Hi! I'm Sorta New To Tumblr, So I Hope I'm Doing This Right. Can I Get A 'whatever' Sickness Prompt With

I just thought of a terrible, horrible, no good, very bad au where during Umbara it’s Rex that’s injured and he’s begging Kix to leave him behind so Kix can keep outrunning the tanks. And Kix still tells Rex he sounds like General Krell but he’s more frustrated and afraid than angry. Kix manages to group Rex with the rest of the wounded and Rex orders Kix to leave them behind and initially Kix is like no Fucking way I’m leaving you all out here but Rex reasons with him that he’s the only medic with the company right now and he had to keep moving with the group and Rex would keep an eye on and defend the rest of the wounded. At this point Kix knows he’s right so he leaves with them with a bunch of supplies and keeps going with Torrent. At the end of the battle when their recovering everyone’s like oh Kriff where’s Rex?! Did we loose him?! Is he dead?! And Kix speaks up and tells them he’s with the wounded, which spurts Fives and company to try and go back and look for them but in the name of progress and sacrifice Krell forbids it. He temporarily promotes Jesse to captain because i think at the time he was Rex’s lieutenant but mostly because Krell liked Jesse’s attitude more than he liked Five’s. The rest of the arc continues the way it originally did but with Jesse and fives at the lead. Meanwhile, Rex and like 25 other troops are lost in a foreign environment in the center of hostile territory on a planet far from any republic system, dwindling rations and medical supplies trying their best to live off the land for weeks. Rex had found a cave for the men to hide out in and made a camp there. Since he’s the captain and one of the least injured he goes out trying to locate and contact the gar while finding food and supplies. Between encounters with natural predators and Umbaran squads he always comes back more injured than he left. At this time Anakin gets back and he’s also like umm where’s Rex?? When the 501st tells him what happened he’s pissed and immediately goes out into the jungle to find Rex. And he does, just in time too because Rex had gotten his legs caught in a trap and was too injured to walk or fight and was surrounded by enemy Umbarans. Rex and the others wounded are rescued and get shipped of to a medical station for a while. When they get back hella comfort ensues and torrent is never letting Rex out of their sight again. Over the next few months however it’s clear that Rex has developed a significant amount of trauma and ptsd from the experience and is finding it hard to integrate back into and function within the gar.

During the funeral Rex stood behind class Seventeen, his old spot in the platoon occupied by its previous owner. It reminded Rex of a question he’d been putting off asking. 

He didn’t go to find ‘17 until late that evening, almost curfew, knowing the dread low and heavy in his gut would make it impossible to sleep unless he had an answer. 

“Sir? Can I ask you something?” Rex  fell in beside ‘17 as he left the Aurek’s mess after a meeting and made his way to– presumably– his barracks. 

“Yes?” ‘17 stopped, turned to give Rex his full attention. Rex skidded to a halt as well, surprised. 

“Um. Now that Kote’s back, what’s going to happen to me?”

“What do you mean what’s going to happen to you?”

“Am I being transferred back to my CT platoon? If it’s possible, I’d like–” Rex swallowed. “If A-030’s alright with it, could I be transferred into Colt or Havoc’s spot in class Thirty?”

He didn’t want to leave command track. He didn’t want to leave Davijaan or Fox or Kote. And if he was honest with himself, he didn’t want to leave ‘17 either. 

Even if he was in a new class that would be better than being back in CT training. He’d at least get to see them. 

‘17 raised an eyebrow. “Do you want to be transferred?”

“… No, sir.” 

“Then you’re not getting transferred. Not if I have any say.”

“But–” Rex sputtered. “The class is at capacity!”

‘17 shrugged. “Thirty-seven’s only one more than thirty-six. Doesn’t seem like much of a difference to me.” 

“There’s nowhere for me to stand.” 

“Kote and Davijaan can squish in. I’m sure they won’t mind.” 

Rex gaped at ‘17. ‘17 reached out and squeezed his shoulder. “You’re not going anywhere, Rex,” he said, soft. “I promise. And I will do whatever I have to do to keep that promise.” 

And all Rex could do was nod, and hope.

Keep reading

Whumptober Day 7: The Way You Shake And Shiver

Prompt: Shaking Hands & Silent Panic Attack

Warning: Mentions of Suicide

Summary: Rex isn't doing so great when they're finally on their way back to 000 from Umbara...

[Sometimes in moments of weakness we turn to old coping mechanisms. Whether that's a good thing or not is up for debate... Sometimes it makes it easier to lie to yourself that something broken can still be fixed.]

THIS STORY IS ALSO ON AO3

---

Before Fox had given him his name, Rex had made a list of options just like every other cadet in his age group. It was almost a tradition for most young clones who still only had their numbers. The task of compiling potential names that may one day suit them in some way, shape, or form.

None of the ones he'd considered had ever stuck.

He'd been rather unsure of himself (the sole golden haired child among a sea of dark curls), often made to hide behind his batchmates. Keeli and Jek had both found their names quickly, and they'd been quite indecisive themselves. But they'd never been as nervous as he had been, so finding something to claim as theirs wasn't hard for them in the slightest.

They knew who they were.

Rex thought he knew who he was. A king with a crown of gold growing naturally upon his skull. A fellow misfit among the CCs that had adopted him. Fitting of a title that had his ori'vod beaming with pride. Fox had made him believe he was a leader.

Fox was a very good liar.

The trip back to Coruscant is a slow one. Umbara long gone from their radar, but still closer than home. Its darkness following the vode well into the flight. The hollowness behind their eyes... It makes his stomach twist and his heart hammer in his chest cavity like there's a parade in town. For once in his life a campaign has left Rex unable to think.

Or rather, unable to process the sheer horror of what he had witnessed. What he had let happen. What he had done.

Little Force Gods what had he done?

So many brothers dead. So many brothers left for dead. So many more dying inside.

He swallows thickly around the lump forming in his throat, and stares ahead unblinkingly. Watching the blue-tinted lines of hyperspace zip by as he considers what's to come, while a voice in the back of his head that sounds suspiciously like Keeli whispers for him to take deep breaths, to start counting.

If he counts it'll help ground him. But does he want to stay grounded? When there is too much going on right now?

Three troopers have eaten their own blasters before departure from Umbara. The death tool rising steadily. Many more might follow. Will follow. The guilt is killing them all, and he doesn't know how to help.

They should be incapable of breaking. Should be impervious to diseases of the brain. But Krell has left an infectious mind. One that makes it hard for Rex to breathe even in the safety of this ship.

His eyes sting, his chest hurts, his heart is breaking into a million pieces, and there's a good chance he might throw up.

His hands are shaking. They shook back on Umbara too.

Dogma's hadn't.

He comes back to in the refresher. Jesse and Fives are at his sides. They look shaken and tired, and a little of something else Rex can't identify right now.

Angry? Disappointed?

Disgusted with their oh so great captain who couldn't even take the shot himself? Who'd let so many brothers die needlessly when he could have acted immediately and avoided disaster?

The thought makes him vomit up more bile. Salty shame runs down his face, snot bubbles up in his nostrils, foamy sick lands in the toilet. Rough but gentle hands rub at the small of his back. He knows whatever relationship he had with both Jesse and Fives is strained now. Justifiably so. But they still have his back. They're holding him through a panic attack.

He counts each circle, each finger on his back. Then counts the murmurs he can hear. Then the instances where he hears Kix at the door, checking up on them. Making sure he's not going to eat his blaster like the others who just couldn't bare the guilt anymore.

Counting helps. It helped back when he was a cadet. It still does now.

He can't for the life of him recall how many names he'd compiled before he'd been given his own. Maybe someone else knew. Rex doesn't think he knows anything anymore. But he has to move on, regardless of what happened on Umbara.

He had to believe in the cause.

Deadcember Day 17: Dark Night

Ever since he was a cadet fresh out of the tube, CT-7567 has been different.

Yeah, the blond hair is a pretty obvious indicator, but there’s something else. Something below the surface.

CT-7567 was always slightly faster, slightly stronger, slightly smarter than his batchmates. He has the best scores in training. Sometimes he knows which one of them was about to sneak up behind him, even if they weren’t making a sound. All of these inexplicable things added up to an anomaly that the Kaminoans just barely missed, despite them keeping a very close eye on him because of his “cosmetic defect.”

And there was the Voice.

The Voice isn’t his inner dialogue or anything—CT-7567 knows that. He can’t explain how or why, but he just knows. The Voice helps him, will tell him to take a left instead of a right to avoid being caught if he was out past curfew, will tell him when to dodge in order to avoid being shot during a training sim.

During one sim, something went wrong and CT-7570 is killed. The Voice seems to scream in pain and it’s almost as if ’67 feels CT-7570 die.

Such an explanation seems ridiculous, but he can’t think of a better one, and it just fits.

CT-7567 knows that his… quirks are strange and unique (are dangerous, are defects) when he asks one of his closest batchmates about it.

“When ’70 was killed, did you… feel anything? Like, pain or something?” He asks CT-7583, who taken to calling himself Keeli.

Keeli looks at him strangely, as if he had suddenly grown a second head (CT-7567 has heard rumors of such defects, though if they ever existed, the Kaminoans would decommission them at the first sign of abnormality). “No,” his batch mate responds. “Did you?”

“N-no. I just… I felt bad after, I guess.”

Keeli wraps his arm around ’67’s shoulders, pulling him close. “Me too.”

Then Keeli pokes ’67’s side, and they devolve into giggles and roughhousing, the day’s events forgotten.

%#%#%

Sometimes, the Voice is less of a Voice and more of a Feeling, like the day the War begins.

By this point, CT-7567 has received a nickname—Rex. He was also bumped up to the command track. He felt slightly out of place, but CC-2224, who likes to be called Cody, took him under his wing.

Over the past two days, there have been whispers of a Jedi on Kamino. Rex knew they were true: he felt the Jedi as soon as they entered the atmosphere. They glowed, brighter than all of his brothers.

Though no one is exactly sure why the Jedi came, they all knew what it meant—the War was here.

The day they are deployed, Rex wakes up feeling tense, as if he’s in a training sim. There’s this sense of foreboding, and Rex wants to prepare, but he doesn’t know what to get ready for, let alone how to do so.

He’s walking back to his barracks after midday meal, his head pounding, when the announcement comes in.

They’re being deployed to Geonosis. This is not a drill.

Rex turns around and runs to the hangars.

%#%#%

On Geonosis, Rex dies countless times.

He’s never felt so much death, so much despair, and it takes everything he has to keep his blaster up and remain on his feet. He keeps fighting, even as brothers and Jedi alike are shot down right in front of him.

He knows his purpose, knows he was bred to fight and even die for the Republic, but he’s not sure he can take it.

%#%#%

Somehow, Rex had been made a captain—he even earned himself some jaig eyes (no matter how undeserving he felt of them) and was assigned to the recently-knighted Anakin Skywalker. They’re headed to their first deployment when General Skywalker pulls him into his quarters.

“I have a question for you, Rex,” General Skywalker begins. Rex isn’t sure what’s about to happen. Did he already do something wrong? Is he going to get decommissioned?

The General continues. “Have you… ever noticed anything different about yourself? Like you know someone’s about to come through the door even if you can’t hear their footsteps, or you can dodge faster than those around?”

Oddly specific questions, but he’s not about to lie to a superior. “Y-yes, sir?”

General Skywalker exhales and smiles. “Cool. I was like 90% sure that I was right, but I had to check.”

“Right about… what, sir?”

“Ok, what do you know about the Force?”

Rex stares.

“Nothing. That’s alright. The Force is like… an energy field. It flows through the entire universe, from the biggest galaxies to the smallest womp rats. Some, like the Jedi, are Force-sensitive, which means they can sense and use it. So basically, um… congratulations, you’re Force-sensitive!”

What.

What.

On Kamino, they learned about the Jedi, how they wield swords made of light and can move objects with their minds. The Jedi sounded mythical, god-like.

And here Rex is, learning that he’s got those same powers.

Oh kriff.

This is it. He’s done for.

“If you’d like, I’d be happy to teach you some stuff. Basic shielding, Force usage, and maybe even some saber training. How does that sound?”

Rex looks at General Skywalker. The man is grinning from ear to ear, not a hint of disgust or deceit on his face.

Trust him, the Voice says. Trust him.

…So he’s not getting decommissioned?

Rex considers the General’s offer. “Do… are you going to tell anyone?”

“No. If you wanna tell people, that’s on you, but I figured, well, if you didn’t know you were Force-sensitive, then it’s not normal for you guys. I don’t want you… getting in trouble or anything. And no need to call me ‘sir.’ Just ‘Anakin’ is fine, at least when it’s just us.”

Rex isn’t quite ready to do that, yet.

After all, he still needs to process that he can potentially move things with his mind.

%#%#%

The war goes on.

Brothers come and are just as quickly caught in death’s chilling grasp. The deaths don’t hurt as much, though, since General Skywalker Anakin taught him how to shield his mind. He’s also learned some basic Force applications. He’s not great at it yet, but he pretty much has the basics down.

He excels at lightsaber training, and enjoys it more than the other things he’s learning. Upon expressing this to Anakin, the Jedi smirks and admits to being much the same.

Despite his protests, Anakin is assigned an actual Padawan, a sassy togruta by the name of Ahsoka Tano. She’s fresh and far too young in Rex’s opinion (like he can talk), but she’s a fast and eager learner. She grows on him and the 501st far faster than he’d like to admit, and for all his initial reluctance, it’s clear that Anakin adores her.

While the Jedi is obviously largely responsible for teaching his Padawan, Rex imparts some of his expertise. Rex learns from her, as well; upon discovering his Force-sensitivity, Ahsoka eagerly contributes to his knowledge and training.

He forges bonds (figurative and literal bonds. Yet another thing you can do when you’re Force-sensitive, apparently) with both Anakin and Ahsoka, which strengthen with every battle fought. It reaches the point where their efficiency and effectiveness are almost unparalleled.

They win battle after battle with minimal casualties. On one memorable occasion, Rex has the opportunity to use his new lightsaber skills, to the shock and awe of his troops.

The tide is turning in the Republic’s favor, and an end to the war is in sight.

Rex isn’t sure what’ll happen to him and his brothers after the war, but he finds himself filled with hope.

And then Ahsoka leaves.

%#%#%

Rex fights battle after battle. He’s lost track of the planets they’ve been on, the brothers he’s lost.

Anakin is more irritable, more prone to giving in to his anger.

Coruscant is attacked.

Count Dooku is killed.

The war is nearly over.

And then—

“Execute Order 66.”

Good soldiers follow orders.

“Yes, Lord Sidious,” CT-7567 replies.

The Jedi are traitors, and they must be dealt with as such, and—

A piercing pain erupts to life on the right side of his head. He staggers, gripping his head. The Force screams and the pain grows and grows and grows—

It explodes in a flash of blinding white light.

%#%#%

CT-7567 Rex wakes up in… a medbay, though he is unsure where he is, exactly. The pain in his head has decreased to a dull throbbing.

His General returns with a new name, confined to a suit because of his former Master’s betrayal. The Jedi attempted to assassinate the Chancellor, Anakin Darth Vader tells him.

The Republic no longer exists and has instead been rebuilt into an empire. The Empire.

Some things stay the same, though. Rex remains at his General’s side, both on and off the battlefield. Vader continues to teach him about the Force, but his methods are far different.

The Force feels twisted and dark, but Rex ignores the unease stirred within him.

After all, he’s right where he should be.

%#%#%

One day, Rex tells Vader of the strange experience he had prior to waking up in the medbay.

“My Master attempted to enslave you,” Darth Vader growls. “Not to worry. One day, I shall possess the strength and skill to strike him down and take his place as Emperor, as is the way of the Sith.”

On the third anniversary of the Empire’s birth, Darth Vader does just that.

Unfettered by his Master’s demands, Vader cracks down on slavery, his justice swift and sure.

He rules with an iron fist, stomping out any signs of dissent, tolerating nothing less than complete loyalty and absolute perfection.

Rex remains by his side, as he always was.

%#%#%

Darth Vader becomes complacent.

Complacency is what gets one killed.

Darth Vader’s problem is that he never suspected his loyal captain, his eager apprentice.

Darth Adenn uses the Force to shove Darth Vader’s body off the throne, stepping on it as he ascends to his rightful place.

Even as the Force plunges ever deeper into the Dark, Emperor Adenn’s eyes glow like the rising sun.

[Adenn= Mando'a for "merciless"]

Just one more for Sans rest day, @undertalethingems made a great list of drawing ideas and I really loved the one of him and Alphys going to a museum to nerd out so I drew them into my local museum

something short and ridiculous just for fun. inspired by an idea from @tweenlove-n-hate

///

Listen- Galinda isn’t actually sure how it happens, she swears. All she knows is one minute, Elphaba is there, she is standing in the room as Galinda closes her eyes and clenches her toes and waves that stupid, silly training wand through the air. 

One minute, Elphaba is there. The next, there is nothing but the plant. 

Yes. That’s right. A plant. A small, potted plant, of indiscernible species, rich green in color and with four skinny, slightly pointy leaves sticking out of the dirt. 

Galinda gapes at it, looking around as though waiting for Elphaba to jump out and say “gotcha!” She never does. Heart pounding, panic rising, Galinda steps up to the little pot. She leans down so her face is level with its leaves. 

“Elphie?” she whispers. 

The plant does not answer her, but she swears she sees a leaf wave. Fuck. 

She needs to get Fiyero. 

***

“What do you mean you don’t know?” 

“I mean I don’t know, Fiyero! One second Elphaba was here, and the next- poof! She’s gone! And that is sitting in her place!” 

Fiyero groans, rubbing at his temples. “You turned your roommate into a plant.” 

“I didn’t mean to!” Galinda wails. She’s been going crazy all morning, apologizing to the little plant, moving it into the sun, taking it out of the sun when she worried that would burn it. 

“I don’t know how to take care of a plant, Fiyero, help me!” 

“Oh, well, here’s a thought, how about turning her back into a person!” 

“I’ve tried that!” 

“What about Morrible?”

“Morrible? Madame Morrible? She would kill me!” 

“Well- you may have killed Elphaba!”

“I didn’t kill her- she’s right there!”

“As a PLANT!”

The conversation continues in that vein, none of which is all that helpful. Fiyero eventually leaves, saying he’ll see if he can find anyone who knows more than them about plant care. To care. For the plant. Which is also, possibly, maybe, probably, her friend. 

Galinda has owned exactly one plant in her life. It was a cactus. And it died. 

She may or may not be freaking out. 

***

Taking care of plant-Elphie is stressful. 

She needs water but not too much. Sun, but not too much. The room has to be warm, but not too warm. 

Galinda keeps moving the pot around, trying to find the place where it looks and feels the best. She watches closely for any signs, for the stems to wiggle or the leaves to wave. Something. 

“We have class soon, Elphie,” Galinda whispers. It’s been three hours. She’s already losing hair. 

“I know how much you hate to miss class.” Galinda sighs, tapping her nails on her chin in thought. She could just…bring Elphie with her. Surely, their professor wouldn’t mind. She’s quiet, non-disruptive. She can just sit on Galinda’s desk- that way she’ll still be able to listen to the lesson. 

“Okay, sounds like a plan!” 

Galinda continues to chatter to Elphie as she gets ready, frowning when she realizes that the little red pot Elphie is sitting in will clash with her uniform. “Hm.” Galinda doesn’t have time to wait for paint to dry and she has no other appropriately sized and colored pots on hand. 

Rustling around for her spellbook--cringing as she remembers what happened last time--Galinda flips to the bookmarked page for color changes. This is the first spell she ever mastered. Closing her eyes, she carefully casts the spell on the pot. 

Only the pot. 

She blinks one eye open cautiously, carefully, and beams when she sees it’s been a success. The little green plant now sits in a delightfully pink pot. “Perfect!” Galinda cries. She reaches over and pats a leaf gently with a single fingertip. “Pink goes so well with green.”

***

Galinda makes sure to bring Elphie to every class- her friends noting the green girl’s absence but accepting Galinda’s explanation with minimal raised eyebrows and questioning remarks. Galinda keeps a close eye on the pot, making sure it’s not too close to the edge of her desk where someone may bump into it and knock it off. 

In between classes, when usually she’d study with Elphaba, she instead takes some scrap pieces of cloth and stitches Elphie her own little bag, placing it carefully around the pot. She smiles, nodding sharply, and then turns back to her research on reversing spells. 

At lunch, she rocks back and forth on worried heels, eyeing the options and then eyeing the pot. “I don’t think plants eat food, Galinda,” Pfannee reminds her. “Just sun and water.”

“What about fertilizer?”

“Well, that’s to grow, right? How long do you expect Elphie to remain in there?”

He’s right. Galinda sighs. She was meant to go to the library later that day to try and find some new books to help her turn Elphie back. She’s a lovely plant, very pretty really, but Galinda would really rather have a human roommate. 

***

“It’s not working.” Galinda growls under her breath, resisting the urge to run her hands through her perfectly curled hair in frustration. She’s tried every reversal spell she can think of, and Elphie is still a plant. 

At this point- Galinda is going to have to give up and go to Madame Morrible for help. And then she’s really going to want to cry. 

“Oh, don’t be sad, Elphie. I promise I’ll figure it out.”

Galinda has now pinned a small pink bow to Elphie’s pot. Just to make her feel a little prettier. Her leaves were just a touch bland, not that Galinda would ever say anything. She’s not sure why Elphie isn’t a flowering plant. Elphie is much too beautiful to just be a handful of leaves. 

Galinda sighs, slumping down in her chair and reaching over to pull the pot to her chest, one arm wrapped securely around it. “I’ve got you,” she mumbles. “Don’t worry, Elphie. I’ll fix this.”

***

Galinda tries closing her eyes. She tries spinning around. She tries yelling and waving and leaping. She sticks her tongue out. She clenches her butt cheeks. She does just about every trick in the book, wand waving through the air, and she gets no closer to a human Elphie. 

It evening now, and Galinda had almost had a breakdown when she realized there’d be no sun. What if Elphie got cold? What if she got hungry? Plants ate sunlight, right? What if she starved to death overnight?!!

Galinda ends up calling the boys over, getting them to pore over books with her. Elphie sits carefully in front of the stack of books, a pen balanced across the top of her pot because Galinda didn’t want her feeling left out. 

“Anything?” Galinda asks, hours later. 

Both boys shake their heads sadly. Boq leans back on his hands, rolling his neck after hours spent bent over books. Galinda watches him anxiously. She’ll have to tell his girlfriend tomorrow if she still hasn’t fixed this. 

Nessarose deserved to know her sister is a plant. 

Actually. Speaking of--

“Where is Nessa?” she asks. 

Boq blinks at her. “She’s with her father today. He’s in town for something and wanted to meet up, so she’s not getting back until late tonight or early tomorrow morning.”

Oh, right. Elphaba had mentioned something about that. She hadn’t seemed very pleased her father was in town. 

Galinda goes back to her books, muttering spells to herself and glancing up occasionally to see if anything has changed. Elphie remains the same, skinny leaves shining in the lamplight. Eventually, Galinda knows they have to call it quits. 

She’ll need to confess everything in the morning. Dread pools in her stomach at the idea of facing Morrible. 

“Hey, Galinda, I think I figured out what kind of plant she is,” Fiyero calls out. He turns a gardening book around, tapping the page. “She’s an artichoke!” 

Galinda stares, horrified, for all of five seconds before she bursts into sobs. 

***

Perhaps it’s a cruel form of karma. The universe teaching her a lesson for being so very mean those first few weeks of school. 

Galinda shoos the boys out with tears still dripping off her cheeks, slamming the door shut and crossing the room to collapse in front of the little pot. She stares at it, sniffling loudly. 

“I’m so sorry, Elphie,” she says. “I didn’t mean to, I promise.”

Galinda checks how dry the soil is. She inspects the leaves for any spots or discoloration. She triple checks the thermometer telling her how warm the room is. And then, just in case, she wraps the pot in Elphaba’s favorite gray blanket and places it on her nightstand.

She sings to it as she goes about her nighttime routine, voice echoing through the room. Something soft and loving. Something sweet. And then, when there’s nothing else to do, she sits crosslegged on her bed with the pot in her lap, gazing forlornly at Elphie’s tiny leaves. 

The room feels a bit too big and empty with just her in it. She sniffles again, new tears crowding her eyes. She misses Elphaba, even if it’s really only been a single day. Even if she knows Elphie is right here, in her lap. 

It’s not the same. 

Galinda sucks in a shaky inhale. She blinks quickly, wiping at a stray tear with a knuckle. “Hey, Elphie?” she says quietly. “Can I tell you a secret?”

The plant doesn’t respond, but she really hopes its listening. 

“I really missed you today. We didn’t get to eat breakfast together. Or lunch. Or dinner. And we didn’t study after history. And we didn’t nap together after lunch. And we didn’t take a walk in the gardens before nightfall. And- And-” Galinda swallows hard, a real secret sitting behind her tongue. “And I really missed you.”

She had. It’s the truth. Even running around trying to figure this out all day, she kept turning to look for Elphaba. She kept reaching for Elphaba’s hand. She kept opening her mouth to tell her something or ask a question or seek reassurance. She hadn’t realized how important Elphaba had grown to her everyday life. 

How much Galinda needed her. 

Galinda brushes a fingertip down a soft leaf’s edge. “I need you, Elphie,” she whispers. “Please.”

Her eyes slide shut, her magic swells, and Galinda hopes and hopes and hopes. But when she opens her eyes, all she sees is the same four leaves, still and unmoving and unchanging. 

What if some spells are never reversible? 

Galinda places Elphie gently on her nightstand again, tucking her blanket around her. She has a cup of water waiting nearby in case Elphie is thirsty in the morning. She’s moved her nightstand so it’ll catch the sun’s first rays through the window. 

Lastly, Galinda reaches over and taps her finger gently against the edge of the pot, pulling on her magic and letting a wave of black coat the outer shell of the pot. After all- Elphie would hate to wear pink pajamas to bed. 

“Goodnight, Elphie,” Galinda whispers. “I love you.”

***

Sunlight wakes Galinda slowly, the blonde humming under her breath as she stretches languidly and cracks her jaw on a yawn. She blinks her eyes open, brow scrunching. Was she forgetting something? 

With a gasp, Galinda shoots up, looking over to her bedside table. Which. 

Is empty. 

Galinda screams. 

It echoes around the room, piercing and shrill, her foggy, freshly-woken mind flooded with panic. She’s still screaming when Elphaba bursts out of the bathroom door, toothbrush in her mouth and eyes wild as she searches the room for a threat. 

“What- What is it?! What are you screaming about?” 

Galinda gapes, mouth wide open. She stares and stares, Elphaba staring, bewildered, right back. And. Then. 

Galinda screams. 

It goes on for long enough that Elphaba dives across the bed and slams her hand over Galinda’s mouth. “Galinda!” Elphaba hisses. “You’re going to wake the whole school! What is the problem?”

Her voice softens then, hand loosening. “Did you have a bad dream?”

Galinda thinks she’s still dreaming, actually. “Y-you’re here,” she croaks out. 

“Um. Yes?”

“B-b-but-- The plant?”

Elphaba blinks, rocking back. After a second, her eyes light up with understanding. “Oh! That little guy. Yeah, I put him over there by the window, see? I about knocked him over when I bumped into your nightstand this morning, which- I don’t know why it was all the way out there.”

Galinda follows Elphaba’s finger to a little black pot on the desk by the window, four skinny leaves and a tiny pink bow. “I see you gave him a makeover,” Elphaba teases. 

Galinda swallows hard, mouth dry and head hurting. “He?”

“Uhhh. Or she, that’s fine. I don’t think plants have a preference.”

Galinda thinks she may combust. “You- you aren’t a plant?”

“What?” Elphaba huffs out a startled laugh. “Um, no? No, I’m pretty sure I’m very human.”

Galinda squeaks, scrambling out of her bed. She sways, blinking spots from her vision as Elphaba reaches for her. “You were never a plant?”

“Nnnoo…Galinda are you okay?” 

Galinda looks at the pot. She looks at Elphaba. She looks back at the pot. 

She kind of wants to scream again. 

“I-I-I thought--”

“Wait.” Elphaba’s lips twitch, laughter bubbling in her chest. “Did you think I turned into a plant? That plant?”

Galinda’s veins are shaking. “Yes!”

“Why in all of Oz would you--”

“You weren’t here! You disappeared! And-and- there was just that in your place!”

Elphaba laughs openly now, nearly doubling over in mirth. “Galinda,” she wheezes. “Galinda, I told you I was leaving and going with Nessa into the city. You were so locked in on whatever spell you were practicing that you weren’t paying me any attention.”

Galinda gapes at her, breathless. 

“I got the plant as a joke, remember? From the gardening club?” Elphaba shakes her head fondly. “You weren’t listening to a thing I said yesterday morning, were you?”

Galinda thinks she’d very much like to be a plant now. 

“So, so you were never--” 

“I can assure you, I was never a plant. I was in the city all day. Nessa can vouch for me.”

A beat passes. All the air gusts out of Galinda and she collapses back to the bed with a groan, flopping onto her back and throwing an arm over her face. “I spent all day--” 

Elphaba laughs again. “Well, I guess that explains the black paintjob. Though- a bow? Really?”

Galinda moves her arm to glare upward. “The whole pot was pink yesterday,” she sniffs. 

Elphaba cocks a single eyebrow. 

“Hey! Pink goes well with green.”

At that, Elphaba grins, rolling her eyes fondly. “It so does,” she finishes. 

She’s still chuckling to herself, backlit by morning light in a way that creates a little halo around her figure. Her eyes are mirthful and bright, her teeth flashing in a smile. She looks so--

She’s so--

Oz, Galinda had missed her. 

“Hey, Elphie?” she questions. She swallows hard, looking at the plant one last time. “Tell me a secret.”

“What?” Elphaba blinnks, thrown. “We only do that at night,” she reminds. 

Galinda gives her a shaky, nervous smile. “You weren’t here last night,” she whispers. “And I really missed you.”

Elphaba softens, reaching out and taking Galinda’s hand when the blonde waves it around in the air. She moves closer, standing over Galinda’s flopped down form. “I missed you, too,” she says gently. 

“Really?”

“Really.”

Galinda smiles, dimple popping and eyes crinkling. A feeling like honey spreads through her, slow and warm. She doesn’t want to wait until tonight. She doesn’t want to wait another second. 

“Hey, Elphie?”

“Yeah?”

Galinda slowly turns their joined hands over, palms up, Galinda’s hand cupping Elphaba’s. There, sprouting in the center of Elphaba’s green palm, is a single brilliant poppy. A little plant magic. For luck. 

“What’s this for?” Elphaba asks. 

“For you.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you.”

The poppy quivers, its petals shaking as Elphaba does. She gapes down at Galinda, emerald eyes wide. Then--

“I love you, too.”

Galinda beams. Elphaba blushes. The poppy dances. On the desk by the window- a little plant stretches just a little taller. 

Break

*Warning: angst*

Wolffe always thought that Rex was a rock. A strong guy who survived to a precocious death in his young age, who struggled more than all the other ones to prove that he has the same abilities as his siblings whatever he looked alike, who endured more than one terrible loss during the war and stood still to help his brothers to stand up again. As the king he was named after, Rex always made the well-being of his fellows a priority over his own health and feelings. 

Actually, even him used his strong shoulder to surpass his pain to have lost everything - brothers and what was the closest to a father - in a second. And now, Gregor, that they had meet some weeks before, also climb on the unsheakable mountain he was to endure that he was no more than an empty shell with almost no memories of himself.

But he was wrong. One question was sufficient to reveal the deep crack in his heart. 

- How it was to lead the 501st? asked Gregor as he heard that this company has quiet a reputation. 

- It was a mess, answered Rex rolling his eyes over the sky. Especially with Hardcase…

He stopped, his amber gaze falling down to the ground, jaws closed. For the first time, Wolffe saw his brother starting to shiver a little. 

- But Fives and Jesse… he tried to continue with a trembling voice. 

He froze again and the silence wrapped them up into the cave they were sitting in for the approaching night. Rex finally got up and left them without a word, disappearing in the tall grass of the savannah below. Wolffe crossed Gregor’s stare.

- I’m stupid, he said sadly. 

- Wait here. 

The former commander of the 104th jumped on his feet and quitted the place, searching for his comrade. He quickly found him no that far from him, on his knees. Wolffe hesitated for a moment but thought that it was now his turn to be the big brother he has to be for him. So he walked towards the ex-captain and crouched in front of the sobbing soldier to reassure him. When Rex did realise he was not alone anymore, he tried to wipe away his tears but Wolffe stopped him. 

- It’s okay. I think you desserve the right to. 

- I… 

He swallowed his saliva, the pain stretching his features. 

- Thinking about Hardcase… then Fives and Jesse… I thought I could but…

- It’s normal, Rex. Don’t worry. 

Wolffe felt his own heart tightened up but he knew that he has no right, at this very precise moment, to be sad. He has to be strong, like this blond boy was for him before. So he smiled and squeezed gentily the shoulder of his brother-in-arms.

- I so much wanted to save them all… he avowed, a tear rolling down his cheek.

- We all wanted to. 

- I have failed, Wolffe. I have failed so much.

He was now crying for real but didn’t seem to notice it. The commander continued to smile. 

- No, Rex, you did your best. It was the war, you know. There was nothing we could do against this. 

- I buried Jesse. I buried them all…

A confession that broke him for good as he finally collapsed against his chest, bursting into unstoppable tears. Wolffe didn’t say a word and embraced him softly. Not so far from them, Gregor was standing by, watching them silently. He heard everything and looked more embarrassed than ever. The three of them stayed in that position for a long time before Rex took back the control of himself.

- Gregor… he must be worried… he said in a whisper.

- You know what? I think he will perfectly understand this. 

Wolffe smiled again. Even in the bottom of the deepest hole, the king still thought about the other ones before himself. 

***

I put a warning this time because I wish my brain put warning on what he is up to tell me sometimes. The other day, he offered me a soft and funny scene between Hardcase and Rex, but the sweetness finished into a deep sadness that still hurts me now. Damn you, brain! >_<

Sorry for the mistakes again. 

gelphie - modern au

so! i did a poll like a week or so ago and model glinda/photographer elphie won in terms of modern aus you'd want to see. idk if I'll make a full fic but figured i'd give y'all a taste of the idea:

///

“Hey, Pfannee.” Elphaba lifts a hand in a casual wave as she enters the room, nodding her head to some of the other staff as she makes her way over to the young man. He brightens when he sees her, tottering over happily with his arms full of clothes. 

Typical Pfannee. 

“Elphaba, hey girl! Cutting it a bit close, aren’t you?”

“I’ve got three minutes to spare, what do you mean?”

Pfannee laughs, awkwardly nudging his glasses back up his nose without dropping his load. Elphaba drifts further into the room, putting down her bag and sipping on her tea.

“So, I heard we’re working with someone new today,” she drawls. 

Beside her, Pfannee gasps. “You mean you don’t know?”

“Know what?”

But Pfannee’s shocked expressions falls into something mischievous and he shakes his head. “Nope. Not going to ruin the surprise now. You’re going to die when you see her.”

Elphaba rolls her eyes. By the way he’s acting, this new model is likely someone famous. Or- famous to Pfannee at least. Elphaba doesn’t really keep up with anyone like that. Despite having chosen photography as her career, she tries to keep herself separate from the fashion industry at large. 

It’s incredibly toxic, and she’s seen what it can do to people. Case in point: 

“I can't believe I get to take her new measurements! Rumors say that she’s lost weight, and that means I’ll be the first to know her smallest size!” Pfannee grins like that’s a completely reasonable thing to say about an adult woman. 

Elphaba hides her frown behind another sip of tea. Most models don’t really have a lot of room to lose weight. If it’s enough to make a visible difference, especially since the woman’s last job, then she’s likely dropped a concerning amount in a very small time period. 

Elphaba spends the next blur of time discussing the shoot with the other photographers as well as the lighting crew, the hair and makeup artists, and Pfannee and his lackeys. They’re mostly set up and ready to go when a voice announces the model is on her way in, and everyone bustles around to prepare. 

Elphaba waits calmly, Pfannee nearly vibrating beside her. “Here she comes!” he says, just barely remembering in time not to physically shake Elphaba’s shoulders. 

A man enters first, stunningly dressed in a tailored navy suit with his chestnut hair swept back and his blue eyes sparkling. That’s sign number one. The second sign is the voice floating behind him, high and airy and delicate. Almost sing-songy. 

Ice floods through Elphaba’s veins. It stops her heart for several seconds before it kicks back on, three times faster than before. Dread twists in her stomach as she turns and eyes the doorway where a glimmer of pink and gold awaits her. 

It’s been years since she’s seen Glinda Upland. At least- in person that is. 

Glinda Upland, one of the highest-paid models in the country, is featured on enough billboards, magazines, ads, commercials, social media posts, and celebrity shows to make even the lowliest citizen feel like they personally know her. Her face is everywhere, and what a stunning face it is. 

Gorgeous and defined with flawless pale skin and dark chocolate eyes. Long lashes flutter as she blinks, and a single dimple carves into her cheek with every smile. America’s darling. Tiny, dazzling, desirable. 

And the woman Elphaba once loved.

hear me out:

shiz era fic where elphie hits glinda in the head while sparring on accident and somehow they fall in love over concussions and caretaker shenanigans

Angstober Day 25

Mind-control / Brainwash

Spoiler: This is an excerpt from Inheritance, a fic we have yet to release. ^-^

It’s probably been close to an hour by now though Anakin’s not exactly sure when he finally pulls himself up onto a higher platform of the building. Right up ahead, light glints off a familiar armored figure, who’s standing his back facing him.

“Rex?” Anakin calls cautiously, taking a step towards him.

Something about his presence just feels off. Almost… double maybe. And he can sense the Son right around here, but he doesn’t actually see him anywhere.

“Rex?” he calls again when the clone doesn’t respond, “Come on, let’s go.”

Finally, he slowly turns around. “We can’t,” he objects, “He’s right. Right about everything. You have to join him.”

That’s… totally unlike him. Both what he’s saying, and the way he’s saying it. What did the Son do to him? “Rex, what’s wrong?” Anakin asks warily.

“What’s wrong?” he repeats like that’s the stupidest question he’s ever heard, “What should I go back for? To fight in a war I have no say in? As a slave to the Jedi?” Anakin flinches back at the unexpected question. He’s not exactly wrong. That is all the clones are, slaves to the Jedi and the Republic. They have no say in any of it, and even if they didn’t want to fight, it wouldn’t matter. He tries to take care of his own clones as well as he can, but he knows other Jedi aren’t the same way.

But he needs to focus on the situation at hand right now, not… this. An issue that bothers him all the time even if he never talks about it to anyone. “This isn’t you, Rex. He did something to you.” That he knows for sure. Rex may have a point, but he would never say something like that in his right mind. It’s not the way he is. It’s like – like the Son is somehow controlling his mind, and Anakin clings to that hope, because he refuses to believe that the man who’s always had his back would turn on him like this.

“He did nothing to me,” the clone retorts, “He just asked me to give you a message.”

“What?” Anakin demands, cautious and suspicious.

“He said if you don’t join him, he will kill me.” What?! No, he’s never going to let that happen.

“I won’t let him!”

“Then you will do it yourself,” Rex snarls suddenly, whipping out his blasters and open firing. Only years of constant training allow him to react in time, diving out of the way as the shots tear into the ground around him. He hastily ignites his lightsaber, deflecting the shots away, trying to avoid sending any of them too close to Rex as he does so.

No, just no. He doesn’t want to fight him. He can’t fight him. He’s like – something almost like a brother. Anakin takes a few steps back as Rex keeps shooting at him, then jumps down from the ledge and continues advancing towards him. The only way he’ll be able to stop this is if he stops just defending himself and disarms Rex. Somehow, without hurting him.

“I don’t want to fight you, Rex,” he says, but the clone doesn’t even respond, just keeps firing.

Fine. He raises a hand, Force shoving Rex into the wall behind him and ripping away his blasters with the Force, him in place. The captain strains against the Force grip, but it doesn’t break. This doesn’t really solve the problem of how he’s going to free him from whatever the Son did to him.

He’s still pondering it when Obi-Wan runs into view, pulling out his lightsaber. “Any suggestions?”

“The Daughter said she might be able to do something to break the mind control, but she’s fighting the Son right now.”

Then what are they supposed to do?