#You can tell very easily too with how some quick scenes have ash in completely different light from the tiny clones

[koropukgoro]

My favorite fact about that movie is that it was written by the same guy who made Re-animator/From Beyond which is why it has horror elements in it. The bee and spider scenes are terrifying!!!! And lawn mower… apparently he wanted to be a little more daring (the idea of children in deadly danger depictions on the big screen was wonky back then) but Disney said no was why he left after they messed w his script. I want to see his vision I want my 90’s camp horror film that involves being very small.

[skullsandwineglasses]

Love and Redemption Review

Overall, I have to say that the story was really good, maybe even better than the popular xianxia romances that came before it like Ten Miles of Peach Blossoms, Love and Destiny, and Ashes of Love. The romance may be comparable to AOL, but as a whole, the plot in L&R was more interesting and cohesive.

****SPOILERS AHEAD FOR LOVE AND REDEMPTION AND OTHER XIANXIA DRAMAS****

Plot

What sets Love and Redemption apart from the other 3 xianxia romances is that Love and Redemption also feels like a quest/adventure story, while also delivering a gut-wrenching, star-crossed romance plot. What’s interesting about L&R is that the main focus is on the mortal realm and the FL and ML’s current mortal incarnation, as opposed to the heavenly realm and their immortal identities.

The actions of the mortals have consequences across the 3 realms, as opposed to other xianxia romances that only use the mortal realm as a temporary stage for the leads to fall in love. The other 3 xianxias that I mentioned all opened up in the heavenly/celestial realm first, while the mortal realm was just a brief trial that the leads have to endure before returning to the immortal realm. The moral realm in L&R therefore feels livelier and more eventful, and the mortals have more agency and are not easily influenced by celestial beings. Whenever a celestial being does come down to the mortal realm, their powers are limited and are they are bound by the rules and restrictions of the mortal realm (which means that celestial beings can’t use their powers to mess with the emotions and decisions of mortals). 

The drama opens up with a tournament being held at the FL’s sect and members from all the other sects are arriving for the tournament. When the FL and ML meet, they are on equal footing (well, equal in terms of status as disciples, but not so much in terms of magical prowess). It’s like when you were in high school and you meet the visiting basketball team from a rival school, and then end up becoming friends with them.

Love and Redemption also takes the audience through a mystery. What is the true immortal identity of the FL? What’s her relationship to the Star of Mosha? Is she the saviour or the doomsday harbinger? Does the ML have an immortal identity too? Why do they have the same birthday? The drama keeps us on our toes because we learn about the truth and the history of the characters as they’re discovering it, as opposed to the other xianxia dramas where there is very little mystery and few plot twists.

Because of this mystery, the drama is tight and well-paced, since a new piece of the puzzle is always being revealed. Just when you thought that the mystery is solved, there’s a twist, and you realized that the twist was set up from the very beginning of the story, but you just missed it. 

The story also doesn’t stray from the main leads. Yes, there are subplots (as all dramas do), but the subplots here are brief, and they usually relate back to the main leads. Unlike in AOL where the later half of the drama derails and focuses on the two other supporting couples, while the main leads only get about 10 minutes of screen time. 

The Male Lead - Yu Si Feng

Before starting the drama, I read a lot of comments about how much whump and emotional torture the ML goes through and how much he sacrifices for the FL. I thought this was an exaggeration. I mean, Xufeng in AOL went through a lot of Jin Mi too, (and you could make the same argument for Ye Hua in TMOPB, or Bai Zi Hua in Journey of Flower), so I was a little hesitant about the premise since it’s such an old trope, and I was doubtful that it could top the sacrifice that other MLs have done in other dramas. 

But reader, boy was I wrong. Yu Si feng is the definition of limitless, unconditional love. I lost count of how many times he almost died for the FL (not including the 9 times she killed him in their previous 9 lives). He’s spitting up blood and stabbed in nearly every episode. Episodes 37-47 were the hardest to watch because of the escalating chronic angst and misunderstandings between him and Xuan ji that caused irreversible damage to their relationship. Even when she tries to kill him and tells him she regrets having ever known him, he still drags himself back to rescue her. To quote Si feng himself, it’s not a question of whether or not it’s worth it, but it’s a question of whether you are willing to do it. And Si feng is as eager and willing as ever to sacrifice everything for Xuan ji. 

I mean, even Xufeng in AOL and Ye Hua in TMOPB snapped at the FL’s cruelty and aloofness at one point, but Si feng seems incapable of ever being angry with Xuan ji. Even when Si feng purposely tries to avoid her, it’s out of protection for her, not out of anger for everything she’s done. Like??? Si feng is impossibly perfect, even by the impossible standards of xianxia. 

Cheng Yi plays Si feng to a T. He conveys a different type of pain in every crying scene, and so Si feng basically experiences like 59 different types of crushing pain, and you feel it in your bones every time you watch it. The man’s eyes speak volumes.

While it would be easy to say that Cheng Yi carries the drama with his portrayal of Si Feng, the actions of the ML would be meaningless if there were no romantic interest that he was doing this all for.  

The Female Lead - Chu Xuan Ji

Some people may feel that Xuan ji isn’t worth Si feng’s devotion. But, I would argue that the first 37 episodes shows us that she is definitely worth it. 

Xuan Ji is similar to Jin Mi from AOL in that she is incapable of feeling or understanding love. Because Xuan Ji was born without her 6 senses (and also without a real heart, unbeknownst to the other characters), she’s naive and juvenile. But despite not having feelings, she’s still able to care completely about others. She cares about her sister, her father, her sect brothers, and Si Feng. She’s fiercely protective of them as they are of her. To the best of her limited abilities, she is devoted to people as much as she can be. 

Because of her sensory deprivation, Xuan Ji is really curious about the world. She wants to be like everyone else, to feel like everyone else, in hopes of being able to properly reciprocate people’s love for her. She envies people who are able to cry because she thinks that’s an unhindered way of showing love. She regrets not being able to cry when her mother died. Xuan Ji is therefore a self-aware character, unlike Jin Mi, because she knows her shortcomings. She wants to be able to feel, understand, and share pain. 

As such, she’s quite an active character because she has this goal of reviving her senses, which has ripple effects for the other characters in the story since they become a part of her journey, whether by choice or by force. 

Why Si Feng fell for Xuan Ji

Xuan Ji and Si Feng are very opposite characters, and not just because of the obvious difference in their personalities. Si Feng is a boy who feels too much (we later see that he gets his persistent sentimentality from his father), but was taught his whole life to suppress his emotions (I mean, the mask both literally and figuratively prevents him from emoting). Si Feng wants to express his feelings, but cannot. 

On the other hand, Xuan Ji is allowed to be as expressive as she wants, but she is empty on the inside. Xuan Ji represents everything Si Feng wants to be and is expected to be: free and emotionless. 

In this mortal incarnation, SF has responsibilities to everyone, from his spirit beast to his sect. Xuan Ji is the only one who doesn't ask or expect anything of him and yet, for someone who can't feel, she's always thinking of him. she stands up for him, she brings him snacks to comfort him when he’s being punished, she helps steal back his mother's hairpin. These are very simple gestures, but they mean the world to him (no one else has done these things for him before, and he doesn’t understand why she would unconditionally do these things for him), and that's why he's so quick to risk everything for her. Thus ironically, Si Feng actually learned about unconditional love from Xuan Ji. 

He’s never known love, warmth, or friendship in his lonely years growing up in the Lize Palace. And so, when you’re just a 16 year old awkward, hormonal, and introverted teenage boy, it’s easy to fall for a selfless girl who invades your personal space and has no sense of propriety. 

Why Xuan Ji fell for Si Feng

We see that her love is gradual. She falls in love with him without even realizing she’s fallen in love. She cares for him as a friend at first. After all, like she said, Si Feng is the first friend she’s made from outside her sect. But soon, her caring for him surpasses that of what she feels for her sect brothers. Si Feng teaches her about the world, from what different food tastes like, to naming colours. Si Feng doesn’t infantilize her like her sect brothers do. Her sect brothers are either dismissive or protective, like Ming yan, but she is able to find a proper confidant in Si Feng who is willing to be patient with her and listen to her. 

Their 4-year separation when they each undergo training and achieve a boost in their abilities, only made Xuan Ji’s heart grow fonder. She misses Si Feng, and is frustrated to see that things are different between them when they meet again. She doesn’t understand why he’s so cold and distant, and all she wants to do is close the distance between them. 

It’s a meme that Xuan Ji is the one who wears the pants in the relationship. She’s assertive and bold, and I think part of the reason why she fell for Si Feng is because he gives her that space to be best and biggest version of herself, whether in the heavenly realm or in the mortal realm. She’s also fascinated by him. A person outside of her sect who has an endearing personality unlike anyone else she’s seen. He piques her curiosity, and so she’s drawn to him. He’s as much as her romantic and sexual awakening as she is his. 

It’s apt that their ship name is the combination of their last names “Chu Yu”, which sounds similar to the words 初遇, which means “first encounter”. Not only is this drama about capturing the feelings of first love, but Si Feng and Xuan Ji have also had 10 different first encounters because of their 10 reincarnation tribulations. 

The Romance

It’s actually quite fun and endearing to watch because both Xuan Ji and Si Feng are playing hard to get, which frustrates the hell out of both of them. Xuan Ji is trying to win back Si Feng and convince him to stay, while Si Feng himself is trying to win Xuan Ji���s heart, and she doesn’t even realize it. They’re both trying to woo each other, but they’re both being resistant, intentionally and unintentionally. 

I have to admit, though, that the first few episodes were slow. 

There aren’t major sparks during the first meeting between the leads. She just falls out of the sky into his arms, and he’s flustered by her sudden appearance and clinginess. The love story didn’t feel “epic” during the the first 4 episodes because it didn’t feel like there were any stakes. These were just 2 young disciples from different sects who had a stereotypical meet-cute. It was like watching a high school coming-of-age romcom. 

Things start to get serious when Si feng is forced to wear the lover’s curse mask, meaning that he cannot love, or else every time he’s hurt by the one he loves, that mask will release a feather to his heart and he’ll feel unbearable pain. When all the feathers are released, he’ll die. This means that he has to stay away from Xuan Ji, but obviously, the drama can’t let that happen, so he’s constantly thrown into situations with her, he can’t stay away from her, and he ends up falling for her harder and harder against his will. 

Xuan Ji trusts Si Feng completely and unconditionally (until episodes 37-47 that is). She is willing to go against her father and sect in order to protect him. She’s willing to sacrifice herself to save him. She’s willing to go rogue with her powers for him. When no one else trusts him, she does. 

This makes Xuan Ji a very cathartic character to watch because she isn’t frustrating at all. She isn’t easily influenced and has her own views. She doesn’t share the same prejudiced views as the elder sect leaders. She is willing to disobey if it’s the right thing to do. She immediately clears up misunderstandings, like the one between her and Ming yan. We see her gradually become more mature through her increasing protectiveness over Si Feng. 

I think because we see this rational and loyal side of Xuan Ji, we’re able to have a higher tolerance for her ignorance and mistakes later in the drama (but only barely). 

The Reincarnations - What Does it Mean to Love a Soul?

Si Feng fell for Xuan Ji 10 times in the mortal world, not including the very first time he falls for her when they were immortals in the heavenly realm. 

I explained why I think Si Feng fell for Xuan Ji is this 10th reincarnation, but why did he fall for her in the past 9 lives? In the flashbacks, we see that in each life, Xuan Ji is cruel and heartless, and she still had the same unforgiving and ruthless demeanor as when she was the god of war. Is it because Si Feng’s soul is always going to be automatically attracted to Xuan Ji’s soul?

Because we only see brief glimpses of the past 9 lives (more specifically, we only see the ending of these lives), we don’t really know how they met or how Si Feng came to love her in each life. But, I would assume that there was something about Xuan Ji in each of her reincarnations that attracted her to Si Feng and completed him. Also, we know that Xuan Ji is capable of tenderness. As the god of war, she disliked fighting. As Mosha, she cared about Bailing. So, while Xuan Ji’s nature might be violent and cruel, I think that with each life, she learns about love and sincerity. If we assume that the flashbacks of the 9 lives are in order, then it would seem like Xuan Ji becomes more and more affected by Si Feng’s death with each successive lifetime. In the first life, she is completely indifferent to his beheading. but we see that she begins to become affected in the later lives, but tries to shove those emotions aside because they’re foreign and unfamiliar to her. 

We get even less context for how Si Feng might have fallen for the god of war in the heavenly realm. We only know that Si Feng was the Jade Emperor’s son, and only gained a celestial anamorphic form after 10, 000 years. His true form is the Golden-feathered bird. He’s always appearing by the god of war’s side to listen to her vent, but the god of war only sees him as a stray bird who comes by to visit occasionally. Why did he fall for her? Did he empathize with her loneliness? Maybe she was his only friend, like he was her only friend, but she didn’t even realize it. 

We also see that Si feng loves Xuan ji no matter who she is or what form she takes. Her gender doesn’t matter to him, and gender was never even an issue in the drama. The drama doesn’t give an explanation for why Bailing created a female body for the god of war (besides that he wanted to disguise Mosha’s appearance), but it also doesn’t matter. It’s a non-issue, and I love it. We just need to accept it, because the “why” isn’t important.

Xuan Ji has 3 different identities: The Star of Mosha (Luo Hou Ji Do), the god of war, and Xuan Ji the mortal. The god of war and Xuan Ji have the same “soul”, and that soul came from the glass of Mosha’s imprisonment lamp, and also from Mosha’s altered corporeal body. So, she is a part of Mosha, but has also become her own entity. 

To Si Feng, all 3 identities are Xuan Ji. The memories, emotions, and experiences of all the identities are what made Xuan Ji Xuan Ji, and so he loves all of them. 

But what made Xuan Ji finally crack so that she’s now able to love Si Feng in this 10th reincarnation? I think it has to do with her upbringing. We see in her previous 9 lives that she had a troubled upbringing filled with scheming and violence. So she was consumed by the darkest side of humanity and Si Feng couldn’t pull her out. But in this life, she grew up with an abundance of love, which made her want to learn how to love, which allowed her to open up to Si Feng. In this way, the drama shows that Si Feng alone isn’t enough to redeem her, but it took the love of her friends and family to help her grow a heart. 

The Angst

Okay. So. Si Feng has probably suffered more than any male lead in xianxia history. I think someone said that he has a martyr complex. But, I’d like to break down the type of angst that are present in dramas. 

There is angst that is harmless, and there is angst that is damaging to the relationship. 

Harmless angst is usually angst by external forces. Like parents who don’t allow their kids to be together. Like in AOL when Xufeng mistakenly thinks that Jin Mi might be his sister so he can’t be with her. In L&R, this kind of external angst happens when Si Feng mistakenly thinks that Xuan Ji likes her 6th sect brother Ming yan. Xuan Ji isn’t purposely hurting Si Feng, but it’s an unintentional misunderstanding. 

Damaging angst is when the couple turns against each other and become enemies. This happened when Jin Mi kills Xufeng and says she never loved him (which technically is true since her heart was re-sealed so she didn’t even understand what love was when she said it). In L&R, this happens Xuan Ji sides with her sect and attacks Si Feng when he reveals his demon form. This happens again when they confront each other outside the Lize Palace and she announces that she’s done with him and breaks ties with him. This happens again when she stabs him, says she regrets having ever known and loved him, and proceeds to try to stab him again. In Love and Redemption, Xuan Ji keeps saying hurtful things to him. There’s not just one moment of betrayal, but a constant onslaught of betrayals over 10 episodes that make the relationship feel like it’s entered a point of no return. 

The masochistic side of me likes love/hate relationships and damaging angst. I grew up with it. TVB dramas have a lot of it. My favourite is the angst in Raymond Lam and Charmain Sheh dramas like Drive of Life and Lethal Weapons of Love and Passion. But despite over 20 years of watching dramas, I was still not prepared for the pain and suffering in Love and Redemption. 

The good news is that they make up fairly quickly, though some may argue too quickly and easily. 

What I Enjoyed

Other xianxia romances usually only have 1 mortal reincarnation. This has 10 reincarnations (even if only shown briefly), and I love that. The leads have already had such a rich history together, but they don’t remember, and so the romance is about them falling in love all over again in this life, while also slowly remembering the love they had in their previous lifetimes. 

The world-building was also compelling, and the supporting characters were great. They were the voice of reason and talked sense into the main leads to help move the plot forward. I also liked how the ML and FL each had their own personal relationship with the supporting characters separate from each other. For instance, Ming yan has a childhood friendship with Xuan Ji, but he also develops his own friendship with Si Feng. Wu Ziqi was once Mosha’s helper, and also knew the god of war, but also forms his own friendship with Si Feng. Zi Hu is also friends with both Xuan Ji and Si Feng. Having separate friendships with the leads means that the supporting characters are unbiased. They’re not likely to help the ML more than the FL or vice versa, but they’re able to see both sides of things. They help the leads, but they’re also critical of them, and is therefore able to help the leads make rational decisions. It reminds me of the friendship dynamics in Avatar where the characters have unique relationships with each other. Like Toph has her own relationship dynamic with Sokka and Katara, which is different from Aang’s relationship dynamic with them. 

It goes without saying that Si Feng is the best part of the drama. He plays an emotionally repressed character, so it always feels like the heavens opened up when he smiles, and Xuan Ji seems to be the only one who can make him smile. SF's best moments are when he shows moments of vulnerability, like when he begs Xuan Ji not to cut ties with him, or when he's so happy to the point of disbelief and he's afraid of it being true that he begins to slightly quiver, like when he kept asking XJ if she was really the one who took off his mask. You can see him break down and not being able to contain his emotions and how much he’s desperately yearning for his love to be reciprocated. 

I like that the FL has the same personality throughout the drama. I'm always annoyed when the FL's personality takes a 360-degree turn when she has a sudden "awakening" when her past life memories come flooding back and she instantly matures and becomes jaded. In Love and Redemption, Xuan Ji stays her bubbly self, even when she’s burdened with responsibilities. Hell, even when she becomes a mother, she’s still aloof and playful. In episode 52 or so when she burns her leg and refuses to leave Si Feng’s house, she acts like a helpless little girl again. Si Feng tells her that such a small injury wouldn’t even faze someone as powerful as she is, but she reminds him that he once told her that even if she didn’t feel pain, her body would know the pain, and so she should always tell him when she’s hurt. I just like this throwback to the earlier episodes to show that while Xuan Ji has grown and matured, she’s still the same person who wants to be loved and pampered. 

Weaknesses of the Drama

Xuan Ji is a really multi-faceted and complex character (because of her villainous tendencies), but Crystal Yuan doesn’t completely deliver in all of her performances of the character. Crystal Yuan is great when she’s acting cute (though it reminds me a lot of Zhao Liying’s acting in Journey of Flower, even the voice actress is the same actress), but I feel like Crystal Yuan’s crying scenes are a little lacking. Also, Xuan Ji is a character who is often in moral and emotional conflict because she starts to feel emotions that she doesn’t understand since she’s never felt them before, but sometimes Crystal isn’t very convincing when trying to convey this internal conflict. For instance, in the scene when she thought Si Feng was getting married to Ah Lan, I thought that her devastation at seeing that should have been a bit more palpable. I mean, you finally found the love of your life after searching him for over a year and now he’s in front of you, about to get married to another woman. There should be more pain, anger, regret, disbelief, a battle of emotions unfolding on the face. There should have been more deflation, more staggering. I think back to when Tang Yan was watching Luo Jin get married to someone else in Princess Weiyoung, or when Jin Mi was watching Xufeng propose to Sui He in AOL, and the desperation and shock was subtle, but still so strong. You could feel the drop in your own stomach when sympathizing with the female character. 

I also obviously disliked how Xuan Ji didn’t believe Si Feng. But I would have understood why she didn’t believe him (even when he logically explained his innocence) since there are so many people pressuring her judgment, but what I can’t get over is how she had it in herself to physically hurt him. And she already hurt him before too, so she knows how much it pains her to hurt him. She already regretted the act before. But because she mistakenly thinks that he killed Hao Chen, she decides that she needs to kill him? Does Hao Chen mean that much to you that you’d be willing to sacrifice Si Feng in order to avenge him? That was my breaking point for her character. 

I didn’t like how Hao Chen’s arc was resolved. For 1000 years, he thought he was right and never had any regrets. He was obsessed with controlling his friend Mosha to the point of killing him and sealing his soul away. He then created another being, became possessive over that being to the point of falling in love with it (without admitting it), and then follows his creation down to the mortal world, and wrecks havoc on the mortals, especially Si Feng. And when Hao Chen learns that he can no longer control or redeem Xuan Ji, he decides that he needs to kill her in order to prevent Mosha from coming back. But then suddenly, because of a few words and visions from the Jade Emperor, he immediately has a change of heart and sees the error of his ways. It’s just so anti-climactic. Yuan Long’s ending was also underwhelming. I just wanted the good guys and bad guys to fight it out without divine intervention. 

While I sympathize with Si Feng and agree that it's like watching a puppy get kicked over and over again, he honestly gets jealous way too easily and is too insecure. He also keeps everything to himself and sucks at communicating. We blame Xuan Ji for being too quick at jumping to conclusions, but Si Feng also jumps to conclusions too and causes unnecessary pain for himself. 

Overall Impression

Overall, despite the frustrations, I really liked the consistency of the drama. It flows as one complete narrative and all the subplots are well intertwined with the main plot. With other reincarnation xianxia dramas, you could divide the story into distinct arcs, but it’s harder to do with this one since you have arcs that overlap and transcend other arcs. There’s the mask arc, the god of war arc, the reincarnation arc, the demon identity arc, the Mosha arc, etc. Before one arc is completed, another arc is introduced.

If you’re looking for a be-all-end-all, til the end of time and end of the world romance, this is it. While it has many similar tropes to other xianxias like AOL, I think this executes the tropes better. Although if you’ve already watched AOL or other xianxias, you might be more immune to the angst (even though this drama is angstier). But if you watch this drama first, I think it sets the bar pretty high for other xianxia dramas.

The chemistry and sexually tension is also through the roof (and the BTS will have you raising your eyebrows - are costars normally that flirty and touchy feely on set?)

So yes, this drama does live up to the hype. More meta posts to come because I’m still going through withdrawal. 

(Just checked the word count on this review, and it’s over 4700 words. I’m clearly an obsessed mess). 

Other meta posts:

Recurring details and motifs in Love and Redemption

Similarities to other stories in movies and literature

[meridiansdominoes]

The Dark and the Loyal

Fives and Echo are decanted out of the same vat. The Force chooses them, as it has done thousands of times before. The Jedi don’t notice... but Darth Sidious does.

I wrote a quick thing for Fives Week 2020, for day 5′s prompt “Enemies”! I’d written out several of these scenes a while ago, and I decided to dust them off and edit them up to support @painkiller80‘s celebration! I’m not completely happy with it, but it’ll do I suppose. ummm... it’s a one-shot, so I’ll post it completely here, but it’s also kind of long for tumblr, so find it on ao3 here too: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24564922

This is kind of dark (it’s not very graphic but be forewarned) and there’s a lot of manipulation going on. Just a heads up!

Fives goes to Coruscant and meets with the Chancellor. It’s his last chance to present his evidence about the chips to someone who can actually help. The Jedi don’t believe him. The Kaminoans are in on the whole thing and can’t be trusted. The Chancellor listens carefully, smiles at him once Fives has said his piece (he’s drugged out of his mind, but that isn’t enough to stop him), and says, very gently, “I believe you, trooper.”

And then Palpatine makes Fives disappear. 

Fives wakes up in a cell, completely alone. There are no windows, and the meals that get pushed into his room are erratic and barely nourishing. Time loses all meaning very quickly. He moves around the room in the beginning, paces and prowls around as he waits for something, anything to happen, but as days stretch on (he thinks) Fives finds himself curled up into the far corner of his cell more often than not.

When Palpatine comes to see him it’s almost a relief, if only because he’s finally getting some form of human interaction. Clones are social, tactile, well-adjusted to a lack of privacy. Without the constant presence of his brothers, Fives feels like he’s drowning in his own thoughts. 

Palpatine is not what he seems. Fives can feel that much. It’s a sensation of wrongness so thick that it roils and clings to his insides like black sludge. Fives hadn’t noticed it before. He doesn’t understand it, doesn’t know how to explain it or say why he can feel it with such clarity. He pulls himself to his feet with a weak snarl and braces himself for whatever Palpatine is planning on throwing at him.

Palpatine smiles at him in faint amusement. He reaches out a hand and hooks his fingers into claws. A wave of that horrible wrongness expands to fill the room. Fives shudders. He takes a nervous step back. He feels power hanging in the air, nearly tangible and undoubtedly destructive. It clogs up his throat. Palpatine flexes his fingers—the smallest of movements, but suddenly there’s an awful pressure closing in on Fives’ body that rips away his will and forces him to his knees. 

He pants helplessly but doesn’t struggle once he’s down. He knows how to pick his battles, especially now that he finally understands what he’s dealing with. 

“Sith,” he forces out from between gritted teeth. He tries to ignore the cold terror in his gut at the word. Palpatine smiles, slow and knowing. 

“Very perceptive,” he says. “Do you know why you are here, clone?”

Fives sneers at him. 

“The inhibitor chips are your doing,” he growls. Force save them all. The leader of the Republic is a Sith. Fives can barely breathe. So many lies. So many pointless deaths. The man that he’s sworn his loyalty to is a traitor. When he manages a weak inhale, it feels like he’s sucking ashes into his lungs.    

Palpatine doesn’t confirm or deny the accusation. He scrutinizes Fives for a long moment. Fives tries not to squirm under his gaze, but he can’t help but feel like the Sith’s eyes are piercing him to the very core.

“Curious,” Palpatine finally says. “And utterly foolish, that the Jedi did not notice sooner. Do you know what you are?”

Fives works his jaw and hesitates. 

He’s a clone. He’s a soldier. He’s an ARC trooper. But he doesn’t think any of those answers is what Palpatine is looking for. When he doesn’t answer, Palpatine’s eyes narrow a bit.

Something in Fives’ mind snaps into place.

Suddenly there’s a roaring in his ears and fire in his veins. He cries out. Something rippling and tense and alive sweeps over him. It’s unrefined and rushing and rising and it hurts. His mind buzzes and vibrates with sensations that are completely foreign. It’s too much, a persistent and all-consuming agony. He wants to curl up into a little ball and clutch at his skull, but the best he can do with Palpatine holding him down is close his eyes and wait for it to end. 

The pain settles after a while. Fives pants through gritted teeth and blinks tears from his eyes as the sensations subside—but they don’t leave him completely. He can feel odd little waves thrumming through him still, filling him with warmth instead of fire. He doesn’t understand what that means.  

“You are an anomaly, clone. The Kaminoans did not intend for their projects to be Force-sensitive. Yet here we are.”

No. That’s... impossible. 

Fives feels like the floor has dropped out from underneath him. Suddenly so many things make sense. The strange little tugs in his gut that warn him away from danger. The way can move faster than normal when he needs to, the way how the occasional blaster bolt skims right by him when it should score a hit. The awful cloying dark that left him dizzy on Umbara, that he hadn’t known how to explain to Kix when the medic had asked him what was wrong. 

The realization is accompanied by a fresh wave of fear that claws at his chest. If a Sith is taking such interest in the fact that a simple clone is Force-sensitive, Palpatine must want something from him. 

“I won’t help you,” Fives growls. “I’d rather die!” 

Palpatine’s eyes gleam a sickly yellow. 

“Your brother said the same thing,” he croons. “But he did not last long. And you will not, either.”

Fives feels his heart clench. 

“My brother—?”

Except Palpatine doesn’t answer him. The Sith leaves Fives there, pinned on his knees by the awful pressure of the dark side, and Fives has to focus on his breathing to keep himself from panicking.

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Palpatine brings him brothers and tells Fives to kill them. Fives could. He knows how. He hasn’t always had the good fortune to only be fighting against droids. 

Of course he refuses. He won’t kill his brothers. The ones that Palpatine brings in are all Coruscant Guards, nothing but terror and horrified confusion in their eyes from the moment they step into the room. 

Palpatine makes them beg for Fives to kill them. 

Their deaths are slow, and their screams seem to echo around the room long after they’ve gone silent. Palpatine doesn’t force Fives to do anything. He allows Fives to turn away and grit his teeth and struggle to keep his resolve and do his best to block everything out. Fives doesn’t know what kind of game this is, but he won’t stoop so low as to kill a brother. 

Except.

Palpatine brings in a shiny. He’s small and afraid and probably just came to Coruscant directly from Kamino. He shakes like a leaf when Palpatine orders Fives to kill him, eyes wide as saucers. Fives just turns away as always, shoving down the urge to vomit, because he knows what’s coming. 

The shiny screams and begs and writhes and sobs and Force he’s so young. He’s so young and he doesn’t deserve this and Fives knows that Palpatine is going to drag it out for as long as the kid’s body will last. The Sith is only just getting started, and Fives—Fives can’t watch this. Not this time. It’s too much. 

Fives takes a hesitant step forward. Palpatine arches one eyebrow at him, unfazed as always. He gestures patiently towards the shiny on the ground and smiles in sick satisfaction when Fives slowly makes his way to the kid’s side. 

Nothing feels real. He knows what he’s about to do but he feels detached from it somehow, like he isn’t even in his own body. When he reaches out to place his hands on either side of the other clone’s head, he realizes that his hands are shaking. 

He’s an ARC. His hands shouldn’t shake. But they do now. 

The shiny jerks at the contact. There are tears still streaming down his face. His expression is twisted in agony. His chest heaves from the force of his sobs, and he’s still begging under his breath for the pain to stop even though Palpatine isn’t doing anything anymore.

Fives doesn’t want to kill him. He doesn’t want to, he won’t, he won’t—

“Please,” the shiny breathes out desperately. Their gazes lock.

Fives breaks.

He makes it fast. It’s the least he can do.

The body slumps lifelessly to the floor. Fives stares at it numbly and blinks back hot tears of his own. 

“Good,” Palpatine tells him, smug and pleased. 

Suddenly, Fives wants to kill him.  

Something surges beneath his skin, red-hot and boiling and angry. He rises to his feet and clenches his fists as the sensation builds and builds and builds.  

He’s afraid and he’s furious and he hates. He hates Palpatine with every fiber of his being. He grabs at the Force and it comes to him easily, like it belongs in his grasp. It whispers to him, feeds off of his fury, grows and ignites into something that Fives can use.

He spins and throws the power at Palpatine with all the force he can muster. To his own inexperienced mind it feels like a tsunami of anger, an impenetrable wall of energy.

To Palpatine, it’s child’s play. The Sith bats Fives’ attack aside with ease and flings out a hand. Fives goes hurtling across the room. He smashes into the side of his cell with a shout of pain and feels the Force immobilize his limbs once more. He gets dragged to his knees again, right in front of the dead clone. 

The anger in him heaves at the sight, struggling to escape. Palpatine laughs. He clamps down on the energy in Fives’ body and rips it from Fives’ grasp. Fives has only just adjusted to the sensation of the Force flowing through him, and to have it torn away from him so abruptly feels like losing a limb. He slumps. His vision flickers.  

“Very good,” the Sith praises. “Your anger will become your greatest strength.”

And he leaves again, keeps Fives pinned even though he’s long gone. Fives stares at the body in front of him and drowns in guilt and fear and regret.

The power that had surged through him had been dark. Fives doesn’t want that. He’s learned enough about Jedi to know that the Dark Side is evil, that it twists and contorts and confuses. He closes his eyes and vows that he won’t do it again.

Except.

Palpatine brings him another shiny. There are intricate tattoos curling around the kid’s jaw that seem brand new. Fives tries not to wonder what his name is, if his batchmates will miss him, what he likes to do during leave. He knows what the Sith is going to asks. He braces himself, steps forwards, and gets dragged to his knees again with little more than a twitch of Palpatine’s finger. He snarls with frustration—he’s doing what Palpatine wants, if only to spare his brothers from suffering, so why is he being restricted? 

“Kill him,” Palpatine orders, and Fives fights, strains against the Force that holds him in place, but he can’t move. 

The shiny starts to scream. The tattoos across his face jump as he does.

And Fives can’t do anything, can’t help, can’t end it, can’t even turn his head away.

The anger builds up again until he can’t contain it. It bursts out of him like a geyser, hot and sharp. He’d vowed not to use it again, but he has to. Suddenly he can grab the Force again. He gathers it around himself until he has just enough strength to fling out a hand and reach. 

It’s instinctual and desperate. There is no finesse, no control. Fives knows that it wouldn’t do any good to attack Palpatine again, but he can use the Force to put the poor shiny out of his misery. The Force swells around him, dark and angry and skittering around his skin as a life is snuffed out. Fives shudders. He drops to the floor. Palpatine allows the motion

“This is progress,” the Sith says in a low voice as he withdraws from the cell. 

He leaves Fives with the body again. He always does, until the cleaning droids come to take them away. Fives is too tired to lift his head and breathe his apology to the corpse like he usually does.

Progress to a Sith is not a good thing. Fives can feel himself fraying, can feel the warmth of the Force inside him beginning to curdle into something dark and cold. He tries to push it away and succeeds for the moment, but he already knows that he’s fighting a losing battle. 

He curls himself into a ball and resigns himself to wait for Palpatine’s next visit. 

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There comes a point where Fives can’t keep track of anything anymore—of how many brothers he’s killed, of how many times he’s forced to his knees in front of the Sith, of how many times he willingly kneels just so that the pain will stop. 

He begs sometimes, but Palpatine doesn’t listen. If Fives strikes out at him, he’s easily subdued and punished. It never works, no matter how fast Fives is, no matter if he reaches for his anger. He can’t compete with a true Sith. 

Palpatine never explains the Force, never gives him a long lecture about how it functions like Fives had heard General Skywalker and General Kenobi give to Commander Tano during various points of the war. Instead, he throws Fives into problems headfirst and waits for Fives to figure it out himself. 

Palpatine lets a Gamorrean into his cell. The Gamorrean is starving and half-mad. It takes great pleasure in throwing Fives across the room until Fives has at least three broken ribs and a large gash in his side that drips blood on the floor. 

He’s going to die if he doesn’t do something. The dark nags at him, reminds him that it could help. Fives hesitates, but… he’s going to die. 

 He reaches for the darkness. He doesn’t see any other options. The Force coils around him, fierce and ready, filling him with the strength to get to his feet. 

After a long, steady stream of torture and humiliation and frustration, Fives takes vindictive glee in slamming the Gamorrean into the wall with the Force. Suddenly he has the power to end his own pain for the first time in… he doesn’t even know how long. Somehow, it’s intoxicating. Fives kills the Gamorrean ruthlessly, and mercy doesn’t even cross his mind once. 

When the power drains itself from his body and his mind is finally cleared of the foggy darkness, he realizes what he’s done and vomits up every last bit of the meager meal he’d been given earlier. 

He knows that it isn't right. He knows that, he knows that, but he doesn’t know how else to survive. He rejects the dark and shoves it away the instant his stomach stops trying to kill him. 

Palpatine comes back. This time he takes great pleasure in tearing Fives’ mind to pieces, shredding into him with sharp edges of Force that send fire rippling through Fives’ skull. Fives tries to call on the Force to defend himself, to put some sort of barrier or buffer against the mental barrage. It doesn’t work. He’s weak and inexperienced and slow. 

Palpatine pulls him apart and puts him back together over and over again until Fives finally figures out how to construct trembling shields around himself, desperate for the agony to end. Palpatine shatters them to pieces anyway before he allows Fives respite. When he leaves Fives’ mind, Fives’ entire body trembles. It feels like there are holes drilled through his brain. He can’t even wrap his hands around the tray that holds his next meal because he’s still shaking too badly. 

He’s long since abandoned any hope of rescue. He’s also submitted himself to the fact that he will never be strong enough to overcome Palpatine. Sooner or later he thinks he won’t have enough of a mind left to do anything at all. 

But Fives has always been stubborn. 

Even through the terrible pain, he clings to a shred of defiance and a sliver of loyalty. Those things have been ingrained in his heart since he could walk, and it’s just enough to keep him from succumbing for now. 

Fives can use the dark, can pull it to him and access that power, but he never lets it stay. He always forces it back down again, and that’s not what Palpatine wants. Every time it’s more and more difficult to get rid of it. The Dark Side clings to him. It doesn’t want to be subdued, and Fives is struggling against it. 

Palpatine knows this. He knows every inch of Fives’ mind by now. Fives has no secrets, no tricks, no ideas that the Sith does not know. 

So naturally Palpatine knows exactly what it takes to get Fives to break.

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At first, Fives thinks that he’s dreaming. The door to his cell opens. Fives rolls and drops to his knees instinctively, because whatever Palpatine has planned for today will only be ten times worse if he doesn’t. 

Someone laughs at him, quiet and fond.

“You don’t need to do that for me,” they say, and Fives’ head snaps up. 

Echo meets his gaze, a small smile playing across his lips. He’s wearing a black tunic, and he looks completely unconcerned by the conditions of Fives’ cell. Fives nearly chokes. 

“E-Echo…?”

Echo approaches him. Fives shrinks back, eyes darting around the room. It’s a trick. It has to be some sort of test. Echo halts, raising his hands non-threateningly. 

“Whoa, hey. I’m not going to attack you.”

“I’m dreaming,” Fives says through chapped and bloody lips. “You’re dead.”

Echo raises an eyebrow and raises a hand, wiggling his fingers at Fives pointedly. A glove covers almost the entire limb. 

“I’m not dead, Fives,” he says. “But I do have a few fake limbs now, if that makes you feel better.”

Fives shakes his head. He isn't convinced. Echo sighs. 

“Feel me, then. You can do that by now, right? Use the Force.”

Fives closes his eyes and turns away from him. He won’t believe this. Echo has been dead for a long time. 

“Alright then,” he hears Echo mutter, and suddenly something taps at his mind, gentle yet insistent. Fives throws his shields up so fast that he sees Echo wince out of the corner of his eyes… and then Fives has to take a moment to process. He turns back to Echo, eyes wide. 

Palpatine is never gentle. 

“Gonna let me in?” Echo asks him, arching an eyebrow. Fives can barely breathe, but when the tapping comes again, Fives lets his shields drop and suddenly he feels. He knows Echo’s thoughts, recognizes the patterns and quirks that he’s understood since Kamino, and that can’t be replicated by anyone else. Their minds twine together. A connection spins into existence.

Fives feels everything. He feels a curl of light amusement from his brother, a flash of pity, a wave of relief. It feels right, it feels good. Echo slides into Fives’ mind like he belongs there. It’s the first time someone has entered Fives’ mind without accompanying pain. Fives relaxes into the sensation.

Echo is not dead. 

He’s real. He’s here. This isn’t a dream. 

Suddenly Fives feels cold terror. 

He yanks his mind away from Echo’s with a cry of alarm. 

“No, no, you can’t be here,” Fives moans. “You can’t be real, please, he’ll make me kill you, you have to leave—!”

Echo laughs again. 

“Oh, that’s right,” he says casually. “I’d nearly forgotten about that part. Don’t worry about it too much, Fives. It’s not a big deal. Besides, he won’t make you kill me. He sent me here.”

Fives recoils. Suspicion sends awful prickles down his spine, because that… that isn’t right. Echo is real, but something else isn’t. 

He reaches for Echo’s mind this time. Echo raises an eyebrow at him but lets Fives dive into his thoughts.

On the surface, Echo’s mind is bright and intelligent, just as Fives had known it would be. Behind Echo’s normal thoughts and familiar attributes, the dark side swells and ebbs like the tide of the sea. Fives narrows his eyes.

“You’re not Echo,” he says sharply. Echo frowns.

“I can reassure you that I am,” he says, coming closer. Fives draws himself up, calling the Force into his grasp and shoving outward. Echo staggers back. Then he grins. 

“That’s pretty good,” he says. “You’re learning faster than I did, I think.”

Fives stiffens. Echo starts to come closer again, and Fives can feel himself crumbling, falling, struggling to remain defiant because it’s Echo. It’s his twin, his brother, his last batchmate, and he’s right in front of him when Fives thought that he was dead. 

When Echo reaches out and pulls Fives close, all of Fives’ defenses topple. He melts into the touch, breath hitching over a sob. Echo makes a soft noise and guides them to the floor. Fives clings to his brother. He knows that something is still horribly wrong but he hasn’t gotten this type of comfort in so long. It’s selfish, but even if this is a trick Fives is still going to take what he can get. 

“Force, Echo.” His voice trembles. He’s shaking. He keeps his eyes squeezed shut, curls his fingers into the fabric of Echo’s tunic and reminds himself to breathe. “How are you alive?”

“The Separatists picked me up at the Citadel,” Echo says quietly. “I was missing three limbs and bleeding out, but I fought anyway. They were surprised to learn that I could use the Force. So was I. Then they brought me here.”

Fives presses his face into Echo’s shoulder. His voice comes out muffled by the fabric. “You’re like me, then.”

“Course I am,” Echo replies. “We came out of the same vat, didn’t we? Why would you have something that I don’t?”

Fives doesn’t have an answer to that. He lets himself drift for a while, burrowing himself in the warmth and comfort and contact that he’s been craving. He can’t remember the last time he was able to hug someone. Part of him is worried that if he lets go, Echo will disappear, and Palpatine will take his place. 

The illusion can’t last forever, because Fives can’t forget what he’s already seen. Echo is real, but he is not the same. 

“What did he do to you?” Fives asks in little more than a whisper. He’s afraid of the answer he’ll receive. Echo shrugs. 

“The same thing that he’s doing to you,” he says lightly. “So I understand, Fives. I know that it hurts. I know exactly how you feel right now.”

“If you understand that, then get me out of here,” Fives says weakly. Echo sighs.

“I know, I know,” he soothes. “I wanted to leave, too. But Fives, you need to understand. It makes everything so much better. It hurts now, but when he’s finished you’ll be better. Stronger. You’ll be free. I promise.”

Echo strokes a gentle hand down Fives’ back. Fives’ stomach heaves. His skin crawls, but he can’t bring himself to pull away.

“He broke you,” he whispers in horror. Echo finally shifts, separating them just enough that Echo can look Fives in the eyes without letting go of him completely. 

“No. He fixed me, Fives. Just be patient. You’ll understand soon.” His eyes gleam yellow in the dark. 

Fives needs to let go. He needs to let go, it isn’t right, if he listens to Echo he’ll break and it’ll be the end. He needs to let go. He needs to pull away from this twisted shadow of his brother and continue to fight. 

But he can’t. 

It’s Echo. 

He curls himself further into Echo’s embrace and sobs. Echo holds him tight, offers him comfort, worms his way into Fives’ mind and sends him waves of warmth and reassurance. 

If Fives closes his eyes and ignores everything around him, he can almost forget that Echo isn’t himself. 

“I missed you,” Echo whispers into Fives’ ear. Fives swallows and doesn’t say anything in return. 

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Echo is almost always present, after that. He accompanies Palpatine every time Fives gets a visit. He watches, speaks sometimes, and then stays behind when Palpatine is finished to pull Fives into his arms and hold him as Fives tries to remember who he is. 

He’d hoped that Echo’s presence would make things easier, but it makes things worse. He tells Fives to give in, promises him that things will be better, whispers that he can’t wait until they can be together again. Palpatine lets him speak. All of them know Fives’ weakness. All of them know that he’s breaking, that it’s just a matter of time before Fives loses the battle and lets the dark take him as it has his brother. 

Fives, please,” Echo pleads with him, while Fives struggles to cling to his sanity and ignores the dark inside him that’s begging to be used. “Please, the longer you fight, the longer it will hurt. I want you with me, I don’t want you to get hurt anymore. Fives…” 

Fives can’t look at him. Sweat drips down his brow like a river. His mind is combusting. He convulses on the floor, gritting his teeth so hard that part of him thinks that they might shatter. The dark swirls to life. Fives grabs it, pulls it close and feels a bit of the pain fade minutely. 

“You’re so close,” Echo tells him. “Just let it stay, Fives. It’s not just a tool. You have to make it a part of you.”

Fives snarls.

“No,” he hisses. He lets go of the dark and allows the pain to return. 

Dimly, in the back of his mind, he knows that this is the last time he’ll have the strength to rebel. Echo makes a sound of frustration and hurt.

Palpatine doesn’t say anything. He doesn’t ever now, really. Fives is sure that the Sith thinks it’s beneath him. He hadn’t spoken much when it had just been the two of them either, and now Echo does the talking. Palpatine’s presence leaves Fives without warning. The sudden freedom so unexpected that Fives gapes in bewilderment. 

He’d been expecting lightning and agony as a result of his disobedience. It doesn’t come. Palpatine’s eyes flicker over to Echo. Echo doesn’t say anything, but he nods once, and Palpatine leaves with a sweep of his robes. 

Fives hauls himself shakily to his feet, confused. 

“W-what—?” he croaks out. 

“You’re not going to like this at all,” Echo says, and for the first time, Fives hears regret in his brother’s voice. 

“What are you talking about—?”

Echo reaches out and grabs him with the Force. Echo’s never done that before. He’ll enter Fives’ mind, press some of the pain away when he’s allowed to, but he’s never used it to paralyze, or to harm like the Sith does. Fives panics, because for a brief moment he’s afraid that Echo is going to pick up right where Palpatine left off. 

Instead, Echo lifts him, brow furrowed, and pulls Fives with him out of the cell. 

Fives doesn’t know what’s going on. He tries to fight. He batters his will against Echo’s because Echo’s strength can’t compare with Palpatine’s and Fives can actually make him flinch. But Echo still has more experience than Fives does, and he keeps mostly Fives motionless as he walks them through a dim hallway and into another room. 

There’s a chair in the center of the room. Echo eases Fives into it and fastens cuffs around Fives’ arms and legs. Fives pants in apprehension. This doesn’t look good. He doesn’t think it could possibly hurt more than Palpatine can make it, but Echo is grim, and that makes him worry.

“You just… need a little push. That’s all,” Echo says quietly. “It’s okay. I needed it too.”

“The kriff is this?” Fives demands, jerking against the metal restraints. “Let me go!”

“You know I can’t,” Echo reminds him curtly. “This is to help you, Fives. Why is that so hard for you to comprehend?”

“If you really wanted to help me, you would have stopped this a long time ago,” Fives gasps out. Echo huffs and ignores that. 

“This device is experimental. Our Master hopes to use it in the future, to show others like us the true ways of the Force. It will let you see things as I do, I hope.”

Echo pauses for a moment. Fives feels him reaching out towards their Force bond, sending him apologies and peace and reassurance that Fives does not want. He recoils from it, pushes Echo away, and he sees Echo’s eyes go wide with shock. 

“You aren’t my brother,” Fives snarls at him. “My brother is dead.”

For a moment, Fives can see past the dark that swirls in Echo’s eyes. Something shatters. Echo tries to reach for him again, tugging at the bond forcefully. Fives flinches and cuts him off. Echo’s side of the bond lights up with confusion and panic, but Fives won’t let him in. 

A moment later, Echo’s expression hardens, and anger replaces the vulnerability. 

Echo slams his hand down onto the control panel at his side. The machine begins to whir to life. Fives glances down and sees needles drawing closer to his skin on either side of him. He swallows.

“Echo...”

“You could have avoided this, you know. You could have stopped it already. You have the power to end it. All you have to do is stop rejecting it, stop rejecting me,” Echo snarls. His eyes flash yellow again. Fives hates it when they do that. It’s a harsh reminder that his brother is gone, that Echo has been replaced by something that has his face but not his heart.

“You don’t have to be afraid. Not of the chair, not of the Dark Side, not of anything. You have me now,” Echo whispers in his ear. “Aren’t you grateful? I didn’t have anyone to get me through these things. I was all alone.” He bares his teeth in a pale imitation of a smile. “It nearly killed me. You’re lucky, Fives. Lucky that I’m here to help.” 

Electroprods blaze to life. Fives hadn’t even noticed them until now, but they’re inching close alongside the needles. Fives trembles. He can’t, he can’t, he can’t. He’s so tired of pain.

“Echo, don’t. Please. Get me out of here, this isn’t you—!”

Echo’s expression twists into a distorted parody of sympathy. He strokes a hand over Fives hair in a motion that’s supposed to be soothing before taking a step back so that he’s out of range of the chair’s influence. “I’m right here. You just have to endure it, and hate. Everything will be alright after that. Trust me. I’ll be right here, don’t worry.”

Fives twists, shakes, closes his eyes and tries to shut out Echo’s words because it’s wrong, it’s twisted and horrible and he’s so, so afraid. 

“Echo, let me go. Echo, please! Please, please don’t don’t—!”

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When he wakes up, his world is on fire. He moans before he can stop himself and that just makes it worse. It feels like there are shards of glass down his throat. He’s curled in a little ball next to someone, and he doesn’t need to see in order to know who it is. 

“Sleep, Fives,” Echo tells him. Fives is too tired, too hurt, too beaten down to even think about disobeying. He drifts off again, but when he comes to once more the pain hasn’t faded even a bit. 

Echo is speaking in the dark of the cell, breathing something out in quiet rolling syllables that Fives doesn’t understand. The words grate against Fives’ mind. They’re… familiar, somehow, but not to him. The dark in him leaps in recognition. 

“Nwûl tash. Dzwol shâsotkun. Shâsotjontû châtsatul nu tyûk. Tyûkjontû châtsatul nu midwan. Midwanjontû châtsatul nu asha. Ashajontû kotswinot itsu nuyak. Wonoksh qyâsik nun.”

Echo repeats it once, twice, three times. Fives doesn’t try to speak just yet. Even lifting his head sends lightning pain skittering through his body. Echo must sense that he’s awake. He prods at Fives’ mind through the bond, and Fives is too weak to resist this time. Echo hums in satisfaction as their minds curl together. Fives pushes at him weakly, but Echo bats his protests aside. 

“You want to know what it means?” he asks quietly. “It’s what you could have, if you’d let us show you. Peace is a lie, there is only passion. Through passion, I gain strength. Through strength, I gain power. Through power, I gain victory. Through victory, my chains are broken. The Force shall free me.” He pauses. “Do you want to be free, Fives?”

Fives rumbles out a bitter laugh that vibrates through his bones and makes him ache.

“I am free. You’re the one who isn’t.”

Echo doesn’t say anything for a long, long moment. 

“Maybe I’m not,” he finally admits. “But you’ll join us anyway. If it’s true that I’m not free, you won’t leave me to face servitude alone.”

 Servitude. Ha. 

“I’m loyal to the Republic,” Fives croaks out, but he hasn’t actually thought of the Republic in a long time. Echo laughs at him.

“Maybe you were,” he whispers. “But you’ve always been more loyal to me.” 

He’s right. Fives loves his brother far more than he will ever love the Republic.

Fives is done resisting. He’d known that he was going to give in the moment he’d seen Echo. He’s just been putting it off. He closes his eyes and lets every muscle in his body go slack. The barriers that he’s put up to keep the dark away fade. The dark swells, throbs, billows to life. Fives lets it swallow him whole. 

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Fives understands everything now.

The dark is his friend. The dark belongs with him. It sings contentedly as it thrums between him and his brother, binding them together as they kneel at Palpatine’s feet. When the Sith gestures for them to rise, they do so as one, more in sync than they’ve ever been. Fives shares a victorious glance with Echo as Palpatine’s satisfaction rolls over them.

“You are my prototypes,” he tells them with a slow smile. “The predecessors to my future Inquisitors. Your conversions were successful, and theirs will be, too.”

The Sith presents them with lightsabers. Fives accepts the weapon and licks his lips. The dark curls around him like a blanket. It isn’t cold, not anymore. 

He’s not sure why it had taken him so long to accept it. 

His bond with Echo is alight with energy and power. Fives can practically taste it. He knows that Echo can, too. 

It is better, just like Echo had promised. And Fives doesn’t really care what happens to him anymore, not as long he can stay side by side with his brother.   

[flutteringphalanges]

Summary:  “Am I in Hell?” Agatha’s voice was hoarse, a hint of fear in her tone. “That depends on your definition,” Dracula answered. “Perhaps.” His fingers felt cool against her burning skin, the fever raging through her body. “If you’re going to kill me, then do it,” she mumbled. The count chuckled, gazing into her eyes. “On the contrary,” he smirked. “I’m going to save you.”

((In which Dracula cares for a gravely ill Agatha))

Characters: Agatha Van Helsing/Dracula

Rating: M *THIS CHAPTER HAS SMUT*

Read on FFN and AO3

A/N: Oh god, it’s officially, this story is M and I wrote my first actual smut scene. I’m so nervous my stomach is flip flopping. Thank you for all of your support! I could really use some feedback on this one, guys! Like, ah! This was different! I hope you enjoy it! If you don’t want to read the smut, stop reading after the italicized part and pick back up on chapter eight whenever I finish that! Okay, I hope you enjoy! -Jen

                                                Chapter Seven

"If it hurts too much, we can try again tomorrow."

Dracula's words seemed distant to Agatha as she bit down on her lower lip, her injured hand grasping the wooden stake. Three weeks had passed since the incident and it had been the vampire's suggestion that she work on regaining the strength she once possessed. He'd even gone so far as to give her a stake-a humorous take at inspiration, to squeeze in order to test her muscles. It hurt. Like Hell. Every fiber from the tips of her fingers to her palm burning. But she kept on despite this. Van Helsings weren't weak and she sure wasn't going to be the first one.

"Good," Dracula coached. "You're getting stronger." His lips curved into a smile as she met his gaze, her forehead speckled with droplets of sweat. "Perhaps I should start becoming a little nervous again."

"Your sarcasm needs as much work as my hand." She snorted, rolling her eyes as she loosened her hold. "I like to visualize thrusting this through your chest."

"Whatever motivates you, Agatha," the vampire smirked. "I would expect nothing less."

She huffed softly, the pale purple of her dress complimenting her fair complexion. It was surprisingly comfortable and not overly elegant-something she had expected when it came to the Count and his taste for the finer things in life. And of the few he had given to her, this one was her favorite. Though, she did her best not to overly flatter him. He was still the enemy. The target. And she kept that in mind. Even if the thought did occasionally slip the forefront of her mind.

"So, what are your plans for today, hm?" Dracula eyed her curiously. In a way, it was almost an inside joke at this point. There wasn't much in the castle to do and though Agatha swore each day would be her last, she had yet to leave. "Any new plots? Motivations?"

"As if I would ever share them with you." She responded curtly, pretending to be mildly interested in her piece of wood. "Did you find the books I requested?"

"Ah, so I've become your servant now, have I?" The vampire mused, leaning back in his chair. "First-no, twice I've healed you now, provided you with clothing and food, and now you ask for reading materials?" She gave him a look and he smirked. "I would forget about your precious books even though you have an entire library here at your disposal."

"We have different tastes," Agatha merely shrugged. "And since I'm being held captive, I don't think it's too much to ask."

"Perhaps I should've purchased a dictionary so you could've read up on the difference between captivity and free will." The Count snorted, shaking his head. "Honestly, Agatha, sometimes I question you."

"Question me about what?" She asked in genuine curiosity.

"Everything," he replied. "Take that as an insult or a compliment is your choice. But I'd personally think of it as a good thing."

Agatha eyed him for a moment before looking away. Sometimes she found herself questioning him. Had she really stayed in the castle for this long? It was hard to keep track of time some days. Dracula tended to keep things in the dark, torches being the only light to brighten what little space they cast down upon. There was one way to know. A way she very much didn't like or approve of.

"I'll be hunting tonight." Dracula informed her, rising from where he sat. "I shouldn't be too long."

She knew what that meant. He already had someone or several people in mind. The vampire was calculated, meticulous. Dracula knew who he wanted and when he wanted them and she truly despised it. The loss of innocent life. Absentmindedly, her fingers began to tap on the table, dangerously close to the stake. But even she knew that for whatever reason, she had no intentions on using it.

"Don't let them suffer." It was an odd request, before she'd spat at him to refrain from killing to begin with. What was she becoming? "If you must, have mercy."

Now the vampire even looked somewhat taken aback by her words. "I let them dream," the Count replied. "It's as humane as one can get when taking their life. In the end, wouldn't you wish the same?"

"When I take my final breath, I want it to be quick and painless." Agatha said, locking her eyes on his. "I don't think I even wish to know what is happening. Dreams can be a nightmare on their own. I'd rather fade away into the thoughtlessness of the unknown."

"No white light? No ringing bells as you arrive at your believed gates of the Silver City?" He inquired with a small smile. "My, what an interesting nun you were indeed."

"I've been told that quite a lot." Agatha answered with a small, half smile. "Isn't that the reason you spared me?"

"There is not a singular reason for me deciding to save you." Dracula replied simply as he fetched his cape. "You are a rarity of your species, Agatha. Like a fine aged wine. And I quite like that about you."

"But you don't drink." She replied, cocking an eyebrow.

"Wine," he grinned. "And as much as I love our conversations, the moon is full and night only lasts for so long." The vampire seemed to study her for a moment before speaking once more. "Goodbye, Agatha, I suppose I shall see you shortly."

"Don't get caught up in the Sun," she merely smirked. "Ashes aren't the easiest to sweep up."

And with a quiet snort, the nun watched as he disappeared. Something in her stomach twisted. A rather strange feeling manifesting from within as she rose from her chair. But the cool draft from the castle halls soothed her troubled mind.

Agatha wrung out water from a cloth she had soaking in a bucket and dabbed at the beads of sweat on her grandfather's brow. Abraham Van Helsing's chest rose and fell with uneven breaths, his lips speckled with blood. Tuberculosis. She knew how dangerous it was. How infectious the disease could be. But she wasn't about to let him die alone. Not after everything.

"Agatha."

The name came out as a croak and she couldn't tell if he was addressing her or mindlessly saying the word. She gripped his hand, feeling how hot and clammy his skin was. He smelled of death. A sickening stench. But she swallowed the bile in the back of her throat. Down, down to the pit of her stomach.

"Yes, Grandfather?" She whispered, hearing her own emotion in her voice. She had to remain strong. Abraham hated weakness. And in the end, she would give him what he desired.

"Don't…" He heaved before hacking up another spray of bright red blood. "Don't let him win…"

"Who?" She said, leaning in closer as his tone grew faint. "Who shouldn't I let win?"

"The vampire," Abraham coughed. "Dracula...no matter what, destroy him. Do what I…" He was panting, struggling as his lungs fought against his own body. "...Finish what I couldn't."

"I promise, Grandfather." Agatha murmured, pressing her forehead to his still hand. "I'll take down Count Dracula even if it kills me. You have my word…"

It was the sound of howling that caused Agatha to sit upright in her chair. She sucked in a breath, nearly knocking a book onto the floor that she had been reading. Had she really fallen asleep? As she rose from her spot, the castle doors flew open and there Dracula stood. Stripped down. Completely, utterly naked. Their eyes locked onto one another and, as if drawn to him by an unknown power, she drew closer. Fainter and fainter become the words of her grandfather. A dream lost as something else surfaced in her mind.

It reminded her of the night back at St. Mary's Convent. The black wolf with the soulless eyes. Agatha stepped forward and hesitantly reached out a hand. Dracula remained still as she touched his chest, the thick slime of carnage coating her skin like that of a newborn babe. It was surprisingly warm, the scent strong. But not as foul as she had expected. No. Earthy. Wet. And her fingers traced lightly over his flesh, creating shapes that held no given name.

"You're a monster." But there was surprisingly no malice in her tone. "A beast."

"I am," the vampire agreed. "Are you frightened?"

"No," Agatha shook her head, finally meeting his gaze. "No, I'm not."

This time he touched her, hands moving to slide the shoulders of her dress down. Her skin was creamy, but held more blush than his ever would. She was alive after all. Dracula could hear Agatha's heart rate begin to increase, the succulent vein that was her jugular throbbing just enough to where he could visibly watch it thrum against her throat. He paused momentarily, dark eyes holding her blues.

"I could kill you right where we stand now." His voice was low, calm. "Break you in two. Drain you dry of every drop of your blood." The Count's index finger trailed down the curve of her cheek. "You should be terrified of me."

"I've survived with you this long, haven't I?" She countered, inhaling deeply. "And I could've easily killed you as well." He smirked at her words. "So it seems we've spared each other."

"For the time being," he answered.

"For the time being," she agreed.

When his fingers undid the back of her dress with such precision, Agatha didn't protest. Unlike before when she stood naked before him, she didn't cover herself. Dracula's tongue trailed across her skin like a serpent, flicking against the perk bud on her right breast. She trembled, but it wasn't in fear. Far, far from it.

"Agatha…"

His mouth brushed against her stomach, cool air from his whispers bringing forth goosebumps. He was moving slow. So slow. Whether or not he was doing it on purpose, she wasn't sure. It was violent or done in fury like the first time. And when his hands went to part her legs, she let out a breathless gasp.

"Bed…" She managed to choke out as he looked up at her in amusement. "Move to…" Christ, she couldn't even get a sentence out. The bastard had bewitched her. "I'll…"

"I won't let you fall." Dracula finished as if reading her mind. "Let me take control."

Control. Like Hell she'd give him the upper...oh. OH. Agatha couldn't stifle back the moan that escaped deep from within her throat as Dracula drug his tongue against the sensitive, pink slit. The Count supported her with one arm as he nuzzled his face against her. Her toes curled tightly together and she whimpered. Whimpered like a frightened animal that was hunted by a hungry wolf.

"Please…" She swallowed, so close on the edge. "I need…"

"Hm?" Dracula paused, seemingly delighted by the former nun's state. "What do you need Agatha?" He touched her gently. Teasingly soft. Testing her. "You're quite hard to understand."

"You." She finally forced out through her teeth. "I need you!"

Apparently that was all the Count needed to hear. Swept up as if she was as light as a feather and whisked her away. Dracula laid her spread eagle across the bed. It was only then that Agatha realized how hard the vampire's length had gotten. He loomed over her studying his prize. Before she could utter another plea, he plunged himself deep within her core. She gasped, arching her back as he began to thrust, both of his hands pinning her wrists to the mattress.

It wasn't right. It was so wrong. So wrong that it was right. So very, very right. And Agatha relished in it. Her eyes closed as the sound of her heart racing filled her ears. She grew closer. Ever so closer. Right to the edge. And as his name hung to the very tip of her tongue, Agatha Van Helsing felt the sharp, white hot pain of fangs piercing into her neck.

And her eyes flew wide open.

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Roguish Women Part 12

Summary: Kate Rosseau is an American who fled to Paris to escape her past life. Now she's dancing and playing the part of a courtesan at the Moulin Rouge. There she meets Tommy Shelby who thinks she can be useful in expanding his empire. But has he been blinded?

Part 11: Tommy confides in Kate, telling her that he suspects Alfie isn’t loyal. 

            “I tell you, Esme, he’s really something else. I mean fuck’s sake I’ve seen Jewish gangsters before but Alfie Solomons.” Kate let out a low whistle. “I’d have to have an army behind me if I ever wanted to cross him. Knocked a man out cold with one blow. I mean Jesus Christ, that has to be some sort of talent of his.”

            Back in Birmingham, Kate was at the betting shop, alone with John’s wife who she got along well with. She was in the kitchen with the curtain open so she could talk to Esme while making something quick to eat for lunch.

            That’s when she heard the door open and suddenly, she realized Esme was focused on something else.

            “Es?” Kate walked out to see a well-dressed woman walking inside. The room suddenly became tense as the woman appeared out of her element and Esme was on guard. “Don’t think we’ve met.” She tried to break the discomfort in the air.

            “May Carleton.” The woman greeted in a posh accent. “I have an appointment with Mr. Shelby.”

            Kate subtly glanced at Esme who shook her head. “Here? He’s got an office, I mean. And it’s a lot nicer than this place.”

            “Oh, yes, I asked for this address. He said he ran a gambling den and I-” May looked a little pink in the face. “I wanted to see one but I see now I’m early and I don’t know how to behave.”

            “Well, it helps if you can hold your ground. Men ‘round here are a bit aggressive when it comes to placing bets.” Kate smiled and sat down.

            Esme still seemed suspicious of the wealthy looking woman but curious all the same. “What do you do, then?” She went back to her daily tasks about the shop.

            “Oh, I’m going to train Tommy’s horse for Epsom,” May answered as she took a look around the place.

            Kate sat down with her snack. “So that’s why he was asking if I knew anything about horses.” She realized. “He got himself a horse and someone to train it.”

            “You know horses?” May wondered.

            “No, Esme does.”

            John’s wife smiled and nodded. “Most gypsy girls do. We’re born riding horses.”

            “There’s a fucking great Riley parked out there and nobody’s watching it!” John entered the shop loudly, as he usually did.

            “That’s a nice car.” Kate gave May an impressed look. Apparently, her wealth wasn’t limited to just clothing.  

            “John,” Esme stepped in before he made any plans on nicking the car while its owner was in the room.

            “Hey!” Kate smacked his hand away as he tried to snatch her lunch instead. “Fuck off and go find Tommy, Miss Carleton here is looking for him.”

            Speak of the devil and he shall appear. Tommy entered the shop through the kitchen. “Sorry I’m late. Take a look around?” He wondered.

            “Because there’s just so much to see,” Kate mumbled. She couldn’t blame anyone for the monotonous surroundings. Small Heath wasn’t much to look at. Neither was London but at least Alfie Solomons kept Kate on her toes. Returning to Birmingham was like settling into a tepid bath. It was familiar but the same old thing. It didn’t help that she was back to the place where Santo knew she was.

            Tommy ignored the comment. “So, you’ve come to get my girl, aye?”

            “Yes.” May seemed a bit glad to get out of the betting shop.

            “Kate, I’ll be needing a word with you once I return from speak with Miss Carleton.”

            She brushed her hands off and stood up. “I can walk with you now. Unless Esme needs me here.”

            “No, she’ll keep it locked up for now.” Tommy lit up a cigarette. “Walk with us.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

            May seemed to take the hint and lagged behind so Tommy and Kate could converse in private on the way to the Yard.

            “You got along easily with Alfie.”

            Kate crossed her arms over her chest and shrugged. “I get along easily with a lot of people. It’s called being outgoing.” She replied deadpan.

            “What I mean, is he seems to trust you.” Tommy reiterated to get his point across. He didn’t want to talk in circles with her, not when he was so busy.

            “I don’t like where this is going, Tommy. You asked me to conduct business with the man, that’s what I’m doing. You asked me for contacts in America, that’s what I gave you. I wouldn’t double-cross that man for any sum. So, don’t even try bargaining with me.”

            “Those words never came out me mouth, now did they?”

            Kate rolled her eyes. “Oh, don’t play games with me. I know what you were hinting at.” She stopped walking to face him, making sure May wasn’t in earshot. “I know you like to play your pieces and strategize or whatever.” She jabbed a finger into his chest. “But you’re not putting me in those cross-fires. I spelled out what I’d do for protection. Getting myself killed seems to be counterintuitive.”        

            Tommy cleared his throat and reached into the inside of his pocket. Inside an envelope were a train ticket and a roll of cash. “Go to London and pay him a visit. Don’t need to say anything, just discuss business as usual. If you notice something’s wrong, you bring that information back to me.”

            Kate’s hear tbeat rapidly in her chest. It was obvious Tommy knew something she didn’t. “No, no fuck off. I’m not doing that.” She stepped away from him and pushed the envelope back into his hand.

            “He requested a meeting, I said you’d go and see him.” He insisted.

            “And why don’t you go?” She demanded. “You go and find out what you want to know.”

            “I’m busy.”

            “Busy.” She scoffed. “With what?”

            Tommy sighed and glanced over his shoulder to May who was waiting patiently a few yards away.

            Kate let out a sarcastic snort. “Oh, I see you’re too busy with the pretty horse trainer. And here I was thinking you had sworn off women for good.”

            “For the Derby.” He clarified firmly. He didn’t want her going around toting off rumors that he was involved with May. Even if it was the intention, sort of.

            Kate wrinkled her nose in disgust and snatched the envelope from his hand. “Don’t fucking understand what all this fuss is about this Derby. One horse race and Tommy Shelby is going to end up with a key to the world? Isn’t that easy.” She snapped before walking off with the ticket and money in hand.

~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

            “Y’know, I’ve always had issues with Italians.”

            Kate clicked her tongue as she tried to keep track of the numbers on the ledger in front of her instead of Alfie’s out of the blue comment. If Tommy hadn’t said anything about Alfie’s loyalty, then she would’ve gladly accepted the trip to London without a second thought. She enjoyed the man’s presence. He was interesting, to say the least.

            “Is that right? Is it a preference? I knew many Jews in America who didn’t feel the same.”

            “Call it experience.” Alfie idly cracked his knuckles over his cane. “You must have the same preference, then, that right?”

            “I tend not to focus on ethnicities, Mr. Solomons.” Kate didn’t spare a moment to look up from the report he’d given her upon the start of the meeting.

            “’Less they’re hunting you down.”

            That made her set the ledger aside. She laced her fingers together and rested them on her knee. “I thought we had an understanding, Alfie. I like you and you like me. I don’t ask for a list of your enemies and you don’t ask about mine.”

            Alfie ran a hand over his beard a few times as he studied her face. “See, thing is, Kate, if I do business with someone, I do like to know whether there’s any sort of, well, liabilities.”

            It was like Tommy was there in spirit, pointing out all the little tells that something was wrong. Even in the roundabout way Alfie spoke, Kate could see he wasn’t being entirely honest. “Have you been speaking with Italians?” She asked in as casual of a manner she could muster.

            “We don’t ask about each other’s enemies, yeah?” His right hand twitched.

            “Would you like to talk about my enemies, Alfie?”

            He held his arms out as if embracing her from across the desk. “I’ve got all the time in the world, love.”

            That was enough of an answer for Kate. The answer that Tommy was right. There was something Alfie was planning behind the scenes. “His name is Santo Leoni, but I’m sure you already knew that. He’s from Boston. Runs everything on the Italian side, but you knew that as well. Something you might not know, Alfie,” She leaned forward. “but something I know and know very well. He leaves a trail of ash behind him. Everyone he wants dead, dies. He’s after me but he’s also after anyone I’ve been in contact with, anyone he thinks has been hiding me, helping me.”

            Alfie wasn’t scared, obviously, in fact, he looked completely unbothered. “So that’s what you give the Shelbys then, yeah, in return for giving you a bit of work?” He asked. “You set them up to be burned, that right?”

            “No.” Kate stood up and gathered her things. “Because I think they’re the only ones capable of taking him down.” Their eyes met for a moment, almost in an understanding. Alfie knew that she knew. And Kate knew that he had figured her out. “Good afternoon, Mr. Solomons.”

~~~~~~~~~~~ 

            At the train station, Kate phoned the office. Lizzie answered immediately.

            “Liz, I’ve got to speak to Tommy, it’s urgent.”

            The secretary paused. “He’s left for Surrey. I could try to find the number for the address but I don’t know how long it’ll take.”

            “Fuck, what on Earth is he doing in Surrey?” Kate threw her hand up in disbelief. The man was always on the move it was hard enough to pin him down when he was just in the office.

            “Visiting the racehorse for the derby,” Lizzie answered.

            “Visiting the-for the love of-too busy for-” She held back a frustrated scream. “Too busy to attend meetings but he can fuck off to Surrey with that woman. Jesus Christ, I need to speak with him now.” She insisted.

            “Arthur or John might be around, want me to get them?”

            “No, no, I-I don’t know what Tommy’s told them.” Kate ran a hand over her face in frustration. She wasn’t enjoying all the secrecy and hushed plans. It made it difficult to know where she stood. “I’m coming back to Birmingham now. If he calls, you tell him that he was right about Alfie.”

            “Right about…”

            “Just say those words exactly, he’ll know what it means.” Kate hung up the phone to hurry off to board the train. “At least I hope he knows.”  

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla​ @giftofdreams​ @biba3434​ @kimmietea​

Tag list: @radical-gecko​

Masterlist

[la-paritalienne]

Eve!!!! Need your thoughts about Taylor's album!!!! 💓💓💓💓💓💓

i love getting asked :”(((((( :”))))))) thank uuuuuuuu. let’s get to it. as usual, it’s an almost-first impression (normally i write my basic thoughts during the first listen – yeah i’d started doing it before getting this, you know, just in case – and then i review them w a second one, where i also select my favourite passage). sooo, let’s go

♡♡♡♡

the 1 — such sweet yet heartbreaking lyrics... very soft sound, if it sets the mood for the album im 100 per cent in! This one didn’t stick w me after one listen, but after the second i was like wooow! I love how she says waking up alone ughhh. 8

fave lyrics: persist and resist the temptation to ask you / if one thing had been different / would everything be different today?

cardigan — !!!!!!! the sound has that bittersweet something that gets under your skin and makes you nostalgic for something you can’t even pinpoint. it reminds me of the softest lana, especially in nfr (eg bartender!!). i’m in awe. instant obsession!!!! the ending takes you to another plane of existence – ‘cause i knew everything when i was young... i knew you’d miss me... you’d come back to me. also i’m crying. 10+

[it’s hard to choose bc the whole song reads like poetry but i’m especially obsessed w] giving me your weekends; once in twenty lifetimes; tried to change the ending / peter losing wendy; you drew stars around my scars

the last great american dynasty — storytelling on pointttt and sound, too! telling the story of someone she bought her house from?? the genius jumped out. she paints it like a romantic portrait, mad woman pacing on the shore, but then also gatsbian, the crazy parties, dali... and then takes it back to today w the key lime green dog, idk, iconic. i want to know this woman. this song truly takes you somewhere else, i thought it was a bit repetitive but then the bridge came in and the final vocals plus i had a marvelous time ruining everything, i have to stan! 8+

there goes the maddest woman this town has ever seen / she had a marvelous time ruining everything

exile — ok wow, bon iver’s voice is something else!!!! i was kind of ignorant when it came to him, i admit. his depth and rasp paired with how angelic she sounds... heavenly. sound-wise, but also thematically, this vaguely reminds me of tomorrow never came w lana and sean ono lennon. (one of my fave songs of all time maybe?). the way they enunciate i think i’ve seen this film before is literally a work of art all in itself, not to mention – well i’m mentioning it bc it’s worth it! – the you never gave a warning sign vs the way she goes over it w i gave so many signs. god this makes me feel sooooo sad and like, involved. it’s so beautiful. 10

you’re not my homeland anymore / so what am i defending now?

my tears ricochet — ok wtfffff??? everything about this speaks to my soul. the airy voice, the way she sets the scene... sunlit room, the funeral metaphor, you turned into your worst fears. i didn’t have it in myself to go with grace speaks to me more than anything, but just, everything about the lyrics. truly something else, cursing my name / wishing i stayed gives me chills everytime she says it. the beat that gets more insistent towards the end, with the bridge....... the high notes that then fade..... just wow. 10

and i can go anywhere i want / anywhere i want, just not home / and you can aim for my heart, go for blood / but you would still miss me in your bones / and i still talk to you when i’m screaming at the sky / and when you can’t sleep at night you hear my stolen lullabies

mirrorball — love the lyrics, maybe a bit less the sound? i mean i do love the sound, so far i’m loving how softly produced and coherent this album is, but this one i wouldn’t listen to on repeat and maybe there’s something a bit whiny that i don’t love. powerful meaning tho, and who’d use a mirrorball as a metaphor for feeling like you’re fragile, trying too hard to be a people-pleaser and no one sees the real you? 7

i’m still trying everything to keep you looking at me

seven — ah........ i started crying as soon as this one started, pleeease picture me in the trees, i hit my peak at seven....... like ok there’s no need to go that hard??? it’s so dreamy and like... naïf? in a perfect way. the way she says i still got love for you...... and everything else... she mentions folk songs... the purest love described in the purest way. i don’t think i have enough words to descrive the way this song moves me. like i want to listen to it again and again, to be able to feel like that again, but also i’m almost scared to listen bc it touches me too deeply. i still will tho hehe. 10+ (also just realised this is track 7 ok makes sense but my mind is blown. 100)

[this is literally deeper than a shakespeare sonnet so everything literally is my fave but, having to choose] and i’ve been meaning to tell you / i think your house is haunted / your dad is always mad and that must be why / and i think you should come live with me / and we can be pirates / then you won’t have to cry / or hide in the closet / and just like a folk song / our love will be passed on

august — i love the contrast between the lighthearted, happy singing and guitars and the sad lyrics. the story it tells is so simple and yet there’s so much poetry in that... plus it reminds me of fearless or even speak now?? which are like. the taylor that gets to my heart, tbh. the bridge and the outro made the song for me. 8,5

for me, it was enough / to live for the hope of it all / canceled plans just in case you’d call

this is me trying — oh god... lyrically this song is so raw and honest, it gives me chills! i do have to say, i don’t love how she says i just wanted to know (like metrically?? idk, im weird) but these are really just small comments on amazing songs, bc i feel like all i’m saying is wow this is great, lyrics and sound, but it truly is a complete and consistent work of art, easily listened to top to bottom each time. 8-

they told me all of my cages were mental / so got wasted like all my potential / and my words shoot to kill when i’m mad / i have a lot of regrets about that

illicit affairs — ok this goes without saying but i love storyteller taylor, it’s the taylor i grew up loving and singing to in my room. the thing about most of these songs, this one included, is that they probably grow on you after a few listens, bc they’re not made to be catchy, the production and backgrounds are always very soft and some i love more than others. this one musically maybe isn’t my fave but the narration is on point, and the bridge?? the fuckkkk. plus it has one of mt favourite themes ever which is so rarely spoken about, which is the fact that language you only speak w a particular someone you love, makes you miss them even more when they’re gone. or well not exactly this but i can’t put it into words, she did tho. 8+

you taught me a secret language i can’t speak with anyone else / and you know damn well / for you, i would ruin myself / a million little times

invisible string — the color theme!!! the guitar strumming!!! and the idea of an invisible tie w someone special... i do think she outdid herself w this album. again, not my fave soundwise, maybe slightly whiny when she goes meEeeEee? but, lyrically adorable and moving. 7,5

one single thread of gold / tied me to you

mad woman — maam...... this is iconic shit........ how could she say stuff like this w such a dreamy, breathy voice. musically i get huuuge lana’a nfr vibes again (which i mean. goals) but i also adore that lyrically it’s so taylor, no one would say this shit the way she does. adore how she sings to wrap your news around and bonus for women like hunting witches too, i do love me a nod to the fact that some women are so deeply filled w machism that they’re basically men in disguise. 8,5 

every time you call me crazy, i get more crazy / what about that? / and when you say i seem angry, i get more angry [isn’t this just womanhood condensed in a few lines]

epiphany — aw! it sounds like a lullaby, maybe it’s slightly ‘boring’ for my taste? meaning i get distracted which is surely a shame bc the words seem beautiful, but it’s so soft i just drift off? but reading the lyrics – for focus hehe – i’m moved. 7+

only twenty minutes to sleep / but you dream of some epiphany / just one single glimpse of relief / to make some sense of what you’ve seen

betty — okay byeeeeeeeeee. this is taylor at her finest! countryyyyyyyy, storytelling, lesbian jdjdfk no yeah I know I knowww, romance went sour. gut wrenching and beautiful, this feels like... watching a sad teen movie but w a sepia filter, idk. i dreamt of you all summer long oh my......... it’s like og taylor from her iconic first couple of albums came back but w all her baggage and growth and experience and better than ever. also why does taylor sing so wel about being in love w a woman????? well. 10+

betty, right now is the last time / i can dream about what happens when / you see my face again

peace — ..........yes yes yes. the high notes, the honesty, the syncopated parts where she says so much so quick and yet it still hits you. it’s not even a short song but it ends too soon, it goes by like that..... a poem. omg it just hit me this has flo vibes! especially from high as hope, for example grace or south london forever?? i mean... taylor doing alt folk country pop...... queen. give you my wild, give you a child?? ok ok. 10

all these people think love’s for show / but i would die for you in secret

hoax — weeeell the lana inspo jumped out w that piano!!!!! and like. mood. and lyrics...... this reminds me of wuthering heights or of lana’s tormented love stories (shades of blue.....). a powerful closer. poetry. 9

i am ash from your fire

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okkkkk this was a flattering review, very well deserved imo since the review is mine gjgjhkhk i agree w myself. thank you again and as i always say, feel free to come back w your comments! and have a great dayyyyy! much love

[sloppy-butcher]

A Wise Man Once Said

A Jeff Johansen Story 

Notes: Jeff is Daddy Jesus and no one can change my mind. Rin Yamaoka (The Spirit) is in this so be ready. This one isn’t as emotional or indepth as claudette’s story but i’ve always had the idea that Jeff, along with Ace and Tapp are like the dad squad and Rin is baby. Ash is more of an old man hooker and Bill is... Bill. Jeff needs more fanfiction and so does Rin so why not add ‘em together. I will probs write a Rin specific fic once her lore in the Tome 2 is realeased. Until then stay fresh my dudes

word count: 2782

TW: mentions of blood and death

“Jesus Christ Jeff.” Ace called down from atop the hill, his voice shaky and   distraught. “Wh-what the hell?” 

Jeff managed to momentarily tear his eyes away from the scene before him to look back over his shoulder at the two other men. Ace was bleeding, the wound in his shoulder from the hook he had just been taken off of was steadily leaking blood and staining his leopard-print shirt but Jeff could tell that it wasn’t the blood loss that was causing the man to look extremely pale and to shiver violently. Next to him, Jeff saw David Tapp, or as they called him, Detective. He looked as equally pale and distressed as the other but managed to maintain a stoic face. Both men looked down at their friend and at the thing he lay atop. 

Jeff’s gaze followed theirs and landed back on that pale blue face of the killer nicknamed The Spirit. Ordinarily, Jeff, nor anyone for that matter, would never get this close to the killer as he was now. Or rather they would be able to too. Spirt was notorious for being the most violent and aggressive killer in this Hellscape and the only time one would be able to get this close to her was when she was carrying you off to be sacrificed. It terrified Jeff, staring into the face of the one who had time and time again hunted and killed you and everyone you cared for. And it terrified him, even more, when he realized that she was beneath him, between his legs. 

Jeff couldn’t move, couldn’t think and couldn't react. All he could do was stare at the ghost girl and try to remember what made him do what he did. He began to unconsciously memorize her face; white, cloudy eyes surrounded by pale blue skin with lips gone purple. There were bruises all over her exposed skin and Jeff saw many lacerations dotted across her bare chest, all of which were stuck with jutting pieces of broken glass. She looked painful and Jeff couldn’t help but cringe at the thought of how much agony she must be in. But what stuck out the most about her, was the large growing pool of blood collecting around her head.

For a second, Jeff was worried about her. He had always been the type of person who would empathize with anyone hurt and watching as an unsettling amount of brown, dead blood ooze out of the Spirit’s head made Jeff nervous. Can Killers even get hurt? He wondered, can killers even die here? He felt the color drain from his face when he saw her chest stop moving. Very slowly and cautiously, like a kid waiting for their Jack-in-the-box toy to explode, he leaned down over her and hovered his ear just above her mouth and nose. He waited for a moment. Then he was hit with a wave of sudden relief when he felt her breath against his skin. A wise man would have questioned himself for doing such an act, he’d ask himself why he cared for such a monstrous creature only capable of bloodshed and death. But Jeff was a wiser man and instead decided to ignore such questions for now. 

“Jeff?” Ace called again. Jeff sat back up and turned around to face him. Both Ace and Detective Tapp were frozen in place, both held the same horrified look in their eyes. Jeff suddenly remembered what happened.

They were in the area known as Disturbed Ward. Everything was normal up until Ace got hooked. Things weren’t going too well for Jeff and his friends, the Spirit seemed to be having a particularly bad day as she showed no remorse for anyone; not that she ever did show any kind of human emotion other than complete and utter wrath to the survivors, this time was just 1000 times worse. She was on a destructive rampage. And Jeff couldn’t do anything about it Everyone was on their last hook before even a second generator was done. Jeff had begun to lose hope, things were so bleak and meaningless, that was until Ace found him. Jeff was healing in a corner, or at least trying to, crouching behind a decrepit wall biting back his cries of pain for fear of the killer finding him. Luckily it was Ace who found him and without even saying a word he took Jeff’s medkit and set to work healing and fixing Jeff’s torn and battered body. When Ace was done he passed Jeff and smile and put a comforting hand on his shoulder. 

“We got this.” Ace sounded sure and confident and Jeff felt infected by the man's hope and charisma. He was a good man, they all were. All his fellow survivors were good, honest people who deserved better than this. They didn’t do anything wrong. They didn't deserve this kind of hell. He felt rage ignite within him, rage at those who dared to hurt good people. That rage hit a boiling point when he saw on the hill that the Spirit was going for Ace again, right after he had been unhooked. He felt complete anger towards her. She was so powerful, yet she chose to go after the man who was injured and couldn’t fight back. Jeff felt Ace’s fear and it mixed with his rage. Suddenly his feet moved on their own and everything when white-hot with determination. Next thing he knew, Jeff had the Spirit on the floor. He had tackled her, his large shoulders colliding with her small frame. She didn’t have time to react and both parties where thrown off the hill due to Jeff’s momentum and sheer force. He heard a loud thud when they hit the ground, Jeff landing atop the ghost, and he had managed to cut his face open on her glass shards. When he looked at her again she was not moving, unresponsive and 

Something had overcome him. An otherworldly force whispered in his ear to do something, anything in order to help his friend. He was much bigger than her and if he really tried he would easily overpower her. But there was always a barricade between him and that horrible implication. He wasn’t going to do to the killers what they did to them. Jeff refused to stoop their levels of brutality and he vowed never to resort to physical violence. Maybe it was his subconscious way of telling himself that no matter what they did to him, he would always better than them. But the awareness was always there, always sitting at the back of Jeff’s mind that if he really wanted to he could seriously mess up some folks. And watching Ace helplessly run away was Jeff’s tipping point. 

He heard Ace mumbling behind him yet his attention remained on the Spirit. Her hair was wispy and was constantly moving, it curled around Jeff's knees which were planted either side of her chest. He could see the blood pool steadily get bigger. It was a lot of blood.

“Jeff.” Tapp was the one to call his name this time and despite his stone-hard tone, Jeff could make out a hint of unease in the detective’s voice. “Come. Let’s leave.” Jeff was amazed by Tapp’s ability to remain so calm and collected while the killer lay dying on the floor. He admired Tapp’s resolve to always look at the bigger picture and he respected the cop. But he could not find the motivation to follow him. 

“Jeff,” Tapp called again, wary about raising his voice in case he might wake the Spirit. Of course, that was impossible, she was out cold. But Tapp didn’t know that. Only Jeff could see her blood. “If we move now we can all get out. Let's go. Now. Before it wakes.” Still, Jeff remained transfixed over the ghost. 

“Jeff?” After a moment Ace asked. Finally, Jeff buckled.

“Y-Yeah?” He replied without taking his eyes off the girl. He heard Ace audibly sigh.

“Look, man, that was a bloody good move and I can’t thank you enough for saving me but,” he paused and looked to Tapp. The detective nodded his reassurance. “Look we gotta go, man.” There was a moment of silence. Jeff knew he had to go with them, he had to. But he couldn’t just leave her like this. She’d die. He could tell that she would, he could feel it in his bones. He had to think of something quick. Suddenly it came to him.

“A-alright. I’ll be right with you.” In the distance, a gen lit up. They all turned to look at it. 

“Looks like they’ve got the right idea,” Tapp said nonchalantly, signaling to Ace to follow him so that he could stitch him up with a medkit. Ace breathlessly chuckled and willingly shuffled after the man. He passed Jeff one last look before disappearing behind the hill. Jeff was alone with the Spirit now and for a brief moment wondered if it would be best to maybe tie her up. He shook his head and instead took his jacket off. The wise man would have let the Spirit die then and there but Jeff wasn’t going to let that happen. He wasn’t going to have her blood on his hands. 

“Here,” He unconsciously whispered to her as he balled his jacket up and placed it like a pillow underneath her head. When he pulled away he could have sworn he saw her face scrunch up in pain. He internally apologized for the discomfort.  He stayed with her for a second longer, watching and just taking in and processing all the things he had just done. The wind picked up and Jeff shivered against the cold. He gave her one final look before standing and walking after the others. 

~

“Jeff?” Somewhere through the fog, a voice called. “Jeff!”

Jeff blinks and suddenly he finds himself surrounded by a group of friends. There's Ace happily talking to Tapp who looks very annoyed. There was also Adam who seemed to the one who called him and then there was her. His eyes focused on her blue face. She says something but Jeff doesn’t understand.

“She wants to know if you are okay Jeff.” Adam translates for her. He doesn’t respond for a second, his mouth like brink unable to move. He sees her milky white eyes glow with concern for him and he couldn’t help but produce a soft laugh. 

“Yeah, I’m alright.” She doesn’t look pleased with that answer. After shaking her head she softly asks him something in Japanese. Adam listens intently before relaying it back to Jeff. 

“She asks if you were thinking about that time again?” Jeff slowly blinks and passes her a look of amusement.

“You always seem to know what I’m thinking about huh?” She lights up at the comment and squares her shoulders a little, pleased with her accurate assumption. She doesn't need a translator to understand English, it’s only when she tries to speak that Adam needs to be involved. He knows Japanese and when the three of them first approach the scholarly man with the proposition of being a translator for the girl he readily accepted. 

Not long after that trial he and Ace stumbled upon her again. It was outside a trial in the woods during the time in which they were allowed to relax. The two men were looking for supplies when out of the trees she appeared. Both men were startled but she made no move. She offered Jeff his jacket back but he refused. She insisted yelling at him in Japanese but he strongly declined. He told her to keep it and to keep warm, the memory of how cold she was haunting him. She relented and brought the jack close to her chest. She looked so sad and calm and... human. As if on impulse Jeff asked if she’d like to join them. And from that moment onwards they all made an effort to meet up in between trials.

Ace, at first, faked friendliness with her. He’d make half-hearted jokes and he would actively try to avoid eye contact with her. But she was immensely fascinated with the charming man and would laugh at his funny stories and she'd listen attentively to ever gambling advice he’d give her. And, after he realized that she was genuinely interested, he didn’t have to fake anymore. Tapp needed some convincing to first meet her but seeing her stand before him, hands fidgeting like a nervous child in trouble, his stone heart bent slightly and he let her hang around. He’d talk cop stuff with her and when Ace would amaze her with tales of conquest in Las Vegas Tapp would comment about how illegal his activities were. When Ace would try to defend himself against Tapp’s scrutiny, she would act as the jury and would, more often than not, chose in favor of justice.

But she spent most of her time with Jeff. She’d watch him and was greatly intrigued by his tattoos. He’d let her touch them and she would gladly spend hours dragging her fingers along all the lines and words. He let her try on his rings once but they all were far too big for her and would fall off easily. Jeff would tell her about the many rock concerts he had attended and of all the wild adventure he had at music festivals. He told her about what a mosh-pit was and she seemed eager to try it. Jeff laughed and told her it was a little extreme for a small lady like her. That was even he remembered that she was a killer and also probably dead. But she didn’t act like a killer. In these quiet moments, she would smile and laugh like any other normal girl and, maybe Jeff was just getting numb, but she would even look normal.

It was Tapp who suggested getting Adam involved and with his help, they were able to learn about her. Her name was Rin Yamaoka and she was murdered by her upset father. This seemed to anger Tapp who proceeded to go on a rant about domestic violence and how the government needed to protect families who could not fend for themselves. 

Rin then told them about her job and subsequently her boss. Well, she tried too. It was too complex and she was talking so fast that Adam couldn’t keep up. What they do know is that if she doesn’t do what she’s told to do she’d be punished. Her boss floods her with anger and rage and it clouds her mind and she can’t see when she's angry, she can’t think. She explained that when Jeff made her head smash onto the floor it pushed some of that blinding rage out of her head, at least until her boss called for her again. She explained that regardless she couldn’t go easy on them lest she loses herself again. The men all understood and took a vow that if they miraculously all ended up in a trial with her they’d willingly die for her. When they said that, she nearly cried.

“Jeff?” Adam called his name. Jeff turned and smiled at the man. Adam blinked and looked over to Rin then back to Jeff. He understood. Adam nodded and stood up and walked over to join Ace’s and Tapp’s conversation. Jeff returned his gaze back to Rin. He felt a smile tug on the corners of his lips as he opened his arm, offering a place for her next to him. She took it without a moment's hesitation.

She snuggled as deep as possible into Jeff’s embrace. He draped his arm around her and he could hear her sigh with content. Her hair welcomed him and gently tickled his face. He chuckled and brought his other hand up to run it through her hair. She closed her eyes and seemed to hum. She liked it when he gave her head pats or when he ran his finger through her hair. She was so small next to him and when she snaked her arms around his belly they barely managed to completely surround him. 

Jeff sat there, at peace in purgatory with a killer warm under his arm. A wise man would have run for the hills or would have taken the advantage over the Spirit and finally snuff out her reign of terror. But Jeff was a wiser man and instead let her rest. She was still a kid after all, and from what he has seen, she was not all bad.  

[honekitteh]

FIC: Countdown - Chapter 2

Fandom: SWTOR Pairing: Theron Shan/f!Jedi Knight Rating: T (this chapter) Genre: Angst, H/C, Romance, Canon-Typical Violence, Humor Synopsis: A distress call leads the Jedi Battlemaster to Ziost, but time is running out.  Follows the storyline of The Rise of the Emperor and inserts missing scenes.   Warnings: See Chapter 1 

Chapter 1 | Crossposted to AO3

“I sensed our course has changed. What’s going on?” Kira walked onto the bridge and stood behind me. I gave her a simple nod as I watched the colors of hyperspace on the screen.

“Pandemonium is a better name, it’s at least somewhat pronounceable,” I heard Doc’s voice behind me.

“Phelgethon fits better,” the deep imperial cadence retorted. Lord Scourge, the former Emperor’s Wrath, didn’t hold any emotion in his voice, so it was difficult to tell if he was teasing the human doctor or not.

“Ph.. Phel… That sounds like something is stuck in your throat or you’re coming down with a cold.”

“That would be impossible.”

“Just saying…”

Kira laughed looking back at the two men who entered the bridge, “You have a hard enough time saying Barsen’thor when we’re meeting with the Council.”

“What is it with Jedi and Sith with their impossible titles?”

Kira rolled her eyes and took the seat opposite me and looked at the controls. “Ziost?”

Lord Scourge tilted his head. “We’re headed to Ziost?”

I took a deep breath. “Theron called for backup.”

Doc quickly responded, “Think he will need medical attention?”

“It’s Theron, so likely,” Kira stated with a small chuckle. The small laugh she shared with Doc stopped though as she looked over at me. “Jyana? What’s…” Her words stopped as soon as we left hyperspace and started to enter orbit over the blue world of Ziost.

Suddenly all that was let out was a simple, “Oh…”

My heart sunk as well. The presence was unmistakable, the darkness within the force encircled the blue globe in front of us. I kept getting flashes of images: blue turning to grey, green turning to grey, everything living turning to ash. My hands balled into fists on the controls.

It was Scourge who broke the silence. “We’re too late… his plan is already in motion…”

I closed my eyes. “We have to try.”

“The odds of his survival are…”

“Screw the odds, we have to save this world, whatever it takes.”

Kira started softly, “Jyana…”

“This isn’t about Theron… this is about the Emperor.”

Scourge and Kira shared a brief look and nodded. I moved to stand up and started walking back to my quarters to grab my shoto and cold weather gear. The others followed me. As I walked, Scourge spoke, “Teeseven and Kira should accompany you. The rest of us could come easily under his influence if my sense is correct.”

I nodded my agreement, but Doc spoke up, “I’m sure they would need medical…”

“No. The risk is too great.”

The medic opened his mouth, but Lord Scourge quickly ushered him away as I began to get my kit together and throw on my hooded coat.

Kira put her hand on my shoulder. “I’m with you, Jyana. As always.”

Without looking back at her, I put my hand over top her hand. “I know.”

She sighed softly, “What if we can’t stop him?”

“We’ll sort that out when it comes.”

“And Theron?”

I closed my eyes, trying to reach out my senses. There was a part of me that was certain I’d know if he lived or died, but I wasn’t entirely sure if we were connected in that way. I mean, we were connected somehow, but…

“Jyana?”

“I… We’ll sort that out later too. Right now, the Emperor.”

“Guess we’ll sort out the lack of holoing ‘til he’s in trouble when we get there?”

I made a small chuckle.

“See, got a laugh. I’m sure he’s fine.”

I nodded and looked back at her and smiled. “Let’s get to work.”

Imperial military forces on Ziost have ceased responding to orbital comm signals. Reports indicate the military has turned on the civilian populace. An Imperial military outpost may yield more information. A transport is available for departure.

I pulled my hood over my head, shivering slightly from the cold as it hit my skin, as I stepped out of the shuttle. I could feel the waves of chaos surrounding me. The Dark Side of the Force, ever present on Ziost as Lord Scourge had warned us, was present. It took a bit of willpower to put it to the back of my mind and then I realized my eyes were frozen shut and I looked out.

Soldiers were firing their blasters at civilians; civilians were firing back. None of them were in control of their actions. I could feel the power of their puppet master. I looked over at Kira who stepped out of the shuttle after me. Her face was white, clearly sensing what I was. She adjusted a fairly sizable bag around her belt awkwardly.

“What is with that bag?” I asked, deciding to ignore the other bantha in the room.

She sighed with great exasperation. “Doc insisted. If he wasn’t going to be able to come down, we had to take these.”

“How many kolto injections are there?”

“I lost count at 5 if I’m completely honest. Could be 20 or so?”

“Why would we even need that many?”

Kira gave me a blank stare. “Have you met yourself? That doesn’t even include the chance we find Theron...”

I pursed my lips. “I cannot deny your point, even as much as I want to.”

The astromech T7-01, the first friend I made when I came to Tython to complete my training, rolled out of the shuttle and beeped his intent to head towards the outpost. Kira and I nodded to each other and followed him, attempting to not draw too much attention to our movements. I pulled my hood closer around my face, shielding myself from the chill wind. Kira pulled up her scarf around her nose and put the goggles on over her eyes. I frowned and looked in my pack. To this she handed me mine and I worked on getting those on.

Somedays, I wondered who took care of who when it came to Kira and I.

I pulled out my scanner to follow the signal that T7 was very clearly following. We ducked against the building, watching the soldiers as they shambled. They looked like they were looking for prey and weren’t very picky as to what kind to have. I took a few deep breaths as we pushed on forward. I slipped slightly, barely managing falling into a snow drift by probably two inches. Another glance at Kira was met by a slight point toward her kolto pouch.

Sighing I took another look at the signal. I couldn’t get a sense on much of anything beyond the cacophony of blaster fire, dying men, screaming children, and a complete feeling of helplessness. T7 beeped a warning as we rounded a corner. Speeders and shuttles were crashed outside the vehicle bay that the signal was coming from. We moved inside, the droid moving quickly to investigate any potential console.

“Seems like we made some friends,” Kira spoke up.

“We need to reevaluate our standards,” I sighed as the soldiers started shooting at us.

Kira and I made quick work with a few flicks of our lightsabers. The soldiers came in waves of three. I frowned looking down at the last one I had to pierce through the heart.

No one deserved this fate. Sure, they were Imperials and would have attacked me anyway, but I would have preferred they’d had a choice to do so. These did not.

T7 beeped down to us from over a balcony. I nodded to Kira who remained behind as I followed T7 up the ramp and took a look at the holoconsole. It was busted, T7 beeped his frustration. There was no way for him to access any of the data that could have been held here. This bay was a complete wreck. I took a sigh and made a quick call to the ship.

“Scourge, come in.”

“Reading.”

“You were right, they’re all possessed.”

“Slaves to his will. He is attempting the ritual again. When he is done, there will be nothing left.”

Suddenly I knew what I felt in the back of my head and cut the comms. The presence was unmistakable and it was overpowering. For a moment I wondered how long I’d need to keep him out of my own head, but then that slow build up behind my eyes moved away.

Like this was something we’d rehearsed, but we obviously hadn’t, both Kira and I said in unison, “I can feel your presence Vitiate.”

Three people entered the Vehicle Bay one at a time, their voice theirs, but not under their own control. Their eyes glowed silver and I could feel the aura radiating off of them, flowing off of them in red waves in my Force sight. The first that spoke was a male Imperial Commando. “My little insect, no doubt here to drone and flutter once more.”

A female soldier followed him. “Dromund Kass, the Yavin moon... It must not be clear to you yet. There is nothing you can do to stop me.”

Seriously, Vitiate, a monologue? I ignited my shoto but slightly startled as I noticed the last one who moved in.

A Jedi. The way he carried himself suggested one who specialized in Form III, Soresu.

“That’s all right though. Seeing you, it’s like visiting with a forgotten friend. I’m oddly pleased you’re here. You’ll bear witness to a world’s end if you survive long enough.”

As the group moved to attack Kira, I leaped off the balcony.

The jedi focused his attention on me, while Kira made fairly quick work of the Imperials. He swung his yellow blade vertically at my head which I parried with my purple shoto. The shoto were much shorter than his longer normal bladed lightsaber, but I’d found their mobility gave me a slight edge when I dual-wielded. Since the first lightsaber I made on Tython had fallen on hard times… okay I honestly can’t remember what happened to it. I just remembered the Masters sighing heavily at me and pointing me where I could find more materials to make a new one. At the time I thought it had been a punishment, to not have enough material for one, but after time, I instead found it a blessing. It wasn’t the size that mattered to a weapon, after all. It was how you used it.

With a motion of his hands, the he used the Force to knock me back. I smacked into corner of the ramp. With a grunt I tossed my shoto at him. He parried one of them, but the other struck true. As they returned to my hands, I leaped back into the air and met his blade with mine.

It was a whirl of blades. Purple and yellow reflecting off the damaged walls of the vehicle bay. He fought more aggressive than I would have expected. Had he been under his own power, I would have expected far more defensive maneuvers. If it had been, we might have been a bit more evenly matched. One slight miscalculation proved fatal, and I cut his lightsaber in two, and he fell. His eyes looked up at the ceiling, unfocused, exhausted, and they changed from silver to brown. As he took his last breaths, he gasped out, “He’s gone... I can... I can finally...”

I felt the life force leave the man. I looked down at my shoto, which had fallen to the floor at some point. I removed my goggles and lowered the scarf from around my mouth. Frowning, I reached my hand towards the Jedi’s eyes, but the back of my mind sent a warning through me. Instead of getting a chance to pay my respects to a man who fought well despite his circumstance, I stood, taking my sabers back in my hands. “More of you already?” I stated, “I suppose I should be flattered.”

I ignited my shoto but before Kira or I even moved, an orangish red lightsaber made quick work of the enemies just outside the Vehicle Bay. Then the blonde Sith Lord made her way towards the entrance, her green cape flicking behind her. Her yellow eyes looked tired as they fell on me.

“So my senses haven’t betrayed me. It really is you.”

“Lana Beniko.”

Lana pinched the bridge of her nose for a few seconds before stating, “You don’t belong here, Jedi. You shouldn’t have come.”

Before I could retort, Kira approached Lana and I could tell that the redhead sensed the Sith Lord’s exhaustion. “It’s nice to see a friendly face. I’ve missed you.”

I simply blinked.

Lana exasperatedly responded, “I’m trying to avert a mass catastrophe while keeping the most powerful mind in the galaxy out of my head. I… I can’t think about that.”

Kira let out a breath of air. “You don’t gotta tell me twice,” she muttered.

I blinked between the two, then looked back to Lana. “What do you mean, we don’t belong here?”

Lana’s expression was somewhere between exhaustion and exasperation and gave me a non-committal response and put her hand up to her temple, as if she was listening to incoming communications and status updates. She then looked back to me. Before she said anything further, I cut in, “In case you might have forgotten, standing up to the Emperor is kind of my job. And I’m not about to start backing down from him now.” I raised an eyebrow and looked Lana over. “And I’m thinking you could use the help.”

“Well, you’re not wrong about that. As you can see, things are already out of hand.”

“Seems we’re not the only Jedi here,” Kira pointed out, looking back at Master Garault’s body behind us.

“His mind was not his own.” Lana sighed heavily. “He belonged to the Sixth Line.”

“Sixth line… I’ve never heard of it.”

Lana raised an eyebrow. “They’re a team of Jedi commandos working in secret for the SIS. They follow their own addendum to the Jedi Code, hence the name.”

“There is no contemplation, there is only duty,” A bald man in a crisp imperial uniform with a tech brace around his head approached. I pursed my lips, trying to hide my on distaste for the “there is no” version of the Jedi Code while he continued, “A great point of view—so long as they’re working for you.” He looked around the room and then addressed Lana. “Pardon the interruption. I sent a probe droid to look into that crashed shuttle, Minister Beniko. It’s empty.”

I looked back at Kira and shared a raised eyebrow with her before looking back to the imperials.

“Agent Kovach, this is the former ally I’ve mentioned,” Lana stated, “Right now, we all want the same thing, so I suggest we work together.”

I lowered my hood and tilted my head. “He called you ‘minister.’”

With a dismissive wave, Lana replied, “Yes, he did.”

Agent Kovach continued, “We know Theron Shan was on that shuttle. And we know he’s responsible for the Sixth Line being on Ziost in the first place”

I gave Kira a slight glance. A tightness in my chest that had been forming since I’d landed on the planet only seemed to increase its pressure.

Lana rubbed her temples. “So far, Theron has only added to our troubles. He’d better not be here to cause any more.”

“Theron’s here to stop the Emperor, same as me,” I replied quickly.

“Vitiate is not our Emperor. Not anymore.” Lana gave a glance around the vehicle bay and motioned to the numerous bodies. “As you’ve witnessed, Vitiate is taking hold of an increasing number of soldiers and Sith. His goal continues to be the accumulation of power. Agent?”

Kira and I glanced at each other and then back to the Agent.

“The dark side is strong on Ziost. Using the outpost’s resources, our former Emperor can massacre the defenseless to fuel him. The more powerful he becomes, the more people he can control. He will keep on killing until nothing’s left.”

Kira whispered to me, “Isn’t that exactly what Scourge said happened before?”

I simply nodded and moved to speak, but Lana was having a short conversation on a call. “Yes, I’m on my way,” she spoke into her communicator. “I’m needed everywhere, all at once. I’ve already lingered too long. Agent Kovach has a plan to help stem the bloodshed.” She gave a kurt nod and turned on her heel as she left the vehicle bay.

Agent Kovach watched Lana as she left, a little too closely. I raised an eyebrow and looked back at Kira. T7 beeped a question as well.

“Agent?”

As soon as he seemed sure she was gone, he began speaking quickly, “After the Yavin event, I was sent here to infiltrate Sith Intelligence. I work for Theron Shan. In fact, we were supposed to meet up here.”

“If you know where he is, now would be the time to say so,” I snapped. After the words were out of my mouth I felt a small presence in the Force, Kira. Mostly just telling me to relax subtly. I took a deep breath and tried to offer an apologetic smile to my response.

Either Agent Kovach didn’t notice, or didn’t care, because he just responded, “I haven’t been able to reach him. Not since the crash. Best not to think about that now, I guess.” I frowned and looked down.

Kira stepped forward and spoke up. “Lana might seem like the nicest Sith Lord ever, but don’t thinks he won’t eviscerate you if she finds you out. Or worse.”

I looked at Kira and blinked slowly, then looked back to the agent, who simply shrugged. “I know all the risks that come with my line of work. It helps not to think about them either.”

I looked back towards the Jedi laying lifeless behind me. “What was his name?”

“Master Garault.”

I moved back towards Master Garault’s body and took a knee. He was free of Vitiate, but at what cost. Sighing I finally reached to his forehead, meditated on his memory in the Force for a few seconds. Then I took the tips of my fingers and lowered his eyelids over his eyes.

“The outpost armory, it’s wide open right now,” Agent Kovach continued, “Anyone can get in there. We need to lock it down.”

T7 beeped an agreement and I stood up and pulled my hood back over my head. “Then point the way.”

“I’m on it.”

I hadn’t been watching where my feet were going as we worked our way through the outpost towards where Agent Kovach indicated the armory would be. It was miraculous that I was only in a snow drift and not somewhere more unfortunate. A hand reached down and took mine. Before allowing myself to be lifted up, I reached out with my senses to be certain that it was Kira and not someone who was just going to pull me out and make me dead. With some grumbling, I allowed myself to be pulled up.

“Kolto?”she asked after I straightened up.

I muttered, “I’m not hurt. Just embarrassed.”

“You should be, that was completely hilarious.”

“Ha ha. If this world wasn’t utter chaos…”

“Yes I know. This way.” Kira and I quickly worked our way to the armory, T7 beeping locations and parameter warnings along the way.

By the time we got there, Imperial officers were already in the armory. At least, it’s more possible that these officers had been originally stationed here, long before this whole mess started. Now, they just no longer had wills of their own. I could sense Vitiate’s hold on each one of them. They could sense us as well. Upon our entrance, we were immediately under fire and T7 very quickly attempted to evade attention. If they had been normal imperial troops, operating under their own free will, they would not have ignored the droid. They seemed more interested in humanoid lifeforms. I assume Vitiate can’t really accumulate more power from the deaths of droids.

One, two, they fell to Kira’s dual-bladed lightsaber. Three, four, my twin shoto ended more. Now it was the Quartermaster who stood between us and our goal, someone who probably just simply wanted to put in an honest days work, go home, see family, friends, have a nice drink, have a great meal, and then repeat the pattern over again.

The poor soul didn’t stand a chance against Vitiate’s control. Nor did he stand a chance against Kira and my blades. After the haze of battle was lifted, I slowly made a point to close every one of their eyes.

No one deserved this. Not even Imperials.

Agent Kovach had made it into the armory while I had paid my respects to the deceased. He quickly moved to a console to lock the building down. “You sure cleared a path out there. That’s good… but it’s bad, too.” I raised an eyebrow at him and made a motion for him to explain, which he figured out without me needing to say anything, thankfully. “Each time a pawn’s killed, Vitiate gets a little bit stronger. Not as much as when they kill, but… That’s what Minister Beniko says, anyway.”

Pulling off my hood and cold weather protection again so I could cool down from the exertion, I studied the Agent, tilting my head. “So we have to stop them without killing them.”

“Or we destroy Vitiate. Not that anyone seems to know how to do that…”

A pressure built up in the back of my head. “Agent, we’ve got company.”

“Almost there…” he worked quickly at the console. The door opened and the force-field was just pulled up just in time for a dark skinned, armored jedi to waltz in to meet. “Master Surro,” Agent Kovach stated, looking downcast, “The Sixth Line commander.”

“This one’s my favorite so far,” Vitiate poke through her voice, “Even now, she struggles. You know, she’s done some terrible things in the Republic’s name.”

I wrinkled my nose and let out a breath. “I’m the one you want. Release Master Surro and the others. Take me instead.”

“Again?” I flinched slightly but held my ground, waiting. “No. I don’t think so. When this world turns to red and you choke on torrents of blood, remember that this was your chance to flee.”

[ten-thousand-paper-wasps]

They were going to rob Duke Enerwaeir blind.

Or, at least, he and Falk were. Morrin was becoming increasingly suspicious of their absences and subsequent newfound wealth, and she couldn't keep a secret, so of course Nells wasn't going to tell her. They all had their roles to play in this gambit. She just happened to be at her most convincing when she wasn't aware she needed to lie.

It was a dress ball, so there was plenty of money to be had, if their hands were quick enough. Naturally, that meant spending an evening looking absolutely delicious.

His immensely gorgeous hunk of Husband was completely slaying it. Zakurr's lustrous, glossy braids were now adorned with tiny, delicate chains. Each of his four horns was buffed to perfection. The length of fur about his waist was shining and soft and it smelled like apples, sweet and spiced.

That wasn’t all, though. Zakurr had put on the boots Nells was ever so fond of. They went all the way up his legs, ending nearly at the top of his thighs. Nells was almost drooling, just thinking about him. Why did he have to go and be all scrumptious?

Nells himself wore a long dress, all dazzling greens and blues. The material shimmered as he moved, with a slit up the side to expose his long, shapely legs. His hair was painstakingly combed out and pinned in place, an elegant waterfall of soft mahogany. He even put on heels.

Falk looked nearly as delectable as Nells did. They wore a tightly fitted top that bared the entirety of their midriff. The center of the chest was cut out, as well, showing off their shape. They also had a pair of expensive burgundy pants that were loose about the hips and tight below the knees. Falk had chosen to keep their regular boots, seeing no reason to forego sensible footwear, opting instead for heavy gold jewelry.

And Morrin! Oh, his beautiful Morrin. She'd granted him a boon, permitted him to fuss over her for an evening. Her fiery, red-gold mane billowed about her like a cloud, sparkling with tiny jewels. Her hands, wide and rough and ravishing, fluttered uncertainly at the hem of her vest, a stately forest green piece of silk and silver. She was dazzling, a diamond in her own right, but ill at ease amongst the upper echelons of nobility.

It made a certain amount of sense, he supposed. Masonaile, where she'd lived all her life, hadn't had much in the way of wealth. Of course she felt out of place here. But, he was pleased to note, she was handling it admirably.

Morrin was shaking hands and trying to dance and blushing up a storm whenever she was complimented. There were pretty people all around her, giving her their attention. He spies Falk moving among them, hands quick and dainty and pockets charmed to be impossibly deep.

Zakurr looks on, using his immense height to keep watch. People buzz around him like mayflies. Two men knock into him on purpose, but one look sends them scrambling.

Then, Falk waltzes, moving from dancer to dancer, to Nells, flushed and panicked. "It's Morrin," they pant. "She's with some ashing young Earl, he's trying to get her alone."

It takes him a moment to process why this is horrible. Ordinarily, Morrin was devastatingly capable. She would have killed him and been done with it. But they were at a ball, and she'd been thoroughly disarmed, spending nearly half an hour pulling out weapon after weapon. There was an entire table just for her things.

She had nothing on her person with which to kill the Earl. Additionally, she was under the impression she mustn't, for reasons of diplomacy. So, he supposed, it was up to their little family to rescue her.

First, Zakurr had to be told.

"Honeybear," Nells commanded. "Get ready crush some skulls. Morrin's got a boy problem."

Smoke on the wind, but she'd let him, too. She would let the Earl do whatever he wanted. Why had they told her they wanted to win favor from the Duke? "Just don’t cause a scene and it'll be fine." She would be terrified of letting them down. She would call it duty.

Harkenship had been a bitter lesson. He could not let her be hurt like that again.

Falk moved the quickest, palming a knife from a serving tray and plunging it into the Earl's kidney, soft and silent. The Earl let out a low gasp and dropped. Morrin's face was a mix of relief and horror.

It was chaos after that. Morrin stomped on the Earl's neck, killing him. His friends moved to kill her, but Nells was faster. His long legs were wrapped around the neck of the biggest one, choking him, while Morrin threw punches hard enough to crack stone and Falk smashed kneecaps with impunity.

The other guests were screaming in terror and outrage, crowding eachother like a swarm of rats. Zakurr took one step toward the fight and they parted before him like a desperate tide.

When he got there, he kicked a Baron to the floor and Falk leapt up for a kiss, drawing Zakurr's strength into themselves and pressing their bag to his bare chest. "Grab our things. I love you."

And Zakurr was off, charging to the low tables to retrieve their weapons. Falk's bag never filled, no matter what he put in it, so he emptied every table in the room before moving on to the Duke's personal valuables. With everyone distracted by the fight, he had plenty of time.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

"Grab our things," Falk told him, already feeling Zakurr's power roiling in their chest. "I love you."

They slammed a palm to the floor and the ground quaked beneath them. Stone erupted through the floor in angry spikes. How dare he. How dare a mortal Earl try to dishonor Falk's oldest friend? For Morrin, Falk would do anything.

Right now, it meant killing a dozen people they'd only intended to steal from for doing her the supreme insult of defending the Earl. He earned his death. He earned it the second he laid eyes on her and made his move.

Falk was angry, and Nells had a feral smile, and Morrin was going to go home after only bloodying her perfect knuckles. She was too precious to them to be hurt.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Owlsby was disguised as an unfortunately deformed carriage horse. He was getting to be too big to hide, so it only made sense to find new ways to take him into town. The extra legs were hidden under a blanket and tucked up out of sight. Nells convinced him to allow Zakurr to hitch him to a stolen cart. In the right lighting, like now, under the half moon, it was very nearly convincing.

Zakurr tossed Falk's bag in the back and hopped into the seat, letting out a sharp whistle. Owlsby roused himself from his nap as Nells came sprinting out of the building, Morrin tucked under one arm and protesting. As soon as they were safely at his side, Zakurr whistled again, louder and sharper. The building caught fire.

Falk appears in his lap with a soft pop, makeup smeared, with a very unsettled lizardfolk in their arms. Her dress was lovely, if shredded and burnt.

"Falk," he warns, "Did you kidnap her? You know we can't take her with us if she doesn't want to come."

The lizardfolk in question blushes and mumbles that she'd love to come, anywhere in the world as long as it isn't here. Zakurr resolves to ignore it for now and question her in the morning, if she's still around. He slaps the reigns gently and Owlsby takes off for the inn. They can pay the fee and collect their packs, but it isn't wise to stay in town. Not after that.

It would be nice, he muses, really nice, if this could just stop happening. Theft was all well and dandy if it kept them fed, and it did, so Zakurr wasn't about to complain. But he would love it if he didn't have to strike entire towns off of their map when Falk and that idiot elf got a little too greedy.

There was no need to rob every noble at the ball. No reason. And then one little human man gets too handsy when Falk can see him, and now he's dead for it.

True, the Earl had definitely been in the wrong, and sure, he could believe Morrin was glad of his death. But it was something that could easily have been resolved without any blood, had Zakurr been the one to reach him first, and Falk's increasing bloodlust as of late concerned him.

That amulet stank of evil and death, but they refused to take it off for any length of time. Zakurr was willing to bet his fifth kidney that it was to blame. Power was a lure Falk had never been able to resist.

He only prayed his dearest Nells did not become so foolish.

[chubbyooo]

Blurred Lines Chapter 31 - Armande

writing mood has taken me so here we go with another chapter. I’ve been super excited to write this one for a while (warning strong language)

Ash wakes up after their sudden slumber

Ash could hear a faint murmuring as she awoke, she kept her eyes closed making sure not to arouse suspicion. When unsure of her situation it was best to be cautious, what had just happened? they were talking to Amy then she... oh yeah she drugged their drinks. She was furious she’d let her guard down around her this never normally happened, the murmuring got louder as Ash got her bearings, the accent sounded clipped and noble with a similar twinge to the noble they met on Nar Shaddaa. Damn it Ash knew they wouldn’t give up that easily, why was she always right to be paranoid.

As Ash opened her eyes just a slit she could see he was talking into a holocommunicator he seemed gaunt and hunched with messy grey hair covering his head and chin. “yes your highness we have them captured and the information shall come shortly” The man on the holo seemed to be sitting in some sort of throne Ash could only guess this was the current ruler of what was it Dubrillion? He was bald with a stern frown, wearing some form of ridiculous robes, that’s all she could make out from her view.

As he responded Ash could hear his grating voice pierce the chamber like a knife “very good Armande once your done send them here” with that the imposing figure’s holo dissipated and ‘Armande’ began talking to the guards. Ash began to assess the room it looked unlike any interrogation chamber she’d ever been in, a bed a closet this almost looked like... oh they were still at the hotel. These guys were clearly amateurs Ash had counted 4 guards total none of which carried electro shock sticks, if she wasn’t stuck to this chair they would all already be on the floor. It felt like zip ties holding her to the chair but they were definitely breakable, just noticeable she needed to be subtle. She saw Gacen slumped next to her seemingly still asleep which was probably for the best he would make a scene when he woke she had to assess their chances of escape. She saw three possible exits, the obvious door but that seemed like more trouble than it’s worth with more guards probably outside, the window which Ash didn’t want to repeat because they got extremely lucky last time and third was a vent she could see leading into the room seemed covert and possible. But none of that mattered if she couldn’t get past these five, they still seemingly hadn’t noticed she was awake so she still had a chance. Armande seemed to be preparing some interrogation tools, all pretty basic stuff tweezers to pull out nails, small drills and a number of liquid syringes she’d have to watch out for those. She looked to Gacen who was still sound asleep she would have to take her chance soon. 

The guard to the right of her seemed unenthused and bored seems he’d be the easiest to take advantage of she just had to get out of the zip ties. She slowly turned her hands forward tensing them into fists, then a quick turn back and relaxing of her muscles and her thumbs were out. Ash shook them off honestly using zip ties was embarrassing it wasn’t that hard to get handcuffs, she kept her hands behind the chair as she looked to the guard next to her. He held a knife in his side pocket perfect, quickly she went to grab it then proceeding to stab it into his leg. He screamed out in pain alerting the rest of the room, three guards two left one right but she knew who she needed to go for. The guards on the right would go for their blasters aiming them at her the one on the right would try to grab her. She ducked immediately avoiding the volley of fire from the guards then slid under the left guard sweeping his legs as she went, she stood up quickly ready to assess her next move. Armande stood in the corner surprisingly unfazed by the commotion, the guard next to her would get up try to stop her and the other two would continue firing. Easy way to solve that she grabbed the guard lifting him up and throwing him in the firing line of the other two guards, she had to tense as she did it but nonetheless his body flew in the way of the blaster fire and knocked the guards to the ground. She proceeded to grab Armande putting the knife to his throat. He would try to wriggle free but Ash held him in a grip where that wasn’t possible too easy

Armande seemed to chuckle to himself “he he well my dear that was very impressive what amazing anticipation” he seemed strangely calm for someone who had lost which was never a good sign. 

Ash could smell a musk coming from the man which was fairly off-putting “you move you’re dead” Ash unfortunately didn’t mean it but only because they could get information from him, they could still maim him though.

“oh yes of course but I think you’ve put yourself in a bit of a bad situation” she completely had the upper hand this guy was full of it “because you seem the best at anticipating but you can’t let go of me to stop this” As he said that she realised he was going to stab something into her leg but she would have to let him go to stop him. Before she could decide she felt the sharp prick in her upper thigh, instinctively she sliced with the knife but as she started she began to feel very woozy and gave up as she stumbled away for Armande. The room began to spin she could see people shifting from their positions very weirdly, she turned back to Armande who seemed to be covering his throat hah she had got him. She turned to see the guards coming towards her let’s see there was 3 wait no 5 wait no 4 wait, she felt herself grabbed by the guards and she was suddenly back in her seat, what the fuck she should’ve anticipated that. Wait she got stabbed with something was she drugged? she didn’t feel drugged? just kinda woozy, Armande came over still holding his throat. “well that was a regrettable decision now wasn’t it Ash” Armande spoke rather raspy all of a sudden that cut must’ve got him. Ash spat in his face causing him to flinch back

Ash was confused she totally got him “how are you even alive I just sliced your throat like so bad” that wasn’t what she meant to say that was weird

Armande laughed as he wiped the spit from his face “My dear that was an hour ago the drugs have kicked in” she waass drugged she totally knew it. Ash snorted to herself giggling loudly “am I missing something my dear?”were was that coming from she never giggled

what an idiot “this is by far the worst truth serum I have ever had I’m gonna be too loco to answer you, stupid moron” it was true this truth serum sucked

Armande raised his eyebrow “well good news it’s not truth serum I knew your skills and knew my guys wouldn’t be able to stop you so I inhibited your ability” aw that was so not cool she was gonna beat this guy into the ground

“so what you’re saying is that you’re a big baby coward pants” Ash giggled to herself, woah hold on why was his face all swirly no wait the room was swirly no wait she was swirly maybe they all were swirly.

Armande let out a long sigh as Ash began to stare into space “wake the other one up he’s the one we’re after” this prick just because his eyes were like bigger than hers he thinks he’s hot shit

Ash turned to see Gacen being jostled awake “ugh wha where am I” he looked around the room and spotted Ash looking at him quizzically

Ash waved “ good morning sleepy head we’ve totally been captured by this lizard” Ash gestured to the lizard where Armande was sitting, Gacen frowned at her looking ever so confused

Gacen looked deep in thought for a second “well still not the weirdest place I’ve woken up in the last week” had Gacen always had that many horns? had Gacen even had horns to begin with? oh my god Gacen was being attacked by horns!!! wait no he’d always had horns “who’s this smelly prick” he gestured to the lizard man in front of them

“oh that’s Armande captain of the cowardice ship he turned into a lizard a fe...” she looked at him that’s not a lizard that’s a human “never mind he’s back”

Gacen turned to Armande “ok I know you guys are the bad guys but what the fuck is up with Ash” Armande let out a very long sigh

“we drugged her to stop her from attacking us” he grimaced as Gacen began laughing to himself 

“that actually makes a lot of sense” Gacen seemed like he didn’t have a plan

Ash leant over to Gacen and shouted “hey have you got a plan to get out of here I totally got the guards covered” Gacen turned to her giving her a long stern look

“I dunno Ash but maybe don’t shout it in front of the enemy” oh yeah Ash nodded in agreement winking

Armande interrupted them before they could say any more “ENOUGH look tell us what you know about Risha Drayen” Gacen nodded taking in a long sigh

“ok I’ll tell you just get in really close” no Gacen we were doing so well

“Gacen no don’t tell them” Ash pleaded he was gonna give it all up but Gacen put his hand up 

Armande sighed and leant in Gacen grinned as he said “nothing” Ash let out a series of giggles as Armande’s face dropped into a grimace.

Armande got up “ok hit him” he began striding around the bed as a resounding whack hit Gacen square in the jaw. Gacen just smiled it off but Ash could feel a boiling rage build up inside her she would totally crack their skulls if moving wasn’t so hard right now. 

A few loud punches later and Gacen’s face was full of bruises he spat blood onto the floor breathing heavily. Armande returned with some assorted tools “are we ready to talk now Captain” he held a blade of some kind

Gacen laughed “nah mate you can punch me as many times as you want that’s pretty much what I feel on a daily basis” Ash took a look at the tools on the desk seemed like your average setup bonesaw, drills more syringes wait she felt like she knew that already.

Ash chuckled to herself “yeah trust me it took me years to get him to open up you’d have better chances with the drugs” oops that may have been bad to say, Gacen turned to her slowly with wide eyes “Um never mind disregard that I’m drugged” Armande smiled picking up the syringe and jamming it into Gacen’s neck 

Gacen’s pupils dilated instantly “ahhhhh woah Ash you weren’t kidding this stuff is bananas B A N A N A S” Gacen cracked up at his own joke and began laughing to himself

Ash joined in as Armande tried to speak over them “Ok I’ll ask again what do you know about Risha Drayen” Gacen began grinning, Ash thought she spotted an Ortolan in the corner and needed to find it

“She’s pretty awesome in bed Mr flying spaghetti oh also also also she’s really pretty” where was this spaghetti she couldn’t see it. 

Armande gritted his teeth “fine let’s be more specific where is Risha Drayen” Ash snorted to herself

“your mothers butt!!!” Ash shouted out, Gacen quickly began dying of laughter as Ash followed suit 

After he stopped laughing Gacen leant close in “nah but for real I dunno that’s what we’re finding out dumbass, it’s been like a day give my lady a little more credit.” Armande looked like all his anger was about to come out as Gacen made a kissy face at him

“you are very lucky I’ve been ordered to keep you alive, but I still need to know what your relation was to Risha, we are unclear on your previous statement on Nar Shaddaa” Gacen leant back and took a long sigh, that did seem pretty unavoidable phrasing, stupid truthy druggy serum.

“ugh fine I was her husband and her business partner, you know where it says the voidhound was Skavak well that’s a load of bs to throw you cucks off I don’t know who changed it but hey it got me off the hook from you guys for years” Gacen looked at the floor pursing his lips “is that enough can we go now”

Armande began to chuckle to himself “oh no I’m afraid King Actavarus III asked for you personally so don’t think we’re letting your little conquest continue” Gacen’s anger was visible now which was pretty rare for him, he tensed up snarling at Armande

“oh that giant pompus cunt wants to see me well we’ll see about that” He began to try and wriggle out of zip-ties but after about 30 seconds gave up panting “damn it Ash how do you do this? you make it looks so easy” 

Ash had been completely somewhere else and when she snapped back she tried to stand up again. Summing up all her effort she stood up and looked ready to fight, as she did she saw a little canister enter the room from the vent and suddenly a searing white light filled the chamber causing her to reel back in pain. She could hear some muffled noises around her and when the white light cleared she could see all of the guards and Armande unconscious on the floor and a familiar zabrak form standing there.

Amy threw a gun in her direction “sorry I took so long they were really clingy with the money” Ash went to catch the gun but missed it fumbling as it fell onto the floor

Ash frowned at Amy as she began to untie Gacen “but you totally betrayed us why would you help us” Gacen was still swaying lightly clearly rattled from the beating, the drugs and the white light.

Amy finished untying Gacen who slumped to the floor “I was always gonna save you I just wanted a bit of money in the process” Ash frowned that seemed kinda unnecessary and still selfish if a bit less “is Gacen ok?”

Gacen grumbled on the floor “yeah he’s just been beaten up and drugged” Ash went to pick him up and even while still drugged it was an easy task

Amy sighed deeply “are you both drugged” Ash nodded wide eyed 

Gacen lifted his arm up “I knew you’d come and saaaave us Amy I always had faith” he slumped back over Ash’s shoulder as he finished speaking

Ash didn’t believe that for a second “you did not” Gacen struggled limply as Ash began moving him towards the door

“I did so she’s always been loyal, anyway you’re the one with a crush on her” Ash felt her skin flush going a deep shade of purple 

“i do not Gacen” Ash looked back to Amy who was checking a holopad “shut up she might’ve heard you” Gacen chuckled to himself as he gave in and let Ash carry him

Amy looked at them agitated “Guys we gotta get out of here it’s gonna be crawling with guards soon enough” Ash nodded as they left the hotel room, in the corridor things were conveniently quiet so they easily made their way to an elevator. 

As they arrived in the elevator Ash stumbled nearly dropping Gacen “ok buddy you hold yourself up my arm is tired” she awkwardly laid Gacen down on the floor

Gacen lay there not moving “fine I guess I’ll just walk myself I’m fine now see look at what I can do” Gacen continued to lie still while his eyes darted around

Amy frowned at him “what are you doing” she had been loading some form of gadget on her arm with canisters Ash wondered if she had a air gun

Gacen’s eyes widened “crazy backflips and frontflips can’t you see them” Gacen continued to lie flat

“no we can’t” Amy let out an exasperated sigh, Ash had gotten distracted by the view from the elevator she could see the whole planet it was so shiny “damn it looks like they already got guards out looking for you we’re gonna have to hide you guys”

Gacen giggled “we’re great at hiding no problems Amamamamy” Gacen sat up looking out the window “ooooo we can go to the pool” Ash liked the sound of that idea

Amy didn’t seem to however “ok no there is no quicker way to get found out than hanging out at the pool in normal clothes, go hang out at the Pazaak tables you’ll fit in there” Gacen beamed at the idea and began to get out a credit chip “BUT do not play” Amy said with an exasperated sigh.

The elevator arrived and they headed to the Pazaak tables it smelled weird here Ash thought it might be a mix of like alcohol and oil? maybe, woah why were they on the ceiling, wait no the floor was on the ceiling.

Amy grabbed both their wrists “ok stay here lay low I’ll be back once it’s safe” Gacen nodded not looking away from the Pazaak table

Ash was already bored “fiiiine mom I’ll stay at the gambling tables” she didn’t know how families worked, Amy gave her a disapproving frown and ran off

Ash turned to the game maybe it could be interesting, she could see all sorts of aliens quickly placing cards with little numbers on them but some were red and blue or green? Ash leant in to Gacen’s shoulder “Gacen I don’t understand what’s going on?” 

Gacen jumped seemingly surprised she was there “how long have you been there?” Ash shrugged she wasn’t actually very sure how long. Gacen nodded and began to explain “well Pazaak is a simple game really you need to get 21 and the dealer deals cards with numbers on them, then you choose to fold or stay in you can go ov...” Ash stopped listening she had seen a sign that said ‘observation deck’ and it sounded cool she’d always loved seeing planets close up all those people down there doing things while she could see them all well sort of they were there but so small in her vision but they were there. “and that is why minus cards rock and plus cards are stupid?” Ash suddenly snapped back to the conversation what was he talking about

“oh yeah sure totally pluses suck” that wasn’t convincing at all 

Gacen frowned “you weren’t even listening were you” Ash reluctantly nodded

Ash quickly forgot about the pazaak grabbed his arm “hey look there’s an observation deck wanna see the planet” she smiled at him as he considered the idea

“I feel like we’re supposed to be here but I don’t remember why” he paused “sure lets go” they rushed over to a lift and within a minute they entered a private viewing booth

Ash looked up seeing the planet in all it’s glory, the whispy clouds covering the sparkling blue oceans and lush green grasslands so pretty and very hypnotic. She felt herself getting very dizzy and suddenly realised she was lying on the floor, she looked up and saw Gacen also lying down, they both started laughing “I think the drugs are still in our systems” 

Gacen sat up leaning against a sofa “ok let’s test tell me something you wouldn’t tell me normally” Ash squinted for a second trying to think of something

her eyes widened as she thought of something “oh I’ve got it Ash isn’t my real name” she had never told anyone that not that it was very important

Gacen looked super taken aback “what do you mean?” Ash also sat up opposite him “are you a spy?”

“no dummy, my full name is Ash’shen’tor right and my equivalent of a first name is in the middle bit so Shen, Ash is my family name” Gacen looked off dizzily for a second

“what?” Gacen looked entirely confused, Ash began giggling to herself

“it’s like my family name like yours is Zandar but when I was abandoned people didn’t know that so they called me Ash” Gacen leaned back comprehending what he just heard

“huh, should I call you Shen then” Ash burst out laughing not sure why it was so funny

“no please I like Ash fine, anyway you tell me something you wouldn’t normally tell me it’s only fair” she never cared for chiss customs anyway

Gacen rubbed his chin for a second “ok sure” he paused “I have a sister that I am estranged from” Ash’s eyes widened she had a hunch it was something like that but was never sure

Gacen seemed pretty serious she shouldn’t press it “oh wow I can’t even imagine there being two of you” they both snorted with laughter

“hey how dare you two of me would be wonderful” he paused lowering his smile “she’s uh not that much like me anyway” Ash nodded 

“I think one of you is enough for me, even that is excessive” Ash joked as Gacen’s smile returned as he began to laugh quietly

Suddenly the elevator opened and Ash could see the form of Amy stride into the room “ok what the fuck did you think I meant when I said stay put” Ash and Gacen both laughed, Ash slipped back onto the floor

Gacen perked up wobbling as he stood up “hey that’s what you get for trying to make money out of me Ames” Amy gave him a reluctant nod and they headed out...

[donewithjeon]

Downfall [21]

Characters: Jungkook x Reader

Word Count: 4,373

Genre: Assassin AU

Note: This is a re-upload due to the original chapter being taken down by Tumblr. Sorry for the inconvenience!

Prologue | Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 | Part 10 | Part 11 | Part 12 | Part 13 | Part 14 | Part 15 | Part 16 | Part 17 | Part 18 | Part 19 | Part 20 | Part 21 | Part 22 | Part 23 | Part 24 | Part 25 | Part 26

They found you.

Somehow, the enemy was able to find the location of the Yongsan division office. They must have followed your van here after the incident at City Hall or used some other undetectable means to trace you. Perhaps that was their plan all along, to discreetly tail your vehicle during the hectic escape to safety. Whatever the answer is, it no longer matters how they managed to discover your haven.

They’re here—and you’re under attack.

The fire alarm is shrill and seemingly perpetual in its shrieking pattern as it drills into your head with each blaring reiteration. The halls and rooms are echoing with the sound to alert the inhabitants of what they already know—the structure is starting to go up in flames with the source of the disaster well below the level you are currently on but advancing its spread with persisting speed.

You’re running down the stairwell of the building, moving as quick as you can to see if there is still a chance to escape. Even if there isn’t, there’s no way you’re going to stay in your room and accept the charred fate that awaits you. Ignoring the restriction of movement in your arm and the searing pain that overwhelms your back from the brash stress you’re putting on it, you keep a steady and brisk pace down the seemingly unending steps.

Until, you can’t go any further.

You freeze at the top of another flight of stairs as you were just about to get ready to conquer it. At the bottom, the fire is now clearly visible, and the heat emanating from it is so blisteringly strong, it feels as if your skin will start boiling if you go any closer. The embers lick dangerously under your feet, and the smoke not only proliferates from the lower floors to obscure the rest of the path you were planning to take, but the suffocating fog ascends in billows to scorch your lungs, eyes, and everything in between.

If the conditions are this bad when you’ve barely made it to the fourth floor, then it’s a guarantee that your exit route must be overtaken with flames, seeing how the building is burning from the bottom up. The threat is drawing nearer with each passing second, which effectively wipes any idea you had in your mind that this could be a viable path to take.

Turning back around, you begin a sprint up the same stairs you rushed down on, hoping that your legs won’t give out on you in this more difficult trek to your new destination. Since you can’t even dream of going to the ground floor, the only place you can go now is up. There’s no need to stop and take a peek over your shoulder to check the status below, because you’re fairly sure that the fire and smoke are rapidly advancing.

You can feel it.

Once you reach the top of the very last set of stairs, you’re met with an exit that is labeled “roof access” in bold, red letters. You throw yourself onto the metal bar and shove the door open, not stopping your winding feet until you reach another roadblock: the edge.

Above your head, the sky is nothing but a murky shroud, but below, you are able to see the hellish illumination of the fire that has already devoured half of the structure. You strain your eyes to look beyond the smog and sparks, and when you focus on the ground near the sidewalk, you detect numerous dim figures you can only assume are onlookers of the spectacle. It definitely looks to be a long way down with nothing to break the fall but the unforgiving pavement.

Remarkably, that doesn’t stop the people trapped inside the building.

Movement coming from the upper levels catches your attention, and when you try to discern what it is, your vision follows the descending shadows as they fall out of the windows and make their way towards the cement. Judging by the rate at which they are dropping, you can easily distinguish that those forms aren’t just papers or objects from the offices floating through the wind. Bodies are flying out of even the tenth floor windows, plummeting down with increasing velocity until they crash onto the unrelenting surface with sickening splits and splatters. Everyone is desperate to escape this burgeoning inferno, and you can’t say that you’re too far behind the tipping point yourself.

Actually, you’re about a step away from it.

Staring down at the scene below, you can determine that while the threat is coming ever closer, there are no other escape routes available for you to choose from. There are only two options: you can either stay here until the building burns up or collapses beneath you, which could be any minute now, or you can jump off and join the rest of the agents who took the leap of faith. Maybe you’ll be able to get away with your life in exchange for broken legs if you position your landing correctly, as slim of a chance it may be.

You take a deep breath, immediately regretting it as you inhale a lungful of the all-too-familiar fumes of ash and carbon. Your time is running out, and you know that there’s only one thing left to do.

Wake up.

You jolt awake with a start, your eyes shooting open to meet the same insipid ceiling from your previous awakening, except this time, it’s eclipsed by a looming shadow above you. Your first reaction is to lunge up from your bed, reach out for a nearby item to protect yourself with, do something so you can ensure your safety and stability, but you can’t move.

That’s when you realize that someone is hovering over you, clamping your wrists and shoulders down in an attempt to hold you down. Since flight is not an option, you start to kick into fight mode, but when your frantic eyes land on the face of your supposed assailant, the tension relaxes from your body in a wave of relief.

“Sorry,” Namjoon says, slowly releasing his grip and straightening himself up from the leaning position. “I thought it would be best to wake you.”

Your heart is still racing from the residual adrenaline pumping through your veins from the unpleasant awakening and even more unpleasant dream, but you start to steady your breathing after grasping an understanding of the circumstances. At least he took caution to restrain you before attempting to wake you. It seems as though he has learned from the mistake he made last time—of course, the nasty bruise and near concussion probably served as a lesson he wouldn’t forget anytime soon.

“Why are you here?” you question, subtly trying to move past the embarrassment of having to be woken up like a child who was acting out because of a nightmare.

“To tell you that you’ve been discharged,” he states as he watches you prop yourself upright on the bed. “You can leave whenever you’d like as long as you stay on the other side of the Han. I was just about to head back to HQ, so I wanted to stop by and see if you were up yet.”

“I’m up now,” you begrudgingly declare. You rub your eyes of whatever remnants of sleep are still leftover and push the sheets off of you. “I’ll be out in 10.”

“Take your time.”

Namjoon leaves with a click of the door, leaving you to your own devices. You take this time to release a well-needed sigh in appreciation for your body and mind finally calming down. It’s much too early to be in inner turmoil right now, but apparently your brain thought otherwise and felt the need to grace you with the highly unnecessary and unwelcomed dream.

You couldn’t fall asleep for the longest time last night, and it was only when you could almost perceive the first rays of the morning sun brightening the dark blue sky that you managed to slip into a slumber.

Evidently, that didn’t last long.

Even though the couple winks you were able to squeeze in leaves you feeling wearier than ever, you still can’t relinquish the chance to get up and leave this stuffy room, even if it’s just to return to the comfort of your own bed. You keep that thought in mind as you go to change out of your hospital garments, but you having a strong feeling that it’s going to be a long while until you have the pleasure of getting some real rest.

As you pull out of the parking garage, you brace yourself to face something similar to a warzone, but much to your surprise, things are completely and utterly normal. With the flow of the traffic and the stream of pedestrians filling the streets, everything is business as usual, almost as if a violent crime didn’t just take place in the heart of Seoul yesterday. It could be because you’re heading back to Gangnam, which is on the opposite side of the Yongsan office from the crime scene, but nevertheless, is seems as though the city is an unstoppable, well-oiled machine.

That is, until you step foot into Kim Daily.

On most days, it’s the upper levels of the 54-story structure, the quarters where the assassins spend the majority of their time, that are bustling with activity, but today, the lower precincts where the news company works its journalism magic are just as busy, if not more so, as the rest of the building’s denizens.

You have grown to admire their hard work and their ability to stay on top of things, because among the many powerful resources Mr. Shin possesses, this news company is one that proves to be most reliable time and time again.

It has not even been a full 24 hours since the incident occurred, yet it seems like the situation is well on its way towards being resolved. The whole of yesterday was dedicated to revising the print for this morning’s paper and filling the online news platform with all the necessary information that needed to be distributed to the general public.

The big headline doesn’t include the gritty details of the violent turn of events that you would usually find on cover stories such as these. There’s nothing specific about the one dead and nine injured, numbers that are blown up with prominence on other news outlets, nor are there profiles of the shooter and his associates, a decision no doubt to keep your identities safe.

Instead, the main emphasis is on reform—how we will recover from this tragic event and the steps we need to take in order to prevent it from happening again in the future. It’s an extremely well-written, convincing, and thrilling exposé on the nation’s gun control regulations that most definitely will leave readers nodding their heads in agreement or at least scratching their chins in contemplation.

On top of that, quite literally, is Mayor Moon’s face plastered on every front page. The photo is not taken from the press conference that transpired yesterday, despite it being fitting for the article, but instead, it’s one of his more professional shots that you would spot on posters for his campaign tour. The Mayor of Seoul looks like a jolly man with thin-rimmed oval glasses, neatly-combed black hair, and a smile that ironically brings out the prominent frown lines on his forehead.

Within the exposé, quotes from the press conference concerning the attack at Seoul Plaza have been included. Mayor Moon responded to the early criticisms and vowed to do everything in his power to make the city safe again. To win over the public even more, he also discussed his proposition of restricting firearms to a greater extent by requiring GPS tracking of all guns that are in circulation from now on.

Between this incident and what happened in Sejong earlier this year, you have a good hunch that the new regulations will be put into full effect soon enough.

It’s all good in theory, but you know that there’s no way that a law like that will reign legitimately, at least not for you guys. If anything, it’ll just become that much easier to monitor the authorities and any other low-class criminals who are unlucky and ignorant enough to carry around bugged weapons.

Come what may, Mr. Shin is managing to make the best out of a situation that could have gone terribly wrong and should have had no upsides whatsoever. You thought it would certainly take more of a strenuous effort to bury things and cut all loose ends; shootings in Seoul are exceptionally rare, and even for a man of his capabilities, you were sure it was going to be difficult to sweep under the rug and cover up. Not only is he doing exactly that though, but he is also helping to paint Mayor Moon in a better light, fruitfully furthering the solidity of both of their positions.

A true win-win scenario.

By the end of the scramble, you stand corrected, having taken your boss’s professional prowess too lightly. Mr. Shin has been running the game for decades now, so you doubt that this is the worst thing that he has witnessed during his lifetime. It was foolish of you to think that any other undesirable outcome would have spawned from this situation.

In the following days, it seems as though the shooting and the subsequent proceedings that occurred afterwards are all that is being broadcasted and covered by news companies and major media sites alike. It’s all that comes up on the TV at the apartment when you have time to turn it on, which you do have plenty of recently as the assassins have been told to put down their guns and knives and lay low until things get concluded with ink strokes and keyboard clicks.

It’s times like these where the pen is, in fact, mightier than the sword.

“I am here to confirm that we have successfully captured the offender and have taken him into custody.”

An astute voice leaks through the speakers as you watch the announcement on screen. Cameras are flashing and shuttering at amazing rates, but that doesn’t seem to faze the Police Chief, Cho Ryeowoon. This uniformed man of experience has a rigid stance and hardened facial expression that makes him appear almost immune to the commotion around him. He’s standing behind the podium to carry out a simple task, one that will hopefully be the bow that wraps up this entire case.

“Everyone can rest assured that the streets are safe. With the recent mandates that have been passed, there is no need to worry about something like this happening again.” Sure enough, it only took a span of a few days for the gun control regulations to be imposed. Chief Cho’s guarantees sound so matter-of-factly, and you’re impressed by his ability to turn such a dubious subject into a highly persuasive speech. “As for the culprit, I think I speak on behalf of everyone when I say that it is only right that he be brought to justice—and you have my word that he will.”

After a few seconds, a picture of the alleged criminal is pulled up onto the screen by the broadcasting station. The man in the photo is not Jungkook in any way shape or form, but since the CCTV footage of the actual wrongdoer was never released to the public, the viewing citizens will be none the wiser. Even those who were physically present won’t be able to say a word otherwise, because with a beanie and a mask, any male with the same build and basic traits can probably pass as Jungkook.

You can’t help but wonder who the poor sap going under the guillotine is, but you guess it doesn’t hold significance. If it did matter, he wouldn’t be where he is right now, taking the blame for your teammate’s actions for the sake of your organization and its allies. Besides, if you know anything about the organization, it’s almost guaranteed that the man did something foul for him to be placed on the hot seat like that—this is just a slightly less practical way of getting him where he needs to be.

Truthfully, you’re pleased that this is being covered up so competently. None of you need the stress of the aftermath weighing down on you, especially not on top of all the other baggage you have to carry. It’s a bit selfish to say the least, but being in the position that you guys are in, it can’t be helped.

It’s merely self-preservation.

Since the effort to recover from the close call went better than you could have hoped for, especially after the “culprit” was captured, the status of the organization returned back to normal in record time. Following suit, your stitches were taken out after about a week of having received them, and by now, the wound is no longer hindering your movement and performance.

The situation seems to have blown over in the blink of an eye, but on the contrary, those few days of unemployment were arduous for the business. While you were all preoccupied with the large-scale affair, it was not quite as impacting to the rest of the city’s population who weren’t directly affected by it. Even in the madness of everything that happened regarding the wanted man, clients were not holding off on placing orders and requests, so to act in accordance, the organization accepted them like they always did.

This is a business, after all, and these are your jobs—your livings. Everything else was continuing on with its fixed pace after acknowledging what has passed, and you guys couldn’t afford to be bumming around for any longer when there were contracts to be signed and orders to be fulfilled. Especially after the news broke that the organization had quite possibly been infiltrated by a mole, not another minute can go to waste.

Just like that, life goes on.

Jungkook was transported back to headquarters shortly after you returned, and yet, even as the days go on, you don’t catch so much as a glimpse of him.

It’s rather strange if you think about it. There are many times when both you and Jungkook are busy with your own assignments, and during those periods, days or even weeks can go by until you two see each other again. Currently, it has only been a little over a week, but these are not the same circumstances. It’s a completely different story because you know that he is in the same building as you, conversing with the same people as you, probably even eating the same food as you, but he himself is choosing to keep you distant and away.

You hate this feeling that is planted within you, growing each day that it’s left neglected like intrusive vines that spread through every fiber of your being. You wish that you could at least apologize in person or even see with your own two eyes that he’s really okay, but so far, you haven’t been given a chance to clear up the mess.

Some of the others are doing their best to keep you in the know, so when they relay to you that his condition is progressing well, you have no choice but to take their word for it. He’s apparently healing up quite speedily—to your liberation, there are no persisting damages from the bullet wound—but you didn’t expect any less from Jungkook. Sometimes, you seriously believe he’s just built in a different way from most people in this world.

From what Jin has graciously taken the time to tell you, Jungkook has been put under special care until he is completely healed. You’re grateful for your supervisor, because even scraps of information such as this is not necessarily mandatory to divulge to the rest of the team. Perhaps he’s so attentive at informing you because he feels guilty about the whole exchange at the Yongsan corridor. Even if that’s not the case, Jin does tend to have a bit of soft spot for you—Lord knows you’ve been softening him up by poking and prodding him for details since the dawn of time. It’s not that you take advantage of this fact at all, but more often than not, you are able to coax something useful out of him.

This is one of those times.

It became clear to you that this “special care” wasn’t just to track the superficial injuries Jungkook sustained once Jin uttered that single word, one that you realized was the true reason for the elongated recovery time and temporary removal from the team.

Therapy.

Yes, assassin therapy is not only a thing, but a quintessential aspect of the system. Just as important as physical health, if not more, mental health is dealt with the utmost care, precision, and promptitude.

The organization holds monthly evaluations for all members working within it, and among the several tests is a mental state check, one of the practices in which everyone’s psyche is measured and monitored. These examinations are tedious at times, but they are essential not only for curing anomalies but for preventing those imbalances from happening in the first place, and the consequences of deciding to omit this facet of the assessment are far too high. The officials and even other members need to know that the inner workings of an operative are not abnormal or unstable in any way before setting them out into the field with the potential to inflict adverse harm and wreak havoc.

Furthermore, this arrangement proves to be amply effective.

There have been a few instances where you have heard of assassins being pulled from their roles on the team, almost always at the end of the month and with minimal repercussions. There was only one deviant from this otherwise efficacious procedure you remember hearing whispers about that concerned a particular agent whose primary job was interrogation—just like Jimin. His personal methods, however, became too eccentric, even for the organization’s tastes.

To put it bluntly, he was discovered to have been cutting off and eating the hostage’s fingers in order to force them to comply.

Admittedly, it was an effective torture technique—there’s really nothing like watching someone eat your own body parts in front of you—but unsurprisingly, it didn’t go over well with the higher-ups, or anyone else for that matter. Shortly after he was caught—it didn’t take long after the initial episode—the agent was removed from his post before he could go off the deep end, as if that line hadn’t already been crossed.

This entire screening process is in no way a perfect one, but without its implementation, the organization could very well have seen greater calamity or even collapse by now.

Jungkook’s behavior certainly raised some red flags with the company officers, and while you can argue that it’s not nearly as bad as Mr. Finger Fetish, you have to agree with the call for rehabilitation that they made. It still gives you shudders when your mind travels back to ponder what kind of mentality Jungkook held in that moment that drove him to go through with his erratic actions. It makes you wonder if you should have paid more attention to the signs that led up to that point.

No, you were well aware of them—you just didn’t act upon them.

You figure that it’s no use in making yourself feel worse than you already have been feeling all week. Now that the problem has been uncovered, the focus now is to make sure that it’s extinguished and won’t be rekindled again. You’re relieved that he’s undergoing the proper treatment he needs, and thankfully, everyone’s extremities are still intact.

Plus, you know Jungkook will make it through to the other side better than ever.

All of you are a little broken in your own way, whether you’ve been bent and twisted or torn and frayed. There is not one person among you who doesn’t struggle with your own self, because regardless of if you like it or not, residing inside every single one of you is the good, the bad, and the ugly. Not only do you learn to live with this reality early on, but you are taught to overcome it and manipulate it to your advantage.

Human emotions are such frail constructs to begin with, but even with what could easily be considered weaknesses, you’re trained to hone them—control, not erase. You are to amplify them when the situation calls for it and to suppress them when they run the risk of getting in the way, but you are never to dispose of them.

In spite of everything, you are human, and they are what make you so.

You can only attempt to hold something in for so long until you explode; it might not always be the cannibalism route, but an eruption is imminent. There have been plenty of instances of this happening—examples, if you will—with the orphans and assassins before you, displayed in the various ways they fought with themselves, whether they couldn’t pull the trigger or they pointed the gun at themselves.

The organization allocated the time and effort to refine their training and selection program so that the possibility of those outcomes has been reduced to the lowest prospect, but even so, they did not resort to producing mindless drones. You are all still your own individual person with innate strengths and weaknesses, the former being polished and the latter being purged.

In Jungkook’s case, he is currently in the process of having his faults expelled, and in harmony with that, you need to make sure that your strengths have been toughened after the experiences you overcame. You can look at it like he is working on his own mission at the moment, so the only thing left for the rest of you to do is continue on your own missions as always.

Without him.

[ktrosesworld]

50 Questions for Fic Readers

I just felt like answering some questions (source post @braveten)

1. What fandom(s) do you read?

Doctor Who and TenInch Fic

2. If you could request more of a certain type of fic, which would it be?

I would love for more people to take up the challenge of writing TenInch Fic ... so many DT characters that need some loving

3. What is your favorite all-time fic?

It’s not possible to pick just one!?!?!?!? It would be a toss up between stories written by @whoinwhoville @kelkat9 @jellyneau-xo @studio-forty-two @natural--blues @licieoic @pipertennant ... okay i’m stopping there because this list will get really long

4. Do you ever re-read fics? How about triple-read?

I quadruple read, quintuplet read, sextuplet read, septuplet read ... some I read every six months or so because I need to live in those worlds

5. Do you prefer angst or fluff?

Yes

6. Do you prefer long fics or short fics?

Yes

7. Name some incomplete fics that you wish were completed.

Blimey ... umm ... okay ... here’s a short list

Bad Wolf by @licieoic Shades of Blue Series by @bluedawn0123 [Edit: oops I had the wrong author] Out of the Ashes by @mercwithamouth Meetings Series by @wildwinterwitch Every story ever abandoned by throughanamberfocus especially The Zeppelin Verse

8. Talk about the ships that you read.

Doctor x Rose is the beginning, the middle and the end but really I’m all about the story ... if it’s good and captures my imagination I’ll read all sorts of little and giant ships

9. Do you read smut?

Of course!!! And you do too ;p

10. What’s the most hard-core smut or kinky fic you’ve ever read (be honest)!

I’ve read some really weird stuff in the wee hours of the morning ... but as for the ones I really enjoyed

Claimed by @licieoic Metacrisis: Jack by @fogsblue  Four Dimensional by Annissa

11. Do you read AUs?

I LOVE AUs!!!!!!

12. List a few of your favorite AUs.

Gallifrey Records by @allrightfine and @gallifreyburning  Perfect Match by @lastbluetardis  TARDIS Bookstore by @ofstormsandwolves A Ghost Story by @kelkat9 Evolution of a Scandal by @rishidiams Elsewhere by @fadewithfury Heartsmith by @licieoic Arkytior: A Snow White Tale by @natural--blues 

13. What type of AUs are your favorites? Give a general description.

See the list above :D

14. What makes you give up on reading a fic?

Mainly if I don’t like the way the characters are written or if the story is not put together well ... having said that I’ve persevered with some really crappy writing for a story idea that captured by imagination

15. What makes you pick up a fic, what makes it sound interesting?

It’s different every day because my reading tastes change with my moods

16. Name a fic that made you cry (or that made you come close).

The Time Loop series by @weezly14 ... every single damn time my poor heart hurts just thinking about it

17. Name a fic that made you laugh a lot.

Psychedelic Pollen and Dalek Squirrels by @kelkat9 ... tell me you’re not laughing already just at that title :D

18. Do you have a fic recommendation page or master list?

Do @timepetalsprompts and @teninchfic count as rec pages???

19. How many fics do you think you’ve read before?

Easily tens upon tens of thousands probably even into the hundreds of thousands now

20. What’s the weirdest fic you’ve ever read? Describe it.

I read one where the Doctor’s penis had it’s own personality and I think it was detachable and possibly changed personality when the Doctor regenerated ... it was one of those that you kept thinking the author was on some fairly serious drugs when they wrote it but you just can't stop reading it

21. Do you read crack!fic?

I think we should just take it for granted that I read all types of fic

22. Name a few of your favorite crack!fics.

Once again favourite ... okay the first one I thought of was ...

Lordstorm and his LiveJournal Adventures by @kelkat9 

23. Has fluff ever made you cry? What about angst?

Oh I’ve definitely cried at both

24. What’s the longest fic you’ve ever read?

The Life and Times of Daniel Ulysses Barrow by ceeare ... it was over 500k but unfortunately the author took it down to “break it up in to readable pieces” and has never finished publishing it again ... it was one of those ones that will rip your heart out

25. What’s your opinion on reading dubious consent or no consent?

Once again it all depends on the story ... there are some where its sex pollen induced which I’m completely okay with ... but then there are some stories that describe rape as if it’s just a normal sex scene which I am very much against ... I’ll stop reading those stories immediately and never look back

26. Name a type of fic you’ll never ever read.

I try not to say never ever because there are ships that I thought I’d never read but then got desperate for new stories and discovered some amazing authors who made me fall in love with ships I had in the notp bucket ... I’m looking at you @basmathgirl in particular

27. Name a type of fic that you wish there was more of.

teninch fic and doctor piper fic ... I just love authors challenging themselves to write new characters

28. Who are your favorite fanfiction author(s)?

This gets me into trouble ... okay authors I’ve not mentioned yet that I love to read ... @caedmonfaith @thedistortedmirror @emkaywho @faithosaurus-fics @justbygrace @lixabiz @lostinfic @nannyogg123 @nopondintheforest @perfectlyrose @doctor-who-hears-a-horton @rudennotgingr @tenscupcake @veritascara @whatwecanfic ... there are soooooooo many more but this is quick list from my following page

29. When you find an author you like, do you follow them?

Absolutely!!!!! If I fall in love with one of their stories I want to read everything they’ve written

30. How often do you read fanfiction?

EVERY DAY ... for many many hours ... before I go to sleep ... when I wake up ... whenever I can

31. Do people know that you read fanfiction?

Well everyone on here knows ... in RL ... well I’ve made vague mentions about reading Doctor Who and Broadchurch stories online but don’t get into specifics ... although I did get my Mum addicted to A Million Holes Poked in the Soul by @nannyogg123 

32. Do you leave reviews after reading fics? If so, what do they sound like?

I used to write comments after every fic I read but it was slowing down my reading now I only leave comments on things I really enjoyed and felt compelled to comment on ... so they tend to be gushy :D

33. When you read a good fic, do you go to the author’s page?

Definitely, I always want to read more stories by a talented author

34. Name a common type of fic that you cannot stand.

You’ll probably hate me for this but ... I’m not a fan of the drabble ... there I said it let the backlash begin

35. Name all the Work in Progress fics that you are currently reading.

hahahahahahahahaha ... umm sorry ... currently I have 40 update notifications of individual stories in my email ... and that’s just the ones I haven’t caught up with yet ... oh and some of them I’m a few chapters behind so I’ve opened the new emails to keep the count down so I don’t feel so bad ... the reality is that I’m probably reading about 60-70 WIPs ... this post is long enough without me adding this list to it

36. Has a fic ever left you unable to fall asleep or think about anything else?

Heeled by @jellyneau-xo ... I don’t think I’ll ever be able to own a pet again ... actually all of Jelly’s stories have me thinking about them long after they’ve finished

37. Are you good about keeping up when reading Work in Progresses?

Despite what I’ve said above I’m not that bad ... although I tend to delay reading fics I love so I get a nice big chunk of reading in one go

38. Name some of your favorite fic recommendations pages.

See all the rec pages by @allegoricalrose ... definitely some quality reading there :D

39. Name a fanfiction author that you’re scared to talk to because they’re so amazing.

I remember being terribly scared about talking to @kelkat9 and @whoinwhoville because I am so in awe of their writing but they are both absolutely beautiful people and you should definitely reach out to them to talk about writing and all things DW and DT :)

40. Have you ever written fanfiction or considered it?

I once was strictly a reader only and then I wrote a little thing and then another and then @pipertennant and @studio-forty-two kept encouraging me to write more and more and well I guess I have to call myself a fanfic writer now

41. Name a fic that has a perfect ending.

Don’t make me choose ... as long as they have a happy ever after I’m good

42. Name a fic that you wish was longer.

ALL OF THEM.  ALL! OF! THEM!!!!!!!

43. Do you read OT3 fics commonly? Have you ever?

I love ‘em especially ... Loved ‘verse and Lostverse by fid_gin and unfolded73

44. Do you mainly read TV shows, movies, or books?

umm yes?? DW and TenInch fic cover all of that don’t they??

45. Do you read fanfiction about Anime?

No, I’m claiming generational age gap ... I’ve never really got into Anime

46. If you could imagine the perfect fic, what would it be like?

The one yet to be written ... don’t know who the author is yet

47. If you had to introduce someone to fanfiction with a few fics, which would you suggest?

For TenInch Fic ... Providential Contingency by @studio-forty-two and tennantmeister ... they created the genre with this story ... I know I talked them into it ;)

For DW ... blimey there are just so many ... take a pick of any of the ones I’ve recc’d above

48. Have you ever read a fic containing character death?

Yep, and written one ... and writing another ... shhhhh it’s taking a while to write it and this time I’m not going to publish it until I’ve finished it

49. Do you have an AO3/Fanfiction.net/LiveJournal page? Link it.

This is me on AO3

50. What sites do you typically use to read on?

I started reading on Teaspoon but now I read almost exclusively on AO3 ... I like being able to leave kudos and get notifications of responses to comments :)

[babygirlaquacadet]

Regarding the BOTDF breakup drama

First, I want to say that I am only posting this on this account because posting it on my main account could totally ruin my career.

Now, onto the post itself.

In my opinion, all of this drama is utter bullshit. People are so quick to take sides without any proof that anything being said is true. I have talked to people who have known the band and been with them on their journey pretty much from the start. They have talked to me about some of the more well known drama cases involving the band, including the ones focusing just on Dahvie, and set facts straight. I know when someone is lying to me, I have never once been wrong about if what someone said to me is true or not, so I have no reason to doubt what I was told.

One case I’ll mention is the issue with New Years Day. Things were blown out of proportion. Ash Costello had been being a bitch to pretty much everyone, and her ego was apparently the cause of it. It was inflated because the band was really starting to get somewhere and they were getting more popular pretty fast. She was upset because, with her band not being the headliner on the Scene Is Dead Tour, there weren’t as many NYD fans as there were BOTDF fans showing up. She also just didn’t want to hang around BOTDF (mostly due to the fan thing I mentioned), and she’s not a fan of playful roughhousing. Pretty sure the rest can be pieced together from there, but if not, arguements ensued until NYD was no longer part of the tour.

Now, moving onto the drama case this post is meant to be about.

I know both Dahvie and Jayy. They’re both good guys, but like everyone else, they’re not perfect. I’m not going to jump to back what either of them said regarding the breakup, because I know that neither gave the full, honest truth.

Jayy exaggerated on things. He didn’t outright lie, just exaggerated. Things weren’t as bad as he said. Mostly involving how much he was paid from how much the band made. This is mostly evidenced by the fact that, in countless photos/videos he posted and ones he was in for the band, he wasn’t shy about showing off or mentioning some of the more expensive things he owned. Such as Demonia boots, various pieces he wore on stage, and even the wig he was making for Drag. The supplies needed to make a wig like that are not cheap. I have experience in this area.

Dahvie did downplay some things. He isn’t the best with money (not terrible, though), and he would miss bills sometimes or go over set budgets for things unintentionally. He’s a perfectionist, and logic can sometimes go out the window when a perfectionist is determined to get everything just right, and when that happens, it can easily stress other people around them out. They weren’t as close as he made it seem, though they did used to be as close as brothers. He wanted them to stay that close, but when you live together constantly, both at home and on tour, for 6+ years, it’s not easy.

If you have a sibling and at one point you two shared a room for a few years, you may understand better. You can only be almost constantly together in such close proximity for so long before you start to argue and fight and have to seperate from each other before doing or saying something you’ll regret later one. That’s kind of what actually happened.

But there is a little more to it than just that. It’s one reason they did their solo side projects, Master Of Death and JayyVon (the other being the creative differneces mentioned, they wanted some different things musically and decided to explore them to see if that would help them out). But, once they did them, that’s where more issues started to arise. Around that same time, as we all know, Jayy became a Drag Queen. When the side projects went well and the Drag Queen thing did too, their egos did inflate a bit.

Jayy also started to slowly act a bit “ghetto”, but at first, it wasn’t worse than normal, just somewhat more often. Around the time he left the band, and especially right before/right after, he became a full-blown ghetto bitch, and that’s how he currently acts for anything public. Privately, away from cameras and the public eye, when he’s just with people he’s close with, he more or less acts like himself. It’d be great if he’d throw out the ghetto bitch act completely and be himself again.

Dahvie did become a bit narcissistic/self-absorbed once the first single from Sinners Are Winners was released and was a hit with the fans. He was upset when Jayy left, especially once he was blocked out of nowhere, and he let the slight narcissism/self-absorbtion take over (unintentionally) so he could keep up face and seem fine. He can be a dick at times (like everyone else on the planet), and since he’s been a bit stressed with everything, he’s been one more often. When it’s turned towards me, I see right through it and know he’s not doing it on purpose and he doesn’t mean anything by it. He’s been trying too hard to not disappoint the fans.

My point with this is that people need to stop jumping to decide who’s right and who’s wrong when there’s no solid proof of what each party said being true. I’ve seen people stop being BOTDF fans and destroy all of their BOTDF merch, then preach and encourage other to hate on the band and fans because of one interaction with Dahvie that was slightly negative because Dahvie was either under the influence of alcohol, tired, or just not in a great mood. It’s ridiculous.

So, before you decide to take sides in something like this, at least have the manners to wait until ALL involved parties (in this case, just two), whether specific people or perhaps a group or so of them, have spoken out and given their version of the events. Then listen to/read them all very carefully and let your instincts tell you which is right.

[back-alley-magic]

The Renegade

Powers: Not much is known about him. He's mostly regarded as irresponsible, selfish, and unprincipled, a young hedge witch with wasted talent. If the rumors are true, he has a pair of Seven League Boots, a silver chain inscribed with gold and ash, and a knife carved of ivory. Those who know him say he is rather talented with blood magic, but practices a variety of highly symbolic magics (with varying degrees of success). These symbolic magics require substitution of items with those that are logically or emotionally connected to another object, such as lighting a log on fire by holding a piece of coal. This takes a strong physical toll the larger the logical leap.

He was the one to introduce the New Initiate to the world of magic, though he is afraid of getting them involved now that he is being hunted for The Stone.

Faction: Hedge Witches

FC: Dane Dehaan

Name: Lysander Crane (true name unknown)

Any other titles, nicknames, or epithets: The Thaumaturge, though no one actually calls him that. More often he's called Prick, ***hole, or some other choice four letter words. And now, he's The Keeper of the Stone, or simply the Keeper.

Age: 24

Personality:

+creative

+moral...ish, at least in principle. In practice he is more than willing to bend and break rules for what he views as the right cause. And yes, his own benefit does count as a "right cause."

+thinks better on his feet. If he's given too much time to plan he begins to second-guess and overthink

+intelligent, though he tends not to apply himself

+surprisingly disciplined about learning new things when he really cares about them.

+surprisingly accepting of others' flaws

+logical, though this logic is internal and can seem erratic to others

+/-dramatic

+/-headstrong

+/-dark sense of humor

+/-blunt when he shouldn't be and cryptic when it's very inconvenient 

+/-obsessive over small tidbits of information and completely oblivious to other (usually more important) facts

+/sarcastic

+/-self-indulgent

+/independent

+/-thrill seeker

+/-provocative

-pretentious

-disloyal

-cynical

-addictive personality

-aimless

-easily bored, and often turns to dangerous distractions

-selfish

-flippant

-chaotic

-self-destructive

-can be childishly spiteful, the "I'll hold my breath until I pass out, that'll show you" kind of vindictiveness

-irresponsible

Powers, weapons, and skills:

highly symbolic magic. His catch-all conduit is blood, for the sheer power it provides. But he tends to mix this raw energy with more targeted magic. His workings are usually very complex (some would say purely convoluted) and highly dramatic. Mostly it seems he wants to impress himself with crackpot, improbable, but often strangely beautiful magic when a simpler but humbler thing would do the trick. 

Since magic draws on connections and symbols it helps to have a powerful internal logic. He's good at quick-thinking and rushed spells, whereas most witches fall back on prior planning to ensure success. This makes his magic seem very fluid and organic, but also unpredictable. 

His magic deals mostly with change, usually in objects, and perception. He calls it his magical word games. In reality it's connecting a current reality with a desired outcome by making a series of logical leaps, folding and shifting reality until it meets that outcome, like magical origami. This magic is extremely energy-consuming so in his day-to-day magical life he usually uses a few pre-made magical objects. 

These pre-made magical items include a very worn pair of leather boots which, thanks to the sigils on their soles, allows him to move at incredible speeds. These seven league boots don't come without their dangers though. Operating them isn't as easy as simply walking. Without a careful input of energy proportional to the speed and distance you'd like to travel, you could end up literally walking your soul faster than your body. 

Lysander also has a knife carved from mammoth ivory which he uses for his blood magic. He found it deep in one of the underground tunnels, buried in a forgotten barrow. He may not know it yet, but it was buried for a reason, and the more he uses it, the more strange coincidences start happening around it. It does help focus his magic though, so he'll keep using it despite the random occurrences that spark around it. 

He also has a silver chain inscribed with gold and ash. As yet, he hasn't figured out what it does. But that won't stop him from wearing it. In the very least, the silver gives him some modicum of protection against fae.

Weaknesses:

Not very good at explaining himself. He prides himself on that fact, but it can be a big weakness when trying to work with others

extremely self-destructive, addictive, thrill-seeking behavior.

Hell-bent on doing things his way or not at all

Puts more raw energy into magic than is necessary. He's generally regarded (among those who know him in the magical community) as a waste of talent. Everyone assumes he'll burn himself out before he does anything worthwhile, and it seems he's determined to show just how quickly he can prove them right.

Gets bogged down with his own logic and the theoretical side of his actions when given time to plan. When he's working on the fly things come easier to him because he doesn't have time to overthink

Generally comes off as a rude, pretentious little s*** who cares only about himself and is hell to work with

Likes:

puzzles and logic problems

the sound of bells and tinkling jewelry (he wears a lot of bracelets and charms, only some of which are magical)

beautiful solutions (though not necessarily simple ones)

neon lights

deep pounding music

maybe experiments with hallucinogenic compounds more than he should

new experiences

staying one step ahead

confusing others

letting others know he knows they're confused

other curious individuals

taking notes on random scraps of paper

experimenting with....everything

frustrating authority figures

surprising turns of events

heights

theoretical mathematics

making then breaking things then making them into something new (with mixed results)

Morrow (especially the twisting maze-like streets and the underground tunnels)

the more theoretical side of magic (he isn't here for practical magic)

getting swept up in a moment

Dislikes:

not good at making sure he eats regularly and doesn't really care about food (he smokes more than he eats and jokes that he has a liquid diet consisting mostly of vodka)

coming down from a high (whether emotional or otherwise)

that look of disappointment in authority figures' eyes (he reflexively fights back with biting sarcasm and even more outlandish behavior)

his family

stifling regulation, especially from the witches proper, who he thinks act superior to hedge witches without good cause. He sees them as one-trick ponies who have closed themselves off to some of the most beautiful (though maybe more unorthodox) forms of magic

people trying to organize his things (it's a physical representation of his thought process and isn't very linear. But he knows exactly where everything is in the chaos, he swears)

the finer points of emotional interactions with people (he tends to interact with others in over-the-top, off-puttingly extreme shows of emotion or no emotion at all. Complex nuances of relationships are beyond his logic, and therefore very tough for him to understand)

people who refuse to innovate and experiment

water and swimming, he's terribly afraid of drowning

boredom

Short bio: As with all those who sink into the murky waters of hedge magic, Lysander gave up his old life and drowned the boy he was. It seemed an easy price to pay for the ability to grab the fabric of reality and tear it to shreds, and oddly satisfying to murder everything his family made him. Who he was before is shrouded in mystery. But a few close to him (and that is a very, very few) know he studied theoretical mathematics somewhere before finding his way to Morrow. Even those who haven't heard his fragmented, sparse telling of his past can recognize the pedantic, vaguely disdainful drawl of an academic when he discusses his craft. His horrible, gaudy tastes also hint at squandered wealth. It takes good money to look that cheap. The flippant disregard for the finer points of surviving (like the necessity of a job or even the basics of housekeeping) also hints at an upbringing as another spoiled, pampered child hell-bent on a downward spiral. No, that past is nothing but a murky shadow, his true name nothing more than an echo. He was truly born, as he'll tell you on a good day or from the bottom of a bottle (which, all in all are often the same), in a dark alley in the warehouse district, blood dripping from his chin and fury burning in his throat. His blood hit the cracked pavement of Morrow and, whether he knew it or not, it was his first offering. The ley lines of Morrow focused all his anger, all his pain, and left nothing but two vaguely-human singe marks on the alley walls. A better man would have been horrified, running far away from that power. And a lesser man would have been devoured by it. But Lysander is none of those, lost maybe, unprincipled sure, unfocused definitely. But he is no hero, and he is no villain. It's true, he hasn't killed since. But most agree using reality-shattering magic fed from your own life-blood to perform petty party tricks is not the most responsible path. But Lysander doesn't care. What matters is learning, knowing, searching. And it appears that searching has provided more questions than answers.

Life in Morrow: Those familiar with the party scene in Morrow have probably seen Lysander. He appears to be nocturnal, though that may just be a product of nights that leave him in hungover stupors more often than not. He isn't exactly a "productive member of society," spending most daylight hours holed up in his grimy apartment/laboratory (which in all reality is an abandoned warehouse full of mismatch furniture, dirty beakers full of who-knows-what, an entire wall covered in chalk markings, and haphazard stacks of books) fiddling with his powers. Every so often a question catches hold of him and he can be found rummaging through the university library. No one knows how exactly he gets in. Maybe he knows someone, or maybe he just jimmies the fire escape lock. In any case, his daylight appearances are few and far between. Most of his time not spent downing whatever alcohol he can get his hands on or trying to break the laws of physics is spent exploring the subways, sewers, and tunnels under Morrow's streets. His apartment has a small cellar with a few precious treasures and a staircase that descends down into the veins of the city. While he prefers to explore alone, he has been known to venture out with a few trusted acquaintances on occasion. No one really knows how Lysander survives. He doesn't seem to take in any money, though perhaps he has no need for it. He doesn't even have a kitchen, and most of his food comes from the few friends he has leaving leftover Chinese or a few cold slices of pizza on his desk. In all, it's a rather lonely existence, surrounded and consumed by his studies and drowning in his vices. While he doesn't go out in search of company, he doesn't turn it away when it finds its way to his doorstep, often desperate, frightened, and in need of help. It takes a /very/ peculiar sort of desperation to rely on Lysnder Crane for help, but surprisingly enough, he never refuses.

Why do they want the Stone? Right now he's doing his best not to get murdered in an alley for it. He's also trying to figure out how to get it to work (equally, if not more dangerous). In the long-run, many people are worried he'll use it for his own magic. Anyte Vale is the only one who believes he actually knows what he's doing with it.

Greatest wish? To make something truly beautiful.

Greatest fear? Losing his magic. Life was boring and pointless before, and now it's the only thing that makes sense. Also, that feeling of power is hella addictive.

What 5 items would you put in a pentagram to summon them? a bottle of cheap vodka, a pair of expensive leather shoes, a half-empty pack of cigarettes, chalk, a broken shot glass (the two biggest things to know about Lysander: he's always wasted, and always dramatic)

[buckner-in-australia]

Day 27: June 22, 2017

Guess what I have again?? Class (: But thank the Lord that we have the later session. Even though I don't like having classes in the evening, at least that leaves the morning and afternoon free until we have to meet at the Hyde Park Barracks.

Since Kayla and I are in the same Wallaby class, it was just us two this morning. We ended up sleeping in until about 10 o'clock to head out into the city by noon. We bought love the finer things that life has to offer, so in our free time we made our way down to Hyde Park and to their fashion square. I was immediately in love: Gucci, Louis, Prada, Tumi, any designer you could possibly imagine was there! Being the angelic and loving child that I am, I recalled that my dad had been looking for a particular all red Gucci belt. When he originally wanted it, it was sold out internationally and given that it has been several months since then, why not give it a shot? After moseying through the store, to much dismay, they too, all the way in Australia, did not have the belt either. I really wish they did, my dad would be so happy and surprised!

After shopping, we stopped in an underground food square called David Jones Foodhall and grabbed some takeaway sushi. In Australia, since everything is so grab and go, sushi even comes in a little mini burrito style. I ended up purchasing a chicken teriyaki burrito sushi and a roll with chicken, shrimp, and crab. Once we got our sushi we headed above ground to eat in the park across from the barracks. It was such a lovely day and as soon as we sat down our friends who had been in class came and joined us.

The Hyde Park Barracks are a very interesting heritage monument in Sydney. During this class activity, we had a well-guided tour through the building that used to house up to 700 men at a time. It was crazy how the curators reinvented the space and allowed "the building to tell its story." Between the information we learned and the layers we could see, the building was definitely before it's time. You would think that the ceilings would be short because people were shorter back then due to malnutrition but they were very high. We learned throughout the tour that after convict culture ended, the barracks housed immigrating women and children, and then acted as an asylum, judicial offices, and now a museum. The most interesting part for me was the amount of artifacts that were found from things falling in between the floorboards and the barracks themselves. Given that the convicts only had to sleep there, I would think there would be rows of bunk beds. Little did I know, the sleeping quarters were burlap hammocks lying side by side. We even got to lay in them for a little bit and BOY were they low to the ground!! You would have thought I was 95 years old by how long it took me to get back up, lol. Even more surprising, when the barracks ran out of hammocks men had to sleep on the floor between them. Bless every single one of their hearts!  

One thing I also liked about the barracks was their artwork and how interactive everything was. I particularly was found of the artwork because of it's display of the Aborigines. I have noticed since being here that there is very little diversity shown to the public about the Aborigines. Since the beginning of this trip I had been saying that it is like they are so similar to me yet so different. Just like media only shows certain perspectives or the stereotypical AA, the same goes for Aborigines. In the media they are usually very dark with very fine hair. Come to find out THEY'RE JUST LIKE ME! Kinks and Coils and all! I honestly don't see how people can argue that the first people didn't come from Africa. The Aboriginal people are a PRIME example. We are truly one and the same.

After the barracks, instead of the initial plan of going back to our classrooms on the other side of town for class, our professors made the decision to have class in the Royal Botanical Gardens. This was also very bittersweet. It was sweet because we didn't have to travel all the way back and we could see the garden, but it was bitter because we lead by the blind (we were terribly lost) it was getting cold and there were mosquitoes. Tons and tons of mosquitoes! They literally lit my feet up! They were huge!!! Though completely distracted my those blood sucking creatures, I was able to make contributions to the class discussion which is all that truly matters.  

Sidenote: On the way to class, I got approached by a local girl about my age who asked what we were doing. She said, "Are you here for uni? I love your accent!" After telling her what we were up to, we ended up talking about shopping and how I much more prefer Melbourne over Sydney. She was really cool. Unfortunately we had to part ways because she came to her street. It's good to know that they're still good people in the city of Sydney.  

After class, you know what time it was...TIME FOR THE SHOW! After the class discussion, I literally booked it to the hotel. Since I had my noodles left, I ate those quick fast and in a hurry so that we could head down the Circular Quay. Ash and Kayla hadn't eaten so we stopped by City Extra again so they could enjoy a nice meal before the show. Despite getting lost trying to get in the opera house, we made it! And the show was AMAZING!

The lights! The colors! The music! The cast! They were all phenomenal! "Fighting the power never taste so sweet!" The show touch on so many things. From cultural awareness to rape culture. The show was for the empowerment of women from all walks of life & what touched me the most the empowerment of women of color! No one in the cast was white, which is HUGE in the performing world. Nearly 99% of the time people of color are the minority because it is so hard for POCs to find roles that the director thinks they fit into. "Too heavy, too curvy, too dark, too ethnic" Those are all phrases that are used in performing way too much. My two favorite scenes were the "Don't Touch My Hair" and the "I'm Still Here." The "Don't Touch My Hair" segment really broke down what white privilege was for the white audience and joyfully informed them that our hair is not an open invitation to be touched. What was said in this segment is things that I have to face everyday where as my roommates informed me after that they never had a clue lol. Especially the line "if you can go into any makeup store and can easily find your shade of foundation." This is constant struggle for me (reasons why I don't even bother) where they didn't even notice because it has always been so accessible for them. The "I'm Still Here" piece was about how the monarchy and Australian society try to forget about the Aboriginal, aka the TRUE Australians, whose land was taken. It was so touching. The female that performed this piece walked out fully covered in the Australian flag in a bonded way. As the song progressed she back to tear away the shackles of the flag garment to reveal a tshirt saying "I'm Still Here." The old white couple beside me was super uncomfortable, but DJ BustyBeats informed us from the very beginning how the show was gonna play out.

The end was by far my favorite part! After the curtain call and presentation of the 6 person cast, there was a "dance party" where the audience could come on stage and dance. After listening to the music for a bit, I grabbed the girls and we hit the stage. It was like not having water for a week or not seeing a loved one for months on end. I was back where my heart and soul belonged. On the stage, spotlights, flood lights, and music. Oh how I miss performing! It was like my heart skipped a beat!  After dancing, the show was officially over and need I say I had the time of my life! I knew I definitely wanted to take a picture near the billboard and at least meet one of the cast. I got all of that and some! We had a little photo shoot! The girls were so nice and loving (because my first photo shoot was interrupted by a drunk couple lol). I will never forget this evening ever!

Things I've learned - All the coins still confuse me. The 20 coin is unnecessary just like our penny lol - Designed by convict architect & built by convicts - 1788 first fleet from England, 600-700 convicts - Barracks were opened in 1819 - "Important building worthy of the British Empire" - No permission, no money, but he had all free labor - Efficient use of convict labor. Streets roads bridges churches - 1788-1868 forced migration of people. - Barracks have seen 160,000 ppl - Responsible for making 500 bricks a day - Used finger tallying  to ensure correct numbers - Let the building tell you it's story - Convict barracks from 1819-1848 - Became a women's institute for immigrated and the destitute and old - 200 a floor, 70 men per room, 30 men per smaller men - When overoccuppancy, men would see under the house - Functioned as an asylum as well - Not all convicts were government owned, some were privately assigned - Can't have a will if you are not of a sound mind and judgement - Wouldn't waste nails on convict barracks (because they were saved for ships) so everything is made with wooden pegs like a jigsaw - Den of thieves - Come convict stories are brutal but some come full circle (Our guide and his ancestor had a very positive story. From 14 years of time to becoming a bake to having a land grant and building a factory