#its not a victory. they didn’t win. they survived but it’s not a victory.
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if anyone thinks of anything to add to this I'd love to extend my list
grian - sun:
his name means sun
his victory took place when his home was a desert, which is ruled by the harsh sun
the sun can warm those it loves, but the closer you are and the longer you spend with the sun, the more you are burnt; grian’s curse is that he continually causes the final death of his teammates
the sun is the center, the ruler, and the overlooker of the milky way; grian is the orchestrator of the games, which cannot exist without him; he is the first winner and theorized to be a watcher
scott - stars:
he was crowned in a halo of stars when he won
stars are a symbol of protection, and in the season he won, he refused to turn on his teammates like others had when infected with the boogeyman curse
stars are also a beacon of guidance, and he has guided his allies to victory in almost every other season
unlike the other winners, stars aren’t just one celestial body of the milky way, but rather they are present throughout the entirety; scott is there in the finalists in almost every season
he was starborne in the origins smp
pearl - moon
her name has moon in it
the moon is often associated with its two sides, the dark and the light, as well as emotions; this is really fitting for her winning the game centered around pairs of soulmates, especially when she didn’t feel she could trust her own
she was surrounded by an army of wolves when she won, and wolves howl at their beloved moon
martyn - mars
mars is the red planet, the color of blood and of your final life; it’s also symbolized by war and aggression, and it’s the coldest of the winners; martyn was exceeding loyal in every season but the one he claimed victory in, in which he deceived the finalists and betrayed his ally; the season he won was also more violent than every other and rewarded death
scar - earth
he won covered in flowers
the earth is the only planet that can sustain life, and scar is the only member of the life series to ever survive
the earth is orbited by the moon; pearl helped scar win, and she saw his loneliness in herself
he’s great at terraforming builds
brothers with bdubs, who built the earth in the season he won
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No Nut November - Seventeen
A/N: Round 2 and its Seventeen’s turn!
1st Out
Jeonghan – Loses on the 1st. Doesn’t tell the others, but next time you are hanging out with the others and find out they think he’s still in, you rat him out. Getting mad at you, he tells you he’ll be with holding sex. Raising your eyebrows you point out that he’s already proved he won’t be able to.
Joshua – Also loses on the 1st. He hasn’t told you about the challenge, so you don’t realise there is anything wrong. Until a week later when you realise you haven’t been invited to any group outings, crash a pub meet up and expose him.
Mingyu – Doesn't do much better. Because he keeps thinking he can’t have sex, his brain hyper-focusses on sex and then finds everything you do sexual and just gives up and has sex with you.
Hoshi – Ends up losing the night they find out about Shua. You both have a bit too much at the pub (which admittedly doesn’t take long for Hoshi) and kind of forget there’s a bet going on until you wake up the next morning, hungover and naked.
DK – Also ends up getting a bit drunk with you on the night out. You do remember before it’s too late, but you’re both already naked and DK is still happy to continue so you figure you might as well get some.
Seungkwan – Thinks that now he’s lasted this long, he can tell the others he survives longer than he did. However, he is not great at staying quiet during and the members out him very quickly.
Dino – The hyungs have been teasing him since the beginning that there was no way he’d lose. Now that Seungkwan was out they were even worse. They were constantly babying him, and he eventually gets sick of it, marches home and tells you he needs sex. You don’t even question the bet and happily follow him to the bedroom.
Scoups – Makes it just past the midway point. By now you are getting a bit frustrated. He gets woken up by your moans one night and realises you are having a wet dream. Which would be fine, until he heard you mumble the name of your favourite actor instead of his. He will literally stay awake watching for a moment, contemplating his choices before waking you up to confront you. You get defensive, telling him its hardly surprising when you aren’t getting any from him. He is quick to make you moan his name instead.
Woozi – The members hadn’t actually met you yet, so now that Dino was out and they needed someone to tease, it fell on Woozi. Most of the teasing revolved around him lasting so long because he was perpetualy single and you probably didn’t even exist. So he has sex with you to prove a point... and they still don’t believe him. He basically ends up introducing you just so that you can confirm he has lost. That was definitely the weirdest way you had ever met an S/Os friends.
Jun – Gets a bit too confident. Every time you both get a bit horny, he pushes things further and further. It’s always ‘well if I didn’t cum before, then I can do this bit extra’. Eventually his stamina and luck run out.
Wonwoo – Has not touched you once in three weeks. You were friends with the other boy's partners and knew that they had at least been intimate, even if they weren’t having sex. But with Wonwoo, nothing. To say you were frustrated was an understatement. Sure you wanted him to win, but you also just wanted him. When you finally caught his attention, wearing one of your skimpiest outfits, you realised that was the only way he could have made it this far.
Vernon – Both of you were now very confident. And you had big plans for celebrating the victory. You were in your room trying on the new lingerie you had brought to treat him to come December but Vernon had walked in at just the wrong moment. At least you knew the lingerie looked good...
The8 – Stubborn and competitive. Any time you get a bit needy he will just remind you where your vibrator is. He is determined to win. Will literally suggest breaking up for a month if you get too clingy about it. You're in for a wild December though.
NAVIGATION | SEVENTEEN MASTERLIST
#Seventeen#seventeen scenarios#seventeen imagines#seventeen reactions#svt#svt scenarios#svt imagines#svt reactions#s.coups#s.coups imagines#s.coups scenarios#s.coups drabble#wonwoo#wonwoo imagines#wonwoo scenarios#wonwoo drabble#mingyu#mingyu imagine#mingyu scenarios#mingyu drabbles#vernon#vernon scenarios#vernon imagines#vernon drabble#hoshi#Hoshi scenarios#hoshi imagines#hoshi drabble#jun#jun imagines
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wait for it
A/N: Hey guys!!! I watched Hamilton again (for like the millionth time) and this idea wormed its way into my brain. Lyrics are from Wait For It by Leslie Odom Jr. from Hamilton. Send requests please!!!!! Enjoy!!!
Hamilton doesn’t hesitate
Anakin cracked his knuckles and stretched his limbs out, fiddling with the hilt in his hands. He gripped his lightsaber like it was a lifeline, pushing down on the button and leaping out into the fight. Shots flew at him but he didn’t care, deflecting as many as he could and more away from him and his troops. He could feel his friends and family around him, and he continued to push forward.
He exhibits no restraint
Determination was thick in the air around him, it was part of him. Anakin Skywalker wasn’t just impulsive and reckless, he was determined. The fight was part of him, it felt natural. Perhaps it was part of his distant primal ways, or perhaps it was the raw Force within him. He would do anything to win the fight, and he usually did.
He takes and he takes and he takes
Anakin continued forward, with more skill and grace than a jaguar, or swan, or any creature. He was a force of determination and fight, and he kept going. He took control of the battlefield, he lost men. He grieved and mourned for their losses, and still he fought.
And he keeps winning anyway
Even when his men died, Anakin was powerful. He didn’t break, he strided forwards. He was striving for something, what, no one was really sure. Perhaps it was peace? Maybe victory? Or perhaps he fought for the adrenaline in his body, for the rush it gave him. He fought and he won, even with the losses.
He changes the game
Anakin was smart and tactical on a different level to otherwise. There was passion in his strategies, no matter how it was shown. He wasn’t afraid to lose men, but he wasn’t going to let it happen. He strayed from typical tactics and into his own. He made his own.
He plays and he raises the stakes
He played his own game, he fought against the enemy his own way. The longer the fight continued, the higher the stakes. Around him, men were dropping, and yet he pushed on. He would only stop if he went too far, not before that. He was used to watching their deaths, but that didn’t mean it bothered him any less.
And if there’s a reason
Anakin jumped in front of a trooper - one he didn’t know - and deflected the oncoming fire, protecting the man with his life. He checked the pulse of another trooper, their deaths weighing over him like a storm cloud. He mourned them as he continued on, he pushed forwards to the thing that had killed him. The event they’d died for.
He seems to thrive when so few survive, then Goddamnit
The brunette leaped into enemy lines, slicing effortlessly through the droids, knocking them down. Around him, the dying screams of the battle continued. Anakin felt his friends and family behind him, knowing they were safe he continued to push. He pushed for the goal, effortlessly making it up a non-existent uphill climb
I’m willing to wait for it
Behind him, Ahsoka pushed forward. She cut down droid after droid. She was filled with the same burning passion that filled her brother, but she wasn’t nearly as forceful as he was. She made her own way, without the same power he naturally held. The fight was in her blood, just like the predator was, and yet, she displayed more patience than her brother ever would.
I’m willing to wait for it
Ahsoka pushed for the same goal, she dropped to mourn just like he did. And yet, Ahsoka held the things that weakened Anakin. She was patient, she was thoughtful on a deeper level. She was everything he was and better, and it was only because he held more natural power than her that no one knew. But they would, one day. One day.
A/N: Hope you enjoyed, send requests please!!!!!!!!!!
#clone troopers#tcw#clones#anakin skywalker#the clone wars#captain rex#ahsoka#clone wars#star wars#501st legion#ahsoka tano#ka’ra writes ❤️
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On Mercy (ao3: x)
The Council has been at war with the Emperor (more colloquially known as the King of Nightmares) for a long, long time. After defeat after defeat, they find themselves with no option but to request help from his fabled twin.
However, Dream will not help them for free; he locks eyes with Cross, and decides he wants him in exchange for the war victory. It is an easy choice to make.
But Cross is terribly apprehensive, because he his loyalty is not to the Council, but to Nightmare as a spy, and Dream is Nightmare's mortal enemy. Moreover he suspects Dream chose him knowing this, wanting information about his twin; and the issue is, Nightmare is absolutely unforgiving of traitors.
But he cannot offend Dream, for he too is an Immortal and God. He cannot forget that both Dream and Nightmare is dangerous, that any wrong move will end in his demise or worse.
(He forgets, however, that he himself is mortal.)
[OR: A Empire/Kingdoms UTMV AU, where Cross is caught between the crossfire of Immortal/Gods! Dreamtale Twins and some involvement with God!Errorink too.]
Inspired by love, in fire and blood by cicer
Chapter 1: a deal is struck
The tides would shift soon, they told themselves. Each day’s fresh defeats were a necessary evil, soon the tides would shift and they would have their victories. This war would be theirs to win.
That was the belief of the dreamers among them. Those who held onto their hopes even as they buried their comrades day after day.
Then there were the defeated, the broken. Those who had given up their hopes for a better life and fought to survive. Sometimes they just gave up and let the ocean take them, or the earth. It would be a kinder fate than joining his army of the dead.
Even with all the Kingdoms of the World allied together, his Empire overshadowed them all. Even in their Council, even with Kings and Queens and Dukes and Countesses they all seemed to have some grasp on the truth. Some awareness of their position, of defeat after defeat.
Cross watched them debate, then argue, then lament. They were losing, they all knew it. He knew it too. Even as a lowly soldier (it was what he was best at) he knew it, saw it in the numbers they were losing and the grim lines in their faces. He didn’t say anything, however, and lowered his head as they discussed troops and strategy.
As if he’d heard nary a word of the King of Nightmares.
There were rumours about him. He went by other names, too. The Cruel Prince, once. The Boy of the Night. There were rumours that he was a God, some that he was an immortal. (The Moon Immortal, they called him.) Some that he was just a regular mortal drunk on power. But what mortal lived for centuries?
The Council, at least in part, suspected his immortality. Perhaps even Godhood. But they did not want to, because their hopes of success were already dismal.
But there were stories that brought them impossible hopes. Stories about his twin, the Light to his Darkness. Stories, not rumours, for the twin was so little known about him and far less about his twin. At one point the numbers had climbed too high and someone bravely made the suggestion. Could we reach out to his twin for help?
First, it had been a casual remark. But slowly it made its way into the official discussion, its feasibility and possibility debated alongside strategy and supply.
Not happily debated, of course, for the implication was that they had no other choice. But Cross, again, remained silent as they worked out the finer details. First, they worked out how they’d contact him in the first place; a letter, perhaps, but it would need to be published everywhere to get his attention. That meant that it couldn’t contain anything sensitive, but they could work around that.
A few sessions later (and a couple lost battles) the letter was drafted. Soon after, published world wide.
Hours later, they got their response. Though they would not discover it till the morning after. His reply had been burned into the walls of their Council Chambers.
To the Council:I hear you. I agree that my brother has been excessive in his terror; I also agree that you cannot win this war without me. It is not a matter of your weakness, but rather his strength. It’s time my brother is stopped.
However, I will not do it for free. On the Summer Solstice I shall attend your Council to discuss our terms. I sincerely hope we’ll find an agreeable compromise then.- The Sun Immortal.
At this the Council was entirely silent. There was only the sound of breathing, then gasping, and slowly they erupted. Insolence and arrogance bounced across the room: “What hubris!” “Is it hubris if he’s an Immortal?” And, of course, the confirmation of immortality. Though that was somehow the least shocking tidbit.
The writing was oddly neat for having been burned in, Cross noted.
Then how long till the Summer Solstice? and what can we offer him?; of course they hadn’t been so optimistic to assume he would help them free of charge, but faced with the confirmation they suddenly found it difficult to discern what an Immortal would want in exchange. Gold and jewellery seemed like rewards for the living, for the mortal; would such material rewards be accepted?
What if he wanted land, instead? A crown, a Kingdom? What, then?
They spent more time debating their terms than drafting the letter. But they had to come to a conclusion soon, as Asgore reminded them: the Summer Solstice was a mere three days away.
Finally they voted, and it was decided. They would ask him what he wanted in return first, and work from there. Surely if he was taking the time to discuss with them, he did want the deal to go through, and if he wanted it to succeed, he would not ask for something impossible. Surely?
However, they still prepared for all the options thought up in their hours of discussion. Rubies, sapphires and emeralds polished and stored away in trunks with gold and silver coins beneath them; carefully stored crowns with freshly gilded gold and polished jewels; cloaks and clothing made out of silk or laced with furs, etc.
Even obscure recipes were brought out, like boiled gold soup and silver ingot bites. The food once regarded as the highest cuisine, only for the wealthiest. Not anymore, of course, but nonetheless.
Finally, the preparations made not in official Council discussion but covert exchanges to prepare a variety of beauties. Some fair-skinned, some not. Some freckled, some not. Some muscled, some not. Some more compliant, some more recalcitrant, some more aggressive.
We don’t know his tastes, and there was an undercurrent of humour in it, even. It would not be the first time someone demanded people for their war efforts.
It was a little extreme. Even Nightmare’s tastes were… ah, somewhat sane.
But Cross didn’t know the Sun Immortal, so perhaps his tastes were indeed less sane. Nonetheless the day of the Summer Solstice arrived like the sun rising for each day.
Now the Council would be arriving earlier today for fear of missing the Immortal’s visit, but though they’d arrived at their predetermined time (just after dawn) there was already someone there. A stranger in light silks, asleep in one of the chairs. Arms folded, head dipped, sleeping quietly.
His breathing was quiet, but it was still there, and in the silence of their held breaths they heard it clearer than their own. No sooner had the first of them stepped over the threshold, however, did the stranger’s eyes flutter open.
“Ah, good morning.” His voice was clear and light; like a drink of water in the desert. “I assume you’re the Council?”
There was a silence, before CORE Frisk responded, “Yes. I assume you’re the Sun Immortal?”
At that, a sweet chuckle. Still so light, sweeter than honeycomb. “Officially, yes; but just call me Dream.”
At that, whispers again: but they were quickly silenced by a look from Undyne. The Council had tentatively started filling in, all the while Dream was looking at them rather curiously, a hint of amusement in his gaze yet any mocking absent from it. Just like how an adult would look at a child. Like an immortal gazing upon mortals?
Cross was familiar with that sort of look.
Dream got to his feet and tilted his head. “I’m assuming I wasn’t so fortunate to choose my seat on a guess?”
“Unfortunately not, but we’ll show you to your seat?” CORE Frisk had taken a tentative step forward when he raised his hand abruptly— lazily?
“No need.” He reached over and grabbed the shoulder of the nearest Guard. “You.” He smiled. “Show me to my seat.”
The poor Monster was so very stiff as he led the Sun Immortal to his seat; a cushioned, grand thing, positioned in the centre of the rows of seats wrapping around it in a circle.
Cross made sure he wasn’t scrunching his eyebrows. Wouldn’t that be obvious that it was his, a seat in the middle?
And once again that sweet, clear laughter. “Oh, that’s— aha .” His fist crumpled over his teeth and mouth. “It’s just— ah, it’s almost as if I’m on trial.” He pulled his hand away from his mouth. “So, terms! What will you offer me?” And Cross swore his golden eyes, though still agleam, sharpened.
Dream had not taken his seat.
“What would an esteemed Immortal such as yourself prefer?” Asgore’s tone had found the cadences of officiality, of usual Palace affairs or even mundane Council business. Still, it seemed to interest the Immortal (Dream, was it?) as he looked to him intently.
“Such as I?” He laughed again, but this time it wasn’t as sweet. “Unfortunately, I don’t know what I want. It’s up to you to make a good offer, Your Majesty.”
In the Immortal’s mouth, the title was like dust. But to his credit Asgore maintained his composure and answered. “I suppose I should start off with the simplest offer. Coin? Jewels?” And it was evident that he did not think Dream would accept this offer.
And he was right, Dream only raised an eyebrow. “I can find jewels anywhere. Coin even more so. What else do you have?”
And then the silks, the cloth. He was as unimpressed with the offer as with the first, but strangely, Cross noticed from his place against the wall, not an inkling of disappointment lined his face. Still he let them offer more, and more. Offer after offer was raised with the speed of bullet fire, flying across the space as they desperately tried to appease the Sun Immortal.
Silently, Dream raised his palm. It seemed his patience had reached its limit.
“And what if I said I want people?”
Immediately the tension in the room thickened. Looks were exchanged, confused blue on repulsed green, yellow irritation on pink curiosity. CORE Frisk observed Dream quietly, but did not speak up. Dream smiled a tiny small smile.
“Well, Esteemed Immortal,” Duke Isre murmured hesitantly. "If it would please you, you may have your pick of the courtesans of my court.”
“And mine, of course!” Another hurried to protest. “The courtesans of Sere are known for their allure—”
“Oh?” Dream’s eyes seemed to sparkle. “Tell me more.”
Then there were a dozen, more than a dozen, speaking at once; all so eager to grasp at the Immortal’s interest.
But that wasn’t a sparkle. Cross swallowed the sigh into his throat. It was a gleam: the gleam of amusement, of sardonicism. Dream was not interested in them, not truly.
But their offers of concubines and courtesans only continued, each one more outlandish than the first. Blue eyes like sea sapphires. Gold hair like threaded gold. Skin as smooth as a babe’s. Teeth like mermaid pearls.
He had to force his eyes not to roll. Somewhere in him, however, there was the smallest shred of pity. Of irritation. If the Council failed to negotiate terms, they would lose their last hope. They were making too many mistakes; mistakes that were obvious in hindsight, but not so much in the doing; mistakes that were his job to report back to Nightmare to be exploited.
He did pity them, somewhat. He couldn’t just stand around and not see how much the common people were suffering. Starving children and cold corpses. Empty homes and unburied bodies.
But the Council was full of Kings and Queens, Dukes and Duchesses. People who’d never lived a day of hardship in their lives. People who, only a century ago or two, would’ve been delighting in tasteless gold delicacies while the people starved of famine.
The generals and soldiers, he was annoyed less by. They were competent, at least. But they still could not fight a God, certainly not Nightmare. It was their deaths he felt more guilt over.
“Dream,” CORE Frisk suddenly cut in. “You haven’t accepted any of our offers. May I ask what they lack?”
Dream locked eyes with CORE Frisk. To their credit. CORE Frisk stayed unflinching. There was a moment of quiet, of tension.
Cross realised Dream was no longer smiling.
“Since you’ve asked, CORE, I’m more than willing to oblige. You see,” He gestured vaguely around him. “I believe I never said anything about wanting someone to warm my bed.”
He turned his eye upon the one who had gotten the ball rolling.
“You know, I’m beginning to rethink this,” He said casually. “Maybe we aren’t suited for an alliance after all.”
There was a dead silence. And then there was nary a sound, save for CORE Frisk: “I’m sorry for any offence caused, Dream,” They began. “May I ask why?”
There was sharp laughter, in the silence. Not a single eye wasn’t upon the Immortal, and Cross unconsciously noted CORE Frisk too was on their feet. “You want me to answer to you?”
Like a violin string drawn taut, like the lightning striking the earth, backs straightened and sharp, fearful gazes were exchanged.
“A little pretentious, don’t you think?” His eye was on CORE Frisk. The string, taut and tauter. CORE Frisk opened their mouth, but no words came out.
Too taut and now the ripped alliance between them. Dream still looked unbothered under the fearful and indignant glares of the Council.
“May I ask what it is that you want?” CORE Frisk tried, ever the meditator. “Or even just what you don’t want.”
Dream looked into the rows and rows of people. Slowly, he turned his gaze down the row.
“I’m beginning to think,” He said softly. “That you don’t have what I want."
Well, that was it, then. There was relief of having finally bitten the bullet. Dream wasn’t going to help the Council after all. Nightmare would be happy to hear that, right? Momentarily his eyebrows almost scrunched together.
It would be difficult to get news to him, especially news of this nature. He’d have to wait till Dust came by to pass the news: it was always risking making contact on his own.
A pity, though. CORE Frisk’s face was blank, but they must’ve been disappointed. They weren’t as bad as the rest, really. But CORE Frisk was one person and the rest (whom he had little pity for) always outweighed them.
A pity, but a small amount of it only. CORE Frisk was blank, but probably carefully blank.
Dream locked eyes with him.
“You.”
Cross stilled. Those golden eyes, bright and alert, were on him now.
“Come here.” His outreached hand was curved, fingers beckoning. Cross did not move for the first few seconds. His eyes were on Cross’; no mocking, no amusement: there was nothing Cross could recognise.
Then, slowly, he took his first step. Then another. Then another. All the while the quiet had been broken but quiet exhales, gasps, confused rustling and carefully blank faces almost faltering.
Soon he was before Dream. A smile was pulling at his teeth. “Ah, may I ask for your name, sir?”
Cross felt the welt of saliva in his throat. “Cross, Esteemed Immortal.”
Dream smiled indulgently, and reached for his chin. His breath was in his throat; then, ever Cross’ saviour, CORE Frisk interrupted. “May I ask what the Esteemed Immortal wants of this Guard?”
“A Guard, huh?” There was interest in his eyes, but his hand still did not let go. “I see. I don’t suppose he’s a recent one?”
On instinct, most of the Council turned to Undyne, but she was looking to CORE Frisk with a sigh in her throat. “He was recruited by CORE, not me.”
“He was not raised to be a Guard,” CORE Frisk said delicately, as it was the custom. “But he was enough strong and clever to be one, and I happened upon him a few years ago. I beg your Esteemed Immortals forgiveness for any caused offence on his behalf.”
A light laugh, through the hall. Suddenly the weighted air lightened and Cross could breathe again when the hand withdrew from his chin. “No no, no offence at all. I’ve merely found my answer to your question, CORE Frisk.”
Just slightly, they tilted their head with the air of curiosity. “You have?”
There was ice in Cross’ stomach.
“I shall help you in your war. By next month you will regain your frontlines,” He said casually. “You may reveal my part in it, or you may not. This I have no concern about. But in exchange,” And his eyes turned on Cross.
Fuck.
“Will you come with me?” And his voice was so soft, so sweet. It was so different from Nightmare’s, yet exactly the same air of persuasion.
Cross’s words were in his stomach; weighing heavily.
“May I clarify your intentions, Esteemed Immortal?” CORE Frisk carefully asked.
In turn, Dream sighed. “Why does everyone here insist on calling me that? Have I not said to call me Dream?”
“May we clarify your intentions, Dream?” The voice was just as dry.
“Isn’t it obvious? If he’ll have me,” He turned to him slightly. Cross steeled himself. “I’ll have him.”
Undyne frowned. “He is not a pig for sale. Courtesans, maybe,” And the look she sent the Court was no less disdainful than Dream’s earlier words, “Because it’s their job. But Cross is one of the Guard, not a cow to be bartered away to be a bed-warmer.”
At cow, Cross almost flinched. God, that comedic timing was terrible and hilarious at the same time.
Dream turned his gaze onto Undyne, who did not flinch, but subtly drew back.
“I believe I have made myself clear,” He said quietly. “For him, I shall help you with your war. Without him, you die and your Kingdoms turn to dust. Simple as.”
There was a very clear swear in Cross’ head, confusion tenfold as he looked to CORE Frisk (he could do that, it would be in-character for what they knew him as) but there was conflict and no more in their gaze.
“CORE, perhaps— perhaps it would be best. If the Immortal wants him, in exchange for victory…” The voice trailed over. Dream’s gaze was still on CORE Frisk, waiting.
Abruptly Cross became aware of the eyes on him. The knowing gazes, the knowing eyes. Cross felt his face warm.
“No.” CORE Frisk finally spoke, firm. “No, he is not a pig for sale. Jewels and gold, I can offer you. Land and palaces, yes. Silks and furs, yes. But I will not barter you a person who has yet to say anything on the matter.”
“But I did not ask you.” Once again his words held the air of spelling out something incredibly obvious. “I asked you, Cross.”
And once again Cross found himself at a loss of what to do when his gaze was upon him once more. “Will you come with me? For the war?”
Well, I’m actually on the other side of it, Cross thought anxiously. But he kept his voice steady (or as steady as it should be for someone about to be sent away) and spoke to CORE Frisk. “CORE, if I agree, will— will it stop the war?”
CORE Frisk held his gaze for a second more. “Yes, but… but it’s still your choice.”
Ha. No it wasn’t. He could feel the weight of a thousand eyes, of expectation, weighing on his very bones. It seemed Dream knew it too.
Dream and CORE Frisk exchanged a strange look.
Cross opened his mouth, little choice left. “Then I accept. I will go with you, and you will help—” He almost said them . “ Us, win the war.”
He only hoped Nightmare would not see it as traitorous.
Dream smiled brightly. “That was easy, wasn’t it?”
He pulled a ring off his finger (and it was then Cross noticed the rings on his fingers, gold but the gold not of solid ingots but of the gold of sunlight) and gently took hold of Cross’ hand. He stiffened almost immediately, but Dream said nothing of it as he slid the ring on.
Onto his ring finger.
Well, a very public engagement.
“A gift,” Dream explained. “I will pay your family the rest of the dowry the next time I visit.”
The words stuck in Cross’ throat. “I don’t have a family.”
Because family did not seem like the right word for, ah, Nightmare’s right hand men.
Dream blinked slowly. “Oh?” But he did not soften. “Nonetheless, I’ll come by soon.”
Cross, almost imperceptibly, nodded. It was all Dream needed, it seemed. With a rustle of silk, a gleam of light, he was gone.
And Cross was alone in the middle, a thousand eyes upon him.
“Is there anything else?” Undyne said sharply. Angrily, almost.
Cross kept his gaze on the floor. He would not know how to act if he locked gazes with anyone else.
There was a silence. But Undyne did not speak again. Still there were a thousand gazes on him.
Cross feet turned and he left the Council chambers though it was against protocol. He knew no one would blame him for it; there would be no point, and far too risky to lay a hand on an Immortal’s betrothed.
Just before he passed the doors, however, he had faintly registered that the burned-in words on the walls were gone.
Cross prayed that Dust would come by soon, so they’d hear the news from Cross’ own mouth and not rumours spreading quicker than wildfire. Not Horror, the hole in his skull too recognizable, and certainly not Killer with his messy dripping eyes. Dust was always the one sent by Nightmare. So Cross left the windows unlocked, staying awake for hours at a time.
But, it seemed his prayers did not hold that much weight at all. If ever. Dust did not come the next day, nor the one after. He had the feeling something was going on behind the scenes, why else would an Immortal choose a random Guard? But he could not confirm his suspicions, for there was no one to talk to. No one came for him.
#dream sans#cross sans#utmv#utmv fic#utmv fanfiction#utmv fanfic#core frisk#cream ship#wanna know why Dream chose Cross? here's a hint:#look at Cross' inner monologue when Dream alluded to no longer wanting an alliance#it's not particularly negative is it?#(and how would they look to Dream#if there was one single person in the whole room whose emotions were reacting so differently?)#and Dream came there specifically looking for someone. Cross doesn't know that's him#but next chapter soon he will#also pls remember this is from Cross' perspective and Dream is exaggerating himself#the cream here is CONSENUAL i swear
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THG OC LORE PLS :D
Sure can share some Lore about the OCs I have actually shared on here, but I have a few more.
14th: Minerva Paxton (D2)
District 2’s 4th Victor and the first Female Victor. One of the first volunteers for the games. Because she volunteered to be in the games she immediately got a lot of attention from people. Similarly to Katniss she only volunteered to save a loved one, but she is credited to start the trend of Careers volunteering to the games. Seeing as a way to protect the weak and get the glory of the games and victory. Minerva have grown to hate her legacy over the years and is one of the few District 2 Victors that has declined training future Careers in District 2’s academy’s but she has been a mentor many times. She would have several long term relationships but she never got married and never had any children. I’m 50/50 on if she is still alive around the 75th game.
23rd: Rowan Holbrook (D7)
District 7’s second Victor and its first female Victor. Was immediately a popular Victor. With her being a likable in her interviews, being resourceful in her arena and being a capable fighter. (I imagine the first Victor from 7 won because of Survival skills instead of his fighting skills so she stood out compared to him). She is kind of a wreck after her game drinking a lot and being a bit impulsive. But she gets over it mostly over the years.
She got married a few years after her Victory and had three children with him, 2 girls and 1 boy. Unfortunately for the 49th game her youngest kid get reaped for the games. She tried her best to save him from the games but unfortunately he falls victim to the arena event for this year’s game after that she fell back to her old coping mechanism of drinking to cope with her son’s death and the game season. She dies a few years before the 75th games of long term illness.
31st: Kennedy Thomas (D6)
District 6 second victor and the Districts first female Victor. A bit of a troubled lost kid when she got reaped, but proves herself in the arena.
She is the only one of the District 6s victors that didn’t fall into alcohol or/and drug abuse to cope with the games and her Victory afterwards. Even then she is known for having a short temper and being a bit paranoid, but it has gotten better over the years. I have more thoughts around her backstory but I am currently writing a fic around the District 6 victors so her and her backstory gets more fleshed out there. She had one serious relationship but it didn’t work out and she never had any kids. She is still alive around the 75th game
41st: Topaz Lafayette (D1) and 43rd: Persephone Light (D1)
I imagine these two are one of the few Victors couples that are out there.
I imagine Topaz is a very charismatic and easy going guy. He didn’t actually have any interest in participating in the games, but then his father lost a lot of money through bad financial decisions and gambling. so Topaz saw an opportunity to take care of his family with winning the games. So worked very hard to be the male tribute in the games. Because he was far from being the strongest and biggest guy in his year.
I imagine he managed to get a lot of support because unlike other Career tributes he seemed more down to earth and not as arrogant. It also made it easier to throw the other Careers off their guard because they didn’t see him as much of a threat because they kind of saw him as just a silly little guy. He has been a mentor many times over the years, and usually drills it into his tributes there is no point being good with a sword if the audience can’t root for you. Usually very good at getting sponsors for his tributes.
Persephone won 2 years after Topaz. Being a typical career with her training her entire life for the games. Immediately catching a lot of attention with her beauty and tall figure. Many people comparing her to a goddess and she was proven to be a pretty scary foe when thrown into the arena.
Her games got into a bit of controversy because people accused the Game Makers of rigging the game to make her win because he was biased. Nothing got proven but the game maker for her games quit shortly afterwards. She always hated those rumors, because she didn’t spend years training for these games and fighting her way on top just for people say she only won because she was a pretty face. She usually works at the academies at District 1, but has been a mentor a few times. She doesn’t like it though.
After Persephone wins she gets closer to Topaz because they won so close to each other. After a while they do fall in love and feel like the finally met someone where they didn’t have to keep their persona up. They got married around the 50/51 game and had two children. They are still alive for the 75th game.
47th Pearl McKinely (D4)
Probably the OC of these ones I have developed the least. But I imagine she was mentored by Mags and was a popular Victor after her victory. Was a more apathetic brutal person before the games, but afterwards she became a more caring person. Was a mentor for several years and takes good care for her tributes. She is still around for the 75th game.
Need to flesh her out more have a few ideas floating around for her. So think I have something more concrete for her in the future.
Here is the THG Fic I am currently writing about District 6 and it’s victors. ( X )
And some of these characters have appearances in that one as well.
Maybe one day when I finish my time line for THG I’ll do a proper fic about these people.
#the hunger games#thg oc#victors#eva answers stuff#thg fic#thg fanfiction#these drawings are for how they look like around the 50th game for context I guess
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"I'm not that little girl you left there to die anymore."
2022 Month of Writing: Day 1
Pairing: Haymitch Abernathy x reader
Prompt:
Word Count: 982
Author's Note: please don't steal my work! you can choose to respond to the prompt as well, but don't steal my work
The scenery flew by, too fast to really process what was being seen. y/n however still chose to look out the train window. She didn’t really process anything she was seeing, too lost in her thoughts… in her nightmares… She couldn’t remember the last time she felt at peace. It certainly wasn’t now, not after what had happened and when she knew where she was headed.
The sound of a door opening barely registered. She faintly heard it, but she didn’t care enough to look up.
Suddenly, someone sat down heavily in front of her. Her eyes shifted toward them, finding that it was her district mentor Haymitch Abernathy who sat down. His hair was messy, almost oily, and he had a drink in his hand. y/n turned her gaze back out the window.
“So, I assume you know what’s coming next,” Haymitch said. “We’ve finished in the districts, so we wrap up the Victory Tour in the Capitol. Lots of parties, lots of people, lots of cameras. So that means-”
“I don’t want to hear about it, Haymitch,” y/n muttered.
“You don’t really have a choice, girlie.”
“As if I ever did.”
Haymitch rolled his eyes.
“Once we get to the Capitol, it’s best to go back to the happy girl personality you had during the interviews. The Capitol people ate it up, so they’ll most likely want to see that. You want to make a good impression. You’re grateful to have survived, grateful for everything the Capitol has done-”
“Grateful?” y/n snapped, finally turning her head to look at her mentor. Her eyes narrowed at him. “You think I’m grateful for what happened?”
“It’s all about appearances, kid. I’m trying to help you out here.”
She laughed, almost throwing her head back.
“Trying to help me? That’s a first. Where were you when I was fighting for my life?”
“Listen, girl, I-”
“No. I’m not that little girl you left there to die anymore, Haymitch. I nearly died! I killed kids, kids my age and younger, for some stupid entertainment show! Meanwhile, you got to sit back and watch, drinking your alcohol and rubbing elbows with the Capitol. You abandoned me, Haymitch!”
“Will you shut up?” The two glared at one another for a long moment. Haymitch set his drink on the window ledge, giving her his full attention. “I get what you’re going through, believe me I do. But you winning? Close to a miracle. You’re from District 12. We’re automatically bottom tier. The Capitol doesn’t pay attention to us, nor do they ever expect us to win. So trying to get you sponsors was one of the hardest things I’ve had to do in a long time.I saw the potential you had since the Reaping. I’m bad at showing it, I know I am, but I was impressed. But I’ve been disappointed before and have had too many kids die to keep my hopes up. Whether or not you believe it now, I am trying to help you, y/n.”
She stared at him. Deep down, she knew he was right. District 12 had only ever won the Hunger Games twice in its existence, three times now. The Capitol was far more likely to bet on the careers than on her.
She felt like she had only won based on luck.
She had only managed to grab a pack before running from the Bloodbath. She was forced to scavenge, with no weapon other than a small knife. She had made a small alliance with a boy from seven, but they were both wary of one another and separated relatively early on.
The arena had been beautiful overall, with forests, a valley with a river, a lake in the south, and a mountain in the north. Truthfully, it was a nightmare. “Natural” disasters, mutts, the other tributes… some many variables out to kill. y/n had had to fight several times for her life, against both mutts and tributes, barely making it but coming out victorious.
She was lucky her pack had medicine in it, and that she was learning how to become a doctor back home. She had patched her own wounds, roughly but enough that she wouldn’t bleed out and die. Upon her return from the games, the Capitol had gotten rid of her scars from her work.
Haymitch suddenly leaned forward and took her hand, effectively snapping her out of her nightmare. She glanced down and realized she was running her hand over where one of the worst injuries had been on her arm. She had almost lost the ability to use her arm. The Capitol was able to repair it, but the phantom pains were there.
“The Games aren’t over, y/n,” Haymitch said. His eyes were somber and filled with understanding. “They are never over. We play the games every year, every day. That’s just how our lives are now. I’m just trying to help make it easier for you.”
y/n took a deep breath and nodded. She offered him a small smile.
“Thank you,” she said. “I’m sorry I snapped at you.”
“That’s all right. I get it. Just remember I’m here for you. My door is always open, though I can’t promise I’ll always be sober.”
She chuckled. She couldn’t remember the last time she had actually laughed in a way that wasn’t deprecating. She then reached forward and grabbed his tumbler, smiling a little as she took a sip of his drink.
“Ah ah ah!” he said. “Get your own glass.”
“Your’s was closer.”
He shook his head, taking the glass back when she offered it to him. A silence fell over them then, more comfortable than before. His hand hadn’t moved from hers, keeping her from fidgeting with her old wounds. She squeezed his hand - a silent thank you.
They were in this together.
#month of writing#writing prompt#hunger games#thg#Haymitch abernathy#Haymitch x reader#the hunger games
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I know I'm about a decade late but I've been replaying the Mass Effect trilogy for the first time since I was a teenager and I'm going absolutely bonkers trying to figure out if the endings are actively and stupidly working against the core themes of all three games, or if they actually thematically work but in the bleakest way imaginable.
All three endings are the embodiment of what we've been fighting literally from the start. In ME1 Saren thinks the Reapers cannot be defeated and so strives for Synthesis, thinking it will save us but not realizing he's already been indoctrinated and has basically willingly turned himself into a husk by the end. In ME2 & 3 the Illusive Man thinks destroying the Reapers would be a waste and that we should instead control both their technology and them as a species, ignoring that this is not only a heinous thing to do but also incredibly arrogant, seeing as anyone poking at Reaper technology gets indoctrinated. Both Synthesis and Control are actively argued against by the very narrative. That in combination with Destroy being the only ending in which Shepard survives, it’s no wonder many fans seem to consider it the only "true" ending (and it’s also not very surprising the indoctrination theory got so popular).
But Destroy comes with its own issues. Aside from the ethical implications of only being able to win by committing genocide against your own allies (synthetics in general, geth and EDI in particular), like with the other two it seems to be actively argued against throughout the narrative.
You are the strongest at the end by striving for cooperation throughout the games, showing time and again that destruction isn't necessary. You save the krogan from extinction, stop the geth and the quarians from wiping each other out. From Javik we find out that the strength of this cycle compared to his is the diversity and cooperation between alien species; from the Leviathan DLC as well as the history of the geth and of EDI we find that synthetics are only violent by mirroring their creators, and can be peaceful just as much as organics. And yet here is an ending arguing for completely wiping out all synthetics.
Assuming the writers were not actually trying to work against their own themes, this makes all three endings incredibly bleak. With the constant emphasis on making hard choices throughout the trilogy, is the point that there is no way to achieve a truly "good" ending? That you'll have to compromize your morals or your allies or both to stop extinction? That Saren or the Illusive Man's solutions could have worked had they not been corrupted, similarly to how synthetic implants (a step toward synthesis) did not automatically corrupt Shepard (with Kai Leng as a foil of cybernetic implants instead leading to indoctrination), or reaper code upgrades didn’t automatically corrupt EDI or the geth?
But if so, why are all endings presented as... happy? Why is Synthesis lifted as the epitome of evolution and peace while never touching the sacrifice of agency in the name of survival? Why does Control lift the "power in control" and "wisdom of harnessing the strength of your enemy" while ignoring the ethical implications of basically indoctrinating and enslaving the reapers in turn? Why does neither of these endings lift the risk of them turning sour the way they did for Saren and the Illusive Man? Why does Destory lift victory and rebuilding while ignoring the literal genocide that took place to allow for it? None of these are presented as bittersweet endings in which morals had to be sacrificed in the name of survival and a better future, but they also work against the themes in such an obvious way that I refuse to believe the writers didn’t notice. There must be more to it.
#*shakes bioware like a broken toy* WHAT ARE YOU TRYING TO TELL ME#mass effect#I've been obsessively replaying these games for the last dew weeks and now my brain is going BRRR about them nonstop#so i'll probably be writing another few posts just to air out my thoughts#ME3 as a whole is so strange cuz like. it's an incredibly good game#the emotional beats hit HARD#character arcs started for team members in ME2 are brought back to satisfying and cathartic endings#and then they just. completely fail to tie the themes together cohesively in the endings#nella talks
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insanely long analysis of the ep promise of she-ra <3
(first a bit of S1e10- the beacon)
[Adora is talking to the woods as she-ra.] Just let me fix this, please! I-I can’t let anyone else get hurt. [she transforms back into adora and sits down] Fine. You win. You want me to be weak? Well. I am. And I’m afraid. Because, I-I’m no good at any of this.
God doesn’t that hurt immediately off the bat. “just let me fix this, please” is a perfect summary of adoras entire character. She is so, so desperate to be useful- she needs to help other people, she needs to fix everything and save everyone. She cant let herself be a person, shes a vessel (HRUAHHRAGHHH season 5) to help others, shes a tool and a means to an end. Shes the hero. But shes bad at that, because no matter how much she represses herself, she feels and wants things so strongly all the time. She hopes and begs for direction and destiny but shes terrified of not having control. She will desperately try again and again to be the perfect hero-sacrifice that will heal the world and keep her friends safe but she doesn’t want that, not really, what she wants is to go to parties and hang out with her friends and catra, but she feels she doesn’t deserve that. She cant let herself have anything she wants. But she still does. Shes afraid and shes weak and shes too young for this. Her wanting things so strongly is what ruins everyones plans, shadow weaver’s and light hope’s and horde prime’s. its what saves everyone. This doesn’t have anything to do w the scene I was talking about anymore oops. “I’m no good at any of this” just confirms that, shes bad at being your standard self sacrificing selfless hero in the same way catra was bad at being an unfeeling purely evil villain. She just cant stop being a person
Ok now onto Promise:
the ep starts immediately after that scene, with adora going inside the crystal castle looking for answers on how to heal glimmer, and catra following after her looking for tech that she can use (and also to spy on adora bc that might not have been her primary objective but shes not gonna pass up on that chance lol)
“You are not ready yet. You must let go.” “let go of what?” [camera pans to catra] will always be so. Ugh poetic cinema
How did anyone ever trust light hope lmao immediately from the first time she shows up shes all like “free yourself of all of your earthly attachments and join my hero training course”. Also, again, adora’s attachment to catra (and glimmer and bow) has always been the main thing saving her from falling head first into self sacrificial bullshit. She cant let go of her. She will never fully let go of her.
Catra: What's going on? Why are those things trying to kill us?
She-Ra: They're trying to kill you. This place sees you as an invader.
Catra: Well, can't you tell them to stop?
She-Ra: [incredulously, frustrated] No, I can't tell them to stop! Clearly nothing in here is listening to me!
Oh I just realized something. The crystal castle is a place that was made for adora and caters to her, and it sees catra as an invader. Much like how in the Horde, adora was favoritized and shadow weaver’s center of attention while catra was mistreated and discarded. Seen as an invasion, a corrupting force in Adora’s life. The one thing adora cant control in the crystal castle is how it reacts to catra, it activates security protocol no matter what she does, like how adora could never fully protect catra from shadow weaver and the others. Even throughout the episode and at the end, we see catra fighting tooth and nail to survive everything the castle throws at her while adora undermines her (“I had it.” “Sure you did.”), and by the end all her fighting pays off and she comes out victorious, like how she goes up in the horde until shes effectively its lord. The crystal castle (im just gonna call it CC) literally becomes the fright zone throught the simulation too I cant believe I didn’t get this before
Catra: Anyway, what are you doing here? [angrily, sarcastically] Where are your new best friends? I thought you guys did eVeRyThInG together.
The similarity between this and the flashback scene where we see a child catra say “go eat with your new best friend lonnie! I know you like her better than me. Youre supposed to me my friend” really shows how immature they still are I think. Not as a like, inherent character flaw or smth, they just weren’t raised in a place where emotional maturity is a thing you learn. They were never taught how to deal with their emotions in any way, other than “repress it really hard, hit someone and blow up a civilian”. Of course theyre emotionally stunted. This probably also contributes to both of them’s very black and white way of thinking. Also theyre still in the 17-18 range so like literally theyre teens. Just goes to show that them being separated for a while was necessary, bc they needed to break off their codependency to be able to grow as people and mature emotionally, that would never happen if they stayed together and just enabling each others toxic traits, instead of being able to have a healthy relationship like they do after the end.
Something I also never considered before is why the CC showed them the memories it did? Like. Was it light hope that chose those? I assume so since she not only has shown she can do that but also watched adora her entire life so she knows all her memories. Did she specifically pick out painful memories that she thought would tear them further apart? It seems obvious now but I just never thought ab this before. The first memory shown does go against that tho, its just baby adora and catra being cute. Maybe she wanted to show them how much their relationship had deteriorated?
↑ gay
↑ gay
↑ gay
Ooooouough this is when it starts to hurt pray for my emotional stability
Adora: ...Can I ask you something?
Catra: Can I stop you?
Adora: ...Why did you help me escape after Shadow Weaver captured us?
Catra: Not this again.
Adora: It's the one thing I can't figure out. You didn't have to do that. You could've gotten caught...why risk it? [Rock on the edge crumbles beneath her; yelps] Whoa, whoa, whoa--!
Catra: Did you really think I'd just let Shadow Weaver erase your memory like that?
Adora: I dunno. Probably.
[Adora grunts as Catra pulls her up]
Catra: Yeah, well, you never did have too much faith in me.
Adora: Can you blame me?
Catra: Not really.
This is so. Ugh. I love adora but especially in the first season shes so.. girl what are you doing!!!! How can she be so ignorant. Obviously I know how but. Augh
so much of catra’s hurt stems from this… when I say that adora was fully, totally brainwashed by the horde, I don’t mean just that she believed their propaganda about the war, or whatever bullshit shadow weaver ingrained in her about her purpose. She also believed what they all said about catra. To a lesser extend, obviously, and she loved catra with all of herself- but she did still believe catra was a bit lazy, kinda disrespectful, uncaring, etc. and I cant even totally blame her, because catra actively tried to make herself seem all those things. Catra didn’t want to let anyone know how hard she tried, how much she hurt, so she played up the “aloof, lazy student/soldier who doesn’t care about anything” role as much as she could. But still, god, the way adora treated her must have hurt so much. “you never did have too much faith in me” absolutely breaks my heart. Catra cared about adora so much. She cared about adora more than anything in her life. Obviously she would do anything to prove herself once she can, look at how even the person who loved her the most thought about her. Im gonna talk more ab this later there are better scenes for that. But also I CANNOT BELIEVE ADORA IN THIS!!! GIRL WHAT ARE YOU DOING!!!!! WDYM CAN U BLAME ME YES I CAN (ignore the part where I said I couldn’t) DON’T JUST SAY THAT SHE SAVED YOUR LIFE. OH MY GOD ok. Being a catra, an adora, and a catradora stan means sometimes u really want to slap s1 adora in the face. For multiple reasons.
and the fact catra agrees too…. Catra hates herself so much. She truly honestly believes shes a bad person and it breaks my heart. And unfortunately for everyone, catra has shown that she'll always play a role that shes assigned to the max. everyone believed that shes a villain, she believed that shes a villain, so by fucking god shes gonna be a villain.
putting the rest of this under a readmore bc its longggg
her tail touching adoras hand i am on the floor
Catra: It wasn't all bad growing up in the Fright Zone, was it? I mean, you still have some good memories, right? (dont trust the subtitles in the pics theyre wrong)
THIS scene destroys me. Catra’s so- she always knew the horde was evil, ok, she always knew their childhood was bad. But she endured it for adora. To catra, all the happy memories they made growing up were worth it- all for adora. It didn’t matter what they did. Only to see adora throw all these moments away the moment she realized the rest of it was bad? God, catra mustve felt like she was garbage to adora. Something that wasn’t even worth thinking about once she had the opportunity of something better. Shes very aloof here, as always, but she probably feels a bit desperate- was it worth it for you too? Did any of it matter to you? Where you just miserable the entire time?
Adora: Of course I do. But it doesn't change the fact that the Horde is evil. I had no choice. I couldn't go back.
This is adora’s biggest problem tho. She had no choice, she couldn’t go back. She never feels like she can choose anything based on what she actually wants. Shes always, always driven by this need to do good, the right thing. And this is where theyre most incompatible at first, because while catra only cares about adora and that’s her priority, adora has Morals and puts the greater good over her personal relationships, which to catra makes it seem like she doesn’t care about her. Her happy memories were absolutely worth it to adora, but theyre not more important than the good of the entire world. (I don’t think adora having a sense of morality and not wanting to side with a military empire is a bad thing, catra was the villain of the show for a reason and the reason is that obviously working for something that wants to take over the world is bad. Im just explaining how this is what drove them apart, how catras mind works, and to an extend why you can understand her side and emphatize with her even if she was in the wrong. That trait of adora’s does get bad when she starts acting like she needs to kill herself for that greater good tho.)
them taking a moment to play-fight in the middle of all of that makes me want to sobbbbb 😭😭😭
TINY LITTLE BABIESSSSSSSSSSS
Young Catra: What was that? Way to gang up on me!
Young Lonnie: You were fighting dirty. I was just leveling the field.
[Catra shakes and growls in anger as Adora walks up and places a hand on Catra's shoulder]
Young Adora: Hey, you were awesome! Did I hurt you?
Young Catra: No, I'm fine. You're just lucky I let you win.
Young Adora: Riiiiiiiight.
Young Catra: I'm serious! [scoffs] If I came in first, people might expect me to actually start doing stuff around here. Trust me, second place suits me just fine.
Young Adora: Yeah, okay.
EVERYTHING I SAID BEFORE. you can see catra was obviously extremely upset that she didn’t win, but admitting that would be admitting defeat. She shrinks herself to fit into this “no im fine, im chill, im not even trying in fact. I don’t care” attitude, because that hurts less than admitting that shes trying so, so hard but no one believes in her and she keeps losing to adora (mostly bc the other cadets and staff favoritize adora over her, and discriminate against her, making it harder for her to succeed in anything). And adora believes her. “second place suits me just fine” was the mantra catra kept telling herself through her entire life to try and feel less hurt about living in adoras shadow.
though it wasn’t working, and her resentment towards adora kept growing more and more.
oh this scene could be ab so many things. Catra literally slipping through her fingers. A parallel to earlier, when catra held onto adora and helped her up, while here theyre torn apart by a force stronger than them. How adora tried but couldn’t save catra. Aughh
:(
and here, we see how capable catra is. Shes both extremely strong (able to rip herself out of… whatever that is) and extremely smart, even under pressure (in seconds she figures out where she has damage this thing shes never seen before so it stops working)
only for adora to come in, “save the day” after she had already saved herself, and act all. “sure you did” about it. Again, making absolutely clear catra knows she doesn’t believe in her.
Adora: What is your problem? I was just trying to save you.
Catra: For the last time, I don't need you to save me. I've been doing just fine on my own. No thanks to you.
That says everything on its own. Adora doesn’t understand why catra is hurt/angry, she doesn’t even understand how what she said undermines catra. And catra is extremely bitter that adora keeps acting like That.
Also, something I haven’t touched on is that adora leaving the horde put catra in so much danger. She was the only thing providing catra with even the slightest bit of protection, which catra -hated- but absolutely depended on, since shadow weaver had made clear that catra was -only ever kept alive because of adora-. Adora defecting put catra in danger not only of the other cadets targeting her, but of death. Catra was left all alone to survive in those conditions, and she did, and now adora keeps acting like catra needs her to save her.
Adora: Catra, wait. ...I'm sorry for leaving. I couldn't go back to the Fright Zone, not after I saw what the Horde was really doing.
something that must have stung too is the idea that adora saw innocent people suffering, and that led her to realize that the horde was bad. But she had seen catra being abused by the horde their whole life, and yet still thought the horde was good. What does that say about how adora saw catra? Did she think catra deserve it, wasn’t innocent enough for that violence to be unwarranted? Was her suffering not enough for adora to realize how fucked up that was? (again, we’re able to know that it wasn’t that, adora was just as abused as catra, watching someone be physically abused is also extremely traumatized and kids will learn to justify the abuse theyre experiencing to themselves or others and might not realize its wrong u cant expect a kid to know how to act in a situation like that she was in as much survival mode as catra was and her trying to keep herself in shadow weaver’s good side was just her desperately trying to keep herself safe etc etc this is from catras perspective)
I never wanted to leave you. ...You could come with me! You-you-you could join the rebellion! I know you're not a bad person, Catra. You don't belong with the Horde.
AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA this hurts so much. Adora might have internalized some of what the horde said ab catra and catra might have felt that 10 times as strong than it actually was but adora never actually believed catra was a bad person. Shes probably the only one (before scorpia and entrapta) that Didn’t think catra was destined to be a disgrace, to be bad. And its so sad bc even with all their flaws she loves catra so so much and she wants catra to come with her so much. Adora now has access to a life where she has the opportunity to be happy and she so desperately wants to give catra that same life. She knows catra deserves better and she can see that now more clearly than ever. But its too late, catra is too hurt and too angry to follow her and even if at this point adoras words might have some effect on her, its about to get so much worse. :(
Fuck this next part is going to hurt. Ok
Shadow Weaver: [screams angrily] Get out!
[Young Adora cries out in alarm as dark magic encloses the exit]
Shadow Weaver: Catra... [young Adora turns to see young Catra's form enveloped in a paralyzing, zapping magic] ...you stay.
[Young Catra grunts as she is forced to stand]
Shadow Weaver: What do you think you're doing in here?
[Shadow Weaver makes young Catra turn, feet squeaking on the floor as she does so without picking up her feet; Shadow Weaver clicks her mask back in place]
Catra: [fearfully] We were just playing.
Shadow Weaver: [hatefully] Insolent child. I've come to expect such disgraceful behavior from you. But I will not allow you to drag Adora down as well.
Adora: [pleading] Shadow Weaver, it wasn't her fault, it was my idea, too!
Shadow Weaver: [hatefully, still talking to Catra] You have never been anything more than a nuisance to me! I've kept you around this long because Adora was fond of you, but if you ever do anything to jeopardize her future, I will dispose of you myself. [slowly, enunciating] Do you understand?
Adora: [runs between them, throwing her arms out to protect young Catra; pleading] Please stop!
[The dark magic dissipates back into Shadow Weaver's cloak as she groans and moves back toward the Garnet; Young Adora and young Catra share a look before young Adora runs over to Shadow Weaver]
Adora: She didn't mean to!
Shadow Weaver: [placidly, attempting to soothe] Adora, you must do a better job of keeping her under control. [Shadow Weaver finally lets young Catra out of the paralyzing magic and she grunts as she falls to the ground] Do not let something like this happen again. [she pats young Adora's head as young Catra looks on]
Transcripts and screenshots cannot properly convey the dread of this scene. In a flashback, catra and adora are caught by shadow weaver playing in a place they weren’t supposed to be in, and shadow weaver paralyzes catra with electric magic we know is extremely painful to be caught in, and threatens her life. Catra and adora look to be like, between 6-7 years old in this scene. Theres so much happening here. This lays the foundation to basically everything that happens in the show.
First off, shadow weaver singles out, physically hurts catra, and blames her for something that adora initiated.
then, she makes it clear that she sees catra and someone that is bad, and she doesn’t expect anything else from her. And, she says catra is a bad influence in adora’s life, tainting whats perfect, and that tells her that every time after this that adora “acts out”, will be catra’s fault.
she tells catra that, if she ever feels like catra is “ruining” adora, she will get killed. From now on, adora’s friendship is literally what is keeping catra alive. This will, understandably, fuck their relationship up a little bit and also make catra incredibly dependent on adora. She will do anything to keep being adora’s friend and she will have to make sure that shadow weaver doesn’t feel like she is making adora behave out of line or that she isn’t becoming better than adora, isn’t taking her number 1 spot away from her.
she goes on to tell adora, who has been watching all of this, that its her job to make sure catra is kept in line. She’s seen what happens when she doesn’t. this will make adora feel incredibly responsible for catras well being, and like she has to constantly save catra and beg for catra to act right, otherwise catra will get hurt and itll be her fault. On the other hand, adora is a child who just saw someone get tortured, and subconsciously shes gonna make sure to always stay in shadow weavers good side, not only bc if she doesn’t then catra gets punished but because she does not want that to happen to her too.
catra, who was frozen and electrocuted and berated, saw adora get gently talked to, “reassured”, and receive physical affection.
that results in catra growing up both extremely attached and extremely bitter of adora, for “having it easy” and always acting like shes her savior, while she has to constantly walk on eggshells (on a minefield, honestly) so she doesn’t get physically abused. She starts resenting adora as anything she does gets blamed on her, and shes forced to live as her shadow, her bad influence, the devil to adora’s angel.
And in adora having a major savior/messiah complex, she feels like shes responsible for saving everyone, and every time someone gets hurt its her fault. She will live the rest of her life trying fix and save everything, because if she can’t then what good is she?
understanding that this is where all of their motivations, flaws, traumas and personalities come from will help u understand the entire show better tbh. It all comes down to shadow weaver.
[Young Adora and Catra are walking down a hall in the Fright Zone, just after this incident; they walk past a pillar and become Present Adora and Catra again]
Catra: You always need to play the hero, don't you?
Adora: I was only trying to protect you.
Catra: You never protected me! Not in any way that would put you on Shadow Weaver's bad side.
[Scene transitions to Young Adora and Catra in the same place]
Young Catra: Admit it. You love being her favorite!
Young Adora: That's not true!
Young Catra: Oh, yeah? [glitches back to Present Catra (and Adora)] When you left, who do you think took the fall for you? Who was protecting me then?
Adora: You don't have to let Shadow Weaver treat you like that anymore. You can leave--[glitches back to Young Adora and Catra]--just like I did!
Young Catra: Oh, because I need to follow you everywhere you go?!
Young Adora: I didn't mean it that way.
[glitches back to Present Adora and Catra]
Catra: I don't. Want. To leave. What don't you understand about that? I'm not afraid of Shadow Weaver anymore, and I'm a better Force Captain than you would've ever been.
[glitches back to Young Adora and Catra]
Young Adora: You always said you didn't care about things like that...
Young Catra: [crying] Well, I was lying, obviously!
[glitches back to Present Adora and Catra; Catra begins to walk away]
Adora: Catra, just wait!
Catra: Why do you think I gave the sword back to you in the Fright Zone? I didn't want you to come back, Adora!
That scene lays out everything I said so perfectly I don’t even have anything to add.
This scene where catra is running through a simulation of all her most painful memories and desperately screams LET! ME! OUT OF HERE!! perfectly represents what spiraling like that feels like
[a younger Catra, maybe 5 or younger, is crying and hiding her face in a blanket on their bunk in the Fright Zone]
Young Adora: [peers from around a doorway] ...Catra?
[Young Catra continues to sob as Young Adora walks to her; Young Adora peels back the cover from Young Catra's face, and Young Catra hisses]
Young Adora: Catra, it's okay, it's just me. It doesn't matter what they do to us, you know? You look out for me, and I look out for you. Nothing really bad can happen as long as we have each other.
Young Catra and Present Catra: You promise?
Young Adora: I promise.
And then the promise. Everything catra went through, all the abuse and bullying, she put up with all of it because of this. She held onto their promise until the end. But the moment adora decided to leave the horde, she broke their promise.
as the memory-simulation ends, young catra gives a look to present catra. One that probably said, remember this. Remember how much you mean for each other. Don’t break your part of the promise. But this isn’t how catra takes it at all.
all this tells catra, all that this entire day has told catra, is how terrible adora is. Adora ruined her life. Adora lied to her, said they’d be together forever only to abandon her. Adora forced her to be in her shadow. Adora is the reason shadow weaver never treated her right. She looks at her younger self and thinks, I'll avenge you. Im never gonna let anyone hurt you ever again. Im going to show all of them how strong I can be, ill rise to the top and ill be unstoppable. Im never letting anybody put me down ever again.
(and then is season 5, seeing a younger version of herself is also what makes her realize how wrong she was, how this isn’t the path she wants to take. Its what motivates her to get better, be better. Thinking about herself as a child kickstarted both her descent into being a villain and her redemption arc/recovery.)
[Adora is holding onto dear life to some ropes or smth that are keeping her from falling off a cliff. Catra shows up]
Adora: [hopeful] Catra?
Catra: [holding the sword, rubs a finger along its side] Hey, Adora.
Adora: [pleading] Catra, help me, please...
Catra: [contemplatively unhurried] This thing wouldn't work for me if I tried, would it? It only works for you. Then again, you're special. That's what Shadow Weaver always said.
Adora: Catra...what are you doing?
Catra: Ah, you know? It all makes sense now. You've always been the one holding me back. You wanted me to think I needed you. You wanted me to feel weak. Every hero needs a sidekick, right?
Adora: [desperately] Catra, no, that's not how it was...
Catra: [laughs humorlessly] The sad thing is, I've spent all this time hoping you'd come back to the Horde, when really you leaving was the best thing that ever happened to me. I am so much stronger than anyone ever thought.
I wonder what I could've been if I'd gotten rid of you sooner...
[Catra cuts the last of the rope holding Adora up; Adora shrieks as she falls, catching a rock handhold on the way down]
Adora: I-I'm sorry! I never meant to make you feel like you were second best! Please don't do this!
[Catra looks at the sword, then tosses it into the chasm; it clangs on the way down, Adora gasps lightly]
Catra: Bye, Adora. I really am going to miss you.
And then she fucking lion kings adora. The fucking episode ever number 1 villain origin story of the century catra you will always be everything to me. Writing this took 6 hours im so tired. And then the episode ends with light hope once more telling adora she needs to let go AUGH so good. I need to go to sleep. if you read all of this i love u i hope u liked it <3 also u might like this post also
#writing this was exhausting omg#its 5:30am i begun writing this before midnight#sorry ab the quality of some of the pics i had to make sure this fit the 30 pics limit#also i am not a writer! i apologize for how messy this is!#theyre literally everything to me..#she ra#catra#adora#catradora
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5 Times Ghoul Left the Bar Alone, and One Time He Didn’t
for @cloned-eyes and Ghoul, my adopted son, and for Odessa, who deserves him XD (it’s like 30 pages, i’m so sorry lmfao)
Also figured I should link the other parts (also guess i should mention there’s some adult mentionings, so if you’re underage, i’m not your mom but don’t get caught lmao)
PART 1
PART 2
PART 3
PART 4
As luck would have it, Ghoul’s next deployment sent him back to Ryloth, right into the waiting arms of Cham Syndulla and Captain Howzer, who were only too happy to explain exactly what was expected of him for the mission at hand; it was nothing he hadn’t done before, nothing that he shouldn’t have had any trouble with. And he didn’t. He was fine. Performance above reproach despite his grumbling and scowling, winning him Syndulla’s unneeded and unwanted praise upon his return.
It used to make him sick, the way his superiors commended him to his face after another successful mission—it still did, but now he was forced to endure their adulation with her in the back of his mind, and the things she had told him. Would they sing songs about this victory, small as it was? Would they remember his name like she had? Did they already speak it among themselves in lilting whispers when he wasn’t around? When he took his leave, would they look to the stars and remember what he had done?
He wasn’t distracted.
He couldn’t afford to be.
But sometimes…sometimes out of the corner of his eye he would catch a glimpse of green lekku and he would find himself turning his head out of curiosity, despite knowing it couldn’t possibly be the little bartender on Coruscant.
Sometimes he would hear bright laughter and he’d freeze in place.
He caught snippets of conversation in Basic, the accent familiar in a way that was almost a relief, and he couldn’t for the life of him understand why.
If Howzer and Syndulla suspected anything, neither made mention of it; for that, Ghoul was grateful. He didn’t know what lie he’d have to make up on the spot to cover for any inconsistencies in his performance, but it’d have to be a good one to survive Syndulla’s scrutiny. The head of the Twi’lek rebellion was one of the very few figures Ghoul felt he could respect—unlike the leaders of the Republic, Syndulla put himself on the front lines of nearly every skirmish, leading by example and throwing himself head first into harm’s way. He fought for Ryloth, for his people, in a way that determined exactly how willing Ghoul was to risk his own life for the mission assigned to him.
Captain Howzer, on the other hand, was just a standard clone but he followed Syndulla’s lead with an eagerness that bordered on sycophantic. He was a good soldier, obedient like he was supposed to be, and Ghoul hated him for it. Thankfully, he outranked Howzer and therefore didn’t have to answer to him. All transmissions were heavily encoded and Ghoul didn’t engage in smalltalk outside of the mission itself so it was easy to isolate himself until the time came to return to Coruscant.
A solid sixty rotations had passed, during which time he had gathered enough intel to give the Twi’lek rebellion the advantage it needed to push back against the Separatist forces; with luck they’d be able to secure the win they so desperately needed. Ghoul didn’t care either way—he wouldn’t be there to see it. To the clones stationed on Ryloth long term he imagined it would mean more for their morale…but they were idiots in the same vein Howzer was, softhearted and too quick to give too much of themselves for a cause that wasn’t their own.
Orders are orders, Ghoul thought bitterly to himself as he checked his packs over one last time. The transport ship taking him back to Coruscant was nearing its departure; he’d be sharing too small a space with too many wounded troopers, many of whom probably wouldn’t survive triage. Stabilizing them didn’t mean anything if they were sent back to Kamino for ‘reevaluation’. It was a death sentence either way and Ghoul wasn’t looking forward to fighting off the memories that were sure to be dredged by during the trip. He could close his eyes and remove his hearing aids, but the smell…the smell of death wasn’t something that could be ignored.
“Commander!”
Ghoul groaned and ran a hand down the right side of his face, narrowly avoiding the cygarette he had been trying to savor in spite of the dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. He couldn’t get a moment’s peace to himself, not on this planet.
“Howzer,” he said, not bothering to hide his irritation as the captain jogged up to greet him. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“Just wanted to see you off, Sir,” Howzer said brightly, saluting with an enthusiasm that set Ghoul’s teeth on edge.
“Don’t need it,” he muttered. “You got better things to do, surely.”
“Not right now, thanks to you. That intel you procured put us ahead of our original plans by months. We’ll be able to launch an effective counterstrike against those clankers within the week.”
Ghoul snorted. The rebellion couldn’t afford to lower its guard at their current standpoint. The position they had held onto by tooth and nail for the past sixty rotations still put them at the disadvantage; all it would take was one full-scale assault from the enemy and they’d be wiped out. It had been one of the first things Ghoul had pointed out upon his arrival, but his advice had gone unheeded. It didn’t matter—in an hour he’d wash his hands of Ryloth and all five of its moons. As soon as he boarded the transport, it wouldn’t be his problem any longer.
“As long as you don’t kark it up,” Ghoul said as he tightened the straps on his pack, further compressing his extra gear. “Should be a sight t’ see…if you live through it.”
He looked up in time to see Howzer’s optimistic expression falter, and it sent something sick and pleasurable racing through his veins. That’s right, the feeling seemed to say, don’t get complacent. Don’t get cocky.
Unfortunately, ‘giving up’ wasn’t one of the qualities that had gotten Howzer promoted to Captain. He fixed his expression into something more neutral and bent at the waist to haul one of Ghoul’s bags over his shoulder, grunting with effort. If he thought he was helping, he was dead wrong, and Ghoul immediately jumped to his feet with a growl, getting in Howzer’s way and shoving at his shoulder.
“Drop it,” he ordered, exhaling around his cyg in a cloud of smoke, sending it straight into the captain's face and watching his eyes water.
“I’m just trying to help,” Howzer said, bewildered by Ghoul’s sudden aggression.
“Didn’t ask for it,” Ghoul said as he grabbed the strap of his bag out of the captain’s hands. “I don’t need help. I do things on my own.”
“Howzer! Kassurra!” came a call from halfway across the landing platform; a couple of Twi’leks waved enthusiastically, a greeting which Howzer returned like Ghoul wasn’t even there.
“Kass!” he called back. “Kei’nata ni!”
Of course he knew Ryl. He was such a good clone, nearly perfect in every way, from the ease with which he had tried to integrate with the people and the culture, to the way he treated Syndulla with the same respect usually reserved for Republic Admirals. Even his accent was affected with the tinge of Ryl dialect. Ghoul hated him more for what he represented. The GAR didn’t have need for recruitment posters, but if it did, Howzer would have been plastered all over them.
Kiss-ass, Ghoul thought resentfully.
Howzer dropped his arm back down to his side and looked over at the other two bags sitting at Ghoul’s feet as though contemplating making another go for it; he seemed to think better of it though and stood rooted in place.
“It’s not so bad here, you know,” he said, still trying to broker…something between them, some illusion of brotherhood that Ghoul wanted no part in. “Once you get used to the heat and the humidity, you start to see the beauty of the land.”
He doubted it. Ryloth was many things, but ‘beautiful’ wasn’t the first word that came to mind. Too many times he had felt like he was being steamed alive in his armor, sweat soaking through his blacks as he stalked through the thick, unforgiving jungles, avoiding the indigenous and carnivorous wildlife that had driven Twi’leks to live in caves for their own safety. If Howzer thought differently, then he needed to get himself checked out by medical for brain damage brought on by heatstroke.
“I don’t care,” Ghoul growled.
“It’s not just deserts and jungle,” Howzer continued, nonplussed. “If you make it past the Jixuan there’s these mountains—”
“Listen,” Ghoul snapped, losing his patience, “Whatever it is you’re trying to do…just stop. It’s embarrassing how much you think I give a damn.”
Howzer blinked, somehow managing to piss him off even more. There was something about him that was…different, even for a clone. His eyes were almost too big, his face a little too symmetrical. There was no other word for it, he was pretty. If any one of them could be considered ‘designer’, then it’d have to be Howzer; the longnecks must’ve slipped something a little extra into his slurry while he marinated, for him to turn out the way he had.
While not strictly his fault, Ghoul took offense to it nonetheless.
“Is there anything else you want to bother me about, or can I go?” he asked.
“Wow,” Howzer grumbled. “I had heard from Wolffe that you were a little standoffish, but I didn’t think it was this bad.”
Ghoul froze.
Wolffe was talking? About him?
He dropped his bag onto the pile with the others and fixed his glare on Howzer, who stood there with a look on his face that said he wasn’t all that aware of the danger he was currently in.
“Oh yeah?” Ghoul said in a rough whisper. “And what else did Wolffe say about me?”
To his credit, Howzer didn’t back down.
“He said not to expect anything from you but the bare minimum—just the mission, nothing more.”
I’m going to kill him.
“You should have listened,” Ghoul spat, getting close and jabbing a finger against Howzer’s chestplate. “I got sent here against my will, to do the job that you failed to do. That’s it. I don’t care about you or anyone else on this rock. The only thing I’m interested in is making it back to base and forgetting I was ever here.”
“You talk real big for someone who just risked his life to ensure the Twi’leks have a chance to make it through this war,” Howzer said, his amber eyes flashing with barely concealed anger. He held his fist tight at his side and Ghoul wished, wished he’d make a move. Maybe he could get lucky and bleed some of his stress out before the trip back, and give Howzer a few little reminders why he should keep minding his own karking business.
“Like I said,” Ghoul hissed, “I didn’t ask for this assignment. I was just sent here to clean up after you.”
“We’ve done everything we could,” Howzer said, drawing himself up indignantly. “You were our last resort before the Council was going to send the Jedi.”
“The Jedi,” Ghoul echoed mockingly. He picked the cyg from his mouth and flicked it at Howzer, watching as it bounced off his shoulder and fell to the ground. “There’s an idea. Why don’t you call them next time? I’m sure they’ll solve all your problems for you.”
“You hate them.”
“Is stating the obvious the only thing you’re good at?”
“Is it because of that?” Howzer asked, tapping his own jaw. He had a scar there, freshly formed and still pink at the edges where the new skin grew on the torn edges of the wound, the shape of which indicated shrapnel as the most likely culprit. Ghoul stared, black rage climbing the ladder of his ribs until he felt that he could reach out, put his hands around Howzer’s neck and squeeze until he stopped speaking, stopped breathing, stopped looking at him.
“I wasn’t going to ask,” Howzer continued, “but I heard rumors you were the only survivor of the 331st. Their last campaign…it was on Toydaria, wasn’t it?"
Ghoul inhaled sharply. Ryloth’s air was warm, moist, but nothing compared to Toydaria, where every breath had felt like they were drowning, even through the advanced air filtration of their helmets. He had tried not to think about how similar the two climates actually were ever since his arrival.
“Weren’t Jedi part of that battle?”
For all the good they’d been. He still couldn’t bear the sound of lightsabers and part of his special conditions for continued duty included keeping him as far from Jedi as possible, a condition the GAR had only been able to fulfill by assigning him solo missions. It was probably the only thing they’d done right.
“What happened?” Howzer pressed, completely incognizant of the distress every single one of his words afflicted.
“Shut up,” Ghoul managed to hiss. “Just…shut the hell up.”
He didn’t know what he was talking about—he didn’t have any right to talk about it.
No one did.
For a moment it seemed like Howzer was going to prove himself the biggest idiot in all the GAR and keep pressing buttons. He looked like he wanted to, though for the life of him Ghoul couldn’t figure out why.
What could he possibly gain from opening old wounds and sticking his fingers into them, like it was his business to do so? Only Wolffe knew the details of that fateful campaign, having pieced together events from the reports submitted by the Jedi Knight who had also survived. The rest he had pulled out of Ghoul himself, bleeding him so slowly with quiet questions and gentle touches that had only made recounting more difficult.
He didn’t want to remember.
If there had been a way for him to forget, some experimental procedure he could have undergone that would have sucked the memories from his brain, he would have. Anything was better than knowing what he now knew.
And Howzer…Howzer didn’t have any claim to it.
“Sorry,” the captain said, with the audacity of someone who was sorry but didn’t understand why. “It’s just…I’ve been trying to figure out what’s made you so detached; you’re a good soldier, I can see that much, but you don’t…you don’t act like the rest of us."
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Ghoul asked, feeling like he had just run half a dozen laps around the landing pad for the way his heart thrummed in his chest. He wanted Howzer to shut up, wanted him to swallow his karking tongue, and there was nothing he could do about it because there were two many eyes around, too many clones and too many Twi'lek, and Ghoul was willing to bet they all liked Howzer better than they liked him.
Howzer shrugged.
“I’ve never met a brother who was…so cold.”
There it was.
If he could have laughed normally, he would have. Of all the ridiculous complaints lodged against him, being cold was the least of them. It didn’t matter how he treated his ‘brothers’, as long as they knew to stay out of his way and give him a wide berth. That was how he preferred things and, up until now, it hadn’t been a problem. But he could tell Howzer was young, a second gen clone at least; he didn’t understand war yet, not in the way Ghoul did.
“It’s got nothin’ to do with you,” Ghoul said, fighting back the urge to reach out and slap him around a bit for being a nosey little idiot. “I’m like this with everyone. Ask Wolffe.”
“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Howzer hurried to say. Off in the distance an announcement sounded over loudspeaker, signaling boarding for the transport leaving for Coruscant. “I mean, the people here, on Ryloth…they care. Maybe you haven’t noticed, but they’re appreciative of our help.”
We are not blind to their sacrifice.
He had tried not to think too much about her, the Twi’lek bartender, but being surrounded by her people, on her planet, made it difficult. Not only were there reminders of her everywhere he looked, but now Howzer’s words echoed a sentiment she had tried to instill in him the last time they spoke. His skin prickled with the feeling of being cornered, like he was being pressured into admitting to something he didn’t believe in.
“I don’t care,” Ghoul said, exasperated and at the end of his rope for how much more he could tolerate. “They’re only grateful because they’re desperate. They’d be licking the boots of anyone who showed up to help.”
“That’s not true,” Howzer frowned. “They’ve been nothing but accepting.”
“Tch. Don’t kid yourself. No matter what you do, no matter how many battles you manage to scrape together, you’re never going to be accepted by them. You’re not one of them.”
He struck a nerve. He could tell almost immediately from the way Howzer’s jaw clenched, the muscle twitching as he ground his teeth together. Ghoul watched the scar on his cheek stretch and contract with the movement and wondered if there was a limit to how much abuse Howzer was willing to take before he snapped. But maybe it wasn’t the insults thrown his way that bothered him so much.
“With all due respect,” Howzer said, drawing himself up and standing back at attention, “You’re wrong, Commander. You’re wrong about the Twi’leks and you’re wrong about me.”
“Oh am I?”
“You are. I wasn’t assigned here against my will. I requested to be stationed on Ryloth. The Siege of Lessu was my first campaign before I made Captain—a complete and utter loss, by the way, so yeah, I’m aware you’ve had to clean up after us. But you know something?”
He took a deep breath, like he was getting something off his chest that had been weighing on him for some time, and Ghoul wished that he could be anywhere else at the moment.
“Syndulla and his people got us out of there. They knew this planet better than we did, knew how to utilize the cave systems and escape routes that have existed for thousands of years. They refused to leave my unit behind even though we were slowing them down. At the end of the day, after we made it to safety? They helped us mourn the dead, showed us how they burn their bodies to release their spirits back to the mother goddess, Kika'lekki. They shared with us everything they had, even when they had so little to begin with. We were nothing to them, nobodies, but they took us in and showed us kindness that I’ve never known before. So…yeah. I know I’m not one of them…but they make me feel like that doesn’t matter. Ryma gesu'tak allesh, Commander. Have a safe flight back to Coruscant.”
Howzer executed the tightest about face Ghoul had ever seen and strode away, leaving him alone on the platform with three packs filled to bursting with heavy, non-standard equipment and no one to help carry it all onboard. It was the way Ghoul preferred things to be; he didn’t need anyone’s sympathy, he didn’t need help, and he definitely didn’t want attention.
The departure announcement sounded again, nearing its final call for boarding. Ghoul slung one of his packs over his shoulder and grabbed the others one in each hand. His legs moved like he was on autopilot, carrying him across the landing pad until he was safely strapped in to a seat, crushed between a small porthole and two other clones who had already decided to take advantage of the several hours they were going to spend in hypersapce to get some sleep. They leaned against one another, heads touching and cradling their helmets in their laps as they stretched their legs out over a crate in front of them.
Every last centimeter of space was taken up by either bodies or supplies. There were more injured clones than not, but Ghoul wasn’t focused on them. He didn’t even seem to notice the sounds of their moans as the pain meds wore off, or the scent of dried blood permeating the cabin space. He barely noticed the gentle beeping of medical equipment hooked up to the worst of them. The only thing playing through his mind was the way Howzer had looked at him while delivering his final unwanted speech…and the little green Twi’lek bartender back on Coruscant.
It was uncanny how similar their words sounded when he played them back in his mind.
Out the porthole he watched as Ryloth got smaller and smaller, until they made the jump to hyperspace. He hadn’t planned on sleeping, but ended up not having much of a choice as he made himself as comfortable as he could, leaning against the cold hull with his arms crossed over his chest. His dreams were scattered, disjointed and unintelligible except for the one that woke him up gasping for air and looking around to see where the hell he was; he didn’t sleep again after that, and by the time they finally landed on Coruscant, he had all but forgotten what the dream had been about.
Mandatory debriefing lasted only two days, with one day being fully given over for making his report to higher-ups. Ghoul had to grit his teeth to get through the whole thing and somehow managed not to lose his tenuous grasp on his sanity when one of the Senators started asking idiotic questions about the mission. He didn’t know the name of the Jedi general who came to his rescue and took over fielding questions, but he didn’t care. He was just about done with it all. He wanted a smoke…and a drink.
He…he realized he wanted to go to 79s.
For a drink, he told himself. Not to see her, though he doubted she cared after the last time they parted ways. His last memories of her were the way she had moved across the stage at Rollo’s, flexible and lithe, wearing clothes that left so very little to the imagination. He had watched her dance through three different songs, until he forced himself to leave because he could no longer ignore the tightness in his pants. He couldn’t even remember making it back to the barracks, only that he had headed straight to the showers and spent all of his time allotment in one of the corner stalls, blasting cold water against his head and back as he fisted his cock until he came hard enough to make his knees buckle.
He was so sure she wouldn’t want to see him again after that night, positive that she had never expected him to stand there like his boots had sunk through the floor of that dingy club and watch her dance, and so he had avoided 79s like the plague until his assignment to Ryloth. He didn’t want to admit to any guilt…but he had thought about the way she had swung herself around the poles so often he was almost certain he had permanently burned the image of her into the backs of his eyelids.
And now there he stood, outside of 79s and feeling like the same kind of pathetic loser he had called Howzer for daring to express a simple desire for acceptance among a people he didn’t belong to.
He didn’t even know if she was working today.
You’re not gonna find out by standing out here, Ghoul told himself, before shoving his way inside. It was still too early to be crowded, but several clones had already gathered in pockets, some lounging around at tables with their kits half-on, half-off while others actually had time to change into their dress uniforms. Ghoul stood there at the entrance in his dark armor, helmet once again tucked under his arm as he scanned the bar, looking for—
Yes. There she was, serving drinks to a couple of grizzled, first-gen commanders. He didn’t know how he had ever mistaken the muted, blanched greens of the Twi’leks on Ryloth for her; it felt like an insult to how vibrant her skin glowed beneath the neon lights above the bar. He watched her for a moment, the cheerful way she greeted the other clones and spoke to them, leaning over the counter to better understand them when they asked a question too low for her to hear. She came away laughing, a little flush on her cheeks that made Ghoul feel like he needed to break something before she finally noticed him standing by the door.
It had to be his imagination that made the blush on her cheeks spread to her lekku, just a trick of the lights. She smiled brightly in his direction and waved before turning back to the bar to grab a bottle off the top shelf. Ghoul steeled himself and made his way to the seat at the end of the counter, closest to the wall—the seat that, somewhere down the line he had come to think of as his seat.
“Ghoul,” the Twi’lek said warmly as he sat down and she slid him a small glass, “it is so good to be seeing you again! It has been a long time since last we met…I wondered where you had gone.”
Ghoul picked up the glass and sniffed at the liquid within. Just as he thought: Catsblood.
“Just another mission,” he said, trying to push down the overwhelming sensation of relief that flooded his entire body. He didn’t know why, but this felt a bit like…like coming home. He didn’t try to think about how it was the first time since Toydaria that he had bothered stepping foot into 79s without either Wolffe or Fox present, or the fact that he didn’t feel burdened to answer her innocent question with anything other than the truth. He could look at her now without feeling the burn of annoyance he usually felt when dealing with civvies.
“Anything you are allowed to talk about?” she asked, tilting her head to the side. Her lekku sported a striped pattern that he hadn’t seen on any other Twi’lek he had encountered on Ryloth; the way the stripes fell against her forehead almost reminded him of the way some people wore their hair with bangs.
“It’s classified,” he said, wondering what she’d say if she knew he had been to her home planet.
“That figures,” she sighed, still smiling. She smiled at everyone, but for some reason when she aimed it at him…it felt more personal. “Most of the interesting missions always are. I will have to use my imagination then, to come up with a good story for where you have been these past two months.”
Months. Yeah, it’d been about that and some change since he had last seen her. Nothing about her or the bar was different—still the same old 79s, with its gaudy decor, cheap drinks, and sticky floors, still the same cheerful bartender. Ghoul took a sip and found the Catsblood warm, the way he liked it, because too much ice messed with his prosthetics, made some of the internal synth-metal pieces contract painfully. She had remembered, the same way she remembered his name.
Ghoul didn’t know how to verbalize the way it made him feel. It was such a small detail, such a pitiful thing to get excited about, but when he knew he could sit at the bar, not even look at a menu, and she’d serve him anyway? It felt like for the first time in his life, his opinions mattered. That he was someone outside of the armor.
It made him feel like she saw him as…a real person.
The image of Howzer arose in his thoughts, the way he smiled and acted so friendly all the time, especially with the members of the Twi’lek rebellion, and Ghoul remembered Howzer’s parting words to him—“I know I’m not one of them…but they make me feel like that doesn’t matter.”
Was it something like this? Was it the same way he felt just sitting in a bar and not caring who was staring at him, because he could get a drink without asking for it and the bartender smiled at him like she was happy to see him, even though it had been two months since the last time, and even though there were other clones, friendlier than him who made her laugh and blush? Ghoul wondered what she might think of Howzer, with his candid expressions and his perfect smile, his affable nature and the easy way he seemed to have picked up her language. He bet Howzer would never call her stupid, or insult her people to her face.
Ghoul winced at the memory and quickly downed half his drink, holding it between his synthetic cheeks just long enough to feel the comforting burn spread across the roof of his mouth.
“You, uh…been doin’ alright?” he asked haltingly, trying to remember what it felt like to make smalltalk with someone he wasn’t actively trying to get away from.
“It is the same as ever,” the Twi’lek replied, leaning over the counter and resting on her elbows. “When I am not working or volunteering I am sleeping; always those three things, I think. I am lucky if I find time to read.”
“What do you read?” Ghoul asked.
“Many things, but I enjoy an escape every now and then—would you believe I love the mystery stories the best?”
“No,” he said, “I wouldn't have guessed.”
She was close enough that he could move his arm and they’d be touching. She’d never gotten so far into his personal space before, and he hadn’t seen her do this with the other clones who made her laugh. Maybe she treated all of her customers the same whenever he wasn’t around, though.
“What about…the other place?” Ghoul asked, trying to think of things to say. “You still work there?”
“Yes, but not so loud!” she whispered, holding up a finger to her lips. No one could have possibly heard, but she looked worried all the same. Maybe it was a mistake to bring that up so immediately; she might think it was the only thing he had thought about the entire time he had been gone.
“Anyone been bothering you?” he tried again, feeling more stupid and worthless by the second. It had been so easy for the other clones to drag a peal of sharp laughter out of her. What had they managed to say that had been so amusing? What was he missing? He didn’t remember conversation being this difficult before; he could still make Fox and Wolffe laugh, but he didn’t think their brand of humor was something she’d find funny.
“Sometimes,” she admitted, “but that is part of the job. There will always be customers who drink too much and let it go to their heads; they are handsy and loud, but nothing more.”
Handsy? Ghoul thought to himself.
He remembered the look of her slender wrist caught in the grip of the drunk who had assaulted her, the way she had worked to free herself in a pointless struggle that hadn’t ended until he had stepped in. Was it more of the same? More like that? He didn’t know much about her, but he knew that she was the type to put up with a lot from others, maybe more than any sensible person would have under normal circumstances.
And it gave him an idea.
“Hey,” he said, “what time do you get out of here?”
It’s my imagination, he told himself when he thought he saw a blush reappear on her cheeks.
“In—in a few hours,” she said, stumbling over her words a bit. “Why?”
“I want you to meet me somewhere.”
She looked suspicious for a moment, the ends of her lekku flicking in a way that Ghoul thought might be curiosity. He didn’t speak Ryl, or know all the ways Twi’lek communicated using their lekku, but he wouldn’t blame her for thinking he was up to something. He was going off of a whim and if it worked then maybe he wouldn’t need to subject either of them to the painful way he kept grasping at attempts to communicate the same way others did.
Ghoul grabbed a napkin and smoothed it out on the countertop in front of him; he didn’t have anything to write with, but he didn’t even need to ask before the bartender was holding out a pen of her own, a curious look on her face as she watched him write down coordinates (and then, on a second thought, he wrote down the actual address because that’s probably what civvies did when they were trying to give directions).
“It’s not far from here,” he said. “You can walk it. I’ll have everything set up by the time you arrive.”
“So mysterious,” she said, taking the napkin and reading it over. “Just like my favorite genre. Alright, I will accept this offer…but are you sure you will not be waiting too long? Sometimes I am made to stay and clean before I leave.”
“It doesn’t matter,” Ghoul said, feeling a little lighter when she didn’t immediately reject him. “I’m on leave for the next few days. I’ve got time.”
“What is it for?”
“...you’ll see when you get there.”
That brought a smile to her face. A small one, but the way her mouth curved felt like a dagger slipped between his ribs, more effective than any vibroblade.
“I like surprises,” she murmured, folding the napkin into a square and slipping it into the pocket of her pants. “Okay. I will see you in a little while. Thank you.”
He wanted to tell her not to thank him just yet; it was honestly a harebrained idea and if it fell flat he didn’t plan on showing his face anywhere near her again. But he was riding the high the idea had brought and he still needed time to go and get them registered. If she got there and hated everything about it, he’d deal with the fallout then.
For now though, he downed the rest of his drink, slapped his credits down on the bar and grabbed his helmet.
“Oh,” he said before he took his leave. “I uh…forgot to ask.”
“Yes?”
Ghoul averted his gaze, unable to look her in the face as the parts of his cheeks not mottled with scar tissue heated up in an embarrassed flush.
“What’s your name again?”
He didn’t see her initial reaction, but when he heard her laugh he looked up just in time to see the way her nose scrunched up before she covered the lower half of her face with her hand.
Oh.
“Odessa,” she said, humming with amusement.
Ghoul stood there a moment, transfixed by the way she pulled her lower lip between her teeth to try and keep her smile from taking over her entire face.
“Odessa,” he repeated with a nod. “I won’t forget this time.”
~~~
Odessa didn’t realize she had been keeping track of the days since she had last seen Ghoul until he walked back through the doors at 79s, wearing the dark armor she had become so accustomed to seeing him in and carrying his helmet beneath his arm as rules dictated.
She had made note of the last time he had come to the bar, just a little memo she kept at home for her own amusement, but as the days stretched into weeks and the weeks into months she had grown worried. Of course he was a soldier, and soldiers were made for the battlefield, but she didn’t know his rank or position and had no idea what attachment he was a part of. She thought about asking Commander Wolffe the next time he showed up, but lost her nerve when he did.
She didn’t want to seem as though she was fishing for information…even though that’s exactly what she wanted to do.
The same night Odessa had caught Ghoul watching her dance at Rollo’s she had gone back to her tiny one room flat and thought about him. She thought about him more than she had ever thought about any clone who had come through the bar before and determined for herself that she…she had started to think of him in ways that were no longer strictly professional. Ghoul had piqued her interest from the start with his dark looks and his gruesome prosthetics, but the more she observed him and interacted with him the more she had begun to take an interest in who he was beneath those things.
Yes, he was rude, abrasive, aloof, and only seemed to care about Commanders Wolffe and Fox, but he was also…oddly considerate. Not on purpose, she thought, but he paid for his drinks each time in spite of her trying to give him at least one on the house. He tipped proportionately when he could and didn’t drink what he couldn’t pay for, even if she couldn’t pour it back into the bottle. He obeyed the sign at the door and removed his helmet, even though she felt confident in assuming he would have preferred to leave it on for as long as possible. He kept his head down and minded his business, like he didn’t really want anyone to take notice that he was there.
And then, more recently, he had proven that he could be considerate. Odessa still didn’t believe that he had jumped to fight those drunks in order to save her—they had insulted him, and she knew more than a few other clones who would have happily swung first—but in doing so he had stopped them from potentially hurting her or destroying the bar. He had offered to escort her to Rollo’s for no reason other than he thought it would be dangerous for her to walk alone, in spite of the fact that she had already made the short journey a hundred times before he had even known about it.
He’s nice, she told herself as she quickly wiped down the counters one last time while Rumi and Cyna clocked in for the evening shift. He’s nicer than he was in the beginning, at least. I think I could like him.
She actually thought she could do a whole lot better than just ‘like’ him, but she didn’t want to get ahead of herself.
“Everything is ready for you,” Odessa called out to her coworkers as she threw off the apron she wore around her waist. “Remember to do the restock at the end of the night—you do not have to wait for everyone to leave, you can start before as long as it is not too busy!”
“Stop worrying about us and go enjoy your, uh…date or whatever,” Rumi said, waving her off.
“It is not a date,” Odessa said, while her heart leapt in her chest.
“Okay, don’t get murdered then, I guess!”
Odessa rolled her eyes and left the other two girls to figure out how to survive without her covering for them as she quickly ran outside to take the napkin out of her pocket. It was a little damp from where she spilled beer on herself trying to carry too many mugs at once, but at least the ink hadn’t bled. Ghoul’s handwriting was messy, but legible, and the address he left her was in an area she only partially knew, located near one of the large military bases. Curiosity consumed her—normally she would always refuse the offers she received from patrons to take her out after work, but this felt different.
Ghoul’s intentions were a mystery, but the fact that he had wanted her to meet him instead of waiting for her so they could go together kept Odessa grounded in reality; it wasn’t a date, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t looking forward to it.
She had to stop twice to ask for directions, but once she made it past the base she had a better idea where she was headed.
And it was a surprise.
It made sense that there’d be a firing range right outside of a military base, but it had never occurred to Odessa to visit one. She couldn’t legally own a blaster anyways, so learning how to shoot was just something that had never crossed her mind. She could almost hear her father’s voice echoing around her thoughts, telling her there was no point in teaching her since she wouldn’t be joining the rebellion—her heart throbbed painfully with the memory, her throat suddenly tight as she remembered the angry tears she had spilled over the argument.
Suddenly she…didn’t feel so sure about this anymore.
But, true to his word, Ghoul was waiting for her outside. He took up more than his fair share of a bench, smoke curling from his mouth as he exhaled off a cygarette. He saw her coming in the same second she noticed him and quickly stubbed out the death stick before she got too close. Odessa didn’t mind the smell, but it was a nice gesture.
“I was not expecting this,” she said as soon as she was close enough that she didn’t have to shout to be heard. “Are you sure I am allowed to go in?”
“Why wouldn’t you be?” Ghoul asked, giving her an odd look. “It’s mostly clones, but the range is open to the public; if anyone looks funny at you, just tell me. I’ll set ‘em straight.”
She had meant it more in the sense of legality, whether it was okay for her to even look at a blaster, let alone go inside a building where she assumed she’d be surrounded by them, but something about the way Ghoul reassured her filled her with a sense of calm. He wouldn’t have brought her here just to humiliate her in some way.
“So what is this place?” she asked, shielding her eyes from the sun as she looked up at the seemingly endless walls; it was at least three stories tall. “What are we going to be doing?”
“Just some target practice,” Ghoul said, opening the door; he started to go in first then seemed to think better of it, and stood aside to gesture her in ahead of him. Odessa hugged herself nervously, but allowed him to usher her inside the cool, air-conditioned room. As her eyes adjusted to shift in brightness, she felt him nudge her with his elbow toward another set of doors past a counter and rows upon rows of blaster power cells. There were a few people browsing, a couple of standard clones who didn’t appear to have any self-imposed modifications as well as a human woman wearing custom armor.
“I do not know how to shoot,” Odessa heard herself say as the distant sound of blasterfire sent cold shivers running up and down her arms.
“I know,” Ghoul said from right behind her, “I’m going to teach you.”
Father would be displeased, she thought to herself. He had done everything in his power to keep weapons of any kind out of her hands from the earliest age she had begun to show an interest in learning to use them, and he had forbidden everyone her family knew from teaching her in secret. He was well-respected within their village and didn’t fear disobedience from anyone.
But this wasn’t Ryloth and Ghoul, she suspected, feared no one.
Trepidation began to loosen its hold on her as anticipation slowly took its place. Odessa allowed herself the freedom to look around, watching with interest as Ghoul accepted a black duffel bag from one of the workers behind the counter; they looked at her strangely for a moment, but he leaned in and tapped his finger sharply against their shoulder.
“She’s with me,” he said brusquely.
And that was the end of it. The employee found something far more interesting to stare at and Ghoul jerked his head at Odessa as he shoved open the doors that led into a brightly lit hallway. It stretched in both directions for what seemed like the entire length of the building, the white expanse of wall broken up by steel doors stenciled with a combination of letters and numbers. Ghoul took off to the right with the bag slung over his shoulder, headed for a predetermined destination and it was all Odessa could do to keep up with the length of his stride. She could tell he wasn’t used to being followed, or having to wait for someone to catch up. He was single-minded in his intent to get to where they needed to go.
“I have never held a blaster before,” Odessa admitted as he wrenched open door H19.
“We all start out that way,” he said, unmoved by her excuses. “You’ll never learn if you don’t try. Get in.”
She hurried to obey, scurrying under his arm as he held the door open for her. The room she entered looked smaller at first, until she realized it was only the width that made it seem so. The walls were covered in a soft, fabric material and a barrier separated the small area where they stood from the rest of the room, which stretched roughly forty-five meters to the other end. Odessa could see a series of targets lined up, sheets of paper sporting dark outlines in the rough shape of Separatist droids.
“They are so far away,” she said, “how will I be able to hit anything?”
“I do it all the time,” Ghoul snorted as he dropped the duffle bag onto the floor and knelt by it. He ripped open the zipper and rummaged around for a few seconds before pulling out a black, hard case, followed by a second one. Odessa’s heart rate spiked erratically when he popped the locks open to reveal a set of matching blasters. They looked much smaller than what she had seen before, but her memory betrayed her—those had been Separatist weapons, not Republic. The design Ghoul held was sleeker, fitted for organic hands, the grip situated closer to the trigger.
The lump in her throat grew and she felt as though she couldn’t swallow around it. The chill crept back into her flesh, raising tiny bumps all along her arms and shoulders. She wrung her hands together, seriously contemplating telling him that she didn’t want to do this anymore, didn’t want to hold that cold, black thing in her hands, didn’t want to hear the sound it made when it went off.
“Here,” Ghoul said as he got back to his feet. He fit the other blaster into a holster on his hip, and she realized that these were his own personal weapons. He took hold of her elbow and dragged her closer to the barrier, setting the blaster down on the narrow siding. “I’m not an idiot, so we’ll go over safety first. This is the end blastbolts come out of; obviously, don’t point it anywhere you aren’t willing to shoot. This is the grip, the trigger, the power cell fits into here, and this is the safety switch.”
Odessa’s head swam as she watched him point out the parts of the blaster, information she realized she had already known, but had buried deep inside of her. She tried to say something, but the inside of her mouth felt as though it were filled with dust and she had to wet her teeth before trying again.
“That one there,” she said, pointing to a red button, “that is…for stunning?”
“Yes, good,” Ghoul said, sounding surprised. “We don’t use it on the range though; it doesn’t leave a mark and most of us are interested in our scores.”
“Score?”
“You’ll see in a minute. Now, look at this.”
His hands moved quickly and efficiently over the blaster, holding it at an angle away from himself as he popped the power cell containment. The cylinder fell into his waiting palm after a good tap and he set it aside. In the next moment he swept his arm up and pointed the blaster toward the target hanging at the other end; Odessa slapped her hands over her tcharan as he pulled the trigger…but nothing happened.
“It’s got no charge to it,” Ghoul said as he looked down at her. There was something close to amusement in his expression, she thought, but it was difficult to tell with his prosthetic. She knew though, just from the way the corners of his eyes wrinkled despite the scarring.
“That was mean,” she said as she dropped her hands, cheeks burning in embarrassment, like she should have known better.
“It’s educational. Here, you can hold it now that it’s safe.”
He held the blaster out to her expectantly, but Odessa just stared at it. It looked so small in his hand, so unassuming, like a little toy. It was…difficult to believe the power it held…the danger it represented. She thought of her father and the way he would disapprove…and she thought of her mother, laying on the floor in front of her, eyes glassy and unseeing as smoke rose from a hole in her chest.
She tasted bile in the back of her throat and forced herself to swallow it back down, forced herself to reach out and grab the weapon before she let her fear get the best of her.
It was as cold as she expected it to be but weighed heavier in her palm than its compact design had led her to believe. She closed her hand around the textured grip and Ghoul shuffled to stand just behind her shoulder, so close she could have leaned back just a bit and her lekku would brush against his chestplate.
“Remember what I said,” he murmured, “don’t point it at anything you don’t wanna shoot.”
“I have been paying attention,” Odessa murmured back as she slid her other hand along the side of the blaster, feeling it out. She toggled the safety switch and pressed the button that switched the modes for stun and kill, popped the bottom of the grip where the power cell fit in place, but avoided the trigger entirely. She didn’t know if she could do it, even while it presented no danger.
Ghoul observed her quietly, his presence at her back offering some comfort. She trusted that he knew what he was doing, that he wouldn’t let anything bad happen to her. Odessa knew he wouldn’t have invited her out to the range if he hadn’t thought her competent enough to at least try to learn. She still didn’t understand why, but…there was a part of her that didn’t want to disappoint him. He had come all this way and went through who knew how much trouble just to see her inside the building…it would shame her too much to back down now, after his show of trust.
Hesitantly, reluctantly, she slid her finger around the trigger and pulled back.
It didn’t budge.
“It is broken,” she said apologetically, after trying again with both hands to no avail.
Ghoul snorted and reached around her. He touched the back of her hand before his finger joined hers on the trigger, helping her hold it steady. The noise she swallowed would have been embarrassing, had she let it slip past her lips.
“Don’t yank on it,” he muttered, his breath a warm puff against the back of her lekku. “You gotta squeeze.”
He demonstrated what he meant, helping her slowly pull back until the trigger clicked, indicating it would have fired a shot.
Odessa squeezed her eyes shut—this time, the chill that ran up her spine had nothing to do with fear.
“I do not understand why it is so hard,” she said, trying to distract herself from how close Ghoul stood to her. She swayed in place and felt her hip brush against his kit; in response, or maybe just because, he took a step back.
“It’s to guard against accidental discharge,” Ghoul said. “You get used to it after a while. Ready to try with a live cell?”
“I…I do not know,” Odessa said, biting her lip. She set the blaster down on the siding the way she had watched him do before, and turned to look at him. “Why are you teaching me this? I am…not a soldier.”
He blinked down at her, his eyes giving away nothing. She didn’t know if it was because they were cybernetic or because he was trying very hard to school his expression, but he had always been more difficult to read for that reason.
“You don’t have to be a soldier to need to know your way around a blaster,” Ghoul said, his hands on his hips. “Consider these self-defense lessons.”
“But I do not own a—”
“I’ll deal with that later. Look, do you wanna do this or not?”
Odessa looked back down the range at the target. It was so small and so far away; there was no way she’d ever be able to make such a shot on her own, not even in the case of an emergency. If she were ever in a position where she was caught unawares, she’d have no choice but to surrender without a fight.
She closed her eyes and her mother’s stared back at her, dull and empty, lifeless.
“Yes,” she said, inhaling sharply. “Yes, I want to.”
“Good.”
Ghoul knelt back down and dug through his bag again, coming back up with a pair of protective earmuffs and glasses that looked as though they hadn’t been used in a very long time.
“Will these fit?” he asked, holding both items out for her to take.
Odessa took the heavy earmuffs in hand and turned them over, pulling on either earpiece to see how far they stretched.
“I think so,” she said, trying them on. They were a little tight over her tcharan, but the sound of her own voice was muffled now. The glasses fit her awkwardly, but they were not made with Twi’lek anatomy in mind.
“What about you?” Odessa asked when she saw Ghoul stand back up without any additional safety gear for himself.
“Relax,” he said, then reached to his ears to fiddle with his hearing aid. “Volume’s down, so talk louder if you want me to hear you. Here’s the power cell. How you watched me take it out? It goes back in the same way. Just push until you hear the click. The gauge shows how much of a charge you got left. Keep the safety on until you’re ready to make your shot.”
Odessa’s hands shook as she tried to follow his directions. She felt clumsy, like a child trying to figure out a new toy for the first time. It didn’t help that she felt his eyes on her, judging her for the amount of time she wasted trying to do what he could in seconds.
“There,” she said as the gauge lit up, showing a full charge. “Now what?”
“Now you point it at the target, line up your sights, and squeeze the trigger.”
“You make it sound so easy,” she grumbled loudly, holding her arm out to point the blaster toward the target.
“Both hands,” Ghoul growled, roughly tapping her other shoulder. His fingers were hard and sharp, jabbing into her painfully. Odessa scowled but corrected her grip with one hand cradling the other. She heard him sigh in exasperation and he reached over her shoulder again, pressing against her back to do so.
“Extend this finger,” he said, uncurling her pointer that wasn’t on the trigger. “Hold it against the barrel like this; it helps steady your shot.”
“Do you normally teach?” she asked as her lekku twitched. He was so broad, so warm. Her heat-seeking heart wanted to lean into him, which was a silly idea, very stupid. She distracted herself by tapping her newly extended finger against the side of the blaster.
“I don’t waste my time with shinies,” Ghoul said. “They got instructors on Kamino for that. How’s that feel?”
“Like I am holding a blaster in my hands.”
“Alright, smartass. Go ahead and take your time. Shoot only when you’re ready.”
“I am going to miss.”
“Probably.”
Odessa pouted, but their banter felt…a little more playful this time. She could swear Ghoul was enjoying himself. Already he had spoken more words than he ever had before and had invaded her personal space twice. She didn’t mind it at all, even though it put her back in the headspace she had been trying to escape from for the past two months, where thoughts of the way his hands might feel on the ends of her lekku tormented her. She wondered how much of his prosthetic jaw was for show.
“I am aiming,” she said, closing one eye to try and focus down the tiny sights on the top of the blaster.
“Eyes open,” Ghoul ordered. Odessa made a noise of frustration and glanced over her shoulder to shoot him a little glare. Nonplussed, he shrugged.
“You see better with both eyes open,” he said. “It’s common sense.”
“Okay,” she said, licking her lips as she refocused. It was such a small target, impossible for anyone except an expertly trained soldier…but she took a deep breath, flicked the safety off with her thumb, and squeezed the trigger the way Ghoul had shown her, slowly exerting pressure until she felt it give.
TSSEEW!!
Odessa yelped as the blaster fired, the recoil reverberating up through her hands and into her forearms. It tingled in the same way her leg felt when she sat with it folded beneath her for too long, like it had gone to sleep. Fuzzy was the right word. She could taste her heart in the back of her throat, heard the blood rushing through her head. For a moment, she almost felt dizzy. Quickly, Odessa flicked the safety back on and set the blaster down, taking a step back and bumping into Ghoul as she did so.
His hands flew to her shoulders for the briefest of moments, then fluttered away, like he was…unsure about the ways he could touch her. Small gestures seemed to be alright, but anything more set him on edge, though whether he was being considerate of her own comfort over his was unclear.
Odessa took a deep, shuddering breath and closed her eyes again, counting through numbers until she didn’t feel like her legs were going to give out from under her. When she looked toward the target to see whether or not she had hit it…there was only a blackened mark on the wall far to the left…and about a meter too high.
“I told you I would miss,” she said, ripping off the earmuffs. “This is pointless.”
"It's only pointless if you give up. Stop whining."
"The target is too far away! How can anyone hit it from back here?"
Ghoul sneered and reached for his blaster so quickly Odessa barely had time to pull her earmuffs back on before he fired. Unlike her, he held his blaster in one hand and aimed from a sidestance and unlike her, all three of his rapidfire shots hit the target dead center, three perfect holes that made her one attempt look even more pathetic.
“You missed because it's your first time, " Ghoul said. "And you closed your eyes at the last second. And your stance is…kriffing awful. Come on, put those back on and try again. You’re not leaving until you can at least hit the target.”
She almost refused…but she remembered the way she had cried when her father took her brother out to show him how to use a blaster, leaving her behind. It had dug a hole in her heart, one so small it had been easy to ignore for the past decade. This…could very well be her only chance to learn what she had been denied so long ago.
With a sigh, Odessa pulled the earmuffs back on and tried to adjust them so they weren’t so uncomfortable. Ghoul waited for her at the barrier, and this time when she picked up the blaster his hand hovered over her arm, like he wanted to take hold. Odessa swallowed, the ends of her lekku curling.
“You can touch me, if you need to,” she said.
“...what?”
“I said…if I am standing wrong, you can touch me—to fix it.”
Ghoul didn’t say anything for so long that she thought he hadn’t heard her at all. Or maybe he was trying to find a way to refuse. She realized a little too late that her words could be taken the wrong way, out of context, and hoped he’d mistake her blush for one of stress. Another moment passed in which she considered telling him to forget what she had just said, but then she saw his fingers curl a bit in hesitation before he took hold of her arm, cupping her elbow in a firm grip.
Odessa felt him press against her back, then jumped as he knocked his boot against her feet, kicking them a little further apart. His other hand fell to her hip—she imagined the way his last two fingers flexed against her, surely—and he used his hold to forcibly angle her body so one foot was planted ahead of the other. She wasn’t sure she felt any sturdier than she had before, but he seemed pleased at least.
“Now I shoot?” she asked, looking back at him.
He was close, so close she could see the fine details of his prosthetic, the black-on-black pattern etched into the pieces on either side of the bottom row of teeth, and the impossibly tiny screws holding them together. His eyes were more silvery than white, and the scarring surrounding them more extensive than she had previously realized.
“Hold on,” he said. His hand had never left her elbow and he held tight as he leaned over her shoulder, unblinking as he adjusted her aim. Odessa found herself holding her breath as every inch of her became painfully aware of every inch of him.
“Alright,” Ghoul said. “Go ahead and shoot.”
She squeezed the trigger too quick and the shot went wild, this time to the right of the target; the blastmark against the wall sat closer, but still a little too high.
“Stop tensing,” he snapped, squeezing her arm. “What’s wrong with you?”
“I am not tensing!” she protested. “I am doing exactly as you said!”
“Like I can’t feel it? No one’s shooting back at you, so loosen up.”
He gave her a little shake that made her want to ‘accidentally’ step on his foot, but his criticism was valid. He was probably regretting his decision to teach her how to shoot now that he saw how bad she was at it, but Odessa didn’t want to give up. She wasn’t a quitter
“Again,” she said. “There is plenty of charge left. And you are on leave, are you not? We have time.”
She heard him sigh.
“Fine. Let’s try and make at least one passable shot.”
The next two attempts failed in the same way, with one narrowly missing the target and the other scorching the floor and almost sparking another argument. Ghoul’s frustration with her inability to make one clean hit was only matched by her stubborn refusal to back down. Her fifth shot did better—it clipped through the edge of the target, burning the paper. Ghoul still counted it as a miss and helped her adjust her stance again by just a small margin.
Odessa’s hands felt numb, like they were filled with stinging insects. She could scarcely feel her fingers anymore and she truly had no idea how clones could do this day in and day out. She felt her respect for them climb ever higher, knowing how useless she would have been on the battlefield. She tried not to think of her father and the infamous I–told–you–so expression he wore whenever he was proven right. None of that mattered.
“I think I am beginning to get the hang of it,” she said when her next shot actually hit the edge of the target’s outline.
“Barely,” Ghoul snorted as he slid his hand further up her arm, toward her shoulder. “On Kamino they’d have dropped you back in the tank for reconditioning.”
“What’s that?” she asked, immediately curious. She had never heard him—or any clone, for that matter—speak openly about the watery planet from which they originated. Rumors ran rampant, of course, but she never trusted any piece of newsworthy information that didn’t come with sources attached.
“It’s…it’s when clones don’t do as well as they’re supposed to in simulations,” Ghoul said. Odessa felt the change in his grip as much as she heard it in the tone of his voice, the way his fingers stiffened and all the emotion bled out of him. He sounded so different, so guarded all of the sudden that she felt bad for asking.
“What happens?” she pressed, despite the warning signs that this was a subject best left alone.
“...they’re made to start over.”
She didn’t know what that was supposed to mean, but there was finality to his words that she didn’t argue. He didn’t want to talk about it and she didn't want to push him any farther. Whatever 'reconditioning' was, it couldn't be anything good.
"One more, I think," Odessa said, changing the subject to distract Ghoul. "I will hit the target this next time, I am certain."
"...we'll see."
He lowered his hand from her arm and took a step back, leaving her at the barrier alone. Without his support, she felt the ache in her shoulders more poignantly. The scent of burnt ozone hung in the air and the blaster felt slippery in her hands, a combination of the sweat from her palms and the heatsink compensating for the power cell and capacitors. She really didn't want to disappoint him….
Odessa inhaled a deep breath, held it for a moment, then exhaled just as slowly. She stared down the sights of the blaster, lining them up with the target in the distance.
Just squeeze, she coached herself. Slowly and firmly.
TSSEEW!!
The blasterbolt ripped through the paper, incinerating a good portion of the target's shoulder and chassis. It wasn't a direct shot, nor was it perfect, but it was a solid hit.
"Yes!!" Odessa cheered, setting the blaster down before jumping around in a circle. She beamed at Ghoul, who stood there with his eyebrows raised like he hadn't expected her to actually do any better.
"Your expert teaching has paid off!" she claimed as she set aside the earmuffs. "So now I sign up for battle, yes?"
He chuckled—actually chuckled— and shook his head.
"I didn't think you'd be able to do it," he admitted. "Guess I don't mind being proven wrong. Good job."
His praise, however small, made her feel as though she could float away. More than anything she liked the way he looked, the shape of his eyes narrowed the same way they would in a smile and the lines of his body more relaxed. She liked the easy way he talked to her now, versus his clipped way of speaking at 79s. He was…handsome, she thought. Not in the usual way, but…it was something else, something that wasn't necessarily physical.
Odessa continued to beam at him, feeling for all the world that she could launch into the sky, circle the sun, and come back down for a perfect landing. And she hadn't wanted to hold the blaster at first.
"Now what?" she asked, rocking on her heels. "More targets?"
"Not today," Ghoul said, stretching. "I need to get back to base. We only had an hour here anyway."
"Then next time," Odessa suggested, feeling very brave. "Next time we…try again."
Ghoul looked startled for a second, then confused. Did he not think she'd want to do this again, just to be around him if nothing else?
"It will be good practice," she insisted before he could say anything. "I am still not so good a shot…it will take more times before I can be like you."
That drew out another little snort of amusement and Ghoul shook his head.
"A whole war wouldn't be enough to get you on the same level as me," he said, "but you gotta start somewhere. Come on, pack up."
He made her discharge the blaster's capacitor before letting her pack it back into its protective carrying case, and then he hauled his bag back over his shoulder again and shooed her out the door. The target itself came with them, rolled up and tucked beneath his arm until he handed it to her to carry. Odessa hadn’t realized she would be allowed to keep it, but she was already making plans in her head where she would hang it as a memento in her apartment.
The hallway was abandoned except for another pair of humans also ending their training session—not clones, she saw, but what looked like a father and son. Their hair color matched, at least. The boy looked scarcely older than thirteen and, still riding the high from making her shot, Odessa waved at him with a smile when he looked up.
He grinned and waved back enthusiastically—and too late she realized he waved with the same hand holding a blaster.
TSSEEW!!
Odessa didn't have time to react as the shot ricocheted toward them, but she felt an arm encircle her shoulders and push down, hard enough to send her crumpling to her knees mid-step. She curled in on herself instinctively, a hand coming up over the top of her head as she dropped, followed by the weight of another body against her back. The blasterbolt struck the wall, the floor, then the ceiling as it traveled down the hall, burning itself out and sending sparks everywhere. One of the lights flickered, damaged beyond repair, and several doors swished open as people came out to see what the commotion was.
She heard the noise of people shouting—“You karking idiot, who let that brat in here?! Take that thing away from him before it goes off again!”—and footsteps pounding against the floor, the loud, panicked cries of the boy—“I’m sorry I’m sorry I didn’t mean to, I’m sorry!”—and the loudspeakers feeding an announcement into the air for everyone to remain calm. Her heartbeat sounded in her head like the staccato beat of a wardrum and she couldn’t move, frozen to the floor with the rolled up target clutched to her chest like it was her only lifeline.
The hard plasteel of Ghoul’s armor dug into her side, but then she saw his boot come into view. He knelt over her, practically straddling her hips for a moment before climbing to his feet. She caught a glimpse of his expression—incandescent with rage, yet it sent a thrill racing through her—and then he held out his hand to her.
“Get up,” he hissed.
Odessa grasped at his gloved hand and let him yank her to her feet as though she weighed nothing at all, practically lifting her off the ground until she gathered her legs beneath her. Her limbs shook wildly and she gasped, not realizing she had been holding her breath.
“You hurt?” he asked, looking her over.
“N-no,” she replied. “Just startled, I think.”
“Good. Come on.”
He pushed her in front of him, steering her toward the exit doors with a hand on her shoulder; they passed the boy and his father, who were now surrounded by a combination of other patrons and employees, all of them shouting so loudly the sound of it hurt her head. Odessa pressed a few fingers to her temple to quell the throbbing and allowed Ghoul to guide her until they were both outside. She took a deep breath of fresh air, closing her eyes and trying to calm her nerves. She was rattled, but untouched. It was harrowing, but just an accident. No one was hurt. It was okay.
Ghoul paced about four meters away, already smoking a cygarette that she hadn’t noticed him light up. She could hear him muttering to himself, his tone dark and murderous; she didn’t need to hear what he was saying to know that he probably wanted to go back inside and give those two a piece of his mind. Maybe if she hadn’t been there he would have…or maybe he would have done worse, she thought, remembering the violent way he had reacted to the drunks at the bar. Maybe leaving had been the best option.
As the adrenaline wore off, Odessa felt exhaustion take hold of her, filling her limbs with a sluggish feeling that told her she’d sleep well tonight if the nightmares didn’t take hold. Too much excitement for one day, and she hadn’t even managed to change out of her work uniform. Ghoul dropped onto the bench by the wall, having already burned through half of his cygarette.
“Are you alright?” Odessa asked as she joined him, gingerly taking up the space at the far end of the bench. His leg hadn’t stopped bouncing since he sat down and all his muttering had ceased, replaced with a dark, haunted look that filled her with apprehension. His mood shifted him into someone unknown, but she didn’t want to simply ignore it in the hopes that he would return to the Ghoul of only a few moments ago.
“I’m fine,” he said tersely, inhaling on his death stick. “I get shot at all the time; it’s nothing new.”
“Not like this though,” Odessa said as she squirmed in place. “It is not supposed to be happening here.”
“...no. It was an accident—a kriffing stupid one. They need to ban that idiot until he teaches his brat blaster safety.”
“...thank you, for saving me.”
This time she was certain that was what he had done. There was no need to second guess herself when he had acted so quickly, putting himself between her and harm’s way like it was the most natural thing in the world. She wondered how much of his actions were due in part to his training, versus instinct. Or maybe they were the same thing to clones, who were bred to endure conditions worse than an accidental discharge. Odessa swallowed and looked up to the sky, painted in shades of orange and crimson as the sun began to set.
“Don’t need thanks,” Ghoul said beside her. “Just…did what I’m supposed to.”
“Still,” she sighed, “it was dangerous. Thank you.”
He grunted and flicked the rest of his death stick to the ground, getting to his feet again and jerking his head at her.
“Where do you live,” he asked, and there was a tiredness to his voice that she felt reflected in her bones. They were both worn out, it seemed.
“Not far, actually,” she said, also getting to her feet. “But you do not need to accompany me. I can find my own way.”
“Wasn’t asking permission,” Ghoul said.
Odessa smiled and shook her head, but led the way back down a level, like she was headed toward 79s. Her apartment was very small, part of a series of lower-income housing funded by the Senate and rented mostly by immigrants such as herself. It was close enough to the bar that she walked to and from every shift, but far enough from the shelter that she had to take a skyliner with three transfers.
They walked in silence the entire way, Ghoul managing to get through another whole cygarette before he seemed to finally relax. She hadn’t said anything, but she could tell that he had also been unnerved by the rogue blasterbolt. The difference between them was that he had still been able to take action, while she had all but seized up. Her father had been correct about her in a way that burned her to admit, but Odessa didn’t dwell on it for long. She didn’t want to end her day on a sour note.
“This one is me,” she said as she came to a stop in front of her door. Three flights of stairs and a balcony view was more than she ever could have hoped for, even if the inside wasn’t all that impressive. The paint of the door was cracked and peeling and the outside of the complex had seen better years. She didn’t think Ghoul would judge her for where she lived, so she didn’t let it bother her.
“Thank you again,” she said, turning to look up at him. “For the lesson, and for walking with me. You are full of surprises.”
Ghoul sniffed and avoided looking directly at her. Human skintones were all some variation of beige, pink and brown, but she could tell that he blushed from the way his ears reddened.
“It was nothing,” he said. “Just…felt like you should know how to shoot, since you’re always walking places by yourself.”
“You did not have to spend your precious time teaching me, but you did. I…enjoyed it very much.”
He squirmed like he was uncomfortable receiving her gratitude, like he didn’t quite know what to do with it. Odessa watched him for a moment, fighting the feeling building inside of her chest.
But why?
“Ghoul,” she said, to get his attention. He looked and she crooked her finger at him. “Come close.”
He hesitated for a fraction of a second before leaning in like he was expecting her to tell him a secret, turning his ear toward her to better hear. She giggled and reached for his face, standing up on her toes and sliding her fingers along his prosthetic jaw to turn him back to look at her. The kiss she pressed to his mouth was gentle, lingering just long enough for her to realize that yes, his upper lip was as soft as it looked despite the scarring, and she didn’t at all mind the way the prosthetic felt. It was cool beneath her fingers, smooth metal and synth-flesh married together in an impressive feat of engineering that allowed her to kiss him the way she had been thinking about for too long.
“Thank you,” Odessa said as she rocked back on her heels. “I had fun, despite being shot at. You are a very good teacher.”
Ghoul just stared at her, his eyes wide and his breathing shallow. It wasn’t the first time she had managed to surprise him, but she was definitely beginning to master the act. She thumbed the line where the flesh of his cheek disappeared beneath metal and dropped her hand reluctantly. If she stood there any longer she would do something brash, like invite him inside. It was too much for one day, and she already had a lot to think about. She suspected sleep would not come easily for her, despite how tired she felt.
“I will see you again?” she asked. “At 79s?”
“Y-yeah,” Ghoul finally said, his voice raspy.
“Good. Well…take care.”
She unlocked her door and slid inside, watching through the crack as Ghoul turned to leave, his movements halting and stiff. She watched as he glanced back at her door twice, a different look on his face both times; she had never met a man like him before, someone as guarded as he was, who didn’t seem to care for anyone or anything, and yet whose recent actions betrayed the very image he tried to project.
Odessa watched until he descended the stairs out of view, then closed her door and leaned against it with a happy little sigh, her lekku flicking back and forth with delight.
I like him.
#star wars oc#star wars oc fanfic#the bad batch oc#friend oc#odessa x ghoul#the babies#they've come so far#;;A;;#i have never written so much in so short amount of time#the mun writes
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Spoiler for those who haven’t finished season 4 part 3/the last two episodes
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I just finished the last episode and my mind is a hot mess.
I’m probably going to miss some things but here are some of the stuff I have an opinion about:
1. Regarding armin/erwin my thoughts remain unchanged. Despite feeling strongly about it, I gave the series the benefit of the doubt when erwin got killed. I wanted to see if I was wrong. I would’ve been happy about it. In the end armin turned out to be as effective of a commander as a ten year old. The fact of the matter is that he couldn’t do much in the end. He had a number of breakdowns, he wasn’t able to control or utilize the colossal titan as well as bertholdt could in the past, he slipped up that time he was doing a little pep talk with yelena in the background, his biggest plan all along was always to “talk it out first” but that failed too, etc. Eren still did what he wanted and people still died. Except for blowing up the dock and when he tried to sacrifice himself so that falco wouldn’t get eaten by Connie’s mom, I don’t recall any other accomplishments that were of substance in season 4. It’s also possible that I’m just forgetting things because my mind is still racing right now and I’m still going through it emotionally, but for now my thoughts are unchanged. Can you imagine what it would have been like had erwin lived instead?
2. Connecting from the thought above, we can’t change that erwin died, but after finishing the series I can finally conclude that jean should’ve been the next commander. At the very least, he should have been made a vice commander. First of all it’s not impossible that floch survived all of that, but it’s pretty convenient that he did so he could shoot at the fuel tank in order to create a situation where the rumbling would catch up to them. In this situation it was also pretty convenient that Levi had been injured so badly he couldn’t be the one to fight, so as the commander hange decided she had to go, which was apparently a suicide mission because of the temperature around the colossals. I’m going to keep it 100% real here and say the circumstances leading up to this point of armin getting handed the commander’s seat were pretty convenient. Levi whose instincts were so great he managed to remain more or less unscathed for most of the series including when he had to fight kenny, he really didn’t see zeke using the lightning spear coming? And even then he couldn’t dodge it? Despite years of remaining unscathed under different circumstances that were just as if not more horrible? Levi who, along with mikasa, was the first to notice and to react to the replica of the beast titan throwing its shots at them? I just found it a bit hard to believe. And Hange said in the end, “The position calls for a certain quality― a mindset of continuously pursuing understanding”, and I admit armin did have this, but are we really going to ignore what hange also said earlier in the series just so it fits the current narrative? In season 3 when they were arguing about who to give the injection to, hange held mikasa back saying armin was indeed exceptional, but that he lacked the leadership and experience that erwin had. At least from my pov, armin didn’t really change much from the second half of season 1 to season 4. Jean on the other hand, has proven himself numerous times in this regard. He’s a quick thinker, reliable, practical, and passionate - all the qualities of a good leader. No doubt jean isn’t perfect, but imo he’s definitely more suitable. Let’s also not forget jean too has his moments of “pursuing understanding”. There are probably more than I can think of at the moment, but the ones that come to mind immediately are that scene at the end of season 1 which has really stuck with me ever since, when he asked armin if abandoning your humanity was the only way to win, and if eren did become that monster would that really be a victory for humanity, and then that other time when they were in the cell and jean asked mikasa and armin if eren hurting them had some sort of meaning behind it. I wouldn’t say jean is the smartest or the wisest character in the series, but he’s not brainless. Far from it. For some reason, and I’m guessing maybe because he can be short tempered at times, more often than not people don’t really talk about his quick thinking or about the important questions that he’s asked.
3. This is totally unrelated to the series and it’s about naruto so if you’re not into that or if you haven’t seen naruto just skip this part because spoilers.
Before eren’s intentions were made clear I already kind of guessed how it would play out because it’s reminiscent of how itachi wanted sasuke to be the one to kill him so that sasuke would be a hero of the leaf despite being an uchiha. Eren saw the crew as the people most important to him, and for itachi sasuke was even more precious than konoha itself. Eren committed genocide, itachi massacred his entire clan and more. Eren hurt the crew and especially mikasa and armin on purpose, itachi hurt sasuke on purpose. There was of course a huge difference between their executions, and imo itachi played his part much much more skillfully than eren did and for far longer, but it’s an interesting parallel.
4. I found the ending a bit weird. I can kind of roll with it but compared to the majority of the series and how it built itself up up until that point, it honestly feels off. I understand why people thought it was a bad ending, but I also don’t think the author deserved hate for it. And I mean like, there are some really angry people. In most situations, and I’m generalizing here, it’s alright to have opinions and it’s alright to feel a certain way but to direct those feelings towards the author himself is taking it a bit far. It’s his freedom to write whatever. Let’s be happy we even got anything from him. Without the author there would’ve been nothing at all. I know from personal experience it can be overwhelming at times, but it’s going to be ok.
5. I don’t have a particular attachment towards zeke but I felt sorry seeing everything that he had gone through. I’m mentioning this only because I’ve never really talked about it I think. I’ve talked about some of the other characters but not so much about zeke’s past from what I can remember. Grisha and Dina were terrible parents, and him calling Tom ksaver “father” was really sad. I know he’s not the only one and I really don’t even like him all that much but he really had it rough.
6. I felt that the love interests weren’t written very well. I get mikasa cause she’s been obsessed with eren from the start, but we really only started to see eren’s supposed “interest” in her in season 4, and only in glimpses. There really isn’t a lot of material to fall back on. I always felt he saw her as more of a sister? Of course he’s shouted at her before that he wasn’t her little brother or something along that line, but I always felt he just saw her as family. The only thing I can think of from earlier seasons to support this pair is that time when eren first wrapped the scarf around her and he was blushing. I always saw that as more of like, he was kind of embarrassed to do something like that because for him the act was a bit intimate and they weren’t too familiar with each other, but I guess you could also see it as him blushing because he had a small crush on her. On top of this they lived together in the same house and grisha has referred to mikasa as his daughter, so I just found it a bit weird. Obviously they’re not actually siblings but they were kind of raised as brother and sister for some time, so. A bit weird from my perspective. What’s more is the dynamic itself doesn’t seem to be very healthy. But I’m not mad at people who ship them. That kind of romance is definitely possible, and they’re technically not related, so it’s whatever I guess. They were also very young still so in an ideal world I imagine their dynamic might’ve been able to change for the better as they matured. On the other hand armin and Annie I found even weirder. It just felt too sudden. I get that armin ate bertholdt so that could’ve contributed, and I get that Annie literally only had armin and hitch as company most of the time for literal years, but it’s still weird for me. Like good for them but I wish it could’ve been a bit more fleshed out.
7. I’ve said this before but I didn’t appreciate the parallels drawn between Erwin and Armin. They are entirely separate characters with entirely different motives. Connecting to what I said at point 1 armin was never able to “replace” erwin. Of course the same can be said for erwin, he was never going to be another armin. I feel the same way about the parallels drawn between Sasha and gabi. Again two entirely separate characters with entirely different motives. I can appreciate parallels but only if they’re written well. These just felt like forced propaganda.
There’s more but for now I’ll stop here cause this is getting a bit long and I’m really tired
#shingeki no kyojin#armin arlert#Erwin Smith#yelena#eren jaeger#connie springer#jean kirschtein#floch forster#levi ackerman#hange zoe#zeke jaeger#mikasa ackerman#grisha jaeger#dina fritz#tom ksaver#annie leonhart#sasha braus#gabi braun#bertholdt hoover
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by Jack Engelhard
So this time it’s not 1,000 for one. Well, that’s an improvement. This time it’s 150 Arab terrorists in exchange for 50 Israeli hostages.
To some, that’s considered a win. Hey, look, we didn’t cave completely, only partly.
Did you get back all the hostages in this deal? That would have been something. But you didn’t. Abraham was also a lousy bargainer. Maybe that’s where this starts.
Frankly, I had intended to write something upbeat, especially when my IDF brothers in arms are fighting like lions inside the belly of the beast. (My guys were the Navy.)
But like you, dear reader, I am so damn depressed. Literally, where’s the light at the end of the tunnel?
I hardly hear any talk of victory any more. Mostly, the talk I’m hearing is about those “innocent Gaza civilians” and how Israel’s NUMBER ONE priority is to keep them safe.(Not Netanyahu and the government, thank G-d - they promise to go on to the end of Hamas and called its leaders "dead men walking" just last night.)
That’s the ballgame?
Secretary of State Antony Blinken thinks hardly about anything else, which is why he keeps traveling to Israel…to press the point.
There he is again this week…also to put the squeeze on Israel for “the day after,” which is a column for later.
He’s getting ready…with Biden, and the State Department…to swamp Israel ought of existence through another two-state solution, only this time with MORE land for the Arabs.
You heard that right. More land and THIS TIME they will be happy campers. Blinken is betting on this, with Israel’s money.
Which Israeli government will push back and resist? Or will it always be back to square one?
I am not confident. History tells us that leftist elements in Israel are always ready to concede for the “sake of peace in our time.” Per Neville Chamberlain.
Will it constantly be the same merry-go-round?
Nor can I forget the peaceniks who gave us Oslo, and the man, Ariel Sharon, who brought us to this pass when he gave this good Jewish land over to the Arabs. Hence, Hamas.
In earlier columns we proved that there are no innocent Gazans. They are all the same. One part does the killing, the other part does the cheering.
Dear Israel…how often will you let them play you like a fiddle? The enemy seems always a step ahead of you. Certainly the case Oct 7. Thereafter, as well.
We’re supposed to be so smart. They never produced an Einstein, and we have won 214 Nobel Prizes to their ZERO…all for what, when it comes to our survival.
Yet so often they outsmart us. We’re told that the 150 terrorists being released are really good terrorists. Quite harmless. Yet among them, we are learning, there exists car rammers, knife stabbers, suicide bombers, and outright murderers. BUT…they have been koshered by the government because they are only 99.9 percent like Hamas, not 100 percent. They did not succeed in their plans to murder Jews.
So, as of this writing, the deal is on…that is, for this group of 50…200 more to go.
Why art thou downcast O my soul? (David)
Because I know what’s coming. Hamas is going to drag this along for two years…one gift at a time…five, 10, maybe 20 hostages incrementally.
I so terribly hope I am wrong.
They can play this game down to one hostage left to taunt us with a Shalit all over again.
Meantime, the IDF will be stymied, the leadership, stalemated.
Let it not be so.
Hamas has this all figured out. Do the Israelis? How is it that Hamas gets to call the shots? Yes, Israel should have insisted on the release of all the hostages at once.
Or else, fire and brimstone of Biblical proportions. It’s what Churchill would have done…and did. Victory at all costs.
After all that, there is this: my niece Miriam, whose children live in Beer-Sheva…anyway, Miriam sends me the talks given by the Rebbe.
I listen to them every day…and they do uplift, give strength, and optimism. There shall be no despair. Israel…the Jewish People…will prevail.
Heck, I’m trying to be upbeat. Work with me.
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Chapter 20 - I Battle My Jerk Relative
Theme of the day: War
Y’all I’m gonna do it. I’m gonna finish these last few chapters before the tv show comes out!! This year really didn’t turn out the way I wanted it to go but by the gods I’ll have at least one goal done no matter how skewed it got 😅 I was really like I’ll be able to read all the Olympus series in a year sjkdfhsd shit happens.
On to the chapter, “war” seems a bit self explanatory since this is when Percy confronts Ares. While Ares isn’t the one to have formed the idea of pitting the Big Three against each other, but he’s enticed by the idea of WWIII, a three-way war. Luke was lucky that it was Ares who caught him, since he probably was the easiest of the Olympians to manipulate (like hey... you could turn me in or you could let me go and start a giant war 😏). It really was a brilliant plan, as I said in my last chapter post, because it takes advantage of the Olympians’ weaknesses and paranoia. And the only way for it to go wrong was for a child to complete his quest against all odds despite having to 1) trek across the country, 2) face countless monsters, 3) thwart trickery from evil masterminds, and 4) trek across the country again. Percy really had very low chances to make it out alive. But he also lives off of spite and proving people wrong lol.
It’s interesting how each pjo book up until the final one is about Percy delaying a war in some way (kinda a theme with Riordan’s books lmao). The start of the chapter shows the beginnings of war with Hades’ army starting to rise up from the Underworld, causing massive earthquakes and fires and general chaos. Like a harbinger of a greater battle. In the immediate sense, it’s a taste of what could happen if an Olympic civil war occurs, but it’s also a bit of foreshadowing to the actual war that will take place in the future. Just like this whole book, it’s setting up what’s to come.
Continuing on that theme, Percy’s battle with Ares really culminates everything he’s learned on how to fight so far, and it sets the stage for what the readers should expect the rest of his battles to go in the series. It makes me think of the final climax of The Last Olympian, how Percy chooses to use his brain and his heart rather than his brawn against Luke, because those are the things that truly matter in the end. In this case, while Percy does use his strength and demigod powers, the reason he wins against Ares is because he uses his intelligence. It really correlates his battle with Echidna, since at that point he didn’t have enough experience to fight with more than just instincts. Actually since St. Louis, Percy has had to rely on his brain when confronting enemies, maybe that encounter influenced him to do that more. And with Ares, he finds that just his instincts doesn’t cut it. He forms a strategy vs Ares’ brute force. Percy even remembers Annabeth’s words from an earlier chapter: “Ares has strength. That’s all he has. Even strength has to bow to wisdom sometimes.” Like the old saying, the pen is mightier than the sword! Which is really ironic in this context lmao. Speaking of irony, it’s funny how Luke’s advice on how to sword fight helps Percy in his battle. The very man behind the robbery and evil plot being a reason Percy survives this quest lol. I know it’s addressed in hoo, but it’s strange how Ares is all brute force and no strategy, because the latter is such a huge part of war?? And it’s not like the ancient Greeks didn’t use strategy in their battles. But ig that’s what Athena is for 🤔
Other ways war and its effects is sprinkled in the chapter without an actual war in bullets bc I’m too tired to fully analyze these very sad things:
Percy mourning losing his mom (again)
Percy compartmentalizing his grief to focus on his mission
Despite winning his battle, Percy not feeling very victorious but instead feeling drained bc there’s no true winner for those in a war
Moving on to something a bit opposite, I can’t not talk about Annabeth giving Percy her camp necklace. Two people, potential enemies, reconciling as Annabeth says. The act is a physical symbol of Annabeth’s words from ch 16 (moreso than the oreos lol). She’s showing how she’s truly on Percy’s side, setting aside an ancient rivalry. In the face of war, Annabeth will fight with Percy and not against him. Kinda mirrors their moment in Blood of Olympus under the Parthenon doesn’t it? 🥹💖
Small things:
Can you believe a child taunted a literal god and the god fell for it
Like Ares could’ve been you’re beneath me and let him feel the wrath of Hades but instead he was like y’know what Ima fight this kid. he called me a coward.
Percy attributes his ability to observe things with his ADHD so ig that is a demigod trait. But he is extremely good at it.
Previous: Chapter 19 - We Find Out the Truth, Sort Of
Next: Chapter 21 - I Settle My Tab
#i will finish this book before the 20th if its the last thing i do#percy jackson#ares#annabeth chase#luke castellan#pjo#percy jackson and the olympians#the lightning thief#tlt analysis#pjo analysis#pjo meta#also thank you to all the nice comments on my posts!#i see them. i see you. you're very appreciated <3
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Mina Hsiang returned to the United States Digital Service, the US government's rapid digital fix-it squad, on January 26, 2021, when the streets of Washington, DC, had hardly been cleared after Joe Biden’s inauguration. She was one of the group’s founding members but had spent the past few years working for a health care startup. Upon her return, Hsiang worked on Covid response, and in September 2021, she became the third administrator of the USDS.
Her timing was impeccable. The organization had sprung from the infamous HeathCare.gov debacle in 2013, when the website for selecting insurance plans under the new Obamacare law crashed badly. Hsiang was a key member of the scrappy rescue team that turned things around, using principles of web design that were common in Silicon Valley operations but underutilized in government. Their methods flew in the face of typical arrangements in federal agencies, which would contract out digital operations to legacy firms with Beltway connections. Those six- or seven-figure contracts seldom demanded benchmark performances and often took years to complete, or were never finished at all. The tiny team of idealistic rescuers not only helped design a cleaner avenue to health insurance, but charmed the lifers at Health and Human Services (HHS) into enlisting them to fix up digital government more broadly.
The idea behind the new USDS was to bottle the same guerilla spirit that had saved HealthCare.gov. Ideally, these volunteers from the commercial tech firms would win the hearts and minds of people inside agencies like the Veterans Affairs (VA) or HHS, infiltrating their calcified cultures with the can-do spirit and constant iteration of a startup and creating digital government services as slick as the latest app from Silicon Valley.
I spoke to Hsiang this week about how the USDS is faring after two years under her leadership. During the Trump years, the agency had to scramble just to stay alive, no easy task when a target was tacked onto anything even tangentially related to Obama. The team survived through a combination of lying low and doing productive work. They managed to thread that needle, in part, because Jared Kushner was at one point infatuated with the concept. Nonetheless, USDS wasn’t thriving when Hsiang returned. “The last administration had done a lot to undermine staffing,” she says.
Hsiang took over just as things were looking up. Biden’s 2021 American Rescue Plan directed an astonishing $200 million to the USDS, ballooning its previously modest budget. That enabled USDS coders and designers to work with more agencies and start new programs. “There was just a ton of demand across government. So it was, ‘OK, how do we rebuild, scale, and up level,’” says Hsiang. It also helped that late in 2021, Biden issued an executive order making human-centered design a key part of the federal government’s digital interface with citizens. One radical idea: “In all sectors, services should reduce burdens, not increase them.”
The head count of USDS is now around 215, up from 80 when Hsiang ended her first stint with the group. “About a third of those are returners,” Hsiang says. Despite what she calls the “anti-sell”—a warning about the restrictions and financial implications of working for the government—“People still want to show up.”
Another part of her task was steadying the ship. Despite a number of victories in agencies ranging from the VA to the Department of Defense, USDS has enemies. Not surprisingly, some of those fat-cat contractors who enjoyed no-blame deals to create bloated databases that didn’t work pushed to constrain or kill this threat to their business models and self-respect. And apparently some critics just don’t like the idea of people in hoodies churning out code in the basements of federal agencies. The USDS has always dealt with pushback in Congress, and this summer some legislators launched an unsuccessful (for now) effort to strip $80 million from the USDS budget, claiming that the service wasn’t accountable. “What the hell are they working on?” one anonymous government critic said to FedScoop.
It’s actually pretty easy to see what the USDS is working on if you know where to look. You can find their work, for instance, on the Social Security Administration homepage, which has been revamped and streamlined with USDS input. “In November of last year it had 70,000 pages for you to navigate to find information,” Hsiang says. “We got it down to 280, which is much more digestible.”
Or consider the website that allowed Americans to order home delivery of free Covid tests. Instead of asking people dozens of questions before they could sign up, the drop-dead simple form just asked where to send the darn things. Yes, there was a speed bump when the site couldn’t parse some addresses for citizens who lived in multifamily residences, but that was quickly resolved. Two-thirds of American households ultimately participated, with over 755 million tests distributed. “It was a phenomenal example of the partnership between USDS and agencies and the White House and the US Postal Service—of how we can all work together,” says Hsiang. “We can restore trust by having a thing that operates as you would expect it to, that looks more like the products we all choose to use every day, rather than the ones we have to use.”
There’s a long way to go, of course. Matthew Desmond, in his book Poverty by America, describes how millions of Americans don’t take advantage of vital programs because they are difficult to access. “I think a lot about the opportunity for technology to reduce that administrative burden,” says Hsiang. One problem, she notes, is that getting help often requires a citizen to access programs from multiple agencies that are poorly coordinated. “One of our superpowers is our ability to work between multiple agencies.”
One missed opportunity is the failure of the Biden Administration to fill the post of chief technology officer of the United States. “It would definitely be better to have an incredible partner in that office,” Hsiang concedes. On the other hand, Biden’s current chief of staff, Jeff Zients, is deeply familiar with USDS, since he was once in charge of the HealthCare.gov rescue. “He brings us in and ensures that programs are running the right way,” Hsiang says.
I ask Hsiang how USDS regards generative AI because, well, my license as a tech pundit would be revoked if I failed to do that. “We’re looking at it very carefully,” she says—a line currently mandatory for those in her line of work. She cites concerns that AI bots might infect services with bias. But like it or not, the AI boom has to be dealt with. Hsiang cites an HHS website called Grants.gov that takes submissions for thousands of funding applications. A flood of AI-generated pitches is expected. “We need to respond to that,” she says. The USDS is also experimenting with ways to use generative AI inside government services. “We’re hiring for folks who really understand how to use and implement AI systems,” she says.
One thing hasn’t changed at USDS: its desire to spread a positive contagion of citizen-centric tech efforts among those bureaucracies. “One of our hypotheses early on is to see if we can do this culture change, with different ways of operating and thinking, and make it sustainable,” says Hsiang. “We’re currently working with about a dozen agencies who are trying to think through how they can build that capability internally.”
One indicator of this shift: The patient Hsiang first joined the government to save is thriving. Transcending its disastrous beginning, HealthCare.gov no longer requires outside support from the group’s geeky fixers.
Time Travel
In January 2017, I wrote about the United States Digital Service’s accomplishments, as well as its uncertain prospects under a president who might not be inclined to continue the Obama-created agency of tech hackers dedicated to Silicon Valley-izing government IT.
As the inauguration approaches, the mood swings at the USDS are Calder-esque. Dickerson describes it as “a high school graduation and a massive layoff mixed with a funeral that’s gone on for two months.” On the Facebook feeds of politically appointed tech surgers you see photos of final handshakes with the president; they’re wearing uncharacteristically formal garb and are often with their families; they have been ushered into the Oval Office for mutual thanks. Obama himself bid farewell to the team at a ceremony on the steps of the Executive Office Building last Thursday. He spent the better part of an hour thanking the team and telling them what a difference they made.
But they know it already, and the experience has made many of them reluctant to return to their previous lives inside profit-making corporations. Those jobs don’t seem so meaningful anymore. Some are sticking around the DC area, even though they hate it as a place to live. There’s talk about a loose network of tech surge alumni engaging in a new kind of insurgency—outside the government but with the same end of serving the people.
“Every hint I ever had was that the infrastructure of civilization was someone else’s problem,” says Matthew Weaver. “What a lie that was. It was my problem. I’m lucky to have the skills to address this. Now I want everyone who has an inkling of this to understand … to say, this is my problem.”
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Chapter 19- Part 14
Also, apparently Cal is special enough to get his own battle theme? It sounds like a remix of Marnie’s theme- and this theme is an absolute banger, but I’m still shaken by being thrust into another major battle!
Okay, okay, calm down- he can’t be that much higher-leveled than Victoria and Fern’s teams. Riptide’s not exactly equipped to deal with the Torkoal when the sun’s out like this, though, so let’s bring in the newly-evolved Crater instead.
…Huh. So, Hidden Power is a move that gets boosted by this Field, and Torkoal’s Hidden Power is Electric-type. Okay. I think at this point, the information overload has just rendered me numb.
Let’s see- Earth Power is sure to do a lot, right?
Aha!? Oh, she just one-shotted it! It didn’t even get a chance to launch a second attack! Wait- can I just do that again on Magmortar?
Lv. 34, huh? Higher-leveled than I was expecting, but Earth Power is sure to go a lot, still!
HAH! The Quick Claw strikes again!
Oh, Magmortar actually survived- and Fire Punch did pretty decent damage despite Crater being resistant to Fire moves. Well, regardless, another Earth Power should finish the job.
So Cal’s a monotype Fire Trainer? Guess that makes sense, what with the sunlight and all. But while I feel like Crater can just keep sweeping his team with Earth Power, I don’t want to do that because of the level cap. Now, if it was a hard level cap I wouldn’t be so concerned and I would keep using her, but that’s not how things work, so I still have to keep an eye on exp. points.
So…let’s use Glare for Houndoom, here.
We’ll start with Glare™, as usual, before launching into an Acid Spray assault.
Wait…Inferno? I barely recognize that move, I don’t see it used that often, but isn’t that a really strong Fire move? Like, really-
…Ah. Well, so much for that plan, uh…okay, let’s try Riptide. He can’t do much damage to this thing, but he can resist Fire moves just fine!
Let’s start with Scary Face, give him some breathing-
Uuuuh?? Ooh, Inferno is still doing a whole lot- and Riptide’s burned, now!? He was already not gonna be doing a lot of damage, you didn’t have to Burn him on top of that!
You know what, I know this Marnie remix slaps like no other, but you know where my mind is actually going right now, given the current situation? Rainbow Road in minor key. Seems fitting for how absolutely cursed this encounter is…
This is a disaster- why does it just keep spamming Inferno!? USE A DIFFERENT MOVE, YOU HACK! Whose idea was it to let the dog have a move like that? I don’t even remember what its base power is, I just remember it’s a strong move!
(Future edit: So I looked it up after this session, and Inferno has a base power of 100, about what I thought it was. However, I also found that the move’s accuracy is 50%- it’s a coin-flip move. And this Houndoom landed that coin-flip three times. In a row. So either a.) the Houndoom has an accuracy-boosting item, b.) this Rainbow Road terrain does something to boost Inferno’s accuracy, or c.) all my luck was used up with Crater’s Quick Claw.)
There’s no way Riptide can win this, and once he’s down- well, Prong and Decibel definitely won’t be able to beat it, and Crater might be able to survive with some healing and Amnesia, but I have no idea what the rest of Cal’s team looks like! He could have a Ground-type (like, maybe a Camerupt of his own), and then what? Not to mention the risk of Crater getting too much exp. and going over the level cap a result...
Sooo, since we’re really not equipped to deal with a team like this…I don’t think there’s much of a choice but to reset. Man- I was feeling so good after that clutch victory against Fern, and then to get ambushed by Cal like that? I just wanted to check out the Gym for a minute or two and then end the chapter! That was it!
I’m not as incensed by Cal and his attitude like I was in the last chapter (I have recovered from my post-character death bloodlust), so I don’t hate him for those reasons- instead, I’m now upset with him for entirely different reasons! I WON’T FORGET ABOUT THIS, CAL!! JUST YOU WAIT!!
So for right now, there will be two objectives for next chapter: build a team to take on Cal, and then maybe build another team to challenge Shelly? Assuming there are no other plot elements to resolve before we battle her? I doubt there will be- the level cap is Lv. 35, and we’re really towing that line by now, so there can’t be much more to this story arc.
Apologies for the anticlimactic end to this chapter, it’s not really pleasant to end on a lost/reset battle. However, if I must say something in my defense- how was I supposed to know there’d be a Cal jumpscare after two back-to-back battles with my rivals?? But mark my words, I’ll be back and better than ever next time! I will be avenged!!
CURRENT TEAM:
Riptide
Species: Feraligatr
Gender: Male
Level: 33
Ability: Sheer Force*
Item: Quick Claw
Brave nature; Alert to sounds.
Glare
Species: Arbok
Gender: Female
Level: 32
Ability: Intimidate
Item: Protective Pads
Naughty nature; Highly curious.
Prong
Species: Charjabug
Gender: Female
Level: 32
Ability: Battery
Item: None
Rash nature; Loves to eat.
Decibel
Species: Noibat
Gender: Female
Level: 32
Ability: Telepathy*
Item: Focus Sash
Bashful nature; Often lost in thought.
Crater
Species: Camerupt
Gender: Female
Level: 33
Ability: Magma Armor
Item: Quick Claw
Hardy nature; Often scatters things.
Kirin
Species: Girafarig
Gender: Female
Level: 32
Ability: Sap Sipper*
Item: None
Quirky nature; Thoroughly cunning.
CURRENT BOXES:
NUMBER OF RELOADS: 12
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Tobio Kageyama: The King of the Court (Essay)
One of the most exciting concepts in Haikyuu is something set up in its 4th season. The concept that certain athletes are just born to play volleyball. Players that feel like they need to be on the court just to survive. The concept of the monster generation.
Of the 6 members of the monster generation, one stands out in particular. A player of unmatched skill, but also someone who fails to treat others with any respect. A player that is shunned by his own team.
Tobio Kageyama is undoubtedly one of the most talented players in Haikyuu, and yet despite his immense skill, we’re reminded time and time again of his shortcomings, of his failure.
So what happens when this tyrant king is dethroned? Does he crumble under defeat, or rise again transformed?
Wait wait wait wait wait. Let’s quickly get something out of the way because it will save me so much wo- I mean because it’s important to the story! Yeah… Let’s go with that.
The words “Genius” and “Monster”.
According to the show, a “Genius” is someone born with a supreme talent for volleyball.
A “Monster” is someone that realises this talent to become a truly world-class player.
Therefore the “Monster Generation” is a collection of these world-class players.
Now then, is Kageyma a genius?
Yes. Without a doubt.
But is he a monster? Welllllll… That’s a tough one. Because he has so so so many flaws.
His journey doesn’t start off on the best path. He had extraordinary talent yes, but lacked a crucial skill that any player needs to be truly great. A skill that’s honestly really basic.
Teamwork.
Volleyball is played with seven players. Good teamwork isn’t optional, it's a necessity. So how can anyone be a genius without this skill? Are we looking at a failed setter in the making? Or the early stages of a monster?
Part I - The Tyrant
Kageyama’s nickname, “King of the Court”, wasn’t just a title. It was a testament to his relentless pursuit of victory, even at the expense of team harmony.
But what does “King of the Court” mean exactly?
Sure, we know it was given to him because he played volleyball like a tyrant. Where his obsession with winning overshadowed his responsibilities to his teammates. A style of play that said, “It’s about me”.
Let’s compare Kageyam’s initial phase with his old teammate, and current captain of Aoba Johsai, Oikawa Tooru.
Oikawa, with his charismatic leadership and empathetic setting style, seems to embody the ideal setter. And yet, he himself admits to feeling threatened by Kageyama’s sheer talent. Interesting, isn’t it?
Despite being on a team with a player like this, Kageyama could not have been more different. He constantly berated his teammates for not living up to his standards and for not keeping up with him, which lead to him being given the infamous nickname.
He was a tyrannical, egocentric king, who would never settle for anything less than perfection from his teammates, and who disregarded anyone that wasn’t able to keep up with him.
But I mean, be honest. If you were by far the best in your team and everyone around you was dog poo by comparison, you’d get pretty annoyed too.
And you can probably guess what happened next. His teammates lost faith in him and his coaches lamented his wasted potential.
So what did Kageyma do?
Well, he did what any twelve-year-old would do. He never wanted to feel that way again, so after joining Karasuno, he changed.
Part II - The Servant
Kageyama never wanted to feel lonely again. And, he didn’t.
He wanted to make sure his teammates were always there for him. And, they were.
Karasuno are without a doubt the perfect team for Kageyma. They tought him the importance of team work. He learnt to let go of his ego. He became someone that rarely ever criticised his team, giving them the exact sets they wanted.
He did his best to perfect a new quick. Yes, he did it so that he could improve. But he also did it to help his team, to help Hinata.
So how did he do this exactly? How did he learn to be a more selfless setter?
Well, he went to the person, who in his mind, was already a perfect example of that ideal.
After this meeting. Kageyama gets a new philosophy.
He learns that he is there in service for his team, not the other way around. It’s his duty to give his teammates the exact sets that they ask for.
He becomes a selfless setter.
Surely that’s a good thing, right?
Well, Kageyama definitely thought so. But that all changed during a certain training camp where he met a certain player.
Atsumu is one of the best high-school setters in the country, and Kageyama knows this. So what does it mean for him, when Atsumu tells him that everything he has been doing is wrong?
Does this mean he’s still a failure?
This dilemma nags at Kageyama. He’s just been playing with some of the best players in the country, and when he returns to Karasuno, while his teammates are certainly good, there is an obvious difference, and Kageyama notices this, and eventually, he snaps.
Part III - The True King
The problem with what Kageyama has been doing up until now is that he was so afraid of history repeating itself, that he overcompensated.
He always gave his teammates the exact sets that they wanted, and in doing so, reinforced their bad habits.
He knew he could push them higher, push them further, push them to be better, but that scared him. What if they hated him for it?
And that was his dilemma.
He wants to win, not just for himself, but for his team too. But how does he do this? What if he ended up becoming the old tyrannical king again?
Fortunately for Kageyama, there was someone on the team that knew the value of the King of the Court.
Kageyama had always been egotistical and prideful. But that’s just the nature of a talented athlete. Unfortunately for him, his communication was poor, and it resulted in a rather traumatic past.
But at Karasuno, he was given the greatest weapon a setter could ask for. Not a super fast decoy, or a powerful spiker, or an amazing libero.
What he found at Karasuno was a team that supports him, one that will make sure he was never alone.
Conclusion
So, the question remains, is Kageyama a failed setter?
Well, the answer is not too different from real life.
Humans make mistakes. That’s a given. What’s important is how we learn from them.
In the same way, perhaps Kageyama’s journey to becoming a successful setter is paved with lessons learned from his failures. Perhaps being a so-called “failed setter” is a necessary step towards greatness.
There’s no doubt that Hinata wouldn’t be the player he is without Kageyama. But I’d argue the opposite is also true.
Hinata teaches Kageyama that what he’s been ashamed of, can be something that he can be proud of.
He learns that there will always be mistakes and setbacks, but his teammates will always support him.
And so, he knows exactly the kind of setter he needs to be. It might not be what works for Oikawa, and it might not even be what works for Atsumu.
But, for him, it’s perfect.
And with this, Kageyama goes from a tyrant, to a servant, to a king at last.
psst... if you liked this essay, check out the full video essay on my youtube channel!
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p l e a s e expand on that hunger games au whenever you get the chance it’s too good
Certainly
Do you want more or Raph and Mona’s game
More of the 75 game
Character backgrounds?
This idea is in its infancy
Let’s start with Leo
I think Leo is the first one to win in his district in a long time. So long in fact that he didn’t have a mentor when he won his game. Maybe the capital assigned him one but it wasn’t someone from his district.
His win was a major upset.
Maybe he was doing well in his games but he also didn’t want to kill anyone if he didn’t have to. I picture him teaming up with someone from district 3 (maybe a younger kid) this endears him to Casey the kid one the prior year but he would have given anything for the comfort Leo is providing this kid from his district.
His teammate is killed in front of him and he takes out their attacker, his first kill of the games. That’s how he got his twin swords.
I think taking another kids life while watching his friend bleed out would deeply traumatize him. He’s ready to do want he needs to survive but he’s not looking for a fight.
Now how the game ends is up for debate. I have kinda linked Leo to Annie and Usagi to Finnick, so maybe the game makers get board of Leo avoiding fights (he’s strategically avoiding them or baiting careers into traps) and several other competitors are hiding so they cause and earthquake to drawl them out which results in a dam breaking and flooding the arena. Leo has to listen to his fellow tributes drown knowing he can do nothing to help them.
The other option is Leo goes on the offensive and uses his strategy and skills to take out the other tributes (maybe only careers are left)
Either way he’s an upset victor and he has shown that he is a strategic thinker. He’s shown that he’s dangerous
Now let’s take a look at Usagi
I think there are at least three victors from Usagi’s district.
Katsuichi is the oldest and has played the game the longest he’s not the first winner but he’s up there in years (I don’t think as old as mags maybe more of a haymitch- oh yes I like that he won the 50 games)
Tomoe Ame wine a few years before Usagi won making her a little older than him.
And Usagi who won the 70th games.
I don’t think Usagi gave Leo to much notice in his own games. It’s best not to get attached to any tributes until they are victors
When Leo arrives with his tributes for the 74 game Katsuichi can’t help but look out for him. He’s the first mentor to that district. He doesn’t know the capital games or how they will use him. Katsuichi sends over Usagi to help him out and from there Usagi takes an interest in Leo (the kids extremely smart)
He helps Leo stay safe (victors need to look out for one another) even before he starts helping him win sponsors for Raph and Mona
I think the victors get a few special privileges, like moving between floors when the tributes aren’t there.
Once Usagi is helping Leo he will often join Leo on his floor to watch the games with him so he’s not alone if anything happens to his brother.
This is also where they plan out sponsorship deals and strategies.
Casey
Casey won his games much like Beetee, setting up a trap for his opponents.
He was the youngest victor ever and it’s in part to Cassandra couching him (I still haven’t settled on if she is his mom or sister yet)
But he is deeply traumatized by his games and very rarely feels safe.
When he watched Leo’s game he desperately wished Leo had been with him in his game. None of the other players tried to watch out for the younger kids like Leo does. Though he realizes that would mean he would have had to kill Leo to win
The next year he wants to meet Leo and thank him for watching out for their younger tribute (they meet on Leo’s victory tour) they hit it off well and he is Leo’s first victor friend
Since Casey is only one game removed from Leo he does not have the experience or connections. That’s Cassandra’s job as she doesn’t want Casey around some of those people. Leo also tries to watch over casey when it comes to capital people cementing their friendship even more (note Leo has no clue what he’s doing but he will to pick a fight for the kid, something Usagi has to save him from)
What truly cements them is actually Raph’s actions. Once again district 3 has a young tribute, this time a 12 year old. And Raph’s big brother instincts are all over her. He tries his best to protect her but he loses her (think rue) Leo is devastated for his brother as he watches him mourn the girl much the same way he had mourned the boy the previous year. Usagi is with him in Leo’s floor trying to comfort Leo, when the elevator dings.
Here comes Casey. He freezes when he sees Usagi as he wasn’t expecting another district champion to be here. He offers to leave but Leo reaches out to him. He needs all the comfort he can get right now. Casey gets that as that’s what he needs to right now.
The three curl up on the couch watching Raph mourn and decorate the body. Casey tells Leo that he and Cassandra had just gotten some food to send to the girl and they wanted to redirect it to Raph if that was okay with him.
It’s the first true cross district support. It also cements Leo and Casey as big bro, little bro
Raph and Usagi
Let change gears and look at 75 games
I already told you that Raph doesn’t like Usagi because he sees the image the capital puts out for him. He also so the capital heart throb and fan favorite kiss Leo on the cheek. He doesn’t want this bunny playing head games with his brother
Usagi knows Raph’s important to Leo but Raph doesn’t have to be this abrasive does he?
It is a mutual dislike (not because Usagi wants to dislike him but Raph is making really hard for them to get along)
Until Mona almost dies in the games.
Raph near loses his mind, but it’s Usagi that saves her. This softens Raph to Usagi as he starts to see him as someone who actually cares rather than someone who’s just using them. If Usagi didn’t care he would have just let Mona die, it be one less person in his way.
When they and Casey get stuck with the jabber jay. Usagi and Raph loses it both of them screaming out for Leo. Raph is shocked that Usagi is also tearing through the woods looking for Leo like his own life depends one it. Casey tries his best to tell them it’s not real. But Usagi argues that the Jabber Jays only repeat sounds they have heard before. Meaning that Leo had to make those screams at some point.
Leo is currently safe watching three people he loves argue about his safety while they are in the middle of a death arena.
It make it even worst when the three of them make it out and Leo doesn’t.
This is some of what I got so far. Please ask more questions to help shape this out.
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