chest and you hid the wince when her pointed appendages dug into your sternum.

Her eyes twinkled as they met yours, “We’ve missed you,” She exclaimed, the twinkle in her eyes grew brighter, “Tech barely left the house, Phee brought over food for us but we ended up giving it to the shelter ‘cause Echo went bananas and made enough food for the entire village! And Wrecker built a giant shed in a day! The Unstoppable Machine they called him. Oh and Crosshair slept at the gun range every night. Echo had to bring him food and a pillow and blanket-,”

You blew out a disappointed sigh. Leave it to Crosshair to do the exact opposite of what you said. Taking care of yourself does not equal three nights at the gun range. Crosshair hid his head in Echo’s shoulder shielding himself away from your scowl.

“Hunter wouldn’t leave my side,” Omega continued, “I wasn’t even allowed to sleep over at the Hazards. It’s okay though. Truthfully, I didn’t feel like sleeping away from home anyways.”

You swallowed around the lump in your throat. You knew they didn’t want you to go but you never really knew how much pain you’re absent brought the six of them.

“I’m so sorry,” You whispered into the silence of the room, “I’m here now and I’m not leaving ever again, I promise.”

Omega held out her hand, little finger up, “Pinky promise?”

You locked your smallest finger around hers and brought them both up to your lips, pressing a delicate kiss to her skin, “To the brightest stars and back.”

Omega was the first to fall asleep, followed quickly by Echo; the warmth of his blanket and your body heat lulled him into a peaceful slumber. Wrecker was next, his snores unnaturally quiet for a man his size. Small blessings, truly.

Tech’s head is pillowed on your thigh, his datapad loosely held in his hand, conversation with Phee most likely cut short by his sleep. Out of all your boys your heart is warmed by him the most. He’s the only one who doesn’t live here, he’s the only one who has spent four nights away from their partner. He’s never once complained about it and you know neither has Phee; she’d let Tech spend a thousand more nights here if that’s what he needs.

Crosshair and Hunter were the last to drift off, their bodies on high alert, tracking any movement that could possibly take you away from them. Crosshair once said that nothing is ever too good to be true, but like most things the sniper’s believed, he’s wrong. Because you’re here for good, and that’s true.

You felt a nudge against your right side and you rolled your eyes fully expecting to get an ear full of Tech’s latest discoveries during your absence but instead you're met with an unreadable expression as Crosshair stared at you.

He doesn’t say anything and he looks more pissed off than before. It’s late and you're tired, physically and emotionally and the last thing you want is an angry clone glaring at you through the night.

“This wasn’t my idea,” You reminded him, tone a little rougher than it probably should be, “But I’m not going to have you ruin it because I need this. I might have only been gone for three days but I was alone for each one and you were here, with the boys’ and Omega.��

He’s silent, eyes sharp almost like he’s studying you. When he does speak it sounds like it’s through gritted teeth, “Where else?”

And, oh

You had been expecting that question from Hunter, maybe even Echo, but not him.

You sighed and let your head fall back against your pillow. Whenever the gentleman got too bold, you were able to direct their attention somewhere other than your body… but sometimes you just weren’t fast enough.

“You were right, the others wouldn’t have been able to sit and watch,” You shifted your eyes back to the sniper, “The man grabbed me, pulled me into his lap and sometimes when I close my eyes, I can feel his breath against my skin and I hate it.”

The arms locked around you tighten, Hunter's head unburing itself from your neck, his breathing falling to the softest puffs against your skin. You honestly should have known that he wouldn’t fully be asleep.

You sighed, pulling Omega closer to your chest, needing to feel her heartbeat, letting it ground you, “Rex was immediately lifting me off of him and using his body as a shield, keeping me out of the man’s sight. What was supposed to be a stealth mission turned into a full blown blaster fight. What was it you said Crosshair? ‘Dead bodies make things complicated’?”

“Sometimes complicated is necessary for survival,” Crosshair said, “It may have not gone down the way you wanted it to, but tonight there are people finding their freedom from slavery and that’s because there are good people out there willing to fight for them. People like you.”

Your throat constricted at his words and you felt the beginning of tears build up, you do your best to blink them away before they get a chance to escape.

“You’re not leaving us again, right?” Hunter’s voice was rough, and it was clear from the way he asked the question that there was only one acceptable answer.

“No, never again,” You replied, before asking your own question, “Do I smell better now?”

Hunter made a show of taking in a deep breath, pausing for a second before giving a slow nod, “You smell like my aftershave, Echo’s mechanical oil for his prosthetics, Omega’s shampoo, Phee’s perfume that lingers on Tech’s clothes and the chemical ingredients in Tech’s eye drops.”

“Wrecker and Crosshair?”

“By the morning you’ll smell like them too. I promise.”

“Good, but in case I don’t; I’m not doing anything tomorrow night.”

Crosshair pressed his front flushed against Echo’s back and threw his arm over his brother's body to rest on top of Omega’s back, “If we must, I'm making Wrecker bring the mattresses down here. I’m getting too old for this shit.”

You laced your fingers with his across Omega’s body, “Deal.”

A/N: I’ve had one rule when it comes to tbb. I don’t write for Crosshair – He’s a hard character to write – So how the heck did I manage to include him in 80% of this fic?! I’m not sure I was able to capture his personality completely but I hope I did him justice. (runs and hides)

[multi-fan-dom-madness]

Midnight Masquerade - Rex and Cody

Chapter Summary: The bottle lands perfectly between Rex and Cody. You've never been one to back down from a challenge.

Chapter Warnings: 18+ content; angel!Rex x f!reader x devil!Cody; kinks: threesome + dirty talk; praise kink, degradation kink, spanking (one instance), oral (both m and f receiving), bratting and brat training, spitroast, poorly translated Mando'a, 'monster' interpreted rather loosely for this one, absolutely no cl0nc3st, if I missed any please let me know!

A/N: Not fully happy with the monster part of this, but in terms of smut, come get y'all juice! some inspo taken from the lovely @sev-on-kamino for the part where Cody asks a leading question. Mando'a roughly translates to "plaything" (geroya for 'play' and 'kebis' for 'thing')

Word Count: 4.0k (do not perceive me)

Read the intro here! | Suggested listening

...Rex.

No, Cody. 

No. Hang on. You lean down and align your vision with the direct line of sight of the bottle’s mouth, and realize with a jolt that it’s perfectly between the two men. Blinking, you straighten up. The entire table gives you an expectant look, but none more so than the two men the bottle seems stuck between. Nerves and arousal pulse through you, drying your mouth. Kark, would they...?

Into the momentary silence, Cody speaks, one eyebrow raised. His wings, dominating the space with jet black feathers, rustle in impatience. “Clearly, it’s pointing at me.” 

Next to him, Rex’s face, bathed in the light of his halo, scrunches in a frown. “Are you sure about that, vod?” He gestures to the bottle. “Look, it’s pointing at my arm.” 

“Yeah, and mine is right next to yours, di’kut.” 

They devolve into petty bickering, jostling each other as they try to prove which one of them the bottle actually points to. Worrying your bottom lip, you spare a glance around the table. The others have moved on from the moment, having not been chosen, and have resumed their own conversations. 

With a sigh, you stand, chair screeching on the stone floor. Both Rex and Cody snap their attention to you, frozen in mid-wrestle, Rex’s head nearly pinned beneath Cody’s arm. 

Hands on your hips, you tilt your head. “Boys,” you tut. “There’s no need to fight. If you can’t decide, I will.” 

Cody reluctantly lets go of his brother, a scowl threatening to mar his features. 

“What’s your choice, mesh’la?” Rex asks. The look on his face is serene, angelic—there’s no other word for it. Whatever decision you make, he’ll be okay with.

“Yes,” you say. At their blank stares, you chuckle. “Both. And. What do you say?” 

Cody and Rex exchange a single glance before both men scramble out of their chairs. Well—Cody scrambles, knocking empty shot glasses askew and sending them hurtling off the table to shatter on the flagstones beneath. He ignores the grumbles of protest from the rest of the troopers, skidding to a halt in front of you with a smirk damn near as devilish as the ram’s horns curling out of his head. 

For his part, Rex stands, exuding calmness even from across the table, and spreads his wings. The white, pearlescent feathers seem to glow dully from within for a moment—and then he beats them once, gliding over the table in one smooth movement.

Your mouth falls agape as Rex settles onto his feet beside you. “Woah.” 

He gives you a small smile, one that steals your breath. The look he gives you makes you feel like there’s some long-standing inside joke that only you and he share; butterflies flutter in your veins.

“Are you gonna just stand there eye-fucking her, or are you gonna actually fuck her, vod?” Cody’s voice jolts you out of the golden depths of Rex’s gaze. 

Meeting Cody’s eyes, you shiver despite yourself. His eyes are dark, boring into your very soul. Goosebumps erupt over your skin at the sensation of your deepest desires being dredged up from the vaults of your mind. Core clenching with need, you whimper almost silently. 

“What was that about eye-fucking, Codes?” Rex teases. 

Cody rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. C’mon. Let’s get somewhere private before I change my mind and fuck you right here.” 

Chest tightening with blazing desire, you have no choice but to allow yourself to be ushered forward by them both. You can only imagine the sight you present to the rest of the partygoers, a literal angel and devil at your shoulders. Rex to your left, Cody on your right, your hands itch to reach out and grab theirs. You can feel their wings, feathers soft and warm, tickling at the backs of your legs as you walk; idly, you wonder what those feathers might feel like beneath your palms. 

It’s Rex who makes the first move. His fingers are strong and cool where he laces them through your own, and the reassuring smile he gives you makes you melt. 

Not one to be outdone, Cody grabs your other hand. His skin is so warm it’s nearly hot, like he’s burning from within with hellfire. Kriff, you’re not one who buys into some of the metaphysical beliefs you’ve heard from various folks on Coruscant, but if there is an afterlife where souls are either punished or blessed for eternity, you’re pretty sure which side this night is about to land you in.

You don’t really care. 

The two men escort you through a series of hallways to a random door, which opens onto a sparsely furnished bedroom. Seems your hosts know exactly what their guests would want from this night of revelry. Aside from the massive bed, hanging from the ceiling is a wrought iron chandelier with lit candles that cast flickering lights on the cobblestone walls, giving the space a rather fantasy-esque feel. Tucked in one corner stands a washbasin with a full water jug. Good. You’re going to need hydration after tonight.

Licking your lips, you glance between the other two out of the corners of your eyes, before dropping their hands. As you step deeper into the room, Rex shuts and bolts the door. The two men remain close by the entrance. They regard you with unabashed curiosity, though you pick up their wildly different intentions: one bright and willing to support, one dark and willing to break. 

You urge your racing heart to settle. “So. Ground rules. Someone says ‘red,’ and this all stops. That clear?” 

Cody gives a single, terse nod while Rex smiles encouragingly. 

“Great.” You shimmy out of your clothing, leaving you in nothing but your shoes in front of both men. Rex’s white toga, belted with gold trim, begins to tent as his cheeks flush, taking in the sight of your nude form. Cody’s hands twitch toward unbuttoning his black shirt, his own bulge growing noticeable. 

Your chest rises and falls with each shallow breath. In the chilled air of the chamber, your nipples stiffen, goosebumps arising once again all over your body. Their gazes are heavy on your skin, lingering in all your dips and curves. 

“She’s beautiful, isn’t she, Cody?” Rex murmurs. His wings shift against his back. “Bet she’s gonna be such a good girl for us.” 

Cody snorts. “Bet she’s gonna be a good slut for us. Isn’t that right, princess?” When your thighs press together without realizing, Cody smirks. “Yeah, she is. Filthy little plaything.” 

Body flushed with warmth, you can’t decide who to focus on as they begin to approach, one step at a time. Rex flanks to your right, while Cody moves to you directly. His hands roughly cup your face and drag you forward to close the distance. Lips crashing into yours, you can’t help the moan that escapes you as Cody grips the back of your neck with one hand. His other hand immediately finds a home at your breast, tweaking your already-sensitive nipple, squeezing the soft flesh. His kiss is dizzying in its demand: his mouth moves against yours with feverish intent, dead set on making your knees wobble. 

And when they do wobble, your legs threatening to buckle, Rex is right there. One of his arms snakes around your waist to hold you upright against his chest, now bare. The fingertips of his other hand trail lightly over your thigh, skating close to your heated core. When Cody plies your mouth open with his tongue—forked tongue, you realize, you groan, arching back into Rex. 

“Such a sweet thing,” Rex murmurs in your ear between soft kisses to your shoulder. “So soft for us. Gonna make you feel so good, mesh’la.” 

Cody lets you break the kiss, your chest heaving with ragged breaths. His eyes glint in the candlelight. Swollen lips pulling back in a roguish grin, his forked tongue flickers out to lick his teeth. 

“G’on, geroy’bis, give Rex some love,” Cody husks. 

Already dizzy and dazed with lust, you find you don’t have it in you to turn in Rex’s embrace. Rather, you simply lean your head back and tilt to find his mouth, already seeking your own. You sigh in contentment as his lips slot against yours. His kiss is soft, gentle, and yet no less debilitating for it. Your head swims with pleasure as Cody continues to tug on your nipples. When his mouth latches onto one of them, you keen into Rex’s mouth—he uses the opportunity to taste you, his tongue sliding against your own.

Your eyes flutter open in surprise when one of Cody’s thick, hot fingers trails over your slit. You whine as his finger traces the lightest circle around your aching clit, but he withdraws his touch before you can properly react. Rex pulls away from your lips to give you a smirk that, if he didn’t have a halo and angel’s wings, could be called sinful. 

“What d’you want, sweetheart, hm?” Rex asks. His grip shifts to tilt your head back toward Cody. “Tell him what you want. Use your words like a good girl.” 

Fidgeting under Cody’s heavy stare, you try to recall some of the confidence you’d had just a few minutes ago, back at the table. “W-Well, Commander? Aren’t you going to touch me like the slut you say I am?” 

The dark smirk that sprawls over his face makes you immediately regret your words. 

“Oh, no, geroy’bis,” he purrs, voice dangerously low as he crowds into your personal space. You try and fail to not cower back into Rex’s embrace. “No, no. Sluts take what they’re given and don’t talk back. Brats, on the other hand...” His eyes rake your trembling form. “Brats get their mouths stuffed until they learn their manners.” 

You stiffen in Rex’s arms, breath freezing halfway in your lungs as desire blazes through you. When you don’t move, gaze locked on Cody’s self-assured smirk, Rex shifts behind you.

“Cody,” Rex warns. “Cyare, color?” 

“Green,” you gasp out. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, as Cody chucks under your chin with a smug, “That’s what I thought.” 

“On your knees,” Cody commands, voice hard as the stone your knees crack against as your body betrays you. You’d intended to take your time, continue pushing the devil’s buttons, but the moment Rex released you, your legs collapsed. 

Body burning with embarrassment and lust alike, you peer up through your eyelashes as Cody makes quick work of the zipper of his pants to free his cock. Flushed and weeping, the head of his dick bobs in front of your face, making you go cross-eyed as you try to appraise its full size. Maker, he’s big, thick and long. Your mouth waters. Cody steps closer; his hard length taps against the side of your face, smearing precum along your cheek. 

Behind you, you’re aware of Rex watching with equal parts amusement and concern. And all around you, feathers, warm and insulating, envelope the three of you. Black over white, white over black, they both stretch their wings in a protective circle to embrace you. Stars, you want to reach out and touch, to feel the down beneath the flight primaries—but then Cody grips your jaw just hard enough to force your mouth open, and you accept his flushed tip in your mouth. 

Your lips stretch to accommodate him as best as you can. There’s just so much of him. Lapping at the vein on the underside, you hollow your cheeks as he slowly pushes further into your hot, wet mouth. His teeth grind as his eyes drill into yours, dark and slitted. His cock is heavy on your tongue. Whining around him, you shift on your knees to alleviate the growing discomfort there. 

“Rex,” Cody says, voice strained. “Play with her cunt. Wanna watch her eyes cross while I fuck her face.” 

A gush of slick drools from your folds, coating the insides of your thighs. Rex repositions himself, at first you think to reach around from behind you, but then one hand gently nudges your knees apart as his grip lifts your ass just enough for him to shimmy beneath. You inhale sharply through your nose at his hot breath on your folds. 

As Rex wraps his arms around your thighs and tugs you down, Cody thrusts into your mouth shallowly. You jerk and groan, mind and body short-circuiting between the two very different stimuli. Rex’s tongue is cool and languid where it swirls over your pussy; Cody’s length is hard and domineering as he ruts into your mouth. All you want to do is kneel there and take it; but you want more than that. Hollowing your cheeks, you suck with every pull back even as you grind your hips down against Rex’s mouth. Moans claw out of your chest and vibrate around Cody’s length, making him grit his teeth. 

“Kriff, geroy’bis,” he huffs out. “Got such a dirty fuckin’ mouth. Suckin’ my cock like a karkin’ pro.” 

You hum in satisfaction. Beneath you, Rex nudges your clit with his nose as he fucks your hole with his tongue. Pleasure ripples through you, centered at your heated core and pulsing outward. 

Out of curiosity, you reach down with one hand and tentatively wrap your fingers around Rex’s halo. All at once, your body jerks taut with a cry. Blinding radiance floods your body—and just for a moment, you can feel Rex as if he is you. You taste yourself on your tongue, feel the way your folds part under Rex’s ministrations, feel the aching length of arousal at the apex of his thighs. Rex groans; you feel it rumble in your chest like the sound comes from you.

Yanking your hand back, you peer with wide, teary eyes up at Cody, who clearly doesn’t understand what just happened. 

Rex lifts your hips. “K-Kriff. Are you okay?” 

You motion vaguely a thumbs-up so he can see. 

He hesitates, before delving back into your folds. Despite the sensation of being linked is gone, the knowledge of how much this is affecting Rex throws you right back into your pleasure, the cord in your belly winding tighter with every wag of his tongue. 

“If I pull out, you gonna be good and ask nicely for what you want?” Cody asks. He doesn’t relent in his pace. His cock drives incrementally deeper into your mouth with each thrust. Tears dew at the corners of your eyes as you try not to gag, squeezing your fists tight. You can’t answer, can’t even nod.

Cody hums. “That’s too bad.” He holds the back of your neck with a firm grasp. “Guess you still haven’t learned manners.” 

Eyes widening, you wail brokenly around Cody as he begins to fuck your face in earnest. His fat cock pushes to the back of your throat with every stutter of his hips forward. To match the intensity, Rex begins rocking your hips back and forth across his face. His lips latch around your clit and he sucks. Your toes curl. Vision going blurry, you squirm, trapped between them.

Cody releases you and takes a shaky step backward. You cough and sputter, tears leaking down your face, yet you can’t help the way your core lurches at the sight of Cody so affected. What little of his skin you can see beneath his clothes is shiny with a layer of sweat, his cheeks flushed, hair disheveled where his fingers ran through it. 

While you try to regain your breath, you can feel your orgasm approaching, a molten thread pulling taut in your belly. Dropping your gaze to Rex, you keen at the sight of his face slick with your juices, shining in the warm light of his halo. 

“Gonna- gonna—” You gasp. 

Rex digs his fingers into the meat of your thighs as you ride out your high, twitching against his mouth as he continues to lick and suck you through it. Once you begin to come down, panting harshly, Rex gently lifts you off his face. You become aware of a new sensation. Along your arms, something cool and ticklish brushes against your skin. 

Peeking your eyes open, you gasp in wonder at the long, luminescent feathers dragging slowly up your biceps. Rex flexes his wings to caress you. A shiver cascades down your spine.

“Did so good for us, mesh’la,” Rex croons. “So pretty when you cum like that. So pretty when your mouth is stuffed full of cock.” 

Without thinking, you reach out to touch one of Rex’s wings. The feathers are soft, and he holds still to let you stroke the long primary feathers, fondle the shorter coverts. He shudders beneath you. 

“Feel good?” you murmur. 

He hums in response, eyes sliding shut. When you burrow your fingers beneath the stiffer feathers, seeking the down beneath, Rex groans low in his throat. Your nails gently scrape over the warm, membranous skin of his wings, cushioned by downy under-feathers. Under your fingers, you can feel the blood pumping through his veins, fast and hard, just as affected as you are. You watch in fascination as Rex’s expression contorts into one of serene bliss as you stroke your thumb over his skin.

“Mesh’la,” he croons. 

You glance up at Cody shyly. “Can I- Can I touch yours, too?” 

“Greedy,” he accuses, but there’s no real heat behind his words. “Let’s move you to the bed, and then yes, you can touch.”

On unsteady legs, you hobble to the bed, Rex and Cody in tow just as soon as they strip completely. Cody positions you in the center of the bed and, one leg folded beneath him, slots himself at your side. Rex mirrors his pose on the other side, face still sticky with your slick. Once more, their wings spread with a gentle rustle to envelop you. At a nod from Rex, you reach with both hands and bury your fingers into white and black feathers. 

Cody’s forehead drops against your shoulder with a low moan. Rex captures your lips in a sweet kiss, setting your head spinning again. The taste of yourself makes you whimper. His lips curve against yours as you let your hands wander. Brushing over their wings, you smooth your palms over Rex’s and Cody’s thighs, feeling the powerful muscles there flex in response. Drawing farther up, you grope blindly for their lengths. 

All three of you sigh simultaneously as your fingers wrap around them. Rex is shorter than Cody, but thicker too. You moan in anticipation. 

“Filthy fuckin’ thing,” Cody mumbles against your shoulder. His heated body makes sweat begin to dew on your skin. “Couldn’t just pick one or the other, could you? Had to have two cocks. We’re gonna ruin you, princess. Split you open so good you’ll never want another dick.” 

Rex nudges you to turn and face Cody. As the devil’s lips smother yours, Rex trails a featherlight hand down your spine, pressing open-mouthed kisses to your shoulder and neck. 

“You’re so good for us, mesh’la,” Rex praises quietly. “Made to take us.” 

You whine in agreement, nodding within Cody’s grip. 

“Gonna fuck you now, geroy’bis,” Cody says as he pulls away. His eyes never leave yours, hot and dark, as he continues, “You should feel her mouth, vod. Feel how sinful those lips are when they’re wrapped around you.” 

Whimpering, you flutter your eyelashes at the implication of Cody’s words. 

He grins at you, wolfish and lustful. “That’s right. Hands and knees, filthy girl.” 

Crouched on your elbows, your ass presented to Cody, you bite your lip as Rex’s cock fills your vision. Cody’s steadying grasp on your hip keeps you grounded. His fingers gather some of your slick to spread over his length, and then the blunt head of him presses into you. 

You flick your tongue against the underside of Rex’s tip, moaning at the way your cunt stretches to fit Cody. The deeper Cody pushes, the farther into your mouth you draw Rex, until finally, they’re both seated fully within your holes, one dripping slick and one drooling spit. Cody’s hands splay over your ass for a moment before—

Smack!

You jolt with a surprised, muffled yelp at the stinging ass smack. 

“Doing so good for us,” Rex coos. His breathing is strained, coming in harsh gasps, but he gives you a smile when you glance up to see his expression. “Cody, on three?” 

Cody grunts out an affirmative. “One, two—” 

“Three.” 

They set a devastating rhythm. As Cody withdraws from your tight heat, Rex pushes just a bit more down your throat—then drags your head back as Cody pushes his hips flush against your ass. You’re manhandled between the two of them; Rex’s hands on your head keep you stable while Cody pounds against the spot in your cunt that makes you see stars. Whining, drooling, you relax your throat to take Rex as deep as you can as Cody takes what he wants from you.

The air is full of the sounds of both of them fucking you. The wet squelch of your pussy echoes in direct counterpart to the way you gag on Rex’s length; and orchestrating it all are both men’s voices, muttering filth and praise and worship. At some point, you lose track of who says what, their voices blending into the buzzing in your ears as your orgasm begins to build again. 

“That’s it, little one, take those fuckin’ cocks.” 

“Such—a—good—whore—for—us—ngh!” 

“You’re doing so well, sweetheart, letting us use you like this.” 

“Yeah, you gettin’ close? Feel that tight pussy chokin’ me. Cum for us. You can do it.” 

That last is in response to the way that you wail, the sound tearing from your chest as Cody reaches around and presses his fingers to your clit. Body locking up, you pull from Rex’s length with a messy pop as your orgasm crashes into you. Cody fucks you through it, hard and fast, unrelenting. Even when you begin to shake, overstimulated, he slides his cock into you until, with a growl, he buries himself to the hilt and moans. 

You nearly cum again at the feeling of his cock pulsing in you, spilling his hot seed into your sopping cunt. “C-Cody.” 

He slips his softening length from you, but then Rex is immediately there to fill the gap. Using both of your spends as extra lube, Rex’s length splits you apart at the seams. Dimly you’re aware of Cody collapsing on the bed next to you, his gaze warm and caring, horns retracting into his skull. But then Rex tilts your hips just a little, and you can’t even scream, the breath knocked from you as he grinds into you.

Where Cody was rough and insistent, Rex is gentle yet firm. Even as your body jolts in blinding pleasure, he holds you completely still so he can hit that devastating spot in you with deadly precision. You’re swept away by your third orgasm; it hits you so suddenly that you don’t have time to cry out, instead small squeaks falling from your lips. 

Like Cody, Rex stills deep in you and spurts his cum into your stretched, wrecked hole. He nearly collapses on top of you, barely catching himself on his hands. The three of you pant and lay there, trying to recover from the mind-melding experience you just shared. With trembling fingers you reach to trace the scar around Cody’s eye. He hums, leaning into your touch. 

A giggle escapes you, tired and fucked-out. “Holy shit.” 

“You can say that again,” Rex mutters, pulling out at last. 

You whimper at the loss and at the sensation of both of their spends welling out of your spent cunt. Rex pushes some of it back in with his thumb. Moaning, you plant your face in the cushioned bed. 

“Just relax, cyare,” Cody says with a contented sigh. “We’ll take care of you.” 

“You already did,” you mumble thickly, gesturing to your lower half. 

Two rumbling chuckles echo in the room. Rex says, “You know what he meant.” 

Turning your head to meet Cody’s eyes once again, you simply smile. “I know.”

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[66sharkteeth]

Hello! Idk if you are still faking asks but of so thank you in advance if this gets answered!

I'm not gonna lie, it's a bit disturbing how the majority is cheering on Rex and the side he's taken. Though that side might have some points, I just can not see them as people I'd like to ever support or think they are doing it with good intentions in mind. But anyway, I apologize if I just can't understand or root for this gang. I know things aren't black or white but i just see more bad than good. And I hope that's ok.

The only think I dint understand and kind of made me not like Rex so much anymore is that when he is fighting Desmond he mentions something along the lines of "you already met my scyon" and that just raised more questions for me. One of the mane reasons Rex felt hurt and betrayed and thought it was all Desmon and Lys's fault for "betraying him" was because he couldn't under why they would turn on him (it was when he still didn't know about the other part of himself). But now he knows, he knows its the Scyon that hurt and attacked them. Hence why they had such a reaction. I've seen people stating that yes, Rex was betrayed! And I just...I don't see it at all especially when the og gang had every right to react the way they did.

This monnet kind of just made me distance myself from Rex I guess. Because he knew the scyon was the one to hurt the gang, the reason why they reacted the way they did and yet that does nothing for him. I don't think this is bad writing, nit even the slightest. Cause I know some people in real life would have such a reaction. We are flawed beings and some weren't thought or leaned how act to know their actions or way of thinking is flawed etc or self centered. It's a process everyone can go threw in different ways. So I hope maybe Rex one day can learn more as he goes.

But yeah, was there something behind the scenes we didn't see for Rex to not even question that the Scyon hurt Desmond or for him to not even care about that fact?

I still love the comic a lot and its one of 2 other webtoons I follow religiously and have given money for passes! The art and world building I feel like is really good and has made me so inspired to make a fan art and fic for this world (I'm just too afraid and shy to share I guess but I'd love to one day!).

I hope you have a good day and I apologize for any speaking or grammar mistakes I've made. English isn't my first language and I'm also dyslexic 😅

Tbh, I think the only people who are 100% wrong are the ones who think one side is 100% right.

Like you said, the situation isn't black and white (heck, it's even one of the major themes of the story), and both sides have points and flaws, some bigger than others. I know people are having fun cheering for Rex's "corruption arc" (I even love to tease about it), but that's exactly what it is- a corruption arc.

Rex has points and fair criticism, but it's important to also remember the environment he's in. He's Blan Corp's prized pig that they need to keep happy until they get that memory. Other than Bag Girl, Rex is basically surrounded in an echo chamber of yes-men. So no, you didn't really miss anything. Rex is just currently in an environment where everyone is telling him "Yeah! It WAS abusive of Desmond to make you do all those chores!! What a jerk! >:(" and Rex going "yeah, you're right!! I am the victim here! Tell me more."

He's with the villains now and there is a lot of manipulation* going on.(*Side note: Mostly from Jericho and his Scion, to be clear. You could argue Nia as well, but I kind of maintain that she is just as manipulated and in a kind of equally tough position. Remember, Blan Corp is the ticket to getting her mom back and she's kind of in just as big of an echo chamber of "human bad, blank superior" as Rex)

That said, please don't give up hope on him haha. Rex can get a really sharp tongue when he's pissed (as seen in the latest episode with his encounter with Lyss), but he's still the same Rex at heart. He could never take the steps that Jericho is willing to take, and I... Tried to make that clear in ep 133 with Desmond's criticism of Rex's changes. Desmond asked if he really has it in his (half-human) heart to follow in Jericho's foot steps, and I like to think (most of us) know he doesn't- At least not as far as Jericho. Desmond planted the seed of doubt in ep 133 and I don't intend to just...ignore that seed in my writing of what's coming up.

TLDR: Yeah! Rex is being a jerk right now after a lot of manipulation, gaslighting, and just all around anxiety. But that's what a corruption arc is. Only time will tell if he starts to realize what a jerk he's being, but I certainly didn't show him hesitating after what Desmond said because it went in one ear and out the other. That's definitely going to be living rent free in the back of his mind for now.

[sarcastic-sketches]

Intervention AU

Roll out the carpet, it's another one lads and buckle up because this ones long. I've had several mini AUs that I've kind of just compiled all into one but I just really want to explore a narrative where Anakin gets a chance to sort his shit out and work towards fixing his issues. Because man do I love untangling characters inner conflict and having them get help so that they can overcome their own hurdles. An Intervention AU, if you will, before he truly flips his lid.

First, the concept that Anakin Skywalker is not entirely human - he's half Force - is fascinating. Because yeah, with the confirmation that he is the Chosen One, plus the Mortis Arc, it seems obvious that the Force made him. It borrowed a likeness from Shmi and then filled in the gaps (so he's technically a clone of his mother with some Force poked mutations here and there - I’ve read fics along those lines and they are top tier imho). But the Force is well, a cosmic power and can't really integrate into a human body all too well. The human half just wants to belong and be loved and to love. The Force half does not know how to express such messy human emotions in a way that doesn't resemble a flood.

But a flood can be managed when it's diverted into many rivers and streams, rather than being solely focused through only a few. To be clear, this is not a ‘attachments are fine actually’ take, this is a ‘get more friends so you loosen your grip on the ones you currently have’ angle. He learns to let go of the few people he loves because he has so many other people in his life to turn to. He will never be truly alone or abandoned, which is his fear ultimately, and they in turn help him realise that the only person who can convince him that he is enough is himself. Basically, dear god get it through Anakin's thick skull that the Jedi are communally raised so they spread their affections over multiple people and yes that is allowed. He’s just more used to a nuclear family model because thats all he had growing up. Him and his mother.

Love doesn't just have to be romantic and having a wider support network would also mean that Palpatine can no longer keep Anakin isolated. His grip on the Chosen One lessens as he finds other people to trust and confide in. It would also mean more eyes and ears to notice when he suddenly has a 180 in attitude after speaking with the Chancellor.

Also him being half-force I want to play with the idea that 'let your feelings pass through you’ doesn’t really work when he feels so much. All amplified by his Force connection. He can’t just let them go, so he has to work on the source of those feeling of inadequecy and ‘never having enough’ to make sure they don’t spawn in the first place.

This all started after watching TCW Clovis Arc 2.0 where Anakin’s possessiveness goes up from like a 5 to a 10 in one episode and I couldn’t help but think that it was a bit extreme from what we knew of his character up to that point in TCW and from the films. Or it's highlighting how badly Anakin is starting to lose that battle with himself. But Padme saying “I don’t know who's in there any more” had me going ‘right, time to use this as a wake up call’.

The Clovis Incident happens earlier in this AU (just after The Wrong Jedi - let me save Fives hot damn). Padme, actually seeing Anakin's rage first hand, notices how abrupt and strong the change is and makes some observations. Since the last time he entered Beserk Mode TM was also in response to someone he loved being harmed, she reasons that's the linking factor. I imagine her logic basically going; ok, so he goes afk due to anger/stress, he got angry because Clovis was too close to me, he’s stressed that he’ll lose me as I’m all he has now… He needs more people in his life! A+ logic there Padme. Because at this point? She kind of is all he has, besides Palpatine (which is the problem in of itself) - Ahsoka left, his trust in Obi-Wan is damaged (Hardeen arc), and Rex is his Captain so theres a power issue there.

Thats a lot of emotional energy for one relationship. She can also lay down the facts that the issue wasn't necessarily punching Clovis in the face (lmao he deserved that) but that Anakin didn't listen to her. THATS my main beef here honestly, Padme was far too passive by the end of that arc and I ain't about that. So she absolutely spells that out for him because she knows damn well his idea of expressing he cares is fucked from growing up in slavery and then being handed over to a bunch of monks (-Deep inhale- boi) but he needs to understand that isn’t how it’s done.

So she pushes him to actually speak with other people and maybe connect more with his fellow Jedi. Since he sees them more often anyway. They all seem very nice to her when she has spoken with them, she’s sure it’s just a misunderstanding between them all for how he feels.

This allows Anakin to really dig into what the Order considers attachment (it’s not having relationships that’s the problem, it’s possessive love - based on the concept that such ‘attachments’ prevent people from passing on into the afterlife). This misunderstanding has 100% come from his background because slaves were not allowed to have anything, except the bonds they made between themselves. Anakin views his relationships as things he owns, things he must protect and cherish before they are taken from him, because that’s all he was ever ‘allowed’ to have. He eventually gets to realise that the Order dissuades Jedi from having spouses/romantic partners because potentially having them in a position where they must carry out their duty over the safety of their spouse/partner is just cruel. They understand that facing such a dilemma would break a person and it is simply kinder to just avoid the possibility altogether. ‘It’s a peaceful life’.

Cue Anakin arguing that he would feel just the same having to let a platonic relationship go too which sparks off another 2 hour debate...

Anakin gradually reaching out to other Jedi more and more, starting off with who he thinks would be the easier ones, like Plo Koon, Kit Fisto, Aayla, even Yoda oddly enough (Troll asks him to break him out of the med bay later in TCW and Anakin was instantly on board with such a thing. That’s hysterical). I think he’d eventually try with Luminara too, given the whole debacle of the Wrong Jedi involved their padawans, but that takes a bit of time. And, wouldn’t ya know, he realises that they don’t resent him, they’re not even remotely afraid of him or trying to suppress his abilities, and they’re perfectly happy to talk to him even when off the battlefield etc (Palpatines words are already starting to hold less water now that Anakins starting to get his own proof - I could go on about my ADHD headcanons but that’s a given I feel at this point). He starts to trust them. Not just trust that’s given to Jedi as default, to an ideal, but personal trust.

They start to swap battle tactics, ask each other for advice on certain scenarios or get second opinions. Then they start swapping stories about their troops and these idiots have been waiting for the opportunity to gush about how their Legions are the best. The ship nose art is a particular point of pride (That Plo wins btw). Pride is unbecoming of a Jedi but they’re proud OF their troops so it doesn’t count.

Given how much more often they all now talk to each other, they are able to slowly open Anakin's eyes to the fact that Palpatine is suspect af. 

Aayla: he asked to meet you, alone, when you were how old? Anakin: about eleven, or twelve maybe? After I had settled into the Temple for a couple of years. Plo: and he took you where? Anakin: to the lower levels, he showed me a bar- Kit: [holding a hand up] I'm going to stop you there Aayla: [patting Anakin's shoulder] My guy, that's not normal. Plo: Nor is it appropriate Anakin: oh... I'm sure he didn't mean anything bad by it? He just wanted to show the good he can do when his hands are tied by the Senate Plo: The Senate he governs... Aayla: You were twelve.

They tell him to tell Obi-Wan.

It's a bit more of an up hill battle because Anakin's trust in Obi-Wan is still a little frazzled (never let it be said he's not a hypocrite about keeping certain truths) but he grudingly relays some of the conversations he's had with the Chancellor to him because of the comments the others have made. To his surprise, Obi-Wan looks distraught when he realises what Palpatine has been insinuating and he vows to never let him be alone with that man ever again. Obi-Wan always strived to allow Anakin to make his own choices once he became a knight, but this stems from decisions when he was a minor. Anakin thinks everyone is being very dramatic about this - pot meet kettle - and doesn't know what the harm is. This just makes people worry more - they are suddenly all keenly aware of what the Chancellor has been trying to do, even if Anakin hasn’t clocked it himself yet. But he is secretly (or not so secretly when you broadcast your emotions in the Force like a fog horn) pleased by Obi-Wans reaction. See? He does care. He’s just a little reserved about showing it because surprise, he’s also a little insecure Anakin, go fucking figure.  

He does also allow himself to bond more with his troops and they all have a meeting where he lays down some ground rules:. 

All of this just so he can relax with his men and actually be their friend when they're not suffering on the frontlines together. The clones are surprised but ecstatic about this development and waste no time at all bragging about how they have the best Jedi in the GAR. Wolffe, Monnk, and Bly have some things to say about this. Cody wisely keeps his mouth shut.

1) Off of the battlefield they are all equal, no ranks apply (besides medics, thank you Kix) and if anyone is uncomfy with that they can leave (nobody does) 2) He leads them all with the best of intentions but following Umbara he doesn't want any of them to feel like they can't call him out for being a twat (Rex does it just fine and he's still his SIC) 3) If anyone has any concerns or questions he wants them to feel safe enough to speak up about it, either tell him or Rex if it’s a vode issue specifically.

Given this turn of events when comes the time for Fives to seek out Rex and his General they hear him out and Anakin stops the blaster bolt Fox fires from hitting Fives. He’s stunned that one of his men would try to attack the Chancellor but he knows there has to be a reason, he wants to know why damnit. Also heeey has Fives been drugged?

They all get the low down on the chips and Anakin is now fuming. Bit too close to slave-chips. He's pleasantly surprised to find that Shaak Ti is also upset by what she has learned and with his prompting (and Fives looking utterly traumatised) shoves back at the Kaminoans hard. 

They find the list of Orders. It's not pretty. 

Anakin has his breakdown way earlier than Sheev intended and far out of his reach. Instead he is comforted by Shaak Ti (who quite frankly was probably counting the days until Skywalker crumpled) and a bunch of Clones who are similarly suffering from this discovery. Watching a Jedi break probably has most of them reshuffling a few pre-conceptions they had.

Anakin doesn't get sent to spy on the Chancellor and when he tries to buy Anakin's favour back by giving him a seat on the Council, Anakin refuses it and immediately dobs him in with the Jedi Masters. This time, they cotton on to Palpatine's intentions with Anakin and have him accompany Ahsoka on Mandalore. Far, far away. He doesn’t fight the decision, in fact he is rather relieved to be out of the man's reach. Plus, he now gets to fight alongside Ahsoka again so win-win.

Speaking of Ahsoka, even though she left the Order, Padme argues that this doesn't mean that she and Anakin can't still talk to each other. So he calls her and reminds her that he's there for her. Doesn't try to make her come back - though he makes it clear he would be very happy to take her back if she did choose to - and even though she said she wanted to go at it alone, she shouldn't forget that she does still have people she can turn to if things get lonely or hard. He had to be reminded of this so now he’s reminding her.

Just let this man truly understand the risks of what loving people as a Jedi means, learn how to do so in a way thats healthy for everyone involved, and allow himself to be extremely over the top about it much to everyone's surprise.

Ahsoka: I'll think about it Anakin: Sure thing. Anything. Anytime. Ahsoka: ... it is nice to hear from you though Anakin: !!

Ft. Padme being incredibly pleased with herself in the background.

[spumonibones]

Chasing Wings: Ch. 02 Lore/Story

Chapter Two: Drinks Bring Back Memories

Chapter One

Lore+Notes under cut!

As always, if you have any lore that indicates otherwise, please let me know! Though this is canon divergent, I do want to stay as compliant with the world much as possible. Additionally, I just love learning new lore! Or even if you have a fun fact you want to share!!

STORY:

• You may be wondering, "Why is Zhongli around so soon, and why is Rex Lapis already gone? Did the Osial events already happen?"

→I needed Rex Machina (pun, sorry), so he's there now. No, Osial events haven't happened. Haven't decided the method in which he announces his "depature," but once decided will likely incorporate that into the story itself. I want to try to write a special "after story summary," of the changes in what happens for when the Traveler comes in.

LORE: • Liyue VS Mondstadt Poetry. The Poetry event established this; in addition to making sense given the places each area is inspired by/based on.

STORY: • Millelith carrying people - that is made up. But I have faith Zhongli could convince them to do it. I have been trying to find the specific cut scene he convinces a man to give you something for free, but I don't remember what the item name was, which NPC it was, or which event it was!! But I did find a cut scene for a different note, so my struggle wasn't entirely in vain.

LORE: • "Osmanthus Wine." Ah yes. The iconic Zhongli line. I had to. But also... According to Wikipedia, Osmanthus wine is "the traditional choice" for a reunion wine during the Moon Festival. I have never been to one, that involves leaving my room and talking to people. And also money to go somewhere (of which doesn't exist). So I'm trusting wiki on this. If you have more accurate info, please let me know and I will correct it.

STORY: • In this chapter, especially, there's a little voice that keeps talking to Venti regarding Zhongli that helps him be more "him." That isn't important now, but it will be later. Call it foreshadowing.

STORY/LORE: • Venti doesn't remember what Visions or Archons are, and I am not subjecting you, the reader, to a reminder. So I tried to have that explained "off screen" so to speak, and focus on the changes I made so that you're caught up with the differences.

STORY/LORE: • Morax and Barbatos' relations - do they get along? In spite of what their voicelines would lead you to believe, these two are definitely friends! Lantern Rite 3.4 more or less sealed that they have the sort of friendship that involves teasing each other, but they both still have a deep respect for their individual talents and skills. They both also cling to their lost friends/family, as you can see in individual character stories and very naturally are quite attached. To me at least, it makes sense that if Morax thought Barbatos had died, he would mourn his friend. Same thing for Barbatos. →Additionally, in version 2.5 the event "Of Drink A-Dreaming," Zhongli goes to Monstadt, visits Angel's Share and orders a drink. The following Lantern Rite (version 3.4) (you can watch the whole thing, but thought this was a good starting place!) has Venti visiting. I would absolutely NOT put it past Zhongli to invite Venti, and then actively ignore him just to see what he does. Venti seeking out Xiao seems unrelated, and to be Venti just genuinely seeking out and wanting to help Xiao. Or, if you're like-minded (and you would only be here if you are), Zhongli invited Venti to visit during Lantern Rite and avoided him solely to try and get Venti and Xiao together. Zhongli geniunely wants what's best for Xiao, and I think we all agree that Venti falls in that category. 10/10. →(Fun fact! Qiaoying Village is mentioned by Zhongli in the 2.5 event, and was not released until 4.4!)

LORE: • “Anyone in Liyue would do what they could to support our adepti, and those that have saved them." Given that even the Treasure Hoarders would rather stop what they're doing than cross an adeptus, I feel pretty confident this is canon compliant.

Chapter 02 Song/Lyrics: "Drinks Bring Back Memories" Memories by Maroon 5 Had to look up songs about friendship, and this one was PRACTICALLY PERFECT minus the line about "carrying torches." That is typically implying romantic emotions, and the relationship between Zhongli and Venti (Morax and Barbatos) is purely platonic in this story. If you, the reader, wish to interpret it differently for your own joy, I shan't stop you.

[lamaenthel]

I Love You

[read on ao3][masterlist]Febuwhump prompt: "I Love You"

It is Emperor Vader that has returned to free the slaves of Tatooine, and He has decided that they deserve not only justice, but vengeance. He strides powerfully back and forth as He speaks to the crowd in a language that the Captain doesn't have a translation module for. The entire population of Mos Espa is crammed into the Grand Arena. The slaves are the ones who fill the stands today, and they love their new Emperor.

Characters: CT-7567|Rex/Ahsoka Tano, Darth Vader Wordcount: 1931

The Captain stands in the very arena where Anakin Skywalker had won his freedom so long ago. He remembers once, when his General was feeling nostalgic—and maybe a little tipsy—he admitted that he still dreamed about returning to Tatooine to free all the slaves. He thought for sure that the Jedi would someday bring justice to his planet.

They didn't, nor did Anakin Skywalker. It is Emperor Vader that has returned to free the slaves of Tatooine, and He has decided that they deserve not only justice, but vengeance. He strides powerfully back and forth as He speaks to the crowd in a language that the Captain doesn't have a translation module for. The entire population of Mos Espa is crammed into the Grand Arena. The slaves are the ones who fill the stands today, and they love their new Emperor. They roar His name into the cold night air, stomping their feet in cadence. 

On the track is every slave owner in Mos Espa over the age of sixteen, bound and forced to kneel.

"It's the slave's tongue," Korrē whispers to the Captain. "They know He's one of them. He's telling them that they are all free. Their chips are deactivated and they have inherited the wealth of their owners. The Empire will not tolerate the barbaric practice of slavery anywhere in the galaxy." 

The Captain's eye flickers to the remnants of the 501st that make up Vader's Fist, standing shoulder-to-shoulder behind the chained masters; a wall of black plastoid three-hundred strong, ready to fire on any who loosen their bonds.  Behind them stand the children of the slave owners, graciously pardoned by the Emperor as too young to pay for their parents' sins. They will be reeducated in the Core, raised by Vader's most loyal supporters, but first they will watch their parents face His justice.

Lord Vader finishes His speech, raises His arm, and ignites His newest symbol of power; if not for the blade's flickering, void-white edge and the Imperial destroyers blocking out Tatooine's stars, the Darksaber would be invisible against the night sky. The Captain's audio momentarily shorts out from the cheers of the liberated slaves splitting the night air, loud as a thunderclap. The ground shakes under their stomping feet, a heartbeat of—Va-der! Va-der! Va-der!—displacing the sand beneath them.

The sand trawler starts up and slowly advances upon the neatly chained line of immobilized masters. "Ani!" A Toydarian at the very end of the line flaps his wings pitifully and sobs. "Ani please, I treat you and your mother good, yes? Sell her to nice husband? Ani? Ani!"

Korrē drops to one knee and kisses the Emperor's hand. "I've received word from Captain Jesse, Master. Jabba is in custody, as is his staff." She sags. "There was no sign of our quarry." 

Vader shrugs, surprisingly unbothered. "I know they're here. I can sense… him." His voice darkens, and His eyes flicker with molten gold.

"We did acquire a rancor," Korrē adds, biting her lip nervously. 

The screaming is getting louder as the trawler lurches ever closer. Vader's eyebrows arch in surprise. "A rancor? Trained, or wild?"

"Well trained." Korrē smiles, visibly relieved. "And at your service for whatever purpose you desire."

Vader pulls her to her feet and embraces her. "Very good, my apprentice." His hand trails down her rear lek, stopping to squeeze the fatty flare. 

The Captain stares straight ahead. A drunk civilian in a crowd on Coruscant once stroked Ahsoka Tano's rear lek like that. Anakin Skywalker broke his orbital socket.

Korrē shudders in His arms. "Thank you, Master." She rests her montrals against her Lord's heart, purring. The sand trawler is only meters away from the first bound, screaming man.

"I will deal with Jabba. Return to the homestead and collect Owen and Beru, then bring them to the palace. I'll give them one last chance to tell us where they went."

"And if they don't?"

Vader smiles, slow and thickly venomous. "Then we'll see how well-trained my new rancor is."

The cheering of the bloodthirsty crowd behind them muffles the crunching bone and screaming coming from the track.

"Your Highness." The Seventh Sister of Vader's Inquisitorious stands in the back-lit archway of the Lars homestead and goes down to one knee. "Beloved Abassa of Emperor Vader. I regret to inform you—"

Korrē's eyes narrow. "What did you do?" she interrupts.

The Mirialan glares at her. "I was continuing my interrogation as you instructed, your Highness, when the male—"

"I gave no such order." Korrē lifts her hand. The Seventh Sister flies up into the air, clawing at her throat. "What did you do?"

"Pl…please, Highness," she wheezes. "You told me to—"

"I told you to wait for my return!" Korrē throws her with a snarl against the stone wall of the Lars homestead. "You idiot! What have you done!"

"Mercy, Highness!" 

Korrē tilts her head and growls in a subsonic rumble that makes the Captain's stomach clench. She clenches her fist. The Seventh Sister screams as her eyes pop from her skull with twin geysers of blood and dangle pitifully by their optic nerves. Korrē drops her hand, letting the Seventh Sister collapse onto the sand. "Stun her and load her onto the skiff. I have no desire to listen to her hysterics." Korrē stomps inside after kicking the sobbing Mirialan in the stomach.

The Captain has barely secured the Inquisitor on the skiff when Korrē hops aboard, dragging the bloodied, blonde Beru hop behind her. She jerks her head at Vaughn to take off. "This can all end now," she says to Beru, her voice dripping with poison honey. "The Emperor never wanted to hurt anyone. Look." She points at the unconscious Seventh Sister. "I did that for what she did to Owen. Lord Vader will do worse. He wants his children, as is His right." 

"I don't know a damn thing about his children," Beru whispers. There are tear tracks running through the blood on her face.

Korrē's eyes tighten. She grabs the woman by the chin. "Then why did we find two cradles buried below your water tank?" she hisses. Beru closes her eyes, shuddering with a silent sob.  Korrē licks a clean stripe through the blood and tears on her cheek before letting her go. "What happens next is entirely up to you, Auntie."

The Captain glances back down at the unconscious Seventh Sister and discretely pokes her eyes back in her fractured skull before Korrē becomes too tempted.

The Emperor is reclining on Jabba's throne when they arrive, covered head-to-toe in green viscera. His Grand Inquisitor looms behind him in a darkly ironic echo of Jabba and his larval majordomo. He grins at His heir, golden eyes shining in the dark stone chamber. "Do you know what happens when lightning hits a Hutt?" His tone is light, merry; clearly the toppling of Jabba's empire has Him in a joyous mood. 

Korrē shoves Beru aside and throws herself into a contrite bow at His feet, already in tears. He leans forward, smile fading. He almost looks concerned. "What happened?"

"My Lord, the Seventh Sister defied my orders and continued interrogating Owen Lars while we were at the arena. She killed him." Korrē squeezes her teary eyes shut. "I take full responsibility for her defiance. I accept whatever punishment you believe I deserve."

The Grand Inquisitor's lip curls up, clearly enjoying Korrē's submissive display. Vader's eyes darken and flick over to the keening Seventh Sister, dragged in on her knees by Ridge. Her right eye dangles pitifully from the nerve. It won't stay, no matter how many times the Captain pushes it back in. 

Korrē is too ashamed to even look at her Lord. "I'm so sorry."

Vader leans down and places a sticky hand on her montrals. "Rise, Korrē." She does, shaking and teary-eyed. He pulls her onto His gory lap.

Korrē leans into the hand He presses against her cheek. "Please forgive me, Master," she whispers.

Vader presses a soft kiss against her montral. The Grand Inquisitor's satisfied smirk falters. "I love you, Korrē." His hand slides down her cheek, rests around her throat. "You are my daughter, my apprentice, my heir." Her eyes widen and tear up with His praise. "But if my Inquisitors disobey you, it is because they believe you are weak. My daughter is not weak." He tightens His hand.

Korrē's eyes go wide and her mouth gapes open, but she doesn't struggle. She accepts her punishment, not even kicking as He chokes the life out of her. Her hands come up and wrap around His wrist; she clings to her Master even as He kills her.

The Grand Inquisitor's smirk returns. He—like all of the selfish, ambitious Inquisitorious—believes that he will become the Emperor's new apprentice if she fails.

The Captain's hand tightens on his sidearm. He knows he can't stop the Emperor from taking her life if her life is what He desires, but He won't be fast enough to stop him from taking his own.

Vader waits until Korrē's eyes roll back in her head and she goes limp, then loosens His grip. Five long seconds pass in which the Captain doesn't feel his own heart beating; Korrē finally comes to with a gasp. "You are forgiven." Vader removes His hand from her throat with a sadistic smile. The Captain lets out the breath he has been holding.

"Thank you, Master," Korrē says faintly. She rests her head against His chest and closes her eyes.

"Bring Beru forward," Vader orders, pointing to a spot in front of the throne. "Don't cry, little one. I said you're forgiven." One hand slips up Korrē's back and strokes her rear lek. 

The Tatooinian woman rips her arm away from Vaughn. "I can walk by myself," she snaps. She lifts her chin and meets His golden eyes fearlessly.

"My wife and children are missing, Beru." Vader gives her a friendly smile, and in the smoky darkness He almost looks like Anakin. "You know where they are. The desert is a dangerous place. Even now, they are in danger from Tuskens, Jawas, krayt dragons. Help me protect them."

Beru shakes her head. "Your mother would be ashamed of you."

The room falls vacuum-silent except for the vicious growl that erupts from Korrē's chest. Vader shushes her with a soft touch between her montrals. "My mother died in agony because your husband and his father—her owners—were too weak to protect her. I was the one who retrieved her." 

"She died free, Anakin." Beru doesn't shy from his golden gaze. "No matter how it started, she loved him at the end."

A muscle works in Vader's cheek. He slaps a button on Jabba's throne with the hand not fondling Korrē's lek. The floor beneath Beru—and Vaughn—opens. "Whoops," Vader says casually as His throne slides forward. He peers down into the grate. "Try to stay alive down there, Vaughn!" He calls down over their screaming. His eyes flick up to the Captain, then to the back stairs.

The Captain immediately elbows Jesse. He nods and heads for the stairs with a handful of men. 

"Now, Korrē." Vader reclines in His throne, petting her head fondly, and gestures at Ridge to bring the Seventh Sister forward. His gloved, bloody finger slips inside Korrē's mouth and tugs on her upper fang. "The eyes were a nice touch, but I think you can do better." 

The Captain glances up at the Grand Inquisitor. His smirk is long gone.

Taglist: @starwarsficnetwork, @febuwhump, @soliloquy-of-nemo Divider: @saradika-graphics

[thanksjro]

More Than Meets the Eye #45 — The Scavengers Have a Nasty Gap in Their Employment History and Will Have to Settle for Entry Level Positions

Guys, this isn’t friggin’ Playbot magazine. Stop trying to look suave on the issue where you all treat each other like shit and Grimlock pisses himself.

Anyway, it’s Scavengers Time.

Oh, and don’t worry about that crotch— it’s friendly, I swear.

Before we get into the issue proper, I do just want to point out how Roche did one of the variant covers, and boy howdy did he give it his all.

Roche’s Fulcrum frightens me, and yet, in my heart of hearts, I know this is his true form. Milne is a coward, and Roche is completely aware of it, having given everyone’s favorite project manager-turned bomb a chin you could kill God with.

Okay, so it’s been a minute since we’ve seen the Scavengers; the last time they were on-panel was all the way back in issue #21, in the aftermath of the whole “Tyrest tries to kill all cold-constructed life in an absolutely bonkers attempt to absolve himself of guilt so he can go give Primus a BFF necklace” thing. What have my favorite Decepticons been up to? A lot of shit!

They got stuck in the Musical Mushroom forest, Spinister got some grammar lessons, Misfire was repeatedly threatened with gun violence by Shockwave, the fellas got ahold of holomatter tech at some point, they joined a death match Jenga tournament, Krok and Crankcase learned about perspective in art, and then they had a mixed media adventure.

Fulcrum couldn’t join us for this panel, as the third-party toy companies hadn’t gotten around to making him yet, and if you think Hasbro— who hasn’t let a toy Megatron be a gun for over 20 years now— is going to allow a bomb into their line, you’ve lost it completely.

So, that catches us up to the present. What are the Scavengers up to currently?

It was nice while it lasted, I suppose.

Our narrator is Misfire, who reflects on how nasty things got, as he walks past Fulcrum’s corpse and reminisces about how he blasted him in the stomach earlier. Nice shot, Misfire! He monologues as he drinks a space beer with Krok’s name literally on it, adding insult to injury as he moseys past the man’s lifeless body. Misfire second guesses his usage of metaphor as he pays respects to Grimlock’s body. I wouldn’t want to tangle with whoever managed to take the T-rex warrior bastard out.

The only other remaining Scavenger ambushes Misfire, Spinister screaming his own name as he punches the beer out of Misfire’s mouth. The two wrestle, both of their eccentricities clashing together for an impressive comedy of lingual errors, until Spinister manages to cheerleader-kick Misfire away to get a clean shot on him. Misfire accepts his fate, and is promptly shot— but not by Spinister.

Yes, as it turns out, the opening of this issue was not, in fact, the dissolution and subsequent murder of the Scavengers, but rather a NERF gun battle, which Crankcase just nuked from orbit by butting in.

Misfire’s a bit sour about having been darted, which his crew mates seem to think is due to his habit of running an internal monologue. Spinister says some shit that makes me wonder if he’s, like, okay. Fulcrum rejoins the group, his own stomach darts still stuck on for effect. Krok runs in, interrupting the “rag on Misfire for his fourth wall leaning” to ask who the hell is flying the WAP, though Crankcase says that it’s fine.

And that’s a series wrap on the Scavengers! Let’s give ‘em a hand, folks!

We cut over to Misfire in Grimlock’s room, trying to get him back up to speed in terms of language and mental cognition. It would appear that Grimlock hasn’t gotten any better since he was found in issue #7, still only able to speak with his vocal tic from the G1 cartoon. Misfire is frustrated, but isn’t giving up yet, having broken out the white board to try to get Grimlock to follow the letters he’s written. His handwriting is very neat.

He also tries to get Grimlock to reconnect with himself, telling him about who he used to be— a fearsome Autobot warrior, who was the stuff of nightmares to Decepticons. They still don’t know what the fuck happened to Grimlock, only hearing from an outside source that he went missing from Garrus-9. We saw this discovery happen back in Last Stand of the Wreckers.

Something happens with Grimlock here, as he seems to be pulling a sad face over his current state. He takes the marker from Misfire and writes a rather fancy “G”, which Misfire is elated over! Things are looking up!

Except Misfire might have pushed a bit too hard with mentioning Garrus-9, as Grimlock’s progress backsteps and he “drains his tanks” all over the floor.

Which, I get the intent. The idea of your body failing you despite your best efforts, despite being repeatedly reminded what you used to be capable of, is horrifying and sad, and this is a decent way to show that. But you’re still making me look at robot piss, James, and I don’t like it. I accept that it’s happening, but let the record show that I don’t like it.

Misfire, frustration mounting, makes a motion to punch Grimlock, before he catches himself and instead wonders aloud who hurt Grimlock. However, I don’t think Grimlock wants to think about who hurt him, as he grabs Misfire by the throat.

Cutting away from what’s likely Misfire’s grisly demise, we catch up with Fulcrum and Crankcase in the T.V. room, watching a standup special starring Skullcruncher, Decepticon-turned-comedian, as he goes through a drawn out jab at the muddled Decepticon “Phases” plan. Really, it’s functioning as a way to make sure the reader for-sure knows that the Scavengers know what the score is for their side and that Megatron is playing for the other team now.

Then we finally see where Krok’s gotten to.

Krok, honey, you gotta start throwing your weight around as a commanding officer, or this is just going to keep happening.

Knowing his priorities, Krok drags himself over to the mini fridge for a space beer, finding that his VERY CLEARLY LABELED drink isn’t where he put it. Though he knows who probably took it, he just grabs another (no word on if this one is labelled) and goes to find his crew. He quickly comes into hearing radius of the television and goes to see what’s up.

As Fulcrum explains what they’re watching, it’s revealed that Crankcase is suffering from facial paralysis, making him look much more displeased than he actually is. I wonder how often this issue gets him into trouble.

It turns out that Krok knows Skullcruncher, and hates his fucking guts. Skullcruncher, in turn, uses Krok’s existence in his act, as the “incompetent strategist who named himself after his dead pet.” Fulcrum thinks this is hilarious. Krok does not.

I’m getting “exes” vibes.

Krok is ungodly frustrated with the direction his life has taken since the end of the war, having done nothing but get almost killed by the DJD, desecrate corpses, dick around on the internet, and pick up moneyless losers to stuff in his ship for the last couple years. He’s tired of being the guy on the bottom, while everyone who used to be on his level has become successful and maybe even happy! As he goes on about how unfair it all is, he goes absolutely ham clicking his communicator. When Fulcrum tries to get him to stop, it only further upsets him. Even Crankcase, the de facto pessimist of the group, tries to lighten things up, but Krok is NOT having it. He’s sick of life fucking him in the ass without so much as buying him a drink first.

Then Grimlock explodes through the wall and the conversation is briefly tabled.

Crankcase shoots Grimlock with his backpack cannons, while Misfire— who is riding Grimlock’s back, thus living every eight year old’s dream— screams about it being unnecessary, as the big guy was about to pass out anyway. Krok, still steamed, tells Misfire that Grimlock’s time with them is running out, as he’s only getting stronger, and not more capable of being reasoned with, which is a dangerous combo on a rickety piece of shit like the WAP.

Misfire, likely still full of robo-adrenaline from the dino ride and frustration from Grimlock’s lack of progress, digs in his heels and needles at Krok’s lost squad, who still haven’t shown up, now have they? Fulcrum tries to nip this in the bud, because even he knows that this is a sore subject, but Misfire’s too het up to care about Krok’s feelings, and is done of tiptoeing around the issue. Spinister luckily comes in to let the guys know they have a call, before someone can get shot for real.

It turns out that the planet the WAP crashed on was their actual destination, as they’re meeting a guy named Demus, who Krok met on “The Big Conversation”, a Decepticon-central social media website. Demus, like Krok, is a monoformer and member of Triple M, the Militant Monoformer Movement terrorist group. Demus had frame dysmorphia bad enough for him to opt for the surgical removal of any kibble on his body. Krok does not have this issue, as can be seen by his funky shoulder fins. I like to think that Krok used to turn into some sort of boat, though don’t tell him I said that; I know it’s a bit rude in-universe to theorize on others’ alt modes.

Crankcase really isn’t all that cranky once you get to know him, is he? I think his surly little face sets a precedent that really doesn’t match his personality. Funny, that.

The boys land on the far side of Demus’s scrapyard, and Krok reveals that the man is making an absolute killing in the scrap business, having a personal collection of moons just for the hell of it. So, whatever the guy’s looking for them to do, he’ll definitely pay well. Crankcase, however, doesn’t really want to work for a living, which, y’know, mood.

Demus calls from a fair distance away, asking that everyone inject an inhibitor chip into their bodies so they can’t transform, as it makes him physically ill to see. They’ll burn out in an hour, so there’s no long-term commitment to the monoformer lifestyle.

This is why we need more than two therapists on Cybertron.

Demus leads the Scavengers through the labyrinth of his livelihood, showing off the real bread and butter of his operation— Roboids™, delightful little toy pets that folks just can’t seem to get enough of! Collect them all! When Fulcrum asks about pricing, Demus says all his current stock is pre-sold, though Fulcrum’s face tells me he wasn’t asking because he wanted one for himself.

Fulcrum, who, I will remind you, was forcefully reformatted into a bomb during the war. Y’know, just in case we find out something nasty about Demus’s business practices later where that would be a sort of deliciously terrible irony.

The Scavengers file into Demus’s office, Spinister seeming to have grown half a story taller in the process, and Crankcase tries to get ahead of his employment anxiety, demanding a ridiculous amount of break time, company cars, and triple whatever the average income for a ‘Con is. Demus is perplexed as to why the fuck Crankcase thinks he’d stoop to hiring any of their bottom-of-the-barrel asses. No, Demus asked them to meet so he could purchase Grimlock. When the Scavengers react to this declaration dubiously, Krok tells them to shut up so Demus can get to the good part— he’s willing to give them a collective 2.5 billion space dollars in exchange for the leader of the Dinobots.

Demus walks off to take a call, leaving the Scavengers to discuss. Krok, who was the only guy to know what the real point of this trip was, tries to get the guys to hear him out, appealing to each of their desires and vices. Fulcrum, however, is tricky, as it would appear they haven’t really made it to the “talking about life goals” portion of their roommate relationship. Fulcrum was perfectly happy to do fuck all like they have been, considering that he’s technically supposed to be dead twice over by this point.

Krok moves on to Misfire, who is furious that THIS is the reason they’re in this scrapheap. Krok points out that the original plan they had, where they dump Grimlock on Cybertron, won’t work anymore, as King Bitch Starscream probably wouldn’t like it too much. Misfire isn’t sure that this is a better solution, however.

Fulcrum is still a little weirded out with Demus in general, and asks that they put it to a vote, like they did with facing the DJD back on Clemency. Krok, obviously, votes to sell Grimlock, refusing to say what he wants the money for. Misfire, while not wanting to look like he has icky baby feelings, votes to not sell, as Grimlock needs him, and he needs Grimlock. Fulcrum also votes in Misfire’s direction, not too keen on indulging in trafficking. Crankcase really wants a spaceship of his own, so he votes for money, and Spinister just doesn’t like Grimlock being around, probably because it makes him feel short, and he’s not used to that. Krok, ungodly smug, declares the vote counted, and they prepare for their new Grimlock-free, moneyful lives.

As the Scavengers were arguing however, Demus is revealed to be having a bad time, as it turns out that the security detail he hired isn’t doing its job, as he’s chased and shot by a looming figure. I’m sure he’ll be fine, though.

It’s fiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiine!

Demus, not completely down for the count just yet, tells the boys to run for it, as he scrambles for his weapon, before his head is exploded by a gunshot. But who could have been after this tiny little monoformer of a man?

Okay, so maybe I lied about the crotch earlier.

[hellhound5925]

Cyare Verd *Beloved Warrior*

Chapter Eighteen

After all that excitement, we are finally getting close to our destination. I'm back in my room, trying to reach one of my vode (brothers) or Kal'Buir because it's been a while since I've heard from them. No one answers which makes me a little nervous but I also know how Ka'buir can be.....He tends to be very secretive when the thinks it could endanger us...I just hope everyone is alright. I decide to check over my gear for probably the 5th time, before I suit up. I hide my knives in the various places, and grab my dual westward-35's placing them in their holsters at my side. I was never fortunate enough to get a jet pack...might have to check into getting one sometime... I slide my buy'ce (helmet) over my head and head out to the hanger where the drop ships were. Knowing I am quiet early I take my time.

When I get to the hanger I make note of the time....we've still got another hour and a half before we really need to be ready... I decide to lean against some of the crates piled up outside and slide my buy'ce (helmet) off setting it next to me. I take out my blasters and take the first one apart before checking it - again - and putting it back together. When I am in the middle of taking the second one apart I hear plastoid boots approaching. "What are you doing out here?" Asks Tup. I look up from my broken down blaster and see Tup and Kix. "Just anxious to get down there I guess" I give a light laugh. They both join me, one on either side. "Hope you don't mind if we join you" Kix smiles at me. "I don't think I had much of a choice" I say gesturing to the fact they both are sitting next to me, "but no, I don't mind at all". They watch me in silence as I check over each part of my blaster before putting it back together. "We star-35's right?" Asked Kix, "Aren't those Mandalorian?" Tup asked. "They are, you'll probably find a lot of Death Watch mando's use them as they are quite popular on Concordia" I explain. "But, you weren't apart of Death Watch I thought?" Tup asked. "No, I am not, but if you know where to look, these aren't hard to find" I continued explaining. They both nod in understanding. The three of us have some light hearted conversation, some about the holovids they recommend. Which lead to a playful argument - not surprising, this squad bickers like vode (brothers) frequently - which also causes me to laugh at them.

After about an hour Fives and Echo join. And the five of us are sitting in a line against the crates. "Hope my bed was comfy" I roll my eyes at Echo. "So that's, where you wandered off too! Just don't give me any details" Fives teases his vod (brother). "It wasn't like that" scolds Echo, "why is everything always about sex with you?" He continues. I laugh and kick open the door of opportunity "That's because he only recently discovered what it is". The group bursts into loud laugher that echos in the hangar. Some of the crew working on the ships look over. "Sorry Fives, she's not wrong" Tup says, fake wiping a tear. Fives speaks up, "What can I say....I'm a new man now." "Yeah we don't need to hear the details.....again" Kix sighs. I just laugh. "Call me the lady killer" Fives continues. Considering after that night, Fives has been patrolling - yes, that definitely the word I would use - and has now has 'game' as he likes to call it. I never quite understood why he could never pick up a women, I mean he is rather attractive - I don't find him as attractive as Rex, but he is a close second - but, he is also arrogant at times. None the less I love his as a vod (brother) all the same. Speaking of Rex, I wonder what he's up to... probably checking his gear over for the millionth time. The group staring at me pulls me from my thoughts. When I realize they are all staring the burst in to laugher. "Tup was just saying how he thinks, you and Rex would be perfect for one another" Kix raises an eye brow at me. "Oh don't worry....we've been....working on that" Fives says all smug. I don't say anything and let this play out. They have no idea we kissed earlier and if they found out....they'd never let it go....I'm not even sure if Rex really wants them to know. I'll leave it to him to tell them. I finally decide to chime in after a few more comments are made, "You guys might not want to press poor Rex's buttons. He might not like you all meddling with his love life" I say quirking a brow. "Openly deny you have feelings for him and we will" Fives says leaning forward so he can see me past his brothers. I wish I could hide behind my buy'ce (helmet) right now. "Fine.....I don't have feelings for Rex" I say slowly. They all laugh and I'm shocked Echo doesn't tell them about our conversation earlier. But that's Echo for you, he's a great friend. "That was super convincing" Kix says sarcastically. "You sounds more like you are trying to convince yourself" chimes in Tup. "Okay fine! I might have feelings for him....." they all cheer. "It was so obvious" Fives says very matter of fact.

Thankfully the rest of the conversation is interrupted by the announcement over the ships comms telling us to get ready to deploy. The 5 of us continue to sit there and shortly after, Jesse and Hardcase come in. "Looks like we missed a party" Jesse teases. The 5 of us get up and slide our buy'ce (helmets) over our heads. We connect out comms to the open line for our squad. "Everyone here?" I ask. "Everyone but Rex" but Echo says. There's a crackle "Captain Rex here" he chimes in. "Speak and he shall appear" I laugh. "Hardcase...put the spotchka away" Fives saying knowing well there is no spotchka. Hardcase smacks Fives and says "don't listen to him Cap". Rex ignores the banter, "I'm on my way".

We wait for Rex before pilling into the drop ship. The squad was behind me and Rex while to two of us faced the door. As the door shut, I reached for the handle above my head. I hit the open channel of our comm link, “You boys ready?” I asked already knowing the answer. A chorus of “Sir, yes sir” filled my ears. I smiled and whispered “atta boys”. Rex looked over at me, “Are you ready?” He asked. I turned my head toward him “Mando’ade cuy’gar rattling tiskala (A Mandalorian is always ready)”. He chuckles “I thought that was a dumb question”. The pilot looks back “Ready for take off”, and with that I feel he ship lift into space.

We had just touched down on Aargonar when I hear my comm crackle, “Commander Skirata….Captain Rex….come in”, it’s Anakin. “Captain Rex here”, “Commander Skiratta here, we read you”. “Good, we are getting into position now. Let us know when you are in position” Anakin continues. “Copy that” Rex replies. We hop off the ship and the men gather around. “Alright listen up” I start. Rex continues “Alright men, we are headed toward the back side of the base. From there, we are going to enter through the disposal tunnel. Keep an eye open for the disposal droids, we don’t want them heading back inside to call back the reinforcements” he explains. Fives raises his hand “I’m sorry, disposal tunnels?” He asks. “Droid parts. Don’t worry” I laugh, getting what he was eluding to. “Right” he says like he should have known that. Rex continues “From there we will split into 2 groups. Group 1: Commander Skirata, Echo, Kix, Hardcase. Group 2: Myself, Fives, Tup, Dogma, Jesse.” He then nods at me to continue “Group 1, we are going to set the charges to blow the base. While group 2 is going to find a way to shut down the droids already deployed. Group 1, I am sharing the holomap with you that we are using to place said charges. The rest of you will be looking for some kind of command center. Any questions?” “No sir” they all reply. “Good let’s get going then” Rex tells them.

We all head through the thick forest until we come across the base. We split into our 2 groups and search for the disposal tunnel. “Sir, I think I’ve found it” Echo says through our group link. “Good I’ll let the others know”, I change channels “Rex, Rex do you copy?”, “Rex here. Did you find it?”, “Echo did. Randevu with us, I’ll mark our location on the map”, “Copy that, good work Echo” he says the last part under his breath. It takes them only a matter of minutes to reach our position. Rex makes sure we have everyone, “I’ll comm Generaly Skywalker. Let him know we are in position”. I nod to him and wait until he finishes.

I turn to and start into the tunnel “Pare! (Hang on!)” Rex hollers. I stop and face him “what is it?”. I can practically hear is smirk…. “I’m always first” he says. “Ni ceta (sorry)” I say bowing and letting him pass. He lets out a small laugh at my theatrics. We head through the tunnel, with the rest of the squad in tow.

Masterlist

[amplexadversary]

Additional thoughts on Live A Live

The medley of everyone's chapter themes during the end credits owns.

I like how the T. Rex sprite has similar chonky proportions to the budgie god. My reasons for liking this are many, and although I'm pretty sure the reason for the way Odo looks is so that they could fit him in the boss box, it's delightful nonetheless.

According to my friend who played the original, the cowboy's jerky used to be cigars. I actually kind of prefer them as a food item because snarfing three servings of dried meat in combat makes more sense to me than somehow speed-smoking cigars. I'd have liked to have had the molotovs though.

I doubt the old-lady's crochet was the same thing in the original either, but I think it's far funnier having the punk running around in that, clashing with his other clothes than whatever underwear it probably used to be. I'm imagining a (admittedly very nice before the washer got to it) shawl my mother once made that goes just around the shoulders and doesn't close in front, but in pink. I think he'd rock that over the jacket, with the handbag worn saddle-bag style. Very little says IDGAF better than clearly stolen clothing.

Speaking of the Mazinger chapter - throughout the whole beginning all the little kids do is ask me for food before I've had the chance to acquire any. But as soon as I did the taiyaki stand minigame and came back, the game auto-advanced the plot, and I never got to give them the snacks I had acquired. Not going to lie, I'm a little bit disappointed there isn't another opportunity to hand those off once you can get into the lab and no one is in any immediate danger.

I will concede to liking a stylistic choice the devs made in one respect: Having Hoersted's dialogue be in Iambic kicks ass. Having the NPCs in his chapter speak like that... not so much (it made the king sound like he was having a stroke at times).

Yes I put an H in font of Oersted's name to mock him. I was a little concerned I wasn't going to be rewarded with some Chrono Trigger cast call for completing the game. It turned out he earns the scorn for other reasons. No way in hell I'm playing his chapter again so it stays.

I'm amused by how much funnier the joke I was making while watching the balcony scene became thanks to where the plot went. I was being an ass and supplementing the dialogue with something along the lines of:

"Look, princess, I think we both know based on your reaction that you aren't having it, so I have some good news: I'm not either. We're headed to beard city over here so you should probably start thinking about who you want to cheat on me with now so I can cover for- ah shit of course she just got kidnapped."

Damn the little player character sprites are adorable. I want a lanyard or something with my favorites on it (mainly because if I got a little keychain I'd actually have to get three; one of the dirtbag ninja, one of the smartass psychic, and one of the Domon-lookalike. Also, they all have a few different poses that are really cute).

I swear I'm calling the ninja a dirtbag as an affectionate term; part of it is due to how much I liked the AOE and debuff on his dust veil move and so I had the poor guy doing his best chinchilla impression at the start of a lot of battles in his chapter. The other reason is that there are just a bunch of ways to be a dick in his chapter and I decided to roll with the interpretation.

Taeko's Furious Fist has got to be my favorite weapon in the game just because of the flavor text and how you get it. It's not a tangible object. The guy just rolls with the vibe. I was a little bit sad when I had to unequip it to make room for more powerful gear.

I still think the names I picked are better than the default ones with the exception of the one I couldn't come up with any decent alternative for (the kung-fu style) and for the MMA guy (a blatant reference). The rest I had to think about before committing, and I think the only one I'd change is I'd lengthen the psychic's name to Vulcan (from Vul) because it looks better next to the length of the others. Admittedly, the one I chose for the robot is also a blatant reference but honestly anything I put in there would have been an improvement over Cube.

[titanicfreija]

Rough Ideas

"Freijaaa~aa!"

Sunny's voice rang loud through the barracks and she collided with her Titan's back with a dull thump. "I love you and you're the most wonderful, caring Guardian ever, and if I ever try to complain again, remind me about Ghost and Benny."

Freija arched her back to guide Sunny around, and she spun around to put her back to Freija's chest. "What did Benny do to Ghost?"

Sunny flexed her petals gently. "It's actually not that bad, but I listened to so many Ghosts, today, and you really are a very good Guardian to have. Ghost asked Benny to help clean up and Benny stuck him in a vat with water and shook him. Ghost promised the guardian was sorry when he saw how upset it was, but still-- you even are that mean sometimes and you'd never do that to me." She slowly rose off Freija's chest, hovering over the offered hand and relaxing in line with her Guardian's chest. "Speaking of, can I get another Dawning Lotus?"

"Yeah. Got color schemes? Finally outgrowing Malibeaux Bronze?"

"Sort of. That one is still on Wishmaker, that's staying. I might leave the one Lotus, but I want something new, too. I'll try them on in orbit."

Freija let herself into the apartment, half-worried that Rex had come in first and upset his Guardian. No sign of anyone at all. "I talked to Rex," she said. "He actually talked back. He only outright called me stupid a couple times, and he told me about him and Thomas, a little. Kinda. I asked and he was usually pretty fast to correct a bad guess. Those two have problems with roots that grab the ground, and both of them have their reasons, and both of them really are handling it badly. Because Thomas is bad on the field, we all know it, and he finally lost confidence. But I don't think I would have handled it any better. And I'm kinda a jerk, poor Thomas, listening to me talk like that." She flinched. "Hoof. Even when I tried to calm that down, I still ranted about crucible sorry sports... I need to make him a shelf for his desk or something, put a note on it about, "sorry I'm a jerk"."

"Finally, it sinks in," teased Sunny gently. "Yes. You are a jerk. Yes, sometimes, even after all the practice and all the help and all the work, at the end of it all, you can still see no results."

The horror showed, and Sunny bonked her head gently. "For example, I worry that your self-awareness will stay right about here."

Freija swatted at her, and she continued to her room. "I'm mostly talking about his jump. Sometimes he's better off using stairs or jumping and grabbing a ledge, sooner than the glide jump. That rough as fuck, jeez. He probably gets rusty, too, these times he's stayed in for a year at a time. Maybe we should take him out on patrols with us? He might not get as good as some of the crucible sweats, but he can still practice back up to reasonable, I've seen it with my own eyes. We don't have to do a lot or anything, he just needs some confidence and Rex needs to settle for the parts Thomas is actually good at. But Rex is angry enough that he doesn't want to stop, now. He makes it worse, like in the Imbaru engine. I don't blame Thomas at all."

"They do like working with us. Maybe we can take him out on strikes more often. The strand helped them out a lot, but...."

"Yeah. Needs the help. We'll invite him out next week."

[janecrockeyre]

scum villain is a greek tragedy disguised as a regular tragedy disguised as a comedy disguised as a danmei

this is going to be long, and this is only PART ONE.

a.k.a, Analysing the plot of Scum Villain’s Self Saving System through Aristotle’s Poetics, because I Have Mental Issues

Part One: Introduction and the Tragic Hero

Scum Villain’s Self Saving System is a tragedy disguised as a comedy, unless you’re Shen Yuan, in which case it’s a mixture of a romance and a survival horror. It's a fever dream. It's a horrible, terrible book that made me feel new undiscovered emotions when I finished reading it. 

The thing is... SVSSS shares characteristics with some of the most famous tragedies in the West, such as Oedipus Rex, Medea, Antigone, the Oresteia... if you haven’t read these, I’ll explain everything. But the gist of my argument is this: SVSSS is the perfect tragedy. In triplicate. 

Tragedy as a genre is old as balls and so it has meant slightly different things to different people over the last few thousand years. I'll be focusing on ancient Greek tragedy, which was performed at the yearly Festival of Dionysus in Athens during the 500-350s BC (give or take a hundred years). Aristotle, when writing about this very specific subset of tragedy, had no idea that one day Scum Villain would be written, and then that I would be using his work as a way to look at Shen Qingqiu’s Funky Transmigration Mistake. Anyway!

Greek tragedy greatly influenced European dramatic tradition. I have a lot of opinions about white academics idolising and upholding the classics as the "paragon of culture" but I'll withhold them for now. I have no idea if MXTX has read Greek tragedy or not, so don't take this as me saying they are writing it. 

In my opinion, tragedy is a universal human constant. We are surrounded by pain and hurt and none of it makes any sense, so we seek to process that pain through drama, art, literature, etc. We want to understand why pain happens, and how it happens, and try to make sense of the senseless. The universe is cold and cruel and random. Tragedy eases some of that pain. 

On that note: Just because I am analysing Scum Villain through a Greek lens doesn't mean that it was written that way. I'm pasting an interpretation onto the book when there's probably a very rich and deep history of Chinese tragedy that I just don't know about. If you ever want to talk about that, please, god, hit me up, I would love to learn about it!! 

Anyway, tragedy. MXTX is excellent at it! Mo Dao Zu Shi? Painful dynastic family tragedy. Heaven Official's Blessing? Mostly romance, but she managed to get that pure pain in there, huh? 

But in my opinion, Scum Villain holds the crown for the most tragic of her stories. MDZS was more of a mystery. TGCF was more of a romance. Neither of them shy away from their tragic elements. 

Scum Villain would fit right in between the work of Sophocles, Euripides and Aeschylus. How? Let me show you. Join me on my mystery tour into the world of "Aristotle Analyses Danmei..."

Part One: The Tragic Hero

What is a tragic hero? Generally, Greek tragic heroes are united by the same key characteristics. He must be imperfect, having a "fatal flaw" of some kind. He must have something to lose. And he must go from fortune to misfortune thanks to that fatal flaw. 

There are two (technically three) tragic protagonists in SVSSS and all of them are tragic in different but formulaic ways. Each protagonist has their own version of “hamartia” or a “fatal flaw”. 

Actually, hamartia isn’t necessarily a flaw - rather, it is a thing which makes the audience pity and fear for them, a careful imperfection, a point of weakness in the character’s morality or reasoning that allows for bad things to happen to them. For example, in Oedipus Rex, the king Oedipus has a “fatal flaw” of always wanting to find the truth, but this isn’t exactly a flaw, right? Note: this flaw can be completely unwitting, as we see with Shen Yuan. It can also be something that the protagonist is born with, some kind of trait from birth or very young. 

Shen Yuan

Shen Yuan’s “hamartia” is his rigid adherence to fate and his inability to read a situation as anything but how he thinks it ought to be. He believes that Bingmei will grow into Bingge, and it takes several years, two deaths, and some truly traumatising sex to convince him otherwise. 

Shen Jiu

Shen Jiu’s fatal flaw is his cruelty. It is his own sadistic treatment and abuse of Binghe which directly leads to his eventual dismemberment. This is kind of a no-brainer. Of course, it isn't all that simple, and as an audience we pity him for his cruelty as much as we fear it because we know it comes from his own abuse as a child. This just makes him even more tragic. Delicious. 

Luo Binghe

Luo Binghe’s fatal flaw is a complicated mix of things. It is his position as the “protagonist” which compels him to act in certain ways and be forced to suffer. It is his half-demonic heritage, something entirely out of his control, which sets in motion his tragic reversal of fortune when he gets yeeted into the Abyss. He also, much like Shen Yuan, has the propensity to jump to conclusions and somehow make 2 + 2 = 5. 

As well as having their respective “flaws”, all three protagonists match the rough outline of a good tragic hero in another way: they are in a position of great wealth and power. Even when you split the different characters into different “versions”, this still holds true. Yes, Luo Binghe is raised a commoner by a washerwoman foster mother, but his dad is an emperor and he also ends up becoming an emperor himself. 

Yes, Shen Jiu is an ex-slave and a victim of abuse himself, but Shen Qingqiu is a powerful peak lord with an entire mountain’s worth of resources at his back. 

Shen Yuan is a second generation new money rich kid. 

Bingge is a stereotypical protagonist with a golden finger. Bingmei is a treasured and loved disciple with a good reputation and a privileged seat by his shizun’s side. 

In a tragedy, having this kind of good fortune at the beginning of your story is dangerous. Chaucer says that tragedy is (badly translated into modern english) “a certain story / of him that stood in great prosperity / and falls out of high degree / into misery, and ends up wretchedly”. If we follow this line of thinking, a good tragedy is about someone who has a lot to lose, losing everything because of one fatal point of weakness that they fail to address or understand. 

If we look at Shakespeare, this is what makes King Lear such a fantastic tragic protagonist. He is a king in control of most of England, who from his own lack of wisdom and excess of pride, decides to split his kingdom apart to give to his daughters, favouring his murderous, double crossing progeny, and condemning his only actually filial daughter to death. He loses his kingdom, his mind, and his beloved daughter, all because of his own stupidity.

This brings us to:

Part Two: Peripeteia

This reversal of fortunes is called peripeteia. It is the moment where the entire plot shifts, and the hero’s fortunes go from good to bad. Think of it like one of those magic eye puzzles, where you stare at the image until a 3D shark appears, except you realise the shark was always there, you just couldn't ever see it, waiting for you, hungry, deadly, always lurking just behind that delightful pattern of random blue squiggles. 

Each tragic hero has their own moment of peripeteia in SVSSS, sometimes several:

Shen Qingqiu

In the original PIDW, SQQ’s peripeteia presumably occurs when he finds out that Bingge didn’t perish in the Abyss but has actually been training hard to come and pay him back. There’s really not much I’m interested in saying here - as a villain, OG!SQQ is cut and dry, and the audience doesn’t really feel any pity or fear for him. As Shen Yuan often mentions, what the audience feels when they see OG!SQQ is bloodlust and sick satisfaction. There is also the trial at Huan Hua Palace, which I will talk about in Shen Yuan’s section. 

Shen Yuan (SQQ 2.0)

One of SY’s most poggers moment of peripeteia is the glorious, terrifying section between hearing Binghe for the first time after the Abyss moment, and getting shoved into the Water Prison. 

“Behind him, a low and soft voice came: “Shizun?”

Shen Qingqiu’s neck felt stiff as he slowly turned his head. Luo Binghe’s face was the most frightening thing he had ever seen.

The scariest thing about it was that the expression on his face was not cold at all. His smile wasn’t sharp like a knife. Rather, it showed a kind of bone-deep gentleness and amiability.”

This is the moment of true horror for Shen Yuan, because he knows what happens next: the plot unfurls before him, inevitable and painful, and he knows that death awaits him at Luo Binghe's hands (lol). Compare it with the bone deep certainty with which he faces his own downfall during the sham of a trial later in the chapter (I’ve bolded the important part):

“In the original work, Qiu Haitang’s appearance signified only one thing: Shen Qingqiu’s complete fall from grace. [...] Shen Qingqiu’s heart streamed with tears. Great Master… I know you’re doing this for my own good, but I’ll actually suffer if she speaks her words clearly. This truly is the saying “not frightened of doing a shameful deed, just afraid the ghost (consequences) will come knocking”!”

After the peripeteia is usually the denouement where the plot wraps up and the threads are all tied together leaving no loose ends, but because this tragedy isn’t Shen Yuan’s but the former Shen Jiu’s, it’s impossible to finish. 

Shen Yuan cannot provide the meaningful answers that the narrative demands because 1) he doesn’t have any memory of doing anything, and 2) he wasn’t the person who did them. Narratively, he cannot follow the same path as the former SQQ because he lacks the same fatal flaw: cruelty. 

This is why Binghe doesn’t kill him - because he loves him, rather than despises him. And this is why Shen Yuan has to sacrifice himself and die for Luo Binghe in order to save him from Xin Mo: because the narrative demands that denouement follows peripeteia, and SQQ’s fate is in the hands of the narrative. 

(Side note: I believe that this literal death also represents the death of OG!SQQ's tragic arc. The body that committed all those crimes must die to satisfy the narrative. SQQ must die, like burning down a forest, so that new growth can sprout from the ashes. After this, Shen Yuan's story has more room to develop instead.)

It must happen to show Bingmei that SQQ loves him too. And this brings us to Bingmei.

Bingmei

Bingmei has two succinct moments of utter downfall. The first is a literal fall - his flaw, his demonic heritage, leads his beloved shizun to throw him down into the Abyss. From his point of view, SQQ is punishing him simply for the status of his birth. He rapidly goes from being loved and cherished unconditionally, to being the victim of an assassination attempt. 

He realises that he is totally unlovable: that for the crimes of his species that he never had a hand in, he must pay the price as well: that his shizun is so righteous that no matter what love there was between them, if SQQ sees a demon, he will kill it. Even if that demon is Bingmei. 

The second moment is when SQQ dies for him. Again, from his point of view, he was chasing after a man who was struggling to see him as a human being. Shen Qingqiu’s death makes Bingmei realise that he has been completely misunderstanding his shizun: that SQQ would literally die for him, the ultimate act of self sacrifice from love: that SQQ loved him despite his demon heritage. 

Much like King Lear holding the corpse of his daughter and wailing in sheer grief and pain because he did this, he caused this, Bingmei gets to hold his shizun's cold body and cry his eyes out and know that it was his fault. (Kind of.)

(Yes, I’m bringing Shakespeare into this, no I am not justifying myself)

Maybe I'm a bit sadistic, but that scene slaps. Let me show you a comparison of scenes so you get the picture. 

Re-enter KING LEAR, with CORDELIA dead in his arms; EDGAR, Captain, and others following

KING LEAR

Howl, howl, howl, howl! O, you are men of stones:

Had I your tongues and eyes, I'ld use them so

That heaven's vault should crack. She's gone for ever!

I know when one is dead, and when one lives;

She's dead as earth. Lend me a looking-glass;

If that her breath will mist or stain the stone,

Why, then she lives.

[...]

 KING LEAR

And my poor fool is hang'd! No, no, no life!

Why should a dog, a horse, a rat, have life,

And thou no breath at all? Thou'lt come no more,

Never, never, never, never, never!

Pray you, undo this button: thank you, sir.

Do you see this? Look on her, look, her lips,

Look there, look there!

Dies

Versus this scene in SVSSS: 

Luo Binghe turned a deaf ear to everything else, greatly agitated and at a loss of what to do. He was still holding Shen Qingqiu’s body, which was rapidly cooling down. It seemed like he wanted to call for him loudly and forcefully shake him awake, yet he didn’t dare to, as if he was afraid of being scolded. He said slowly, “Shizun?”

[...]

Luo Binghe involuntarily held Shen Qingqiu closer.

He said in a small voice, “I was wrong, Shizun, I really… know that I was wrong.

“I… I didn’t want to kill you…”

PAIN. SO MUCH BEAUTIFUL PAIN. Yes, I know Shakespeare isn’t Athenian, but he was inspired by the good old stuff and he also knew how to write a perfect tragedy on his own terms. Anyway. I’ll find more Greek examples later.

This post was a bit all over the place, but I hope it has been fun to read. Part Two will be coming At Some Point, Who Knows When. This is a bit messy and unedited, but hey, I’m not getting paid or graded, so you can eat any typos or errors. Unless you’re here to talk to me about Chinese tragedy, in which case, please pull up a seat, let me get you a drink, make yourself at home.

ps: if you want to retweet this, here is the promo tweet!

[marbleheavy]

I did Nico so here are some Will Solace headcanons that have bouncing around my brain for a while now

He goes through a sweater phase where he wears almost exclusively slightly too big, brightly colored, knit sweaters with thick collars and cinched sleeves

He read that fact about how if your tongue sticks to a rock it’s actually a bone, and now he licks every rock he finds because “What if it’s the bone of a dinosaur? What if I’m licking part of a T-Rex right now?” (and Nico just lets him do it even though he knows they aren’t bones)

REALLY into pinkie promises. Like, he takes them so seriously. Pinkie promise > swearing on the Styx

He takes a lot of chaotic self timer pictures and always ropes everyone else into them. They always end up looking like an album cover and he looks like he’s the lead singer. It’s not even that he’s always front and center, it’s just the way that he’s holding himself in every picture. When he gets his own apartment or house or whatever, he makes a collage of them all and he has every one of his friends choose a picture and write what the name of the album would be on it.

Going off of that, he is really into crafts but specifically memory crafts (does that make sense???). He makes keepsake boxes and friendship bracelets and so many things because he feels like it doesn’t matter if those things actually look good because the most important part of them is the memory attached.

He uses either 🤠 or ✨ (sometimes 🤪) in almost every text and uses them to convey any emotion. Rachel is the only one who ever understands exactly what he means.

A million friendship and bead bracelets just all the way up his arms. Probably some silly bands too.

He carries a backpack with him almost all the time and it somehow holds every possible necessity but always looks nearly empty. Obviously a first aid kit, but also like snacks and a hat and sunscreen and a million pens and the list goes on and on. It’s kind of in a mom friend way but more of a thing where someone sees “i need x item” and Will just hands it to them wordlessly without even stopping his sentence.

He adores the face masks that are supposed to make you look like an animal but they’re mostly just scary. They make him giggle like a toddler. (Imagine him and Nico with the fluffy headbands with the ears and then the face masks and Will just absolutely losing his shit)

Hozier!! Will loves Hozier!! Also country music (but he has a whole spiel about new age, american exceptionalist pop country because he h a t e s that). Also, and this is the really important one, 80s music but the really synth-y stuff (see my 80s cover band au for more details)

His ideal outfit is a chunky sweater, a jean jacket, jeans that don’t match the jacket, and rain boots. He loves rain boots. He’s got multiple pairs and at least one of them have frogs on them. If he can’t wear rain boots, flip flops in the summer and vans in the other seasons (He’s definitely got a pair of these yellow Vans)

He dresses like a dad but a dad that was born in the 80s and is also three years old

Will has at least three flavors of chapstick on him at any given time

Will Solace with a gun is wonderful, truly. I would like to add to this by introducing the concept of him wearing the side holsters on either this legs or his arms. He wants to go on quests so he can live his dreams of being a cowboy with thigh gun holsters and a hat and boots and all of it. (Also, Nico with knives strapped to his thighs and Will with guns) (Also, also, there’s a Cards Against Humanity card that says “Shooting a wizard with a gun” and that screams Will Solace)

Will is very much a “Let’s not resort to violence” person but in a way where like, Person A tries to punch B and Will is like “hey, we can talk this out” but then B doubles down and says something really out of line and Will just backs up and is like “You know what? Never mind, you do what you need to do” (And also in a “Let’s not fight… except for Nico because isn’t he so pretty with his sword?)

speaking of pretty, Will l o v e s to be called pretty. It makes his sweet summer child heart go brrr

He is obviously very into nicknames and terms of endearment but calling someone “Hon” or “Sweet pea” is always passive aggressive (that’s less of a Will thing and more of a Southern thing)

I would like to bring up the licking rocks thing again because I really do just believe it with my whole heart

For a while, the idea of Will’s grandparents (obviously Naomi’s side) being French has been bouncing around my head and I really do love the idea of Will speaking French fluently but not at all formally. It’s a lot of slang and has a Texas drawl mixed in with it but it’s definitely French (and it definitely makes Nico melt). He will just deadpan look at someone and go “Quoi?” and he counts the infirmary inventory stock in French but only up until sixty, then he switches to English (soixante-dix can suck it, sorry if you’re french but like, just make a new word. there’s no need for me to have to do math while already counting. don’t even get me started on anything in the 90s. quatre-vingt-dix-sept?? excuse me??)

Will and Persephone being buddies!! They just get along well and very much understand being summer people in love with anti-sun people and just, ugh, family dinners in the Underworld and Will always, always brings a gift for her. Will and Nico come in and anyone can hear Persephone yell “Is that Will? Is Will here?” and Will just grins and calls back “Yes ma’am, and I brought you some brownies from my Mama and some of the flowers from her garden”

Also, Nico knows all the deities and Will brings them cookies because they’re a team like that

He either plays soccer or lacrosse but either way he’s very good at it and it’s honestly intimidating (jock will solace <3)

Not to say Will isn’t his fair share of chaotic, but he’s friends with a lot of very chaotic or at the least eccentric people (Cecil and his pranks, Lou Ellen and her pig balls, Rachel and herself, Nico and himself, etc.) so he’s very good at turning on the Southern charm and just smiling his way out of any situation so he can get himself and everyone else away without any consequences

I think that’s all for now!! If you have any additions, please feel free to add them on, I love seeing other people’s ideas!

[neon-junkie]

White Smoke, Blue Lines

Summary: There are many things that the Jedi Order forbids: Attachments, specifically ones with Clones, and partaking in drugs - both of which you're about to break, when a certain clone helps you obtain the specific herb that you're after.

Pairing: Hardcase x Jedi Reader Reader Description: Reader is female and uses she/her pronouns. This fic does not include any descriptions of her appearance.

Warnings: Use of Drugs. Tags: Sharing a joint, Mutual pining, Flirting, Teasing, First time, Making out, First kiss, Shotgun kisses, Smut, Oral (receiving), Dirty talk, Grinding. Word count: 7.3k Notes: Personally, I'd like to think that most of the Jedi love getting blazed as fuck, especially Yoda, that little froggy bong-smoking fucker, but logically, they'd say no to drugs. Either way, I just want to share a joint with Hardcase, so here's the fic for it >:)

"Your girlfriend's heading our way, Hardcase," Jesse prods, slapping his brother's arm to get his attention.

"Hey! Wha- she's not my girlfriend," Hardcase huffs, pushing Jesse back, squabbling whilst still on the landing platform.

"Yeah, but you want her to be," Jesse snickers, and Fives joins in, giggling away as the pair begin to bash their skulls together.

You clear your throat, interrupting the presumably playful banter that is going on between two of the 501st boys. The 501st aren't your battalion, but they sure do feel like it, considering almost all of your missions are paired up with General Skywalker's. You have your own men, and he has his, but there's an unspoken agreement that when working together, they're both of your men, and all the clones are content with that.

That being said, you know each of Skywalker's men by name, ranking, personality and whatnot. You've spent the last few years quite literally by their side, squished together on gunships and cruisers, dragging each other from beneath rubble and fallen clankers, and there's even been a few incidents where they've had to carry your injured self from battle. Nasty memories, but you have the 501st to thank as your saviours.

"I hope I'm not interrupting anything," you say with a soft laugh, watching as their eyes go wide, locking onto yours. Jesse and Hardcase clear their throats, removing each other from their locked stances, and they straighten their backs as they greet you with a shy "General."

Your gaze turns to Hardcase as you politely ask, "Hardcase, may I have a word alone?"

Jesse begins chewing on his bottom lip in an attempt to mute his laughter, but a few snorts slip through. You've overheard Jesse and many others tease Hardcase for his apparent feelings towards you, and although you haven't sensed too much from him, whatever feelings he may have are mutual. However, war and order comes first, and the likelihood of a Clone dating a Jedi is, well... there is no likelihood. It's forbidden. End of debate.

"Uh, of course," Hardcase nods, and follows you from the landing platform, heading towards the Barracks entrance, but not slipping inside. It's quiet here, minus the few clones passing by, unloading the gunships at their own pace.

Your eyes trail around the perimeter before speaking up, not paying any mind to the clones nearby, but assuring that there are no other Jedi in this vicinity. "Hardcase... uh, I was hoping for your assistance in obtaining something," you begin talking, keeping your voice level just above a whisper.

"W-what can I help you with, General?" Hardcase gulps. His hands flex into fists, bunching up at his sides, and he attempts to mute his thoughts, praying that nothing lewd will spring into his mind... again.

"Call me by my name, please, Hardcase. We're off clock, and when it comes to something like this, I'd rather... forget about the Order," you exhale, your gaze finally meeting Hardcase's wide eyes. Nervousness is radiating from him, and it doesn't help that you're prolonging your question, rattling his anxiety as every second passes.

Hardcase mutters your name with a nod, and states that he's "not quite following."

"Before I ask, I just want to explain that I'm approaching you as a friend, and not as a General-" you mumble, prolonging the question even more.

Hardcase nods, and sighs anxiously when you continue rambling. "-And I am coming to you specifically about this because, well, I am under the assumption that you also partake in such activities."

"Please tell me what you're after already!" Hardcase blurts out. Both of your eyes turn wide at his outburst, and he's about to apologize for letting his emotions control his mouth, but you speak up before he can.

"Do you know any dealers?" you finally ask.

Hardcase pauses, still with the same wide-eyed expression. His brow slowly raise as he thinks that he knows what you're on about, but just to be certain, he asks, "dealers... for?"

"Drugs. Weed, specifically," you sheepishly state. "My last one dipped off the radar, I assume he was arrested, but I-"

"I didn't know you smoke," Hardcase softly laughs, flashing you a lop-sided and extremely cheeky grin. You roll your eyes, followed by playfully punching his upper arm, which only causes Hardcase to laugh even more.

"I'm going to take your answer as a 'yes,'" you state, folding your arms and looking up at the clone, who wears his cheeky smile with pride.

"Yeah, I can sort you out," he nods. "I've been buying off the same guy for a while now, but he's weary of strangers. Maybe I could put a good word in first, or-"

"-You could come with me?" you suggest. "To pick up, I mean. That would certainly ease his anxieties."

"Y-yeah, s-sure," Hardcase gulps. His flushed, vibrant red cheeks are hard not to notice, and you're quickly hit with a thick cloud of flustered energy, radiating from him. You've not spent much time around any of the clones outside of work, minus popping by their quarters to pass on information and whatnot, and that one incident where you ran into them at 79's, but that's as good as it gets.

"I'll meet you outside the front of the barracks at 19:00, but around the corner beside that small diner, just to be safe, if that's alright with you?" You question.

"Y-Yeah," Hardcase stutters again, nodding eagerly at your request. "I'll comm my guy and let him know that we're picking up later. He's not too far from here, just a few blocks away."

"Okay," you sweetly smile. "I'll leave you to it, thank you again!" You say your goodbyes, heading in the direction of the temple to continue your chores for the day, leaving Hardcase on the barracks landing platform.

He pinches himself. That just happened, didn't it? That lovely, sweet, and kind General just approached him to ask about drugs? And she trusts him enough to meet up with him, off the clock, and conduct a deal with him?

The trust. Hardcase could go and rat you out to the Order right now. He could knock on the temple's front door, demand to speak to the manager, and tattle on you for partaking in such illegal activities. But he doesn't - why would he?

Hardcase snaps from his daze as he overhears his name being called, and Jesse and Fives appear in his line of sight. Hardcase huffs, knowing what's in store for him, and begins approaching his brothers. They've already stripped themselves from their upper-armour, relaxing in their blacks, now leaving them defenceless from the upcoming brotherly play fight that will no-doubt happen once their teasing has begun.

"What did the General want?" Fives questions as Hardcase approaches, who decides to continue walking into the Barracks, praying that he can drag them back into their quarters fast enough to prevent their teasing. Rex is always there to break up their bickering, especially when it involves certain comments about certain Generals.

"She just asked me about some stuff, nothing important," Hardcase shrugs, rubbing the back of his neck with his gloved hand as he walks.

"That's not what it looked like when we walked past," Fives grins.

Jesse joins in on the smirking. "You both looked flustered, but you especially looked like a Cadet attempting to flirt."

"No, no. It wasn't like that-" Hardcase huffs. He debates telling them the truth, considering that they know and also partake in illicit activities, but is it worth the relentless teasing that he will face? Hardcase already knows his answer, and he already knows that his brothers will find out sooner or later - hopefully later when they catch him sneaking out of the Barracks unaccompanied.

"What was it like then?" Jesse raises a brow.

"S-She..." Hardcase stutters, and exhales heavily. He finally admits to the truth, and ensures that his tone of voice is hushed, not wanting anybody to overhear. "She asked me who to get stuff off, so I told her."

"Stuff?" Fives questions.

"He means..." Jesse explains with a wave of his hand.

"Ooooh!"

There's a pause from both of them, and for a brief moment, Hardcase assumes that that's the end of it. But he is unbelievably wrong.

"Wait- The General, a Jedi, asked you for..." Fives coughs. Both his, and Jesse's expression flicks between confused, concerned, and curious, and the pair keep their ears close to Hardcase as he continues explaining what just happened.

"Yeah," he sheepishly nods. "She basically said that she trusts me, and that I look like the kinda guy who knows where to get that stuff, so I said I'd help her out."

"Help her out how?" Jesse questions.

"Well, uh..." Hardcase stutters, rubbing the back of his neck once more. "You know what Dog is like, he's not too fond of strangers-"

"-Yeah, which is why he wouldn't sell to us at first," Jesse states the obvious, and Fives nods in confirmation.

"-So, uh, she's going to come with me later to pick up," Hardcase innocently shrugs. He bites his bottom lip, attempting to focus on walking down the corridor, rather than watching his brother's reactions. It's coming. Hardcase know's it's coming, and when the wave finally hits, it drowns him.

Fives and Jesse scream, instantly jumping on their brother to begin their playful teasing. "You have a date!" They begin barking at him, riling him up, unfazed by the curious onlookers that pass by. "It's a date, our boy Hardcase has a date!" They cheer, and Hardcase, attempting to mute his laughter, eventually pushes both of them off.

"It's not a date!" He instantly begins denying, only to be playfully shoved between both of them as they protest his protests.

"It's a date, Hardcase. You two are meeting up later for a date," Jesse purrs, wrapping his arm around Hardcase's neck as the trio turn the final corner to approach their quarters.

"What are you gonna wear? Something nice?" Fives questions, knowing that they own little to no personal clothing.

"Make sure you shave your balls, chicks love that," Jesse comments, raising a cheeky brow at his brother.

Hardcase finally shoves Jesse off him as he gags at his bold comment. He remains silent, as flustered as ever, quietly wishing that it is a date, rather than him accompanying you to pick up weed. His gaze turns to the quarters' door, and he quickly punches in the code, ensuring that his flustered expression is blocked from his brothers.

However, the second the door opens, Fives pushes him into the room, and proudly announces, "guess who's getting his dick wet later, boys!"

The torment has only just begun...

--------

Hardcase's pace is faster than usual, weaving his way through the endless sea of people that cover Coruscant. The diner is barely five minutes from the Barracks, but Hardcase is running late due to his brothers pestering him non-stop.

Their teasing was ruthless, exactly what you'd expect from a bunch of men, specifically siblings. Even Rex had joined in on the banter, but reminded his men that this definitely isn't a date as such things are forbidden, not to mention consuming drugs. The talk of his 'date' is not to leave the Barracks, and even when it is spoken about, it must be spoken in hushed tones to prevent by-passers overhearing it through the thick walls.

Hardcase tugs at his shirt again, cursing the smaller fit that he's borrowed off Tup. He's slightly thinner than Hardcase, and it seems that he buys his shirts even smaller to ensure that his best features are on display, pressed against the ironed fabric. Hardcase was originally going to meet up with you in sweatpants and a t-shirt, and his suggestion was met with a sea of tears as every single one of his brothers pushed him to wear something enticing.

"It is a date, after all," Dogma chimed in.

"It's not a date," Hardcase had replied. He had reached the point of auto-pilot, automatically reminding everyone that it's not a date whenever he heard those specific words.

His brothers ignored his declines, and collectively agreed that Hardcase is going on a date, whether he sees it as that, or not. They all helped doll him up; Tup loaned his navy blue shirt, sleeves rolled up at the elbows and the top few buttons undone, exposing his collarbones and teasing his toned pecs. Hardcase insisted that he wears black jeans, making his outfit seem more casual, rather than borrowing Dogma's suit pants.

Hardcase is assuming that he'll be back within half an hour, ready to tell his brothers "I told you so," when they ask why his 'date' didn't last long. He huffs to himself, finally reaching the destination, at to his surprise, you're already stood outside.

"There you are," you state as he appears in your line of vision. Hardcase, for once, manges to control his flustered expression as he locks on to what you're wearing; it's nothing fancy, casual attire, but you and Hardcase could easily be mistaken as a couple out on a date.

"Sorry I took so long," Hardcase sighs. "The boys were..."

"-being themselves?" you answer his statement, and he nods awkwardly in agreement. You playfully roll your eyes, knowing far too well how boisterous and bold his brothers are. "Anyway, lead the way," you gesture, and with that, Hardcase begins leading you on the short journey to his dealer's place.

"He doesn't live far from here," Hardcase reassures you, holding his hands up innocently.

"Good, hopefully he lives close to me," you say with a laugh, not wanting to trail too far.

"You mean... the temple?"

"Oh, no. I decided to get my own little apartment nearby. I needed my own space, the temple can feel over-bearing, and it's nice to... not feel like a Jedi, sometimes," you briefly explain, hoping that Hardcase understands your desire for self-isolation.

"Yeah, I can understand that," he shrugs. "At least you're able to get your own place. That sure would... be something," Hardcase sighs.

A gentle hand rests on Hardcase's forearm as he walks, and you give him a soft squeeze, reassuring him as you comment, "you know that I'm not fond of how the Republic treats clones."

"Yeah, I don't think there's many Jedi out there who are," he agrees. Hardcase exhales heavily, feeling your hand disappear from his forearm, and as he leads you down a side street, he decides to swiftly turn the conversation around. "He's just up here, I'll buzz for him to come down," Hardcase explains, and slips his comm link from his pocket, tapping away on the device.

"You know, I was going to suggest you come back to my apartment and share a joint with me. My way of saying thank you for helping me out," you suggest.

Hardcase almost drops his comm link, catching it before it hits the floor, preventing the device from being carelessly trampled on by his own boots. He lightly coughs, and his gaze meets yours as he replies, "we don't have to, I don't mind. I-I mean, I'm always happy to help out-"

"-Hardcase," you cut his babbling off. "I'd love to have a smoke with you, if you'd like to."

This time, Hardcase can't hide his flustered expressions. His cheeks begin contrasting heavily against his bold, blue tattoos, decorating his warm face; his pupils are wide, both with a mixture of nervousness and lust, and his mouth remains parted, forgetting how to breathe. Hardcase is so fixated on the thought of being around you, sharing a joint with you, going back to your apartment, that he doesn't overhear his name being called out, at first.

Hardcase finally snaps out of his startled state to see his dealer approaching, and heavily clearly his throat before introducing you to Dog. He's your stereotypical dealer, attempting to keep the exchange swift and quiet, and seems fond of you when you purchase a hefty amount of weed, wanting to ensure that you have more than enough to last.

Dog exchanges his comm link number with you before dipping off, ensuring that you can pick up off him any time. "Any friend of Hardcase's, is a friend of mine," he states. Huh, yeah. A friend.

Silence fills the air as you overlook the few grams that you've purchased before slipping it into your pocket, turning your gaze to Hardcase, who has zoned out once more. You raise a brow, and Hardcase suddenly remembers that he never answered your offer. "Y-yeah, we can go and share a joint at yours," he eagerly nods, followed by licking his drying lips.

"C'mon then," you playfully nudge, and begin leading the way to your apartment.

----

The journey home is short, filled with Hardcase's rambling rant about how a few of his brothers irritated him on the last series of missions. You questioned what was on his mind, and not wanting to admit the overwhelming array of emotions that he feels towards you, he decided to fill up the silence with bitching instead. It's a win-win; Hardcase gets to let off some steam, and you get to laugh along and enjoy Hardcase's rambling, something that he does when given the opportunity to.

Hardcase, especially now, sometimes forgets your abilities, and just how prominent they truly are. You know exactly how he feels towards you, and now that you're here, entering your apartment with him, you can forget about both of your statuses the second your apartment door closes. Right now, you're two friends hanging out, sitting on the couch after grabbing a drink for both of you.

Using your weed, Hardcase begins rolling a joint, putting his calloused fingers to work. He pauses his work to take a hefty gulp of his drink, parched from earlier when he felt the life draining from him at the idea of going back to yours. However, now that he's actually here, he feels content; maybe it's because your apartment is so welcoming and cosy, or maybe it's because your general presence often soothes him (when it's not riling him up,) but either way, he's finally comfortable.

You put some background music on, just loud enough to sit comfortably in your ears, and Hardcase announces that he's finished rolling. "Beautiful, isn't she?" he playfully states, holding the pristine joint up to your vision.

"Of course, she is. She's your creation," you smile. Hardcase flashes you a playful, puppy-like grin at your compliment, and you laugh at his warm expression. "Spark up," you state, and leave your seat to go and open some windows.

The joint is lit when you return, and your eyes lock onto the thick smoke flocking from Hardcase's lips as you take your seat beside him. "Here," he mutters, passing you the joint. Hardcase lubricates his mouth as you occupy yourself, smoking at your own pace, and the poor man almost spits water on you when he turns to see you exhaling, the cloud of smoke slowly trickling from your lips.

"What?" you question.

"N-Nothing," Hardcase coughs, attempting to clear his throat. "Went down the wrong way," he explains, and you pretend to understand his response. Your Jedi senses picked up the overwhelming attraction Hardcase felt when he locked his sights onto you smoking; you understand the attraction to the act of smoking, but never have you considered that somebody could feel such a way towards you.

That knowledge settles in the back of your mind, ready to be picked up on later on, hopefully when you've attained more confidence and relaxed even more. "Your turn," you state as you pass the joint back, your fingertips brushing against Hardcase's as he takes it from you.

Minutes pass as you two continue sharing the single joint, eventually being stubbed out in your ashtray. "How're you feeling?" Hardcase questions as he relaxes back on your couch, finding comfort in your variety of pillows.

"Good," you confirm with a nod. "I completely forgot to ask him what strain of weed this is," you sigh, coming to terms with the fact that you're going into this high blind.

Hardcase picks up the bag of weed on your coffee table, and looks it over before laughing to himself. You raise a brow, and he explains, "I don't know why I'm looking it over. It's not like I can tell."

You chuckle with him, already beginning to feel the swift effects of the mystery strain. Your hand runs through your hair, sweeping a few strands back off your face, and when you look up from the floor, your eyes instantly feel heavy. "Kriff," you curse.

"Good stuff?" Hardcase questions with a light laugh, melting into your couch. You turn to gaze at him, instantly noticing his lopsided smile; a deep red colour appears on his cheeks, and you dread to think what thoughts must be running through his mind if he's blushing at you.

"Yeah, good stuff," you confirm with a nod. Shuffling back onto the couch more, you get comfortable, tucking your legs against the pillows.

"You wanna stretch your legs out?" Hardcase questions, patting his toned thighs, maybe a little too eagerly.

You nod, and prop your legs up on Hardcase's lap, who instantly rests his forearms on top of them. He hands begin playing with the fabric of your pants, fiddling mindlessly, trailing his calloused fingertips up and down your shins. You chuckle at the image, seeing some of yourself in him; Hardcase overhears your laughter, and raises as a brow as he smiles and asks, "what?"

"You're a fidgeter too, huh?" you state.

Hardcase grins as he shakes his head, looking like a happy puppy. "Yeah," he confirms. "I've been told that back on Kamino, my growth chamber leaked. That's why I can never sit still," he shrugs, and adds, "not that I mind."

"I like that," you smile. "I love seeing how different all you clones are. Makes me forget that you're actually clones."

"Yeah, me too," Hardcase sighs. He looks away for a brief moment, silently reminding himself about the situation that he's currently in. As of right now, he's content and calm, enjoying a joint with a Jedi - an odd scenario, but Hardcase is fond of oddities. However, come tomorrow, he'll be back on the field, wiping out clankers with his chaingun; at least he can enjoy this moment before it passes.

"Fancy another?" Hardcase questions as he turns back to you, and smirks as he adds, "if you can handle it."

"Of course, I can handle it. You don't have to baby me," you scoff. "Maybe I should baby you instead, seeing as you're almost falling asleep on my couch," gesturing to Hardcase's extremely cosy state.

"No, I'm not," Hardcase scoffs in return, sitting upright instantly. "Your couch is comfortable," he innocently shrugs, and begins rolling another joint once you've moved your legs off his lap. "And how would you baby me, huh?"

A large, bright, and interesting lightbulb lights up in your mind; you've wanted to break the thick, tense ice between you two for so long, but given the circumstances, you've never been able to. Now is your chance!

"I'll show you how to properly smoke," you flirtatiously smirk.

Hardcase raises a brow as he meets your gaze, and he rolls his eyes at your remark. "I know how to smoke, sweetheart," he sighs, the pet name escaping without him realising. "But go on, let's see what you've got."

"Alright," you nod.

Hardcase rushes to roll the second joint, soon revealing a slightly crinkled joint, but that doesn't make it not smokeable. Rather than lighting it, he passes it to you instead, and watched curiously as you begin sparking up, puffing on the end to get the good stuff flowing. You eventually begin exhaling thick clouds of smoke, blowing them from your vision.

"Ready?" you question, and Hardcase eagerly nods, attempting to bite back on his laughter. He's so smug, certain that there's no way you can smoke better than him, and his smug expression remains as you intake an average amount.

Holding the smoke between your closed lips, you shuffle closer to Hardcase, pressing your thighs together, your shoulders tapping against each other before Hardcase turns his upper body to peer down at you. Your eyes meet his, and since your mouth is occupied and unable to instruct him, you resort to moving him into position.

You lightly grab his chin, and Hardcase follows your movement as you bring his lips towards yours. Your thumb brushes over his bottom lip, and Hardcase understands what you're signalling for. His lips part slightly, just enough for you to press your lips against his and blow the smoke into his mouth.

Hardcase shudders, and takes his time moving away from your lips to eventually blow out his share of the smoke. A sigh follows behind his exhale, and when he finally turns back to look at you, his eyes are half-lidded, but open enough to show his wide, lustful pupils, decorated by his amber irises.

"Good?" you simply question.

A cheeky grin covers Hardcase's lips as he nods eagerly, but it slips away as fast as it appeared, and he pouts as he replies. "I don't think I got much smoke, you'll have to try again."

You giggle, and Hardcase joins in, almost patting himself on the back for his boldly flirtatious comment. "Alright," you agree. The joint is pressed to your lips again, and you inhale heavily, holding the smoke in your mouth as you signal for Hardcase to get into position. He's cheekily grinning as he parts his lips, pressing them lightly to yours, and his eyes flutter shut as you begin blowing smoke into his mouth.

Hardcase can't help but swiftly kiss you before pulling away, turning his head in the other direction to exhale the smoke. He's grinning again as he turns back to you, his tattoos slowly turning purple as his cheeks begin turning up. "My turn," he chuckles, and takes the joint from your grasp.

Hardcase repeats your fluid movements, and he's now plucked up the courage to hold your jawline in the palm of his hand as he dips his head down to kiss you. This is definitely a kiss with smoke trailing between your lips; you don't even bother inhaling, watching through slowly-shutting eyes as the smoke disappears between kisses, fanning out into the room.

The smoke soon leaves, and you're still locking lips with Hardcase, feeling the faint, light stubble of his facial hair on your upper lip. His soft kisses quickly become firmer, desperate, hungry, and the hand that was once on your jaw slides up to entwine in your hair. You're not sure if Hardcase is a naturally good kisser, or if the weed in your system is making you more sensitive than usual, a burn forming between your thighs as the kiss deepens once more.

Boldly, you break the kiss and pluck the joint from between Hardcase's fingers, stubbing it out in your ashtray. He watches through half-lidded eyes as you straddle him, your knees resting on either side of his hips, introducing your crotch to his growing erection. He's still smirking, and his smile remains as he pulls you down to kiss him once more, this time with added mewls and moans, escaping whenever your lips slightly part.

"Hardcase?" you call out between kisses, and Hardcase lets out a softly grunted, "huh?" when you call his name.

"I wanna know something," you continue, your tone of voice thick with lust.

"Oh yeah? What?" Hardcase raises a brow, breaking the kiss so he can gaze up at you with his slightly red eyes.

"Do your tattoos cover all of your body?" you question, and instantly, Hardcase begins chuckling at your words.

"Why don't you find out for yourself, sweetheart?" he invites you in. You lick your lips as your hands move from his shoulders, finding the buttons on his shirt, and at an agonizingly slow pace, you begin unfastening each of them. Hardcase almost rips the shirt off once it's finally unfastened, discarding it on the other side of your couch, revealing his delicious form.

Hardcase is a meal of a man, toned from years of work and fighting. His tanned skin looks lush, contrasting against his blue tattoos that continue over his chest and arms, disappearing into the waistband of his pants. Your hands begin trailing over each line, admiring the flawless line work; they hook around the waistband of his pants, and your eyes meet Hardcase's as you continue talking.

"Can I take these off?" you question.

Hardcase playfully tuts as his hands find your waist, kneading at the fabric of your shirt. "Not until this comes off. Fair's fair, right?"

"Of course," you agree with a nod. This time, Hardcase is the one gawking over his form once your top comes off; his hands follow the flow of your body, every dip and crevice, every curve and bump. Just when he thinks this day couldn't get any better, you smile as you reach your hands behind your back, unclasping your bra and letting it slip down over your shoulders.

Hardcase's face literally lights up, grinning playfully as he moves his hands up to cup your breasts. "Mesh'laaaa," he slurs his words, followed by mumbling a series of phrases in Mando'a, and you can only assume that from his given expression, they're all words of affection. Hardcase, whilst still smiling, dips his head down to latch his mouth onto a nipple, flicking his tongue over the bud and sucking gently. He kisses along your chest when switching between each nipple, and rolls his hips as a way of encouraging you to get closer.

Slowly and softly, you begin rutting your hips, grinding down against his growing erection. Hardcase begins letting out the softest of moans, sucking on your nipples more firmly, his hands tightening their grip around your waist. "Karking hell," Hardcase grunts, moving his lips from your breasts to look up at you. "These have got to come off, please?" he both asks and suggests.

You swiftly nod, shuffling off Hardcase's lap. You undo your pants, shimmying them down to your ankles, and step out of them, leaving you almost bare. Hardcase goes to reach out, to grab you once again, but you tut and offer him your hand instead. "Are you coming?" you offer, and Hardcase swiftly grabs your hand before you can even finish your question.

You begin leading him towards your bedroom, your hand slipping from his as Hardcase shuffles out of his pants. He almost trips over his pants legs as he kicks them off, leaving them in a jumbled pile on the floor. His tattoos do continue even lower, partially hidden under his boxers, but you'll soon see for yourself.

You sit on the edge of the bed, offering your hand out once more to drag Hardcase on with you, but he rejects your offer. Whilst shaking his head, Hardcase settles onto his knees, his hands finding your thighs as he hungrily spreads them apart. Oh. He groans at the sight of your spread legs, despite still having panties on; you're uncertain if it's the weed effects taking place, or if Hardcase really is working this fast, but he rushes to kiss down both of your thighs, stopping just before your cunt and moving cheekily onto the other one. He's teasing you, but it's clear that his patience is running thin.

Hardcase groans as he finally licks a firm stripe over your clothed cunt, faintly tasting your slick through the thin fabric. He repeats the motion a few more times, teasing himself more than you, and swiftly decides that he needs your underwear off. Now. They're quickly removed, tossed onto the floor that he's settled on, and once again, Hardcase is the one groaning as he finally begins lapping at your folds.

Everything feels so rushed, your head spinning ever so slightly as you lie back on the bed, staring up at the ceiling between your fluttering lashes. Hardcase is a messy eater, unfazed by the sounds of wetness and slurping, lapping at your cunt like a starving man. He flicks between a series of motions, but always ensures that when he sucks your clit, he does it hard, chuckling to himself as you begin squirming on the bed from his actions.

"So karking good," Hardcase mumbles against you. "I can't believe I've finally got my head between your thighs," he groans, and slips his tongue into your entrance, tongue-fucking you a few times before deciding that you deserve something firmer to fill you up. You're unbelievably soaked, more than slick enough to fit two of Hardcase's thick fingers, pushing them slowly until he reaches his knuckles.

With his lips around your clit, Hardcase begins pumping his fingers, curling them to ensure that they brush against your g-spot with every thrust. You don't even realise that he's shaking at first, until you prop yourself up onto your elbows to notice that his other hand is moving rapidly. Hardcase has managed to free his cock, pumping it in time with his thrusting fingers.

His cock is gorgeous, girthy with a blue stripe running down the middle. Hardcase notices you staring and raises a playful brow, only for his expression to turn into concern as you smirk maliciously. Without saying a word, you raise your hand, and use your special abilities to begin jerking Hardcase's cock for him. He's forced to move his lips off your cunt, letting out a heavy groan as you begin jerking his cock.

"Karking hell!" Hardcase yelps, moaning hungrily as you pump his length. "I always forget you have those abilities," he chuckles, and returns to eating your pussy. Despite being occupied, his own words sink into his mind even deeper - you're a Jedi. He's hooking up with a Jedi. Hardcase is the lucky Clone who gets to enjoy seeing what else you can do with your Jedi powers. Kriff.

You sense the realisation from Hardcase, his thoughts barely clouded from the smoke that's still lingering in his system. You've become swiftly adjusted to the sensation of being high, but now that those thoughts are present, you realise how utterly blazed you are. Your head is, thankfully, no longer spinning, but your eyes are half-lidded, and you're almost constantly grinning, giving away your dazed state. Hardcase is the same, finally relaxing as smugness takes over, proud of himself for achieving such an unimaginable goal.

"Ughh," Hardcase grumbles against your folds. "Taste so good, you feel so good around my cock too! Well, I mean your... uh, the force feels good?" Hardcase stutters, raising a brow as he attempts to explain the new sensations washing over him.

"Why don't you come up here, and find out how good I feel around your cock?" you flirt.

Hardcase grins, scrambling up to his feet. He shuffles up onto the bed, toned arms resting on either side of your head, pinning you beneath him. Your juices are all over his chin, his blue tattoos glistening whenever the street lights through your bedroom window hit his face at the right angle. With a laugh, you clean him up, and the second you're done, he dips his head down to crash his lips against yours.

Your hands trail over his shoulders, admiring how toned and defined he is. Hardcase is softly mewling between kisses, expressing his hunger and desperation for you. He begins grinding his solid length against your folds, slicking himself up, but teasing himself more than he's teasing you. Either he's naturally sensitive, or the weed has cranked his sensitivity levels up tenfold.

Hardcase begins angling his hips, attempting to catch your pussy at the right angle and push his cock in; he breaks the kiss in order to concentrate, refusing to give up on his desires. Eventually, Hardcase manages, and lets out a heavy moan as he finally pushes himself into your tight cunt.

"Heh, no hands," Hardcase chuckles once he's fully sheathed. He holds himself there, and you're uncertain if it's because he's letting you adjust to his size, or because he needs a moment to collect himself. Both, possibly? Given his calming expression.

You swiftly grow impatient, and lock onto his gaze as you groan, "Hardcase, move."

"Yes, General," Hardcase cheekily replies, and you roll your eyes at his audacity.

But that playfully frustrated expression on your face is quickly wiped away, your brows turning upwards, and your mouth parting as Hardcase begins thrusting himself deep into you. He's girthy, stretching your walls with every thrust, filling you up with no room to spare. Hardcase seems to be moaning than you are, possibly, it's hard to tell, given your stoned state, and the fact that you're moaning just as loud.

Hardcase's thrusts are delicious, firm and fast, slowly bruising your inner thighs; you wrap your legs around his waist, ankles crossing over, and lightly grind your heel into his lower back as a way of spurring him on. Hardcase chuckles, and comments, "needy thing," before following your order and slamming into you even harder.

You're moaning way too loud, certain that you'll receive a noise complaint tomorrow. Whatever. You remind yourself that you don't care, that you need this, that you've been pining after this Clone for way too long. He's not letting you down, he never has, despite not being in your ranks. No doubt, you'll spend the next few days walking funny, receiving concerned expressions from Jedi and Clones alike; it doesn't take a genius to put two and two together, since Hardcase will definitely be walking with a limp.

Hardcase dips his head down, leaving purple marks along your collarbone. He's muttering between kisses, barely audible through his heavy breaths as he continues slamming into you. "C-Can't believe we're doing this," he grunts. "Been after you for so long, so kriffing long. You have no idea!"

You let out a soft laugh, "you don't exactly keep your feelings hidden."

Hardcase's cock comes to a halt, twitching deep inside you. He props himself up on his forearms, peering down at you as he asks, "you knew?"

"Everybody knows," you chuckle. You pull his head down for a kiss, reassuring him that the feelings are mutual. "Wouldn't be here if I didn't feel the same," you mutter against his lips.

Hardcase breaks the kiss, raising a brow as he jokingly replies, "you wouldn't be here? But this is your apartment-"

His words are cut off as you let out a laugh, and Hardcase laughs along with you, soon returning his lips to yours. He has you pinned perfectly to the bed, his hips rolling ever so slightly as he introduces his tongue to yours, swallowing down your moans whenever the kiss briefly breaks.

As Hardcase pulls away from the kiss, he slips his cock from your slickness, and lets out a grunt as he pushes himself up onto his knees. He eagerly pats the bed as he orders, "on your hands and knees, sweetheart."

Whilst smirking at him, you shuffle into the new position, peering over your shoulder once ready. Hardcase licks his lips at the sight, his large hands kneading as your ass, enjoying everything you have to offer. He spends a few moments simply playing with your ass, one hand moving from the mound of flesh to run his thumb over your folds, finding your clit and grinding over it.

"Hardcase," you mutter.

"I know, I know," he chuckles as he moves his hands away, lining himself up. "Hard not to do that, you just look so good," he grunts, and finally begins pushing into you again.

A firm pair of hands find your hips, wrapping around them, holding you tightly. Hardcase jumps back into his rushed pace, eager to feel your walls fluttering around his cock once more. His whines and moans start up again, matching your own, the sound of skin against skin echoes around the room.

Hardcase begins muttering sweet praise, "sweet girl, my perfect girl, so karking tight around me-" he lets out a grunt. "Kriff, I'm not gonna last long, babe," Hardcase informs you.

You reach down between your thighs, fingertips about to touch your clit, but Hardcase chuckles as he redirects your hands. "Here, let me," he says with a smile. Hardcase wraps his large palm around both of your wrists, pinning them behind your back, your head dropping onto the duvet. His other hand slips beneath you, firm fingertips begin rubbing eagerly at your clit.

Needless to say, Hardcase has a lot on his plate, and his thrusts become somewhat sloppy, but more than enough to get you off. "Come on, girl, cum on this cock," Hardcase instructs through gritted teeth. His cock begins twitching inside you, an orgasm sitting on the edge, but like the gentleman that he is, he waits for you to hit peak first.

You cry out his name, part of your words muffled from your face being smothered against the duvet. Your orgasm finally hits, your walls clenching tightly around Hardcase's thick length. He grunts, and swiftly removes his hands from you, rushing to pull out his length. His release lands on your back, grunting and sighing heavily as he paints you white.

"Kriff, oh, babe," Hardcase sighs, jerking his length slowly to push his final drops of cum onto your bare body. "Wait here," he mutters, and rushes to climb off the bed. Hardcase almost trips over his own feet, his legs turning into jelly in his post-orgasm phase, along with whatever weed is still pumping throughout his body.

Hardcase returns moments later with a damp towel, and cleans you up whilst humming playfully. He lands a light slap on your rear as he announces, "done!"

You roll onto your back, star fishing on your bed; your chest is rising and falling heavily, matching Hardcase's deep breaths, who joins you on the bed after tidying himself up. He's slightly sweaty from his workout, but still wears that usual cheeky grip as he props himself up on his elbow, lying on his side, looking down at you.

"Did you have fun?" Hardcase asks, the audacity.

You roll your eyes, laughing lightly as your hand moves up to wrap around his neck. "Come here, you," you flirt, and pull him down into a tender kiss, reassuring him that you definitely had fun.

Hardcase's hand finds your waist, fingertips running along your skin whilst he shares a tender moment with you. The kiss isn't rushed and heated like earlier, but soft and loving, warming your chest, and sending shivers along your skin. As it breaks, Hardcase flashes you a grin, then kisses the tip of your nose before falling back on your pillows.

"C'mere," he mutters, waving his hand. You follow his lead, settling in the curve of his neck, sprawling yourself over him whilst still regaining your breath. There's silence for a while, a welcoming silence, shared between two people who have finally broken the ice. Hardcase eventually fills up the silence as he asks, "you'll let me take you out for dinner some time, won't you?"

You move your head off his chest, peering up to see his warm brown pleading eyes, his bottom lip slightly sticking out. "Yeah, of course, I will," you agree with a sweet smile.

Hardcase hums happily as he places a tender kiss on your forehead, his hand moving up to direct your head back onto his chest. Neither of you say anything after that, content with the silence that once again fills the room, later complimented by light snores as you both drift off to sleep.

[3rdgymbros]

— title; it’s nice to have a friend.

— pairing; zhongli x reader  

— summary; in which a lonely archon seeks out rex lapis to make a contract with him

— notes; this is my first time writing for genshin (i don’t play the game) so i hope it’s not too ooc !! special thanks to @degenerate-yandere and @hanniejji​ for their support !!

You've heard stories of Rex Lapis, of course. The parcel of land you rule over is tiny, but stories of his prowess in battle have reached even you and your people. Rex Lapis, the God of War, who understands battle and weaponry, strategy and bloodshed far more than you ever will, whose hands and weapons have drawn more than their fair share of blood.

And yet, your first impression of him is that his eyes are beautiful.

They're the first things that you're drawn to; those intense amber eyes, the deep gold reminding you of honey. Then, later, when you manage to tear your gaze away from his, you stare at the dark chocolate hair framing a breathtaking face. His eyes narrow slightly, but his features are otherwise schooled into impassivity as he takes you in, your body language stiff and prim, betraying the tension your body feels.

"The God of Flowers, I presume." His voice is cultured and smooth, with a rasp that makes your stomach flutter. A frown line mars the space between arrogantly slashed brows. "You wished to meet with me?"

You hide your hands in the folds of your robes, embroidered with thousands of handstitched pearls meant to resemble the flowers you so dearly love. You have to struggle to keep your scrambled, panicked thoughts from showing on your face, but still, real fear seeps into your voice when you say, "Yes."

You have to pause to take a breath, to steady yourself. "I'm – They call me the God of Flowers. And I want to make a contract with you. Please."

"Oh?" The intense magnetism he exudes grows in strength, becoming a near tangible impression of vibrant and unrelenting power. His white cloak ripples and lifts in the breeze to show the hard muscles of his stomach. Very studiously, you keep your eyes trained on his face. "And what would you ask of me?"

Your cheeks warm. This is a conversation you've played over in your head before coming to seek out Rex Lapis, but that doesn't make it any less daunting. Especially since your reasons for seeking him out aren't particularly profound. In fact, it's almost something that a child might ask. You have no desire for money, or gold, or precious gems. You have enough of those in your temple, with its maze of lavishly furnished hallways. His liquid topaz eyes are penetrating – trying futilely, you assume, to lift the truth straight from your mind. But now you can't look at him. You keep your gaze trained on the gold silk tablecloth, and it takes all your self-control to keep your hands motionless in your lap, not to smooth it down, to tug at the corners so that it lies flat.

Finally, when the silence becomes unbearable, you sigh, and your exhale of air brings with it the heavy scent of roses, mingling with a strange briny scent: waves crashing on rocky shores, dolphins diving. "Pinky promise you won't laugh?"

Your cheeks feel hotter than ever as you press your lips together, now all too aware of how naïve and child-like you must seem to him. Rex Lapis watches you closely, and you think that he might almost be on the verge of smiling. Almost. The ghost of a smile on his lips heightens your awareness of him to a physically painful degree. His earthy amusement makes him less of a god and more human. Flesh and blood. Real.

Your embarrassment eases briefly, but still, you hasten to explain, almost tripping over your words in the process. "Oh – It's what the children in my village do when they make promises, it just slipped out –"

"Ah. Another contract." Rex Lapis nods, sounding almost intrigued. When you dare to peek at him through your lashes, he's watching you with a peculiar expression that sets your stomach fluttering. "How is it done?"

"It's simple. You just link your pinky fingers together, and make a promise. And that's that."

"And that's that." Rex Lapis echoes. "Very well. Give me your hand."

Still uncomprehending, you do as he asks. You watch, entranced, as he twines his pinky with yours. Your pulse leaps when his grip tightens. His touch is electric, sending a shock up your arm that raises the hairs on your nape. "On this pinky promise, I give you my word. I will not laugh."

You soften, a small smile tugging at your lips, though your next words are anything but happy. "I'm lonely."

You can't remember who you were before the world made a ruin out of you. So many people you've loved have been wrenched from your grasp, your fingers still scouring claw marks into their skin as you'd clung to them with all your might. You have watched as the life has left their eyes. You have mourned them and you have envied them and you have missed them at every moment.

"I'm lonely." You say again, the words colored purple with your anguish. You open the palm of your hand, watching as an iris blossoms to life upon your palm. It seems to you ironic that while plants flourish to life around you, the same can't be said for the humans in your care, who are fragile and loveable, and rife with the stink of mortality. "I thought – It would be nice to have a friend. That's why I sought you out."

I'm weak. I'm scared of being alone.

Silence falls like a foot of fresh snow. Then something shifts in the air. As he stares at you, it's as if a shield slides away from his eyes, revealing a scorching force of will that sucks the air from your lungs.

And then Rex Lapis nods. "I accept."

"Oh." You say, all your breath leaving you. You smile, big and bright as relief spreads through you. As if conjured by your smile, the temperature rises, warmth raining over the space, as if sunbeams are falling from the force of your smile alone, like warm honey slowly pouring. "Oh – Yes. Um, how does a contract with you work? Do I need to sign anything?"

Again, there's that almost ghost of a smile on his lips, but the intensity of his gaze is searing. It feels as if his entire focus is on you. "Another pinky promise would suffice."

"Oh –" Why is that the only word in your vocabulary at this very moment? "Alright."

"In exchange for my friendship, I ask that you loan me your power whenever I have need of it."

"I accept the terms of your contract." Your throat is tight when you speak again, but you manage to get the words out. "Stay with me. Until the end – whenever that may be."

"I give you my word."

And again, you link your pinky with his, and as you do, power burns in the air, binding the two of you to what you've agreed.

It seems to you a funny thing, that right at the end of your life, you should remember your first meeting with Rex Lapis like this.

With much effort, you finally manage to open your eyes. It's excruciating. Your eyelids feel as though they're made of lead. At first, you can only perceive one thing: light. And with this slight stirring of consciousness, your body erupts into joint-wrenching pain. Nothing exists outside of your body, outside of all this pain that you know will consume you.

"It isn't his fault." You say on a choked whisper, feeling tears well in your eyes. You aren't sure if it's a plea or a prayer – the latter of which is ironic. An Archon praying? You'll do it a thousand times over, as long as life still burns in your body, if it only means that Rex Lapis will escape punishment for breaking his end of the deal. "Don't –"

Stay with me, until the very end, you'd told him.

Rex Lapis isn't here, but still you cling to him, holding him close in your final moments; the intensity of his burning gold eyes, the ghost of a smile on his lips, how his presence had made you feel safe for the first time in a century, the way he'd looked at you, as if he'd understood you.

You smile. And it is a fragile, broken thing. "It was a good life. Thank you."

And it's with a last exhale that your body melts into the dirt beneath it, covering the land in summer roses, the afternoon bringing their fragrance to full bloom.

It's the first and the last time that Rex Lapis ever breaks a contract.

[letitrainathousandflames]

Fix-It AU - Clone Strike

"There is a siege going on in Umbara, and the separatists are attacking the Alderaanian outposts, so tell your troopers to stop playing dead, gear up and get ready for combat!" Palpatine demands in a holo-call with the commanders

"I'm afraid that won't be possible." replies commander Wolffe with no care for decorum "Us clones recently found out that being paid in 'exclusive GAR currency' instead of actual credits, having no assigned vacation time and not being allowed to quit is highly illegal and we're suing the republic."

"Wh-" Palpatine gasps, squinting in disbelief "What in the moons are you talking-"

"And I know," commander Bly interjects "it is a bummer that legally we aren't people so we can't defend ourselves in court, but this public defense attorney said they'll represent us in court for free because this is a flagrant human rights violation."

Palpatine's usually calm, pale features are reddened and clearly straining not to become twisted in fury.

"But you are not-"

"Yes, I know, we are 'clones, not technically human, blah blah blah'," Captain Rex shakes his head, rolling his eyes "but our attorney will be basing their case on animal rights - see, even if a pet 'belongs' to you, as we 'belong' to the GAR, the Jedi and the Kaminoans, if it is proven that you are causing harm to your pet, they get taken from you and you get sued. It's more or less how we're approaching this."

"How-"

"And I know you might think that we would be offended for being defended in court as animals," Commander Cody quips with a dramatic grimace "but look, after living your whole life as a clone trooper you kinda stop caring about the dehumanizing treatment, so..."

At this point, Palpatine slams his hands on his desk, abruptly rising up from his chair.

"Enough! This is treason! There is a war raging on, and our beloved republic will fall if you don't get in line and cease this treacherous talk! Now get in line and do your jobs!"

"Or what?" Commander Fox, the only clone physically present in the office asks, removing his helmet and showing his perfectly calm features contrasting starkly with Palpatine's enraged expression "What is the threat, Your Excellency? A death penalty? We face death every day, we witness it taking our brothers in battle, and we prepare ourselves for it every time our gunship's ramps are lowered and we step out into the gunfire. We are raised from infancy not to fear it, and we are hardened from combat to laugh at it."

And there is a gleam in Fox's brown eyes, in every speck of gold in his irises as he leans closer, placing his gloved hand on the Chancellor's polished desk of expensive Nabooan wood. Fox's scratched and dented hand guard stands out against the elegant furniture.

"You can't threaten us with imprisonment either." he continues "Not only we are trained to and used to living in small quarters with limited to none personal items of our own, I am certain that a sudden influx of over three million inmates would effectively break the republic's correctional system. Besides... you wouldn't want men as skilled as we are, with as much intel on the GAR as we have, kept with the Republic's worse criminals, right? So that, too, is off the list."

Palpatine doesn't interrupt Fox's musings. He seems too stunned at the clone he expected the most loyalty from and his unexpected act of betrayal. Fox straightens himself up and strokes his chin in thought.

"Now, separating us from our families, that would be a low blow, and most likely an effective one. Taking our spouses and children from us or even - stars - threatening them, that would be a brutal way to coerce us to do your bidding. But then again, by not allowing us to have personal lives of our own, the republic prevented us from creating any ties, so all clones are unmarried and childless. All a clone has is his brothers. So that won't work either."

Palpatine sinks back into his chair with a defeated sigh, his gaze lost. His right hand falls on his thigh, slowly moving under his desk. Fox's eyes narrow on him.

"With all due respect, sir, if you are planning on triggering the alarm and accusing me of attempting to murder you, I advise you not to." he glances at the helmet tucked under his arm "I have been recording this entire meeting, and the video is being relayed to all of my men who are scattered through the building and outside as well. I have given them instructions to make sure the recording reaches the public in the case of my unexpected death or imprisonment."

Palpatine freezes, eyes widening in a mix of shock and disgust at the clone, as if Fox is a misbehaved dog that he wants to beat.

"How dare you..." Palpatine grits out "How... dare you! The republic gave you life!" and he looks at the blue specters of the clone commanders' holograms watching him "We gave life to all of you!"

Cody looks at Palpatine. The Marshall Commander, always so polite and respectful grins wide, nodding.

"Yes. And now we are going to make something out of it, Your Excellency. With or without your permission. Fox will bring you a datapad with a list of our demands this afternoon."

"The separatists are still attacking as we speak!" Palpatine yells, spit flying off his mouth "There is no time for this! Even voting for every single demand of yours in the Senate could take months!"

"Well, then, sir," Commander Cody says with a shrug "I do hope you can try and speed up the process. You see - if the Seppies get to coruscant, my brothers and I can defend ourselves with ease and maintain our strike. I do not think the same can be said of the civilian population..."

"You are bluffing." Palpatine spits

"Maybe." Commander Wolffe smirks "Are you going to try and see it for yourself, sir?"

"You will be blamed for this!"

"We already are." Captain Rex interjects tiredly "We are already being blamed for everything that goes wrong in this war. "

Commander Thorn speaks up for the first time, his blue, slightly glitching image showing the commander that had long stopped standing in attention and is now giving Palpatine the same cold glare that all of his brothers share at the moment.

"It's not a long list, Your Excellency" his tone at the title is full of contempt "It is actually a perfect copy of the 8th Ammendment of the Galactic Constitution, on the rights for sentient beings - a text all senators, especially a Chancellor such as yourself, are very familiar with."

Palpatine's eyes dart back and forth as he follows the clone's words in bewilderment.

"You are soldiers." he hisses, attempting to display more self-restrain than he seems to be able to at this point "How much do you even think you know of our civil laws?"

Commander Gree smirks, shaking his head.

"Don't you think we know, sir, that we will be put on the stand to speak on behalf of our cause? Or do you think we will take the risk of having our attorney dazzle everyone with legal jargon, only for us to ruin it by sounding like a bunch of uneducated meat droids? Oh, no. We've been doing some studying."

Captain Rex tucks his hands behind his back, fixing his posture.

"Well, Your Excellency, I believe this should be all. We don't wish to take more of your time, as I assume that you are have important matters to attend to. Commander Fox will notify us of your response."

There is almost an entire minute of silence where Palpatine merely stare at the clones in disbelief. The clones exchange a few amused looks.

"Well then... Rex out." the Captain's image glitches and disappears

"Bly out."

"Wolffe out."

They leave, one by one, until the only clone still present is Fox. Palpatine grits his teeth at him, pounding a fist on the desk in front of him.

"This is treason." he is no longer screaming or hissing; instead, his voice is low and almost shaking with anger "You are all traitors. And you... CC-1010, you are a shame to the Grand Army of the Republic."

Fox stares at Palpatine, his expression inscrutable. In a deliberate, calm gesture, he takes his helmet in both hands and places it over his head. His voice comes filtered through his vocoder, devoid of any emotion.

"When we meet in court, Your Excellency, make sure to address me as 'Commander Fox'. Calling us by numbers while being accused of dehumanizing treatment will not be a good look on you or the institution." he turns his back on Palpatine, walking to the door that hisses open "I advise you to prepare for the next session in fifteen minutes and... oh, since I am no longer doing my rounds in the building, you should probably try to stay safe, sir. Good day to you."