#i don’t give a shit if he did quote unquote make mistakes in the situations

[0-solshroom-0]

i’m sorry if you look at a toxic “friendship” between a 16 year old boy and a 21 year old man and say “oh but they were both in the wrong and made mistakes and were both bad friends” please respectfully never speak again. that was a whole ass child you fucking idiots, you expected him to be perfect at everything and never act immaturely goddamn

[bellarahgony]

Bruises: Nightmares (Part 8)

Co-written with @IfOnly4MyNallas.

Bella: *As I exited from the door from under the stairs and make my way up the foyer stairs … I start to feel the ache in my muscles. The Scribe Virgin created us to be in good physique as long we didn’t glutton ourselves but we still felt the normal aches and pains, but mostly at a higher threshold than humans. Finally making it back to our bedroom, I started a bath and added some Epson salts that magically appeared, probably Fritz (he always knew what one needed before we even know we needed it). I poured in the salts and carefully pulled off my workout clothes drenched in sweat and threw them into the hamper. Then I slowly lowered myself into my bath with a sigh of relief. The heat of the water steadily relaxed my muscles releasing the tightness from the stress of the session with Payne. 

I made a lot of mistakes for the first time, getting hit many times. I could see the bruises starting to appear on my skin. I hope it wouldn’t bother Z, but I knew it probably would. I sighed. I hope he would understand why I wanted to train. I wanted to be able to defend myself if the situation ever arises. Especially if Nalla and I were somewhere outside the manse. It was rare, by ourselves, but just in case. I was also internally hoping that it would rid me of the damn nightmares. @IfOnly4MyNallas

Zsadist: Finishing up a shift with the trainees, I was fed up. Not one out of the group was where they should be. Some of the other Brothers gave them a wider berth when it came to learning this shit. Not me. I expected them to be at their tip-top. This was no fucking game. This was life or death. I needed to know I could trust every one of them to have my six out in the field, and out of the group I had worked with tonight, I couldn’t say that about any of them. They all fucking sucked, couldn’t stay on their feet, not fast enough on the draw, not sharp enough to know exactly what was happening in every inch of their environment, the list went on. Don’t get me wrong, we had some decent trainees in the program. I just hadn’t gotten lucky enough to work with even one of them tonight.

On top of all that, I had to stop in Wrath’s office on my way back to my suite for an evening meeting. As it turns out, the groupie that Phury and I had run into a few nights ago had been at the Audience House last night. Phury, in all his infinite wisdom, decided that she deserved to be heard and gave her one of our AH cards. The guy will never learn. The number of quote, unquote long lost relatives we see in a month kills me. Since we opened the Audience House doors, they’ve come in droves. Most of them females, looking to find some way to entwine their lives with the Brotherhood’s. It makes me sick just to think about it. It’s like they think we are some kind of rock stars, and if they can just get a taste of one of us, their life will suddenly have meaning. Pathetic, fucking, females.

The thought wound through my body as I slammed the door to Bella and my suite just a little harder than I planned. With a heavy sigh, I made my way across the room to the walk-in and began to strip off my gear.

Bella: *I startled as I heard the door to our suite slam close. Z was back from training … and probably in a foul mood. He often was when he came back from teaching. The trainees often brought him back in a bad frame of mind. Not only did they disappoint him but I sometimes feel deep down … he was scared for them. Being a soldier in this world is not what these millennials think they know. They hear the stories, but most live in sheltered or protected lives never to have to come across a lesser … if they’re lucky. And now? More evil … Shadows have appeared and the Brotherhood is dealing with them too.

Thinking about training and all … I wondered if the females of #SafePlace should also be trained for self-defense. It definitely won’t hurt and if anything it may give them more confidence. The more I thought about it, the better the idea sounded. Perhaps we could get Payne, Xhex or the female soldiers Parry and Nova to help. If they have time in their rotation. Hmmm … I make a reminder to myself to talk to Beth and Mary about it. 

I wash carefully around over the bruising, hoping Z may just go visit with Nalla while I finish my bath to avoid him seeing the majority of my wounds. I can hind most of them under my clothing and robe. I’m hoping it doesn’t add this his mood. He is already worried about the trainees and the Brotherhood, the last thing he needs to worry about is me.

Zsadist: Taking a long, deep breath, I looked in the direction of Nalla’s room. My sweet young. One of the two things that kept me alive on the daily. Just the thought of her settled my nerves until I let the thought seep back in of how these simpleminded trainees would one day be all that stood between her and the evils of our world. That thought made my blood boil. Not if I could help it. These trainees were either going to step up and get shit straight, or I was going to see to it they were left behind. I was done with the wannabes. Wannabe trainees that were never going to be good enough to be considered as a Brother, wannabe females that were just waiting for a Brother to make their lives have meaning… wannabes everywhere I turned my head.

Considering my current headspace, I thought better of going into Nalla’s room. I didn’t want her to feel this energy washing off of me. Bella was better equipped to deal with it. She always knew just how to calm my nerves. However, it wasn’t really fair. It seemed that Bella was doing an awful lot of that lately. I needed to get my own shit in order. Far too often, I came home from patrol or working with the trainees in the crappiest of moods, and Bella would have to soothe my mind. One of these days, I was going to have to come home and surprise her with flowers or some shit. I’d have to ask Mary or Fritz for help with that.

Stepping towards the bathroom, I could hear the soft sounds of water trickling back into a tub. I could envision it before I even stepped through the door. Bella, sitting in the garden tub, scented bubbles lining the top of the water, leg stretched out as she slowly ran a loofa down… over a massive bruise?! “What the fuck, Bella?!” Instantly, every muscle in my body tightened as the reality of Bella’s newest interest slapped me across the face. Payne would get a monumental earful from me the next time I saw her.

Bella: Z, hey. *Quickly lowering my leg back into the bubbly water, knowing he saw the bruise.* Babe, you know bruises were going to happen. I don’t normally work out and do physical activity, it was bound to happen. It just hurts a small bit. It’s expected. You know that. I kept the rest of my body underneath the water … hoping he might just leave it be. But I knew better.*

Z, it really isn’t that bad. I know Payne wasn’t even using her full force. She was just teaching me a few self-defensive moves. Nothing too crazy. I’m fine … really. *I really hoped he could see that I needed this and not freak out about the bruises I was bound to receive as I learned. Scribe forbid, I get a black eye or stitches. 

I knew this would be hard for him. When Nalla received a small scrape outside on the courtyard from chasing a butterfly. I swear it took me hours to convince him not to build a rubber mat all over the “cursed” cement. Toddlers were bound to get little scrapes and cuts. Though you could not convince Z otherwise. Granted his childhood was not conventional. But I remember, my big brother putting bandaids on my skinned knees when I was little. Kissing them to make them feel better. It was a part of growing up.*

Zsadist: Bella’s leg disappeared way too quickly under that bubble-filled bathtub, and it left me wondering how many other bruises she was hiding. If this was the way this so-called training was going to be, I was going to be putting an end to it really fucking fast. I get that she THINKS she wants to be able to protect herself, but she doesn’t need to. She will never be in a situation where she will need to. There will always be someone with her that will do that for her. If not me, then one of the other Brothers.

How did I let her talk me into this in the first place? What led me to believe that this would ever be a good idea? She says she’s fine. Really? Fine? That bruise was purple! A mere slap on the leg didn’t make those types of bruises. She was hit hard. I’d be willing to bet she hit the floor on that one. Teeth gritted, a loud growl bellowed from deep in my gut, just envisioning it.

I realized I had been pacing the bathroom floor and stopped. Turning to look at my shellan, I said as calmly as I could, “Stand up.” I could see the hesitation written all over her face. There were more. “Bella,” I closed my eyes as I tried to get the image out of my head. “Just stand up.”

Bella: *Crap. I knew my male and he was going to lose his shit.* 

Zsadist, you have to remember why I need to do this. I’m not trained like you and Payne and so I will have bruises just like any other trainee the Brotherhood would train. You know as well as I do that it’s going to happen more often than not. I need to do this. Please remember that.

*I gingerly stood up, the water dripping off my body … I was hoping that maybe that would distract my male, but as I looked into his now obsidian eyes … I knew he was more focused on the different colors on my skin rather than the skin itself. I knew this would happen but I hoped he would understand my need to do this for myself.*

Z?

Zsadist: “You don’t need to train to become a …” I couldn’t finish my comment as she stood up in the tub. All I could see was yellow, green, and purple blotches all over her skin. One-quarter of her body had marks on it. As I ran my hand over my scalp to the back of my neck, I barely realized how tense my jaw clenched. I was afraid if I opened up my trap, I was going to say a bunch of shit I might regret later.

A few years back, refraining from speaking my mind was the last thing I cared about, but seeing how that affected Bella when we first got together, I had begun to learn how to handle myself a little differently when it came to barking out every thought that crossed my mind. I needed to stop and catch myself. I could go straight for the jugular without even thinking, and I really didn’t want to be that guy with Bella.

After taking a few minutes to wear a hole in the bathroom floor, I finally stopped and looked my Bella up and down again. Keeping my teeth gritted, I quietly said, “This,” motioning to her body, “is not what I agreed to, Bella. I agreed to self-defense, maybe some krav maga, but going down to the training room and getting a fucking beat down every day was definitely NOT what I agreed to.” I realized that my voice was quickly getting louder, but I couldn’t stop myself. This was not happening. I was also pacing again, and Bella was being unusually quiet, probably giving me some room to process, but it wouldn’t last long. Bella was not one to stay quiet for too long.

I couldn’t even look at her anymore. Those bruises looked way too painful. “One or two bruises, once in a while, is one thing, but this … this is just fucking brutal.” Every single muscle in my body was tense as I visualized retaliating against Payne for this. I was not above beating a female, especially one who thought that stopping just short of putting my female in the hospital was just another day of training. What fucking numbnut thought that starting training with the beat down, without showing someone how to defend themselves first, was the right way to do it? I thought Payne was more intelligent than that. I guess it was just one more person disappointing me.

Looking back at Bella, I opened my mouth and said the one thing that would probably start WWIII between us, but I couldn’t stop them from coming out. Seeing her like this was tipping the scales, making me lose my fucking mind, “This …” motioning once more, “is going to stop.”

Bella: *I went to go pick up a towel and began to wrap it around myself.*

Z, it isn’t up to you. I need this. But if you don’t want to see the bruises … I suggest you find somewhere else to sleep for a while. Or Nalla and I can go stay at #SafePlace and I can train there with the instructor they have come to teach the other females. I only figured you would trust Payne’s training over someone else’s.

*I dried myself off as I could see Z in my peripheral with his mouth hanging open at my statement. I did need this after talking with Mary and understanding my nightmares, I just needed to feel secure in my ability to be able to fight back even if my success was low at winning … I needed to try. I put my robe on and went out of the bathroom and into our closet to get clothes and wondered what will happen now.*

Zsadist: I didn’t move from where I stood. I was not giving in. In an all too hushed voice, dripping in fury, I spoke without turning to my Nalla, “Bella, I can and will stop anyone that tries to train you. So, you can either work with me, or this is fucking over. Your decision.”

There was no way in fuck this was continuing. This was only day one. I didn’t want to imagine what day two would look like. By day three, she wasn’t going to be able to move. She would have bruises upon bruises on top of each other. This literally was like walking into a beating every day. Turning, I entered the bedroom, and my voice got louder. “Where is the defense of this ‘Self-defense’ training?” I asked. “All I see is a solid beat down, which I refuse to have you submit to every single day, even if it is Payne doing it. Whatever happened to walking before you ran? We discussed this. You knew what I would and wouldn’t tolerate. This …” pointing to her body, she was quickly trying to cover with her robe, “... this shit I will not tolerate.”

She could call it whatever she wanted; this was someone beating the fuck out of her and waiting for her to call out, “Uncle.” She could force me to sleep elsewhere, or she could sleep at Safe Place. That didn’t matter right now. I could still stop this no matter what, and I would if she weren’t willing to listen to me and do this the right way. Not sleeping in the same place for a bit was way better than knowing that this was happening to her every fucking day.

Bella: *My irritation was growing as I put on some yoga pants and a t-shirt quickly so I could hash this out with my hellren.* 

First of all, that was not a beat down, you realize that I have never trained in my entire existence, bruises are to be expected. I /was/ defending myself. Or learning to. Even blocking hits will cause me bruises. Clearly you still don’t fucking get it … why I need this. So be it. 

I’ll take Nalla with me to #SafePlace and I will train there. I’m not asking for permission, this is just a statement. And as to the issue of stopping … I’d like to see you explain to Wrath why you step foot into #SafePlace that does not allow males to enter and intimidate and scare all the females and children within. I’d love to be a fly on the wall when you meet with him, Beth, Marissa and Mary about /THAT/!

Zsadist: Fuck all! I was trying not to lose my shit, but it was Bella that didn’t get it. I wasn’t against her training. I was against her getting the snot beaten out of her. This was not the person I wanted to be around her. I had come so far from being this male, but seeing all those bruises on her just brought out all my primal instincts to protect her, even if it were from herself.

Following her from one room to the next, I tried to clarify my position. “Bella, I am not against your training as much as you don’t believe me. I am just not going to sit back and watch someone put you through this every fucking day.” I used a technique Mary had taught me to use when I got this way. I started to slow down my breathing, and for a split-second, it worked … but just for a split-second. “Fuck, Bella! How do you expect me to live watching you come home every day looking like someone took a bat to you?” There was no way I was going to be able to do this. “There are other ways to start your training. Like, I don’t know … using gear that will protect you until you get a feel for protecting yourself! Evil Kenevil didn’t just jump a bike over 50 cars right off the bat. He started off with protective gear and jumping more minor things. Then, when he was more ready, mind and body, he started to jump bigger things, and then he started to take off his gear. Baby steps, Bella! You don’t learn how to ride a horse starting off bareback!”

How did she not understand my point in all this? What was so wrong with using protective gear until she got the hang of the moves? “Go ahead and take Nalla to Safe Place if you want, but know this: I don’t have to step foot on that property to make sure that no one there trains you. I just have to make a few calls.”

Bella: *I was fuming. He just doesn’t understand. My whole life I was coddled and taken care of first by my mahmen, then my brother and now my hellren. I needed to do this on my own. The bruises were expected of training. Did he not remember all the trainees these past years? Or was he so blinded that it was me and not some random trainee he wasn’t related to? I knew this would be hard for him and it was only Day #1. This argument was already exhausting and draining after my training session. I just felt all the adrenaline and energy zap out of me in that moment. 

Could I really take Nalla from the only home she knew and the people that loved and protected her? Sure, Marissa, Mary and the other Chosen who often play with her would be at #SafePlace, but all her uncles? I sighed quietly and continued to get ready for bed and grabbed Nalla from her nursery and started to get her ready for bath and bed, ignoring Z along the way. There really wasn’t much to say anymore. I said my piece and I figured he just needed to let this off his chest and get it over with.

I took off her Red Sox onesie and placed her stuffed dragon next to the tub as I placed her in and let her play with the duckies and toys as the water continued to fill slowly with warm water. Wondering how got here. The nightmares were plaguing my every dream for months. Mary and I talked about self-defense training and it seemed like the best solution to help alleviate my apparent unconscious fears.

I could hear Zsadist pacing behind us.*

Zsadist: She wasn’t even going to consider my side in this? She was just going to walk by me and ignore me like my feelings meant absolutely nothing. That’s fine. I pulled my cell out of my pocket and dialed, hearing an annoyed, “What?!” on the other end of the phone. I spoke loud enough so that Bella could hear me in the other room with the water running. “Payne is not to train Bella any more.” Wrath knew I was serious. He also wasn’t about to get in the middle of a fight between a hellren and his shellan, except for the fact that he needed me on my game when out in the field, so if this one request was going to make sure I was solid and had everyone’s six’s, he would approve of it. Anything for the fight. I hung up and left the quarters, going back down to the gym to destroy a few bags.

Bella: *My back stiffened at Z’s call clearly to Wrath about Payne training me. I cannot believe he just did that. Then LEFT! This seemed like how he was at the beginning of our relationship. With the anger and disappearing act. UGH. This male was going to be the death of me.

I knew he wouldn’t understand. I guess it was time to pack our bags then. I couldn’t live with these nightmares anymore and I needed to see this through until the end, with our without my hellren’s support. So be it.

I finished Nalla’s bath and put on her pajamas with tiny angels and grabbed her stuffed dragon and began packing a few things of hers that she would need for an overnight stay. I could get #Fritz to pack the rest of her stuff. I grabbed her things and went back into my closet and grabbed my overnight bag and packed some clothes and my things and wondered if what I was doing was right. But then I thought back to the fact that Z wasn’t even there at the training session to see that Payne wasn’t even really putting all her strength behind her hits and was just showing me the ropes of how to defend grabs and hits that males, men or even lessers would most likely do. He didn’t even talk to her to see what exactly happened to cause all my bruises.

I wasn’t even in any really pain, though I probably will feel differently tomorrow after a day’s rest. Tears fell on my hands as I belatedly noticed I was crying. Nalla sitting on our mated bed leaned into me and gave me a hug and gave me her stuffed dragon. Kissing my sweet baby on her forehead, quickly finished packing and made my way quietly down the stairs and out into the vestibule into the night. I wasn’t sure if Nalla and an overnight bag may be too much for a dematerialization especially with how I’m feeling.

But in the end, #SafePlace appeared in front of us and I went inside to look for Mary or Marissa. Beth might even be inside. It didn’t matter, one of them would let the rest of the manse know where we were soon enough.*

[ketchupqueenboiiii]

Black Cat and Desert Flower

'Kaldur, what are we doing in Paris? We finished the mission, we should be heading back home.' Said Robin, via mind-link.

'Patience, my friends, I arranged for us to have a day in the city. A vacation, if you will.' Aqualad said to the team.

'Kaldur, I don't know if you noticed but it's night.' Kid Flash was also getting impatient.

'Why are we standing under a bridge with a bunch of locks on it?' Superboy asked. He hated not knowing things.

After busting a minor league drug ring in Versailles they expected to relax in the Bioship until the arrived back in the US, not stand under a bridge.

'Can you at least tell what we need 'patience' for-' Kid Flash whined until he was interrupted by a voice.

"Who are you and what are you doing in my city?" The voice was like steel. In a way it sounded like Batman's. Not in sound, but in its tone of command. It sounded young and feminine.

'Brace your selves.' Said Robin, hands inching towards his tool belt.

'There are 6 of them. Should we attack?' Superboy adds.

'No. These are friends.' Aqualad sounded completely at ease. It would have calmed them if he wasn't always calm and collected.

Before they could refute he walked into the moonlight. They heard the voice take in a sharp breathe. So they recognized them, maybe it will prevent a fight.

"I am no less than a black cat." What? The team had no idea how this conversation took such a turn. What was she saying?

"And I am no more than a desert flower." What was their leader saying? It must have meant something because the voice squealed and a figure clad in red and black polka dots came barreling at him.

'Stand down.' He sound completely unbothered. How could he be so whelmed?

'But she's-' One tried to reason.

'Stand down, she is a friend.' He sounded, breathless? Something was going on, maybe M'gann should do a scan of his mind when they get back.

The force of the girl's impact knocked them both over. They were both smiling, eyes never straying from each others. They got a clear view to analyze the girl. She look developed and fit, but still pretty small. She shouldn't have been able to knock down a door, let alone a military trained Atlantean. Was this a secret Kryptonian?

"You're, you're here," she sounded out of breath, though clearly out of amazement rather than the run. "Oh kwami, it's been to long. Is Roy here too?" How did she know Roy? Did she know all of their civilian I.D.s?

"Sadly no, Speedy is not here. But my team and I are." He said as they stood up. They could see exactly what she was wearing. A red and black skin tight body suit with a open black leather jacket and a hood. The bodysuit was red down to her navel and black the rest of the way. Each of her palms had a black circle with a unknown ideogram in red on them. Her shoes were black army boots with red laces. So she has a theme.

She moved her gaze behind Aqualad to look at the team. They took note of her mask. Her hood covered her forehead and her eyebrows, and she wore a mask connected to her body suit that cover everything nose and down.  Leaving only her eyes exposed.

"Aqualad, who is she?" Artemis asked, hands already itching towards her arrows.

"Team, this is Ladybug. Ladybug, this is the team." He introduced, stepping away to allow them to assess each other.

"It's an honor to meet you all, Aqualad has spoken fondly of all of you. Welcome to Paris." She greeted professionally.

No one returned her greeting. They looked to Aqualad for more context.

He then gestured to Ladybug to speak. "You're probably confused as to who I am. I'm Ladybug, one of the heroes of Paris. We surfaced to reclaim a misused ancient magic artifact."

"Who is we?" Robin asked.

"Well, I realized that one city to one hero wasn't an equal ratio. So I formed a team to take some of the responsibility. Bunnix, Carapace, would you like to introduce yourselves?" A woman with an umbrella jumped from the top of the bridge and a man walked out from the shadow behind Ladybug. Both taller than her. Based on their themes, the man was Carapace and the woman was Bunnix.

"Sure thing, Boss." They said in unison and with exaggerated bows and salutes.

"Good Kwami, don't call me that." She said, pinching her nose.

"Our deepest apologies, Master. We beg your forgiveness." They spoke in unison again and with straight faces, too.

"God damn it, I'm not even fully trained-" She was interrupted by poorly muffled laughter behind her.

"Singe, you've been doing this for 3 years, and you still manage to reveal your presence in almost every situation-" Robin felt like he should interrupt before this escalates.

"Is that an umbrella?" He genuinely wanted to know.

"Are you judging? 'Cause, you shouldn't judge since you spent a year or so running around Gotham in green panties and a pole." Robin blushed in embarrassment. The team looked ready to fight these so called heroes.

"Ryu!" Ladybug reprimanded, looking affronted. Wait, Bunnix didn't say it? Then, who did?

"I'm so sorry about her. They're all really defensive about the umbrella." Okay?

"Who spoke then?" Kid Flash asked, still looking all little miffed about the comment.

"You know, Aqualad, there's enough of us for a spar." She said smirking, and ignoring Kid's question.

"If we're sparring, I want a few minutes with who ever said that stuff about Robin." He said glaring in no particular direction.

"Actually, I was thinking we do a group spar. Aqualad's team versus mine."  She suggested.

No one seemed to be against it.

"Okay then, prepare yourselves-" Aqualad started.

"Wait! I have to call of Pegasus." She brought her hand up to her ear and looked toward a building.

"Woah-woah-woah, hold up, you have a sniper?!" Kid Flash exclaimed, speedily looking around to see them.

"You have to be prepared for anything." She responded after finishing her comm-call.

"Yeah, but still, you have a sniper-"

A turquois portal appeared and a white-haired man in a brown leather bodysuit stepped out of it. His hair was held back in vertical braids gathered in a ponytail. He also wore pitch black sunglasses, even though it was the middle of the night.

"Hello." He greeted the teams before walking to stand next to Bunnix and Singe.

"Let's get ready to spar." Aqualad announced, walking not-to-subtlety towards Ladybug. The teams both walked of to strategize.

"You sure your ready to fight me again? It's been a couple months since our last spar." She quipped with pop of her hip and challenging smirk.

"If my memory is correct, you were the one with the losing streak." He smiled back with his patented sass.

"We'll see about that." They shared eye contact and a firm hand shake.

With a quick turn of a heel, "Formation!"

Bonus #1

For more context: Mari and Kaldur were not always this touchy feely. Mari spent a year or so out of Paris to train for Guardian purposes. She would have cataclysm herself before leaving Paris alone. But Tikki and Plagg convinced her that she was unstable with all of the guardian power and she would have to learn to control it. Outside of Paris. So they decided to give out the miraculous and have the new team pass around Tikki and she would take Plagg out of Paris (too many billboards and Plagg wasn't good at emotions).

So she was backpacking America, trying to find someone to help her. Unfortunately someone found her. Namely Aquaman and his partner.  Interrogating her just left them both offended.

But she did learn that she was now fluent in ancient languages, like the guardian language and Atlantean.

("What are you doing here?"

"That's not your problem."

"You sunk Atlantis! Of course it's our concern!"

"You Atlantean's think you're entitled to everything. That's why Plagg sunk your city."

"{In Atlantean} My King, should we take her to Poseidonis-"

"{in Atlantean} Excuse me, but I'm not going anywhere other than out of this cell."

"{In English} How do you-"

They call in the JL for backup and try to interrogate her, until Diana vetoes and pardons her. She offers to take her to Themyscira and train but Arthur vetoes that so now she's going to train with Roy and Kaldur. [Because they are the oldest and I believe that they worked together most pre-canon YJs1.]

{Whispers and Glares}"Atlantean bitch."

{Whispers and Glares} "Guardian scum.")

5 months and numerous fights later, Roy was tired friendTM of their shit and sat them down to make them talk. They spoke of both versions of the Sinking of Atlantis and came to the agreement that Plagg was sorry for taking things too far and that modern Atlanteans could not be blamed for the mistakes of one of their selfish past monarchs. [king whoever tried to use Plagg's miraculous to conquer and terrorize neighboring kingdoms, so in retaliation Plagg cataclysmed the entire country/city]

After getting over that they both realized, 'Hey, he/she's actually pretty cool."

Everyone kept in touch after she went back to Paris and bitched to each other about teammates and leadership and how it's, quote-unquote, 'unfair that it's legal for Mari to drink but not Roy'

I'm not good with timelines so I'm going to say that, Kaldur still has hopes for him and Tula, Mari's not entertaining anything more than friendship (no distractions), and Roy is too focused on teenaged rebellion.

[darksunrising]

Sola Gratia (10/?)

Masterlist

Rating / Warnings : Graphic descriptions of violence, Viewer discretion is advised (short paragraph)

Fandom : Bram Stoker’s Dracula, BBC’s Dracula, various Dracula and vampire lore.

Part 10/? (2730 words)

Author’s notes : Beware ! A Dracula-less chapter (-ish) ! I promise, he’ll be back soon, he really wants to go to that Renaissance fair... (Also yay, part 10 !)

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Mary Van Helsing.

I asked Leah if she hadn't made a mistake. She almost took offense. I sat back in my chair, staring at the ceiling. What ? How ? Van Helsing ? I mean, that could just be a freaky, freaky coincidence. I laughed nervously to myself.

“Hah, you gotta admit that's funny the Van Helsing kid wants to study the Balkanic middle ages”, Leah laughed. Ditto.

Seeing as I didn't reply, she asked if I felt alright. I took a deep breath.

“Leah, there's something I need to tell you.”

“Yeah, of course, what's- Oh, fuck.”

She turned back to her laptop, and started frantically typing, cursing under her breath as she did.

“Someone got my position. Jeez, whoever those guys are, they really don't want anyone finding out they exist !”

“What do you mean ?”

“I mean there's a very good chance we will have an unpleasant visit pretty soon.”

She sounded nervous, which was a strange color on her. She activated an emergency shutdown, and closed her computer, taking a moment sitting still, eyes staring into the void. She then stood up decidedly.

“We don't know who it was, could be nothing”, I tried to reassure her.

“Yeah well, not to boast or anything, but if they got through my defenses, I really don't wanna know. Listen, let's just crash at my place, there's a chance they pinged on the VPN and actually here.”

She was so determined, I didn't even think to contradict her. She left her laptop there, only taking her bike helmet. I grabbed my bag, and followed her out of my office. Even though she was tiny, I had trouble keeping up with her fast paces. As we sped through the corridors, I caught a glimpse of dirty hazelnut hair, and grabbed Leah's arm to take a hard right into another hallway. Felt like running into Helder right now wouldn't be the best turn of events. Plus, I was supposed to give a class he was attending, so, that.

“Thinking back exit ?”

“What else ?”

We kept half-jogging to the end of the corridor, turning a few curious heads on the way, pushed on a service door, and slipped outside. The sun blinded me a second, as we made our way to the parking lot. Leah dug her keys out of her pockets, and unlocked the pad on her motorcycle, cursing a few more times every time she ripped around the keyhole. She turned to give me her helmet, and stopped halfway, wincing. Ah.

“Eris Cetero and Leah Fox. I'm going to need you to come with us.”

A very sharply dressed woman was standing a few paces away, icy stare and tightly pulled dark hair. She looked composed, unyielding, and was flanked on both sides by two men built like wardrobes, poorly dissimulating a handgun under their suit jackets. Not the kind of person to try to run away from, then.

“Listen, we didn't mean any harm. We could all just forget it.”

Sometimes, her bluntness had some perks. She had moved over in front of me, her hand grasping mine.

“You are not in trouble. At least not with us”, the woman continued. “We thought we would wait more, but you forced our hand.”

“We have no idea what you're talking about”, Leah kept going, still on the defensive.

I said nothing, trying to keep a straight face.

“My name is Mary Van Helsing. I work in the Murray Institute for the Neutralization of Abnormalities. We have a lot to discuss, especially with you, Miss Cetero.”

Ah shit. Let's think about this rationally. There was no way I could escape that situation. I also didn't want Leah to get in trouble, and I started to see she was about to keep on going if I didn't do anything. I took a deep breath, which had her stop.

“Alright. We have crossed a line digging into things we shouldn't have. You are entitled to some explanations, and if you feel like this can't be done in a parking lot, so be it. Lead the way”, I declared, trying to be as calm and composed as I could.

I was met by a look of disbelief on Leah's face, and an emotionless nod from Mary, who turned on her heels without a word. Can't believe my incredible charm hadn't worked on her yet. Leah's hand softened, and I took a hold of it as we walked to the intimidating sedan waiting for us.

~ ~ ~

The ride took a bit longer than I thought. From the moment Leah started going deeper in her search, and the moment they arrived, it couldn't have been more than fifteen minutes, and yet, it took well over half an hour to get to our destination. Maybe they were already close, and we just got unlucky. Seemed about right.

We remained silent the whole car ride. You couldn't have hacked through the tension using a damn chainsaw, at this point. Leah and I held hands, so tight I saw her knuckles going white. She was shaking a little, and I hated myself for putting her through this. If only I weren't a nosy fucking idiot.

We arrived to a decrepit-looking building, most likely turn of the 19th century architecture. Above the entrance, the stone looked like it had been engraved, a while ago, but the script was almost completely worn out. Inside, the emptiness gave an echo to every step, the ground overrun with cables coming from other parts of the house. We kept on going straight forward, went down a slope, and arrived to a huge freight elevator. It made a shrieking noise as it went down for a while, so deep we might as well have gone straight down to hell. If you believe in that sort of thing.

The elevator shook as it stopped, opening on a surprisingly high-tech complex.

“Ladies, welcome to M.I.N.A.”, Mary told us as we stepped off.

The first room was a large hall, open on two more stories, visible through balconies, on which were plastered neon lights. In neatly aligned cubicles, employees worked on god knows what, piles of paper cluttering all desks, the intermittent sound of phones and the indistinct chatter of radio making the noise almost unbearable. Mary kept on walking, some people greeting her as she passed them, and giving Leah and I the strangest looks. Ooh, boy. That was about to be fun.

She opened large fire-breaking doors, and we went on a corridor, making a few turns. As I had learned by now, I memorized the turns. Right, left at the weird plant, another left at the water fountain. She opened a door for us, leaving us to enter before her. That looked awfully like an interrogation room, with one table at the center, and two uncomfortable chairs. The double sided-mirror occupying one of the walls was also a dead giveaway.

One of the guards stopped Leah as she went after me. As she protested, they told us they would explain the situation separately. If they actually knew anything, that might be the smarter option. I reassured her, smiling, and went into the interrogation room. One of the guards came with me, and closed the door, only to stand in a corner, silent. I dragged out a chair to sit, waiting for anything to happen.

“Not really talkative around here, huh ?”, I asked, knowing I wouldn't get an answer.

Moments later, Mary came back into the room, holding a few files, one distinctly bearing my name. It does something to your ego, to have your name on a secret society's secret case file, in their secret underground bunker. The woman sat on the other side of the table, leaning forward on her elbows.

“Miss Cetero, do you really have no idea why you're here ?”, she asked.

Of course I know why I'm here. You know I know. You saw me try to fly into the wind with my partner in crime as soon as we knew you found us. I just had to put my best performance on. Tremble, Hollywood.

“Well, we did hack into some pretty secure servers to get information that we weren't supposed to get”, I told her, and shrugged. “That seems pretty clear to me.”

“There's that, but I want to talk about something else.”

Her face was completely unfeeling, yet her voice was soft, a bit too maternal for my tastes. I had a little smile, encouraging her to talk. There was no risk if I wasn't talking.

“Do you believe at all in the, quote-unquote, supernatural ?”

If she kept talking to me like I was a particularly simple child, I'd show her something supernatural pretty damn soon. I worked to keep down the wave of righteous anger crashing against the insides of my chest.

“Do you mean... ghosts ?”, I ventured.

“Among others. I'm talking more specifically about vampires.”

Her eyes were gleaming behind the rectangles of her glasses. I didn't react, other than a little laugh. Alright, keep it up, play dumb.

“Vampires ? Come on, is this a joke ? Did Leah put you up to this ?”, I giggled.

Not that dumb, fuck's sake. Nobody was this stupid. I actually wanted to kill myself. I was so in character my voice went up an octave all on its own. Repressing a shiver, I kept on smiling like a brainless fish.

“I'm afraid I'm dead serious. As... Phantasmagorical as it may seem, such creatures exist, and we believe you, and your friend, may be in grave danger.”

Well, that seemed to actually work pretty well. Not really trying to think of the reasons why I had so little trouble passing as brain-dead, I had a nervous laughter, and kept going.

“Do I have to look around for a man in a black cape next time I leave my building, Mrs. Van Helsing ?”

“Doctor Van Helsing, actually. And rather, you should look around for the man you know as professor Vlad Balaur.”

Ah, direct, I see.

“I'm not sure I get your meaning.”

“We have good reasons to think Vlad Balaur is a vampire, trying to pass himself up as Vlad Dracula Tepes, a character you of all people know well.”

I didn't say anything, but my heart sank to my stomach.

“In what I will tell you, I want you to assume everything I say is true”, she started, leaning back. “In 1896, a team made up from Jonathan Harker, Quincey Morris, Mina Murray-Harker, and Abraham Van Helsing, put an end to the reign of terror of the vampire known as Dracula. It seemed he was no other than Vlad Tepes, the Impaler, who supposedly had, quote-unquote, “died” during the 15th century. At his return to London, he decided to create this institution, to be certain that should such a horrific event happen again, people would have the knowledge and resources to deal with it.”

She took a pause, gauging my reaction. I tried to keep my innocent façade, but has strictly no idea wether she could tell I was faking. The feeling of dread creeping its way into my mind didn't help either.

“Bram Stoker was an accomplice to the whole ordeal, and published his book, which was explicitly branded as fiction. You know the rest, concerning the sometimes questionable turn of the theme into popular culture. However, vampires, among other numerous creatures, are still a threat on humanity today. And a lot of them take inspiration from ancient figures, like Count Dracula. This would not be the first time one of them fashioned himself the Dark Prince Returned.”

“I'm sorry”, I interrupted, “But how can you expect me to believe any of that ? Do you even have any proof ?”

I tried to keep my panic out of my tone. I didn't want to believe it, but what if she was right ? She couldn't be, right ? He knew so much about everything, and... I tried to calm myself down. Just need to get through this, I'll talk this out with the man himself. All would be well.

“Even if you were right, even if professor Balaur was a vampire”, I began as she only kept staring at me. “He never tried to hurt me, or had any reprehensible behavior toward me or Leah. Why would I need to be worried ?”

She looked at me for what seemed like hours, and finally pulled a file from her pile, and slid it towards me. She then sat back, and lit a cigarette. She offered one, and I declined politely, asking what was in the file.

“All around the city, for the last month, we had a count of twenty-four murders”, she declared. “Look at the pictures, and you tell me what kind of person could have done this.”

Shaking a bit, I opened the file, and instantly had to put a hand over my mouth. You can watch hours and hours of horror movies, and never get used to anything like that. Everything was red. Seeping into the fabrics, clothing, mattresses, drapes. Splattered on the walls, dripping from the ceilings. Body parts, bent in impossible angles, flesh frayed, shredded in long clawing marks, leaving the internal organs and their contents spilling out of the deformed corpses. Throats. Open. So torn apart it just looked like a bundle of rubber tubes. On one of the victim's descriptive notes, I glimpsed the word “pregnant”. I closed my eyes, looking away. There were hundreds. Mary offered again, and I took the cigarette. I closed the case file, taking a long drag.

“What happened in Romania, Miss Cetero ?”, she asked, a bit more softly.

I raised my head to meet her gaze. “I... Nothing happened. I- I visited some museums, hiked a little, why do you ask ?”

My eyes welled up with tears, and keeping on a neutral smile was a physical effort at this point. I kept seeing flashes of teeth, the horse, inside out, bled dry.

“We believe he might come from there, which is why he would identify with Dracula. He could have taken a liking to you there, and followed you here.”

“I think I would remember an encounter with something that does... that does this on a daily basis”, I snapped, fighting through tears. That couldn't be right. It couldn't.

“Your memory could have been wiped. It's not uncommon, once again.”

I started to feel dizzy. Maybe it was the cigarette. I didn't smoke very often, so that was probably that, right ? I must have remained silent a while, because Mary leaned forward, putting back the file on the pile.

“Listen, I will make this as clear as possible”, she snapped. “If we are to stop this creature, we need your full support. For some reason, he trusts you more than most. You cannot tell him about your knowledge of this place.”

She slid a card across the table.

“If you are ever in danger, or need any information, call us. We will call you if necessary.”

She put out her cigarette on a portable ashtray, and I did the same, mechanically.

“What did you tell Leah ?”, I asked.

“Nothing more than she needs to know, which does not include anything about Vlad Balaur. We think the less people know, the safer it is.”

I nodded, and slipped the card into my pocket. Nothing about this felt safe, or right, or anything but confusing, and nauseating. They escorted me out, and I still felt engulfed in cotton, everything muted, even when Leah nearly jumped into my arms as I got out. I barely realized I walked, or the time spent in the car, until they dropped me off at home.

I dragged myself to my apartment, and went straight to bed, half expecting to see him there, on the balcony. Instead, I found a note. I opened the window, and took the folded sheet of paper. The same he used back in Romania, and the same fine, elegant handwriting. It was weighed down with a polished rock, which I noticed, upon further inspection, contained a multitude of little fossils.

I have heard historians like old things, here is one.

For another, I will be back soon.

All my love,

Vlad.

~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~

Taglist : @carydorse​ @angelicdestieldemon​ @bloodhon3yx​ @thewondernanazombie​ @battocar​ @moony691​ @mjlock​ @thebeautyofdisorder​ @festering-queen​ @paracosmfantasy​ @my-fanfic-library

[gloieee]

(Belated and unfinished thoughts on) Mistakes

I don’t do regrets. It’s what I’ve said about myself for as long as I can remember. I torture myself over decisions, interrogate myself, hold on until its unbearable, “because” I don’t do regrets. Thinking about it like this makes me chuckle, because it’s abundantly clear that there’s something wrong with that statement. This is a digression though. What’s clear is that I’ve always made decisions carefully, often erring on overthinking and internal agony. I guess the true reason I haven’t regretted my decisions is because I hold onto decisions until it’s clear that I have no choice but to finally choose. At that point, I’ve beat the dilemma to the core. I can’t regret because I know I exhausted myself, and that I drove myself to a point of no return. Regardless of whether it’s the right decision or not, I know that whatever I chose was inevitable.

I’ve made a lot of decisions these past few years. I suppose all decisions are somewhat related to your circumstances, but I feel as though I’ve made some active decisions over the past few years. I guess it feels more like “active” decisions because many were decisions that not many supported. I’ve always gone against the current, but not in any kind of romantic, rebellious, edgy way—I find no delight in defining myself as ~alternative~ or a free soul or some bougie highbrow connoisseur of life. I literally hate that shit, perhaps because I feel indignant. I feel like more of a farce than some open-minded intellectual artist type. Ultimately, I want the plainest, most generic things in the world—revel in security, love the suburbs, love benefits-eligible positions and dream of being a homeowner—but yet, I seem to choose the hardest route to that goal. It looks like I’m purposefully trying to find the most difficult path, like some ego-driven power tripping junkie, which makes me let out an empty chuckle and feel despair at the same time.  

Anyway back to decisions. I guess it comes with the territory of “adulthood,” which must stay in quotations, because I most definitely don’t feel like an adult. I certainly don’t have the self-sustainability that I associated with adulthood, that I hope to have at this point in my life. Under this definition though, I do wonder whether I’ll ever really be an adult in the sense that my parents appeared to me as a young child. I doubt adulthood comes automatically with becoming a parent. At least not for our generation. Yes, many of my even my active decisions, have (perhaps) inadvertently led to suffering on my end, lots of pain, turmoil that most would label “unnecessary.” Yet, despite all that, I have never quite regretted my decisions. Partly because I was convinced it had to be so; partly because I did really value those experiences. I valued learning from suffering. I wasn’t as idealistic or passionately aesthetic enough (or, lacked in painful experiences enough) to ever see the beauty of suffering, as the deepest realization of the human experience. But I suppose I was open enough to see the value of experiences, of difficulties. “The world/ gives you/ so much pain/ and here you are/ making gold out of it –there is nothing purer than that.” I guess this was what I felt. This is certainly in the the past tense. It’s a pessimistic reading of my present state, because it implies that I am currently in a place where I can’t even appreciate some of the rather deep experiences of life, to embrace the ups and downs that have been thrust upon me. The alternative reading is a pessimistic, or even tragic reading of my past, in that maybe I felt that way back then because I had no choice. I was in such despair and pain that it was all meaningless, if I didn’t convince myself that I was “learning” from it, it would’ve broken me. And God knows there’s nothing that gets my ego and survival instincts going like the thought that something could “break me.” That’s definitely why I’ve made some of the most foolhardy decisions of my life, which have been many. Someone softens, and says that sounds too hard, and I balk, and go ham cause I can’t break my streak. I think I’m pretty humble, or at least, I’ve never been a humble bragger, but I have a weird protectiveness about being “strong.” But again, a part of me feels like it’s definitely a defense mechanism. 

I fell in love with Andre 3000 this winter/ spring—in Boston, is there really a difference at this point? On the surface level, his lyricism, the way he literally plays with language, has made me see how rap, in its truest form, is the most exulting and perfect form of poetry. It’s perhaps been the only form of aestheticism and beauty that I’ve been able to appreciate as of late. And of course, his obsession/ fascination/ fear/ disillusionment with love is something I’ve always resonated with. The unshakeable tone of resignation, the empty but deep sense of pain in Andre’s recent solo bits pulls at my heartstrings.  The profoundly real sentiment of emptiness comes across regardless of the content (T.I- Sorry).

I'm a grown-ass kid, you know ain't never cared about no damn money Why do we try so hard to be stars, just to dodge comments

And this that shit that'll make you call your baby mama When you gone on half a pill, don't know why but that I did Then you take a flight back to the crib, y'all make love like college kids And you say all the shit you gon' do better, we can try this shit again 'Round the time the dope wear off, you feel stupid, she feel lost That's that dope, I mean, I mean dopamine you think Cupid done worn off

Maybe should have stayed but it ain't yo fault Too much pressure, I fell off, I'm sorry Was young and had to choose between you And what the rest of the world might offer me, shit what would you do Well I'd probably do it differently if second the chance Only if some cool ass older man would've let me know in advance

This, this quarry, that is dug so deep in a father's chest When he feel that he's broken up his nest And he figured shit he was just doing the best that he could Which end up being the worst that he could

Regrets. You really see it here. True regrets are admitting you “would’ve done it differently,” but knowing you can’t go back and fix it. Even the hypothetical second chance is qualified: “Only if some cool ass older man would've let me know in advance.” But there was no cool ass older man back then, there’s just Andre now (props for his humble brag here, which he also does so well in “Walk it Out”—a glimmer of hope for Andre despite the sadness of his recent songs). It can’t be fixed at this point. It’s not about the people or the individual parts involved that could change the situation. Him getting back with Erykah Badu (who he’s most likely referring to) and raising Seven together at this point wouldn’t make it right.  The “second chance” can’t ever come. You can hear the “quarry,” dug so deep and hollow in Andre’s chest.  

Well, sitting here sad as hell Listening to Adele, I feel you baby Someone like you, more like someone unlike you Or something that's familiar maybe

The emptiness. You know you’re sad when you’re a man at a strip club but being “saddened” by the injustices of the pecking order of strippers (“All of them ain't all equipped/ And this saddens me, I see the pecking order/ Quote-unquote "bad bitches" work the whole floor/ Those that get laughed at sit off in the corner/ Like a lab rat nobody want her). “Someone like you, more like someone unlike you/ Or something that's familiar maybe” is such a biting analysis of how people feel post-break up. More often than not, we may want “someone like you” in the sense that we want someone we could share the intensity, the emotion with, but it’s “someone unlike you” that we actively seek—someone who won’t cheat, won’t treat you like shit, who will  accept you for who you are, won’t make you feel small, who’s stable, who’s fun, who might last—but yet, we often end up finding someone “familiar.” It’s a disenchantment. A sly peak behind the curtains to uncover the truth (Drake- The Real Her). Familiarity is covert—it’s not active, it’s not conscious, it’s a sense, a shadow, a feeling you can’t put your finger on. We don’t want to think we’re dating someone because they’re familiar, we want it to be fate, unique, the one.

Since you been gone I been having withdrawals You were such a habit to call I ain't myself at all had to tell myself naw She's better with some fella with a regular “job”/jaw I didn't wanna get her involved

Even when Andre misses someone, it’s almost as if he’s purposefully comparing her to a drug, to convince himself that it’s just a craving and a literal “habit” (Frank Ocean- Pink Matter). He gives up on her before he even gives it a shot—saying “naw, she's better with some fella with a regular “job”/jaw” (also love love love the play on words here with job and jaw (his protruding, unconventional jaw line), the ingenious rhyming with naw fella and jaw—it gets me every time). This entire song is divine. Soft pink matter, Cotton Candy, majin buu, so genius.

What do you think my brain is made for Is it just a container for the mind? Sensei went quiet then violent And we sparred until we both grew tired Nothing mattered Cotton candy, Majin Buu, oh, oh Dim the lights and fall into you, you, you My God, giving me pleasure Pleasure, pleasure, pleasure Pleasure over matter

I’ve rarely heard someone sing so intensely, which is contrasted with Andre’s off-handed ambivalence.  

5.22.2018

[starsisbig]

Part 3~ @histrionicdaisy im on a roll

Lee isn’t sure why he decides to go back again and again. Maybe he needs to know it’s real– that he didn’t dream up a scary flirt and a ghost from his past. He doesn’t tell his dad how ridiculous it is or how useless it seems. No, Lee takes the next check and hops on his bike.

He hopes this is the part of him that wants to get better taking over.

Lee had woken up early. Immediately uneasy from a forgotten dream, he’d slugged through his morning ritual with persistence and resistance smacking at each other. Every room felt unfamiliar, and for a halting moment, he couldn’t remember which toothbrush was his.

The first breath of outside air felt like a parachute. He was no longer uncontrollably hurtling toward– something. Relief was so loud. Loud enough that he didn’t hear the broken latch crack against metal.

Lee is taking the longer, safer, back-road through the trees. Riding in the narrow strip of gravel along the highway is far less peaceful; tractor-trailers and pick-ups roar by with their coughing diesel engines, hardly taking care to avoid bicyclists. The wind off their tires and exhaust burn the inside of Lee’s nose.

Here, it smells like pine and blooming pollen. The breeze carries gently over to his back. Cars are sparse, so he can look up to notice the sky and enjoy how it looks against the white of birch bark. This route is longer, too. Something like contentment finds him three-quarters of the way there.

When he arrives, two people are visible through the front window. One has a dark, beanied head, the other has voluminous curls of black hair. The two least likely to talk to him.

Despite this, anxiety starts to boil deep in his chest. He’s going to have to sit in that tiny waiting room with them and their “not-talking.” They’ll be looking at him. They’ll wonder what a guy like him is still doing at group therapy. They’ll look at him and think about how pitiful he must be to land here from where he was.

Lee takes his time unwinding the bike lock. He plays with the idea that he can’t remember the combination. Then, of course, the rubber-like material on the coil is absolutely confounding. It’s not his fault if he takes an extra minute to examine its properties.

A car skids into the parking space behind him, forcing him out of his mind. With a hand over his pounding heart, he reflexively turns around.

Theo barely shifts the car into park before he’s swinging out of his dingy-gray Honda Civic. His eyes are harpooned through Lee’s neck.

Fucking hell.

Lee puts additional focus into the chain-link fence, fantasizing about the glorious safety of the waiting room. Russ and Daphne’s gazes would be kinder. He imagines ripping his heart out and chucking it across the lot, Go fetch!, and breaking for the building.

Theo doesn’t speak. He walks over slowly, occasionally dragging his rubber-soled shoes over the pavement.

When the noise stops, Lee manages to look up.

Heat floods the two-foot gap between them.

His face is completely blank. He doesn’t know what Theo wants from this. Lee should probably say something. Ask him. Make it friendly. Impossibly black eyes give nothing away. Freckles across his nose and cheeks don’t spell any clues, and his lips are cracking, in desperate need of Chapstick.

Freckles?

Why is he so scared of this little bespeckled kid, again?

He’s about to release his bated breath when Theo sniffs, making Lee and his traitorous cheek flinch in surprise.

Theo nods and starts over to the door. Okay.

There’s something off about that guy.

In an unspoken agreement, everyone sits in the same spots as last time. Dora slouches languidly in the largest armchair, Cassie twirls on a padded office chair, and Theo hops to his perch on the arm of a yellow loveseat, strangling the life out of a decorative pillow.

Dr. Usa opens “How is everyone today? Anything big happen since we last saw each other?”

Cassie immediately raises her hand.

“Cassie! Great. With a small group like this, you can feel free to just shout it out.”

“Yes, ma’am!” she enthused with a dinky salute. “Well, I put pictures of some of my paintings online– watermarked, of course– and someone bought one! I don’t know them, but they’re going to send the money through PayPal. They gave me their address. I’m sending the painting– it’s a view of the sky from my backyard– to them in the mail!”

Lee feels a smile force itself onto his face, cracking the plaster of an incomplete mask.

“That must feel very rewarding.”

“Oh, yes!”

His hours of sleep feel infinitely far away. What has he got to be proud of. Anymore. Lee remembers newspaper clippings on the fridge, surprise parties from his team and his family, his little brother swearing up and down Lee was the best football player in the world, and how Neal was going to be a quarterback just like him. God, did he take that harmony for granted. Now, his father and Neal just look at him. That’s all they manage to do when he’s around.

“Lee?”

“Yes?” He blinks a couple times, meeting Dr. Usa’s gaze. “Sorry. I was...” he trails off.

“Someone didn’t have their listening ears on.”

He sighs and looks at Dora. Eyes tired, he says “That’s why I apologized.”

Something flashed in her eyes, face assuming a rather odd expression. Surprise, maybe? Embarrassment... seems unlikely.

“It’s quite alright, Lee. I just asked how your day off went.”

Air puffs through his lips. “It was fine. My little brother had a soccer tournament, so he and my dad were out all day.”

“You didn’t want to go with them?”

“Nah. I liked having time by myself.” He starts fiddling with his sleeves. Alone is safer. Fewer awkward conversations that no one wants to have.

“I feel that.” Theo agrees in an exhale, thumb and middle finger pressing over his eyelids.

With the focus momentarily elsewhere, Lee takes the opportunity to sink into his chair. The heat of the spotlight recedes. Theo is talking. From what Lee’s seen, it’s obvious he takes to attention like a plant to the sun.

“We had extended family from all over tarnation at the house yesterday. It was ridiculous! They wouldn’t understand my right to privacy if it bit them in the–”

“Theo.”

“Sorry, but they wouldn’t! They act like lowering their voices protects the sanctity of the quote, unquote ‘secret’ when they’re telling it to everyone!”

“Why don’t you like your family discussing this?”

“‘Cuz it’s me they’re discussing!”

“Please keep your voice down.”

“Sorry.” Theo says it quick, like an afterthought. “They aren’t acting concerned. They’re tossing around what’s ‘wrong’ with me like hot gossip. Like– finally something interesting is happening in the family.” The last part is drawled with a dramatic touch of the fingertips to the sternum, but his voice is too sharp to be simply joking.

“Every family, and every person in it has a different way of expressing their emotions toward a situation. It’s possible this is their way of showing that they see what’s going on, and just don’t know how to help.” Dr. Usa’s voice is melodious and quiet. It’s a very distinct contrast to Theo’s frustration.

“Well. I wish they’d cut it out.”

Lee notices the subtle tremors in Theos hands as they cover his face. Something’s coming loose. He has a feeling that when Theo falls apart he doesn’t crumble. No, those are bolts rattling, threatening to blow outward with the shriek of scalding steam.

“My family acts like nothing happened at all.”

When silence strikes the room, nerves punch him right in the gut. Shit. That’s where his plan ended. All eyes have moved back to him. He successfully got the attention away from Theo– go him– but he, being an eternal idiot, failed to realize that now he’d have to hold it.

Thankfully, Dr. Usa says “It’s likely a very painful topic, seeing someone they care about hurt.”

He laughs. Immediately he covers his mouth, feeling like he’d just smacked himself across the cheek. Wiping the knee-jerk reaction from his face, Lee swallows.

“Yeah.”

Before Dr. Usa has a chance to follow up, Cassie bursts in.

“If they don’t care, they don’t matter!”

Her nose is scrunched up, pinched by the angry purse of her lips. A newly pale-painted, manicured finger points at the ceiling, as if that’s where the injustice is hiding.

Cassie always seems to have a motivational quote up her sleeve. This is not the first time one had been directed at him. And though the words themselves aren’t helpful, the earnest way she delivers them always heals a small part of the ache.

“Thanks, Cassie. They matter. They’ve just moved on. They have other things to worry about.” The half-lie tastes weak as it leaves his mouth. He knows his family is embarrassed by his mistakes; they can’t bear to revisit the shame.

He sees movement in the corner of his eye, where movement is usually not. Russ is signing something.

“Family is not always right.”

Instead of going home right after, Lee decides to sit cross-legged on the pavement next to his bike. He has Twitter open on his phone, but he’s not really reading anything.

It’s nearly 10:45. His brother is probably up. Neal’ll probably hang around the house for a bit, texting a couple of his bajillion friends to meet up. Then, he’ll borrow dad’s car and pick them up on the way downtown, uptown, or a McDonalds in either direction.

Dad is probably working on the shed. The roof caved last winter, and he needs a dry place to store the tractor. Since his brother is taking the car, he’ll have no choice but to stay home.

A kick to his left shoe startles him back to the real world. He sees ragged black jeans.

Theo looks at him, avoiding his eyes.

“Thanks.”

Thanks? Not sure what he’s referencing, he responds “Uh, yeah. No problem.”

“Sorry. You know, about earlier. You’re confusing.”

Not as confusing as this conversation. Lee just looks at Theo, hoping for some elaboration.

“Okay.”

Theo turns and skips back to his car. He opens the drivers-side door and points to Lee over the roof.

“You’re a real one, Lee Pugnator,” he shouts. “If Nicki Minaj lyrics were enough I’d be serenading you right now, you gorgeous son-of-a-bitch.”

Lee laughs helplessly.

That kid is absolutely inscrutable.

[marvelhead17]

Miracle (Original Female Character x Cable)

Chapter 30

Summary: “How did you fix it?” he asked. “Ask Ellen the Teenage Warhead,” Wade shrugged as he stood up, “As for baby Hitler he ended up having a diaper change, funny story I was actually going to call Cable since he was so keen on killing Russel, I thought this would be like taking candy from a baby, if that means replacing it with a bullet that is,”

Warnings to cover the whole fic: Graphic depictions of violence, use of weapons, mild to strong language, mentions of rape, mentions of pregnancy and miscarriage, referenced torture and psychological abuse/manipulation, nightmares and night terrors, sexual humour, sexual content.

Word count:  2k

Two Months Later

Xavier’s School had officially closed for the school year for nearly a month now for the summer holidays, although a lot of the kids chose to stay behind due to their home situations, if of course they had homes to return to.

This meant Wade and Russel had plenty of catching up to do in terms of chaos and havoc, in his new honed abilities and Wade’s pre-planned pranks, which were of course aimed towards stressing Colossus out greatly, or irritating Ellie beyond reasoning.

Hayden sat on the couch with her music playing in her ears, thinking back to yesterday where Wade had tried to prank Nathan and how it went horribly wrong, for Wade that is. She grinned as she replayed the events in her mind.

It started off early in the morning when Nathan decided to have some coffee…

    “C’mon Nathan, don’t you trust me? I swear I just made it, it’s still hot, see?” Wade insisted as he poured the black liquid into Nathan’s large mug.

“No, and you know that, but you’re still a persistent little shit anyway,” he grumbled but took his mug anyway; he eyed the steam that floated out and decided to let his initial instincts on the matter go.

That was his first mistake of the long day.

He took a big swig of the coffee and spat it out almost immediately after his tongue caught on to the foul taste.

“What the fuck is this?” he half yelled as he slammed the mug down on the table, it shattered all over the counter and the remaining coffee spilled to the floor as well.

“It’s Balsamic Coffee!” Wade laughed, albeit rather nervously. “Look Cable it was just a-”

“Just a prank? I’ve had it up to here with all the pranks you’ve both been doing on Colossus and Ellie, everyone’s trying to relax after a long year and you’re making us sit on the edge of our sanity with your endless ‘practical jokes’,” he took a step closer to Wade with gritted teeth.

He grabbed Wade’s shirt collar and lifted him off the ground, the muscles in his arms tensing up and the veins revealing themselves.

  “Nathan,” Hayden touched his shoulder gently, his muscles relaxed and he lowered Wade slightly. “Put him down, please,” he put Wade onto the ground again, “Thank you,” she stood on her toes and kissed him on the cheek, making it hard for him to hide the smile creeping up on his hard demeanour.

“Mhm,” he grumbled in acknowledgement, still glaring at Wade.

“As for you Wade,” she turned and poked him hard in the chest with her finger, causing him to take a step back in fear, “I completely agree with Nathan, you need to stop with all these pranks, and soon. Or I’m going to beat your senses back into you, understand?” Wade nodded nervously, “Good. Now go.”

                      Wade quickly ran from the room, still managing to maintain a skip in his steps from the joy of messing with Nathan.

“That wasn’t just about the crappy coffee, was it?” she turned back to Nathan after she shook her head at Wade, “What’s bugging you?”

“You read me far too well for my liking darlin’,” he huffed but still wrapped an arm around her waist.

“It’s about Hope’s birthday, isn’t it?” she pressed, he only nodded in response, “I don’t see why you can’t have Hope come here-”

“You know she wouldn’t have it-”

“So what, Nathan, she’s your daughter for God’s sake, you have every right to celebrate her damn birthday with her!” Hayden moved away from him feeling irritated as she tried to make her case, starting to pace back and forth as she spoke.

“Her mother has full custody of her-”

“That didn’t stop you from taking her to the carnival months ago! And it certainly didn’t stop you from bringing her back here several times to spend time with you-”

“I can’t kidnap my own daughter every time I want to see her Hayden,”

“And why the hell not?” she crossed her arms, “Hope loves it here, she wants to be around her dad as much as she can, she’s allowed to make her own choices of who she wants to live with-”

“Hayden-”

“I mean it! You can’t let your ex run half of your life Nathan-”

“Hayden,” he placed his hands on her shoulders stopping her pacing.

“What?” she asked angrily.

  “What’s this really about?” he asked looking down into her eyes.

“It’s not about anything besides you spending time with Hope,” she answered too quickly.

“Wrong, try again,”

“I- fine,” she sighed, “I really want to see Hope again, alright? She gives me the chance to see everything through the eyes of a real kid, not like me. I was training as a soldier from her age- I love her Nathan, she’s a sweetheart and I’ll be damned if I can’t see her be happy for her birthday,”

Nathan’s expression turned to that of a big grin, “Really now?”

“Yes,” she rolled her eyes, “Is that so hard to believe?”

“Just a little,” he teased.

“Nate, seriously,” she tugged at his shirt and looked up at him as his arms circled instinctively around her waist, “do you know what Hope told me would be the greatest gift for her birthday?” he shook his head, “To quote, ‘to be with my Daddy, last year he promised he’d come back on time but he didn’t, I don’t hate him though. I know he still loves me’, unquote.”

“She really said that?” his face softened and his eyes wetted slightly.

“Of course she did, she’s your daughter and she loves you Nathan.”

  He thought for a moment before finally speaking up, “I’ll probably be hearing from her lawyers because of this, but for my little girl’s birthday, how could I say no?”

“Good,” Hayden patted his cheek and smiled, “You’re doing the right thing Nathan.” She rested her arms playfully around his neck.

“God I hope so,” he sighed and leaned his face closer to hers, “You’re getting me into a lot of trouble you know that Haydes?”

“Not that you’re resisting much to begin with,” she giggled and he smiled before kissing her lips slowly, she smiled and pressed the kiss back eagerly.

                                                         * * *

  Afternoon

Nathan had insisted that Hayden play her guitar and sing for him up in her room, telling her that it helped him relax better, especially whenever Wade was driving him crazy, which was more often than not. She didn’t mind though, seeing as how today Wade was driving him up the wall more so than usual.

He was laid back on the bed and listening with his eyes closed and a calm expression across his face, he was practically in a dozing state until he heard the sounds of someone clambering around in his room; he sat upright and sighed irritably.

“That better not be Wade,” he grumbled and Hayden stopped playing.

“I highly doubt that it isn’t,”

“OH GOD WHAT I COULD DO WITH THIS BEAR,” they heard Wade say loudly.

“WADE-” he shot up from his seated position and ran out from Hayden’s room, “YOU BETTER NOT BE TOUCHING MY DAUGHTER’S BEAR YOU-”

  Hayden got up and followed quickly only to find that Nathan was rolling on the floor by his door, his upper torso covered with saran wrap, he struggled with it as it clung tightly around him. Wade stood inside the room cackling with success.

“What the hell is this, get it off!” Nathan yelled.

“Wade seriously?” Hayden sighed and held Nathan still on the floor; she started peeling off the material slowly and eventually unravelled it all from him.

                  “I thought his futuristic cyborg eye would have helped him at least see the stuff, that went way better than expected,”

Nathan got himself up from the floor and gave Wade a death glare, his own face flushed red from his embarrassment at being fooled by such a silly prank, Hayden put her hand on his shoulder.

“Are you alright Nate? You didn’t get hurt anywhere?” she eyed over his form quickly.

“I’m fine,” he didn’t meet her gaze as he was embarrassed.

“Good,” she pecked his cheek before turning to Wade, “Do you remember a word of what I told you earlier?” she asked through gritted teeth.

He gulped, “Ah, that corporal punishment is wrong and getting off with a verbal warning is the only way a person will learn?” he said rather hopefully.

“Definitely not,” she approached him and slapped him hard in the face, leaving a bright red handprint clear on his cheek, “What the hell is wrong with you? You don’t go and poke the bear, and you certainly don’t torture the bear with stupid shit like this,” Wade rubbed his cheek and didn’t meet her gaze, “Wade, seriously you could have hurt him now-”

“I said I’m fine Haydes-”

She ignored him, “Promise me, and really promise me, no more pranks that can really hurt someone?”

“Fine, I promise,” Wade gave in, throwing his hands in the air.

“Thank you, it’s really big of you to take responsibility like this,”

“Ugh responsibility, that’s the worst,” he tilted his face towards the ceiling.

                                                           * * *

  Evening

Hayden was helping Nathan out with his new phone (again) that he’d gotten, he didn’t have a need for smartphones in the future, as whatever information he needed was always displayed around for everyone to read or he could simply find it by using his metal arm to locate the information on a server when he got hold of some wiring.

He still wasn’t used to the smaller screen in his big hands, and he was altogether unfamiliar with the topics of interest in this era, making him get rather irritable with the ‘complicated’ device very easily.

“I don’t see why you want to learn all this; it’s all just a fad anyway,” she shrugged at him.

“Because I don’t want to be the old man who doesn’t understand technology,” he insisted.

“You don’t even use this stuff in the future, and for the last time you’re not old,” she squeezed his hand and he gave a small side smile, “Besides, you only really need to be able to call one of us, if it’s absolutely necessary and you already know how to do that,”

  Whoop.

  Nathan’s phone sounded and the notification panel displayed at the top of the screen, ‘New message from ‘Wilson’’.

“What does that idiot want now?” he opened the chat and saw there was an attachment that needed to be downloaded, the caption ‘Open me when you’re alone’ along with it, he looked to Hayden.

She shook her head, “I really wouldn’t, who knows what he’s done now,”

“That’s exactly why I have to open it,” Nathan sighed; he tapped the screen and after a moment the image downloaded to his phone he opened it and gagged. “God what is wrong with him?” he put his phone to the side.

“What is it?” she asked trying to reach for it but Nathan grabbed her hand to stop her and shook his head.

“It’s a picture of the cunt’s dick, I can’t believe he actually- wait a minute,” Nathan’s eyes went wide and he grabbed the phone again, “Son of a bitch this was taken in my room!” he got up and went upstairs, Hayden followed closely behind.

  “Son of a bitch,” Nathan muttered as he stormed into his room, the entire of it being covered with multiple coloured edits of blown up images of Wade’s dick, “He’s relentlessly disgusting,” he pulled an image off the wall and tore it into pieces, “I’m cutting his dick off for this.”

“I might just hold him down for you,” Hayden said from behind him, “Um Nathan,”

“Yeah?”

“Do you own anything remotely pink?”

“What? No, why are you asking me that?” he turned to frown at her.

She nodded in the direction of his bathroom, “Then he’s left something in there for you,”

Nathan hurried into it and found that some of his toiletries and bathroom décor had been changed to ones that were Hello Kitty themed; he gritted his teeth and turned to Hayden before looking back at the newly decorated room.

“He’s dead, he’s so dead,”

________________________________________________________________

>> Chapter 31 <<

[oldraaphael]

Unimaginable Loss

Yo! This is my gift to @aerefyr for the @starwarsminiexchange! 

It’s basically a lil fic about Kit Fisto after Order 66. It’s also complete shit, and for that I’m really fucking sorry oops. But yeah, without further ago, here you go! (note: it might be easier to read on AO3)

Aaron flew through the doors of the bar, crashing unceremoniously to the ground. Grimacing, he spat behind him and wrapped a hand around his ribs delicately. “Bastards,” he hissed, withdrawing his hands. Those dipshits had broken a rib, maybe two. He winced as he drew himself up, brushing at the mud on his cloak absentmindedly.

He looked back at the filthy bar. He supposed he shouldn’t be so judgmental, considering the street was covered with at least an inch of sewage sludge in even the cleanest parts of the Coruscant Underworld, but he wasn’t feeling very congenial at the moment. The flickering purple lights above the doors advertising the entrance weren’t doing such a stellar job; the sign blended in with the usual unnatural lights radiating the lower levels, poisoning its citizens with the synthetic replacement for sunlight they weren’t given access to- even if the lights weren’t doing a goddamn thing to illuminate the dark abyss. Aaron brushed off the thought, knowing he’d need another drink if he kept thinking about the people who lived their entire lives without seeing the surface. And right now the closest available drinks were on the other side of three particularly burly Besalisk.

Aaron huffed and rubbed his sore arms where they’d inevitably left bruises grabbing him with their sausage fingers. Fuck. That. Shit, he thought as he turned away and started down the street.

-

The maze of the Underworld was not something to be taken lightly. It was some kind of running joke that the reason so many never saw the surface again after entering the Underworld was because they simply couldn’t find their way back. Aaron didn’t find it very funny- both because he pitied the lost souls if the joke was true and he didn’t like the implication of the fate if it wasn’t.

Nonetheless, the point was still taken. While locals had a fairly good idea of where they were within a good fifty mile radius of their home (horizontally, that is- most people didn’t go more than four floors up or down of their residence) and people who’d been born down there could easily navigate 100 miles and survive long enough to make it home no more than 200 miles, most off-worlders or surface dwellers couldn’t so much as leave a trail of breadcrumbs and make it back to where they started. And not just because you’d have a swarming herd of kids picking up your scraps or some seven-foot thug find you and kill you for the bread.

For all of the quote unquote progress that Coruscant represented for the galaxy, there was no order to be found even in the foundation of the Underworld. Aaron couldn’t even blame the Empire for the hellhole he lived in. The winding, unorganized ruins of whatever ecumenopolis preceded modern Coruscant was now nothing short of a deadly labyrinth infested with starving families, two-penny crime lords, and other vermin. The first dozen levels had become nothing more than an entire layer of uninhabitable garbage-ridden marsh full of shit and trash from the upper levels. Aaron dreaded to think what would happen when that filthy soup crawled it’s way up to the industrial levels, where generators working constantly to run whatever machines were needed on the surface made the entire Underworld feel alive with constant noise, warmth, and steady movement.

The streets became more crowded as he approached the station. He pulled his hood tighter over his head instinctively, covering his face from passersby. As if his face wasn’t automatically recognizable, the tattoos would certainly draw attention. Still, he pressed through the crowd that was steadily growing as he approached the train. Aaron knew taking the public line was a risk- the cars were brightly lit, allowing more chance for recognition. Truthfully, he didn’t really care any more. He just wanted to get home and he didn’t feel like walking half a dozen miles with broken ribs.

He stumbled into the car, thankful that it wasn’t as crowded as usual. He didn’t think he could handle being stuffed with dozens of other people like a bunch of animals waiting to be slaughtered without at least six more drinks. Despite the array of open seats he decided to stand. He winced as he raised his arm to hold onto the overhead bar; the movement had bothered his ribs. He ignored the pain and glanced around the car, assessing his surroundings out of habit.

A twi’lek woman and her child caught his eye. The boy was no more than six and he seemed to be content playing with his stuffed animal. His joyful cries were hushed by the mother, who ran her hands over his head tails lovingly. She looked tired. The bags under her eyes were dark and she was too thin- he’d seen slaves that were better fed. Likely she gave all the food she managed to scrape up to her son and whatever other mouths she had to feed.

With something resembling curiousity (he knew better than to fool himself into thinking he really cared about anything anymore), he noticed her clothing. The tunic, while certainly dirty and mended many times over, was made of valuable cloth and the intricate designs on the side were similar to the markings frequently worn by the ensemble of diplomats sent by the citizens of Ryloth. They’d been “disbanded” after the anti-alien prejudice had made its way to the depths of the senate, effectively razing any sort of committee focused on the betterment and better treatment of off-worlders on Coruscant. With vague interest he wondered how this woman had managed to escape- with a child, no less. Assuming she hadn’t just stolen the tunic from a rotting corpse, which was definitely more likely.

Before he could even decide to start thinking about it, a small squadron of stormtroopers boarded the car and began walking the aisles, shoving passengers and demanding IDs. Cursing under his breath, Aaron pulled his hood closer over him and tried to cover his face. He didn’t feel like encountering a group of armed soldiers today. He slowly worked his way through the crowd, pushing to the other end of the train, hoping they wouldn’t see him.

Of course, with his luck…

“You! ID, now!” The barked order was broken coming through the filtered speaker. Aaron didn’t look up or so much as acknowledge the command. “Hey! I’m talking to you!” The stormtrooper gripped his arm.

So much for getting home quietly, he thought. He brought his elbow down in the crook of armor on the assailant’s arm, bending it unnaturally. The trooper howled, alerting the other guards, before Aaron twisted his leg around him, bringing the soldier to his knees. Aaron brought the trooper’s head to his knee before grabbing the unconscious soldier’s gun and thrusting himself through the crowd, shoveling people out of the way.

The crowd parted and clung to the walls, but otherwise showed no indication of the tussle. It was a common enough occurrence. No one tried to stop the stormtroopers, but no one tried to stop Aaron either.

Another guard had grabbed Aaron’s arm, apparently not learning from the former’s mistake. He repeated the motion, but this one leaped back after the wounding, yanking off Aaron’s cloak as he did so. Aaron cursed. “Clone!” the trooper shouted to the others. He stepped further back, speaking into his communicator. “We’ve got another renegade clone on level 337, line RT3 heading-“

Aaron grunted as he slammed the butt of the stolen gun into the soldier’s helmet, knocking him unconscious. The other soldiers were pushing their way through the crowd, but the passengers were, if anything, shoving them forward. Aaron looked around widely. People were huddled against the wall, clinging to each other and looking at the clone in fear. They all remembered what had happened. What he had done. Aaron winced.

This wasn’t the time to be thinking of that, though. He had a much easier time maneuvering the crowd now that everyone shrank from him like he was diseased. Aaron made his way to the door, though the train wouldn’t make its next stop for another ninety seconds. A quick glance behind him at the guards told him he didn’t have that kind of time.

Grimacing, he flicked off the safety and shot at the doors, blasting them open. People screamed and covered their ears- as used to gunfire as they were, no civilian is used to gunfire in an enclosed space like that. Aaron’s own ears were ringing. He couldn’t hear the train hurdling forward, but he could certainly feel the gusts of wind through the now doorless exit. Luckily everyone else on the train, including the stormtroopers, were still recovering from the burst of noise. Aaron stepped towards his exit, gripping both edges of the doorframe tightly. He looked out- they were going over a platform any second now.

Aaron flinched as a hand grabbed his arm. He turned towards his assailant, ready to attack. “Don’t,” the twi’lek woman urged in a heavy accent. She thought he was committing suicide. Oh, blessed soul, he thought to her fondly, I don’t have the bravery for a stunt like that. Instead he said nothing, giving a comical two-finger salute before falling out of the train.

Aaron fell hard on his shoulder, but he threw himself forward so he’d keep rolling on his side until he finally came to a stop. He crawled to a wall, using it as support to draw himself to a stand. He touched his shoulder lightly. Dislocated. Angrily, he slammed the palm of his hand into his shoulder, forcing it back in the socket painfully. He looked back to the tracks and spat, watching the glimmer of the train continue in the distance.

With a sense of disgust, for himself, his situation, and those around him, he continued on. He’d never been to this particular station before, but thankfully he still knew the way home. He limped forward. His knee wasn’t too bad- but the soldier’s armor was thicker than he remembered. Then again, he wasn’t really dealing with much more than bar fights and street brawls nowadays.

-

As he approached his second hour wandering the streets, he came across another dead end. Sighing, he collapsed against the wall and slid down, not really caring what kind of grime got on his cloak. Two fights ending with him getting tossed into the street and two hours of failed memory later and he was fucking exhausted. He might as well just sleep on the street. If anyone wanted to mug him, let them the take the six credits he hadn’t spent at the bar. If anyone wanted to kill him, they’d be doing him a favor. He shut his eyes.

“My my, it looks like I’ve finally got company.”

If anyone wanted to bother him, they’d be in for it. Just slit my throat or be done with it, he thought.

“I’ve got nothing to slit your throat with, I’m afraid. Nor do I have any mind to mug you. Six credits would be a lousy reward anyway, for the extent of my troubles.”

Aaron frowned. Had he really said those things out loud? Well, he supposed going completely bonkers wasn’t out of the picture.

“No, you’re quite sane, as far as I can tell.”

Aaron opened his eyes at last, with a mixture of annoyance and curiosity. He sat up, but didn’t come to a full stand. It took him a moment to notice the raggedy figure sitting on a rotted box. He couldn’t make out anything beyond the badly weathered cloak- it had certainly seen better days, that’s for sure, if it was even a cloak at all. He didn’t see any weapons, but there could be a small gun or knife concealed somewhere.

The creature moved its head. “Come now, do I really seem like much of a threat to you?” The voice seemed aged and hoarse, but somehow Aaron could just tell the man was grinning. Aaron doubted he wanted to see the state of this guy’s teeth.

“Why wouldn’t you be?”

The figure laughed. Aaron was caught off guard by the sudden outburst. “Well, I suppose you’re right. I was a general in the Clone Wars, after all.”

Great, this fucking dumbass thinks he’s a Jedi. Just what I need right now. Another crazy. Aaron leaned back against the wall, too tired to argue. “Right, right. I’m sure you were in all sorts of battles.”

“Oh yes,” he said enthusiastically. “I was in all sorts of battles. But the battles weren’t the good parts.”

“Oh, there were good parts, were there?” Aaron closed his eyes, trying not to think about why he was appeasing the crazy old man.

“Well, you wouldn’t remember. You’re a clone- you never knew us before the war.”

“’Us’ being the Jedi?”

“Why, yes!”

Aaron huffed. “Tell me, if you’re a Jedi, how come you haven’t killed me yet?”

“I should be asking that question. After all, you were the ones who started the massacre.” Aaron tensed. He didn’t like thinking about that time. “I mean in a fight between the two of us, you’re more likely to win considering the historical aspects.”

“Would you like to try and prove your theory?”

“Ah, you spent time with Master Plo, I see.”

Aaron’s eyebrows furrowed. “Why do you think that?”

“Am I wrong?” The figure took his silence as affirmation. “He was a good friend of mine. But you are no wolf.”

The man might be crazy, but he knew at least something about the war. Aaron shrugged to himself. No harm in humoring an old man. “I was once. An injury turned me into a dog.”

“Ah, a Coruscant guard. Strange to see a lost pup all the way down here.”

Aaron snorted at the ‘lost pup’ comment. While a little humiliating, it wasn’t entirely inaccurate. “I could say the same thing for a Jedi.” As insane as the man was, he was entertaining and he hadn’t killed him yet and Aaron was tired and didn’t mind the company. With a start he realized this was probably the longest conversation he’d had with a sentient being in maybe years.

“If you want to know how I got down here, I’m afraid it’s a rather long, sad story.”

The two sat in silence for a moment.

“I thought you were just going to get into it.”

“I didn’t want to be presumptuous.”

“You’ve practically dragged me into this conversation. I figured you were more than happy to continue doing so.”

“Do you want me to tell the story or not?”

“By all means, continue.”

The figure turned to him and for the first time Aaron noticed he hadn’t even been looking at the clone. “What is your name, child?”

Child? Though he supposed in standard years he’d only be in his twenties. “Aaron,” he answered quietly.

The figure bowed its head respectfully. “Very well, Aaron. If it a story you want, I will tell it. But it is not my own.”

Aaron huffed, but the man either didn’t notice or didn’t care.

Kit’s eyes shot open. The first thing he noticed was the searing pain in his side. The second was that he was being pulled through the hallway by clones, thought they were not any clones he recognized. These were not the compassionate, valiant men he’d come to know the past five years; they were cold, impassive, and distant in a way that frightened the disoriented Jedi.

Yet he knew he couldn’t allow his fear to compound him. He drew in the Force and shoved the imposters into the distant wall, rendering them unconscious. Blearily, the Nautolan quickly assessed his surroundings. He was in the red hall connecting the Supreme Chancellor’s private study to his formal meeting office. The windows had been shattered and glass littered the far end of the room. In the distance the Jedi Temple was in flames.

In flames? It was then that Kit noticed the pain, not in his body, but in the air around him. It was suffocating, the screams of Jedi pouring into his lungs and drowning him. His world, so full of life and color, was suddenly empty. Nothing but fire remained. His heart wrenched as he felt desperately for someone, anyone. Looking back he could see the dark colors of the Chancellor’s study as well as too motionless robbed figures.

He brought his hand to his head, trying to shake away the darkness that clouded his mind. He could faintly remember going to confront Palpatine with Mace, Agen, and Saesee. Mournfully, Kit gazed at the bodies of what could only be his two friends, wondering if Mace had escaped. Clearly he hadn’t been successful, but Kit knew his friend better than to think Mace wouldn’t give his life before fleeing. Prodding gently with the Force, he could tell neither Master Kolar nor Master Tinn were alive. He dropped his head, despair washing over him. Just how many Jedi had fallen?

He shook his head. Now was not the time to grieve. He needed to focus on the present with the all the energy he could muster if he were to survive. He looked to the heaps of armored men. He’d need to be extra cautious if these were not the only imposters. It was unlikely they were.

He crawled out of the hall and into the lift, dragging himself up until he was limping heavily. The gash in his left side had cauterized, thankfully, but he sensed there was something darker within the core of the wound and he wouldn’t last long on his feet. Black spots had clouded his vision since he’d risen to a stand. Nonetheless, the stubborn Jedi refused to submit to his fate so easily. Not when he didn’t know who else was out there.

The elevator halted and the doors slid open. The hall of the Senate was absolute chaos. Essentially the lobby of the Senate building, the large “hall” was a giant room that took up the entire floor of the building, meant as a holding area for concerned citizens come to express their grievances to their designated representative. Though, due to both the extensive reach of the Galactic Senate, most systems had separate representatives to meet with the people. Of course, once the war started, it soon became impossible to not have at least one secondary representative. Even with the thousands that came pouring in everyday, the room was so massive that it was never completely filled.

Until now. The crowd was enormous. Kit had seen battalions smaller than this. Everyone- from senators to guards to servants to citizens to droids- all clamored about, scurrying in every direction, bumping into people. There were at least three separate fights as people knocked each other over in the hectic environment, growing violent in the bustling room. People were screaming in fear, getting trampled, exchanging what little information they had with others and demanding explanations from clones who were supposedly standing guard, though remaining stoic and eerily silent, not bothering to help the fallen or the injured, transfixed by some unknown presence within their own minds. Kit shuddered as he ducked past one, fortunate that the crowd managed to hide him from their sight. Luckily no one paid heed to the Jedi groping his way past them towards one of the lesser-known routes to a worker’s hangar.

The hangar was surprisingly empty considering the tumultuous circumstances. Kit hauled himself into a nondescript ship of average size, hoping to draw as little attention to himself as possible. He quickly made his way to the cockpit and collapsed in the pilot seat. With a start he realized he had no idea where to go.

As much as he wanted to, he couldn’t go to the temple. His very instincts were fighting against the desire to investigate the burning building that represented the center of the Jedi, but something even deeper within warned him of the dangers. If he went now, he would surely be going to his death. For all the despair dwelling in his heart, Kit thought mournfully, he wouldn’t mind death about now.

No. He shook the darkness away. He needed to stay alive- he didn’t know how many Jedi were remaining. If all the clones had indeed turned on them, Kit doubted many survived. With his list of enemies increasing drastically, he realized he wouldn’t be able to go to any Republic outposts, which severely limited his options. He cursed- as friendly as he was, he hadn’t exactly made many acquaintances outside the Republic.

Grimly, he set his course. He wasn’t sure if he’d be allowed, but he was at least halfway certain they wouldn’t kill him on sight.

He was headed home.

-

From space, Glee Anslem looked rather similar to the mineral chrysocolla, found on carbon based planets. The crystal blue water was luminescent even in the depths of the darkness of space, speckled with the occasional stretch of green land. Although it didn’t look inhabited, much less industrialized, the population of Nautolans were located mainly in underwater cities that served as focal points for trade and commerce throughout the Jalor sector. Yet their increased involvement with the Namadii Corridor had recently sprouted several minor cities and towns on land, causing territorial disputes with the Anselmi, who had problems of their own well before the intrusion of the amphibious species. The Jedi were likely to become involved, despite the mutual disdain for off-worlders held by both species, but the Clone Wars had taken up time usually meant for actually keeping the peace.

Nonetheless, Kit was able to easily locate one of the Nautolan cities and headed for the nearest dock, where the guards had already come to greet the unexpected arrival. Kit stumbled out of the ship, his arm pressing against his crudely wrapped bandages. He’d feared sleeping on the ship, not sure he would wake up, so he’d busied himself attempting to clean his wound. Unfortunately, Kit was far from a medic and all he seemed to be doing was making it hurt more by moving, so he stuck to trying to reach out with the Force to any Jedi stragglers. He grimaced. He knew he’d already pushed himself past his limits- the brief respite from action on the journey hadn’t done much to replenish his vigor. He was draining himself of the Force just trying to keep himself conscious, using more energy to push himself onwards in the past few hours than he’d probably used in the past month of the Clone Wars, and he was definitely feeling the impact.

The injured Jedi all but collapsed into one of the guard’s arms. The Nautolan discarded his spear, shooting his partner a wary look. “Are you alright?” he asked, returning to the stranger and pressing a hand gently yet firmly against his back to hold him steady. Kit took a moment to assess the two before him. The first guard’s amphibious skin was a light green, not dissimilar to the Jedi’s own color, while the second was a pale blue. Both were in Glee Anselm soldier garb, a uniform Kit had only before seen in pictures as he studied the culture of his homeworld from the distant Coruscant. Their torsos were bare and they had plain knee length shorts, since the ability to move freely was more necessary to a Nautolan warrior than protection, though they had armored tassets hooked to their belts and lightweight arm guards.

Kit flashed his teeth in a pearly grin. “I’m fine,” he rasped. “Though if you were on your way to stopping by a medic, please don’t hold back on my account.”

The first guard huffed, amused by the stranger’s bitter humor. Yet the second nodded slightly to the stranger’s ruined robes and easily distinguishable weapon. “Who are you?” the blue one asked gruffly.

Kit’s dulled senses hadn’t picked up on the subtle communication between the two. Though thirty years of isolation granted him an excuse as to not being able to recognize the Nautolan’s meaningful eye contact, which was capable of conveying warnings and tidings much faster than verbally. “I’m Jedi Master Kit Fisto. I come from Glee Anselm. This is my home.”

The blue one stiffened. “You haven’t been able to call this home since you left for the temple, Jedi,” he spat.

“Drex!” the other snapped, instinctively tightening his grip protectively around the injured man, who tried not to wince at the pressure.

“Lerel, you heard what they did to the Jedi,” Drex hissed. “If the Republic finds out one of them is with us, they will crush us. It’s not like we need more enemies right now.”

Lerel looked at the man in his arms, who’d gone completely silent, his eyes distant. Lerel could sense the emotion radiating off the Jedi in waves. He didn’t need pheromone-sensing headtails to know he was thinking about the massacre. He frowned resolutely. “He was one of us before he was one of them. We’re taking him to Aki’s.”

Drex grimaced before helping his friend carry the man to the local medic.

-

Kit Fisto, like the others in his species, was more than accustomed to being underwater. Their gill-like structures on the sides of their heads paired with their humanoid lungs made for a distinguished class of amphibians highly evolved to accommodate the bodily needs to survive on both land and water. No amount of time spent on land could change that. Kit Fisto was a Nautolan through and through.

That didn’t mean it was any less of a shock when he woke up several hundred feet underwater. The Jedi’s eyes shot open and he seized out of bed, floating up a few inches, subconsciously gasping for breath. The sudden movement sent a searing pain running up his side and he cursed admittedly loudly.

Before he could bring his hand to the offending area, a strong grip quickly grabbed his wrist. Kit didn’t have a chance to register what was happening before he flung the assailant across the room. Physics didn’t work quite the same underwater, but it still worked. Kit jolted up, flailing his limbs in a failed attempt to escape, still not accustomed to the sudden adjustment of moving underwater.

Suddenly more hands wrapped around his arms and legs, pinning him to the bed. “Get him down! Get him down!” He didn’t register the panicked shouts. “Be careful! Sedate him if you have to!” Kit thrashed against the clutches of the restrainers, his hands curled into fists and kicking wildly. There was only one part of his mind that was awake and aware: escape.

“Don’t antagonize him!” the command was sharp and clear from across the room. Instantly the grasp relaxed on his limbs, though still firm. Kit blinked, the dreary haze clearing from his mind as he began taking in his surroundings. The two guards from before were holding him down gently, as well as three others. When he looked up at them, they seemed to sense his lucidity that his moment of madness had passed. The one he remembered as Lerel looked down at him and smiled comfortingly. Kit looked towards the Nautolan he’d thrown to the side- the one who’d ordered the men to stand down. Her skin was a pale orange and she was in medic garb. The standard Nautolan base clothing was paired with what resembled what could only be a lab coat or something to that effect.

She grabbed her tablet and came to his bedside, looking down with large, prodding eyes. “Do you know where you are?” Her voice was low and somehow soothing despite its detached clarity.

He opened his mouth to speak. He had a general idea of where he was, but he didn’t know exactly where-

“Nod your head yes or no,” she interrupted him before he could speak. He blinked before shaking his head no. She raised an eyebrow and tapped her screen.

“Do you remember coming here?” A hesitant nod.

“Do you remember what happened before coming here?” He grimaced before shaking his head.

Her gaze softened. She nodded curtly to the guards, who backed off. Kit noticed they were still within arms reach should the Jedi try anything. “You’re Kit Fisto?” He nodded warily. “You’ve been here three weeks. After your unanticipated appearance on the docks, Drex and Lerel brought you to me and you’ve been in a sort of coma ever since. I’m Doctor Aki. I’ve cleaned and bandaged your wounds. You’ve already begun the healing process, which is amplified by your Force-sensitivity. Er, so I’ve read. Anyway, the cut, which is presumably by a lightsaber, didn’t cut through any major arteries or organs, but I’m afraid we’ll need fibronetting to secure some of the areas around the wound just to be safe. It’s the nerve damage that concerns me. We’ll be doing routine tests for the next four to six months to make sure your left leg isn’t experiencing any problems. We need to be careful; any strenuous activity could lead to further disruption of connection between synapses, which we wouldn’t be able to fix. In the meantime, I’d suggest-“

“Are there others?” Kit had always prided himself on being patient in hospitals, especially compared to his fellow Jedi who generally detested med bays as a rule, but he found the doctor’s astute prognosis to be taking a rather long time.

Dr. Aki frowned and checked her charts. “There weren’t any other wounds that I’m aware of, other than some superficial bruises and scratching-“

“Are there other Jedi? Did any others survive?” He chided himself for being so harsh. The medic’s shoulders seemed to slump ever so slightly and none of the guards would meet his eyes. He looked at her desperately. “Did any others survive?” he repeated.

“Not that I know of,” she spoke softly. He rested his head against the pillow and shut his eyes tightly. “I’m sorry. The Jedi have been deemed traitors by Chancellor-“

“Emperor,” a guard coughed.

“-Palpatine. The senate is putting up a reward for all remaining Jedi who survived Order 66.”

“Then why haven’t you killed me yet?” Kit asked through gritted teeth. No one survived? He was painfully aware of the guards’ stares. He hated mourning in front of an audience.

Before the doctor would respond, Lerel spoke up. “You’re a Nautolan. You’re one of us. You always have been and you always will be. We protect our own.”

Kit felt his emotions bubbling to the surface. Grief, that he was the only survivor. Relief, that at least he was safe for now. Guilt, he should have died alongside his family instead of leaving them to die. Shock, as he realized for perhaps the first time that he’d never see his loved ones again. Shame, for being so selfish as to feel such pain for their deaths instead of rejoicing their reunion with the Force.

Anger, at everyone responsible for this.

“But it’s not up to us what to do with you,” Dr. Aki broke his disturbing chain of thoughts. “The elders will decide whether to keep you here. But they don’t want to risk the wrath of the Empire.” Kit winced. He realized coming here endangered whoever housed him, but he had nowhere else to go. The medic began unwrapping his bandages and checking his wound. He was in no state to leave on his own. But how could he accept the Nautolans’ kindness knowing what would happen should the Jedi be discovered?

He closed his eyes and tried not to think about it.

-

The Council of Elders had been a form of authority long before the Republic had decreed mandatory senatorial representation from its territories. Each notable region would elect and send their most well-respected elder, who either achieved such esteemed recognition through wisdom or battle, where they would debate the needs of the people with the morals of the land in order to create various treaties, legislative decrees, and other major decisions involving the wellbeing of the underwater inhabitants of Glee Anselm.

The reappearance of Kit Fisto was certainly a point of interest among the elders. With the bounty out on all Jedi, harboring the fugitive was certainly dangerous, but the tightly bound nature of Nautolans refused to accept discarding the friendless man. Nautolans were cautious around outsiders as a rule, so an offworld entity demanding the exile of one of their own was not something the elders would normally consider. However, the looming threat of the Intergalactic Senate was not something to be taken lightly. If Master Fisto was discovered, the Empire would not be forgiving to the secretive species. With increased aggression from the Anslemi, the last thing the Nautolans needed was another war.

The heated arguments weighing the consequences of either action would continue for quite some time, though they’d at last come to one decision: they would not kill the Jedi. Which Kit supposed he should be grateful for.

The Jedi’s arrival had been kept a secret for precautionary reasons, but, as is the norm with close-knit communities, everyone in the city quickly knew. Information was limited, but spread like wildfire on the Jedi’s circumstances. Some said it was just the remains of the Jedi smuggled from the massacre on Coruscant. It was also rumored the Jedi was secretly training others to fight against the Empire. It was even claimed that the Jedi had bewitched the medic and was holding her hostage until he got what he wanted. Nonetheless, people found themselves paying close attention to Dr. Aki’s for the next few months.

Kit was restless. Even after over two weeks of being fully conscious, Aki wouldn’t let him do anything requiring any physical exertion whatsoever. The most he could get away with was swimming aimlessly around his room. It wasn’t until the elders finally made their decision that he was allowed to go to other parts of the hospital. It was when Kit was allowed visitors that he finally realized why Aki was so desperate to keep him separated.

Eventually, after the initial swath of curious citizens got their first look at the real-life Jedi, the guards decided to filter out the majority of the adoringly pestilent visitors and well-wishers. Kit was surprised at the sheer amount of cards and flowers he was sent. Although he’d had his fair share of admirers, he hadn’t had such direct gestures of veneration. Nonetheless, he was more than appreciative of the guards preventing the avid enthusiasts from harassing him constantly.

However, he’d rather face one hundred zealous supporters than the far less cheerful visitors the guards allowed inside. Two families had come to see the Jedi to ask about their sons, who had been taken to the temple as well. Kit knew they just wanted a little information- nothing any parent wouldn’t want from their child. After all, the temple rarely reconnected with the parents, even to inform them of death. But that left the Master woefully unprepared to deliver the frightful news.

Knox’s family came first. The father and mother were clinging to each other with a desperation that made Kit’s heart long for something akin to that kind of companionship- the sort of craving a Jedi only gets after seeing what kind of life they could have led. The family’s remaining child shadowed them closely, though he could no longer be considered a child. He was at least a foot taller than his father and his defined features and odd birthmarks reminded Kit painfully of Knox. His news was undeniably easier to handle, since Kit actually knew with absolute certainty the poor Padawan’s fate.

Kit stood up at the sight of the family huddled together. “Ex-excuse me,” the mother choked back her sob. “Master Fisto?”

Kit nodded solemnly. Easier or not, this would still be difficult.

“I’m Jerra and this is my husband, Reynar, and our eldest son, Oden. Our boy Knox was taken to the temple nineteen years ago. Tell me, have you seen our son?” she asked. She laughed softly, though he suspected it was only to keep herself from crying. “I’m sorry. I know we can’t expect you to know every Jedi in the temple, but I figured since he was a Nautolan-“

“It’s alright, ma’am.” Kit raised his hand. “I knew your son.”

The mother stared at him, her wide eyes filled with hope Kit couldn’t bare to see. Her husband’s grip on her waist grew tighter. Oden scowled darkly at his parents. “See, he’s dead, just like we thought.”

Reynar glanced back at his son, sputtering, “We don’t know that.”

“He said he knew Knox. There’s no point in false hope, father.”

Kit tentatively reached out with the Force, calming the eldest son. His pheromone sensing was heightened underwater, but he found it cruel to practice his untrained skills on the grieving family. Either way, he could sense the Oden was just taking out his sorrows on his parents. “I’m so sorry,” he affirmed. “But your son died a few years before the Empire.”

Jerra gasped, bringing her hand to her mouth. “What?” she managed, her breathing coming in rapid pants. Her husband’s knuckled paled where he clutched her, his lip quivering.

“He was on a mission defending a temple on Deveron during the Clone Wars. A manic Zabrak attacked. His body was burned at the temple and he was given many honors-“

“Who cares what honors he was given in death? He’s dead!” Reynar snapped. “Where was his master? Where was his master to protect him from that?”

“Master Halsey died defending your son, on that I can assure you.” He reached for the family, attempting to comfort them.

They flinched away from the Jedi, the two parents retreating back into the hallway, sobbing at the loss of their son. Oden didn’t look up from his feet, but he stayed in the room. “What was he like?” he asked at last.

Kit smiled softly. “He was a sweet boy. He was very protective of others- more so than the other Padawans. And he loved to learn. I don’t think he was tardy to a single class, not even astro-chart readings.”

“How do you know?” he asked quietly.

“I spoke to him every so often. It can be difficult for the less humanoid younglings in the crèche, so I’ve been sort of looking out for him.”

Oden nodded slowly, a sad smile forming from his tired features. “You know, I always wanted a little brother.” His confession was little more than a whisper. Kit found himself at a loss for words as the child- even if he was twenty, he was still a child- followed his parents out the door.

Kit returned to his bed, emotionally exhausted by the encounter. The Jedi had taken away their child without any attempt to ease their pain. Kit had always assumed the parents gladly gave up their children, not stopping to consider the repercussions of losing a child. Even if they were still alive, the children were lost to the parents; they had no way of contacting their family and were shunned from asking too many questions. What kind of cult would rip away a baby from its mother’s arms?

Before he’d never questioned the sanctity of the Jedi. They were right, and that was that. But lately he found himself evaluating the decisions that led to their downfall. The Jedi took children from all over the galaxy and raised them to be peaceful warriors destined to die on some distant planet far from anything they’d had a chance to call home. They fought fights that weren’t theirs, even long before the events of the Clone Wars.

Kit had always been told that the purpose of the Jedi was to establish order and maintain peace in a galaxy ravaged by chaos and other elements of the dark- the tendrils of lust and greed and wrath and gluttony had twisted itself into the minds of susceptible being everywhere, calling for the aid of the Jedi just by showing weakness to such evil. Yet none of these sins were lost upon the so-called purity of the Jedi. By claiming moral superiority over all living things, what else could the Council be but arrogant?

His troubling thoughts were interrupted as the doctor came in to check on him.

A few days later, he received a visit from another anxious family. Zatt’s family was admittedly large, which only seemed to make the news worse, as so many more ears had to hear it. Other than the mother and the father, there were four other children; the oldest seemed to be about seventeen and the youngest couldn’t have been older than twelve.

“I’m Berut,” the woman introduced herself, her arms wrapped protectively around her children. She was much calmer than Jerra, presumably for her kids’ sakes.

“I’m Knin,” the father seemed like he was going to shake hands, but thought better of it. He pointed to his children from shortest to tallest. “This is Fip, Rhirru, Yat, and Fresseh.”

“But we came to ask you about our other child. Zatt? He would’ve been a year younger than Fip, here,” Berut asked. Although her demeanor was serene than the disorderly sorrow from Jerra, the same desperation was still in her eyes. Kit found that eyes were another means of communication that came naturally to Nautolans, but he had yet to refine his skill.

“Yes, I remember him. He was sweet and charming. He loved those datapads of his,” Kit chuckled lightly, remembering numerous separate occasions where the little Nautolan would run into walls or other people in the halls with his nose stuck to his screen and wrist-deep in mechanical grime. “He was smart, that one.”

Berut nodded. “So he’s gone, then?”

Kit grimaced. “In all likelihood. He was in the temple when the clones attacked.”

“Is there any chance he could have escaped?” the father asked despairingly. He was less successful at keeping up appearances.

“I- I do not want to give you hope where there is none.”

The parents nodded in unison, quietly containing their devastation. One of the children, Rhirru, piped up. “Was he happy?”

The Jedi was caught off guard by the question. “Yes,” he reasoned. “He had friends and a family. He was happy.”

“I thought we were his family,” Fip looked up at his mother. Berut hushed the child and ushered them out of the room, turning back to give Kit one final nod of thanks.

Was he happy? Were any of them happy? Kit struggled with the query. Of course they were happy. They led very satisfying lives; they dedicated everything to helping others. They lived surrounded by their friends and people who could sympathize and empathize with them. Due to their strict moral code, nothing controversial was accepted, so there was no possibility of real opposition. They had what were essentially superpowers. They lived ultimately peacefully, defined by the way their lives affected those around them. That was surely happiness.

But were they given a choice otherwise? Their entire lives were dictated by a creed dating back before even the eldest could remember; anything beyond that was forbidden. For all the glory or humility in the world, they had to keep vigil and watch as people outside their little bubble led their lives and truly, truly lived. They suffered through love and loss and failure and favor. Yet the Jedi weren’t allowed any of that. They were told, under no exceptions, to completely bind themselves to their duty until the line between idea and man had become blurred beyond perception.

The most alive Kit had ever felt was with Nahdar  and the secret love he’d harbored for the boy. Not every master felt such patriarchal affection for their padawan, but Kit knew he certainly did. And until Nahdar ’s death, Kit hadn’t known true pain. Certainly he’d gone through physical suffering, but that was nothing compared to the agonizing loss of what he considered to be his child. Yet, for all that despair and wretchedness, Kit wouldn’t trade all of those moments of bliss and serenity for anything in the galaxy. Perhaps what he’d been told was happiness all this time was nothing but ignorance. Perhaps true happiness lie in the forbidden- in love.

Kit was once again roused from his thoughts by the medic. Dr. Akri poked and prodded at the oddly silent Jedi. Over the past few weeks, Akri had grown rather accustomed to the patient’s near constant chatter. She frowned down at the man as she changed his bandages. “What’s wrong? Are you not feeling well?”

The Jedi took a moment before responding, running a hand over his face and blinking rapidly. “Why are all the Jedi the youngest children?”

Dr. Akri looked down at him. “I imagine giving a child away and never seeing it again is no different than losing one. There’s rarely a recovery for that.”

Kit shut his eyes for a moment before gazing back up at the doctor, whose brow had furrowed. “What is it?”

“Nothing,” she said, returning to her datapad. “It’s just curious how you blink. Nautolans don’t usually blink. In some parts of the galaxy it’s debated that we even have eyelids. But I suppose it’s a cultural habit you picked up on Coruscant.”

Kit exhaled. “It’s ridiculous that I’m estranged from my own people. I have to relearn my own culture, my own identity. I hadn’t even noticed that’s why people have been looking at me funny until now.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” she chuckled. “That’s not the only reason people are looking at you funny.”

He shot her a look, which only made her look even more smug. He rolled his eyes.

-

The doctor was accompanied by Lerel and Drex on her next visit. Kit frowned and sat up, sensing something was amiss. “What’s wrong?”

Dr. Akri sighed. “The elders haven’t been able to come to a decision. Senator Darsana won’t hear any more arguments. He’s coming from Coruscant to assess the situation himself and hopefully spur the elders into a more authoritative roll.”

“So he’s coming to kick me out?”

“No,” Lerel said, his comforting grin firmly in place. With a start, Kit realized he used to grin just like that not so long ago. “He’s just coming to put more pressure on the elders.”

“That being said,” Drex added with a friendly smirk, “try not to get on his bad side. It wouldn’t hurt for him to like you. It’d make our job a lot easier.”

“And what’s your job?”

“To protect you.” Drex stated confidently.

The Jedi blinked, causing Dr. Akri to laugh. A knock on the door disrupted the four and another guard swam into the room. “You have a visitor, Master Fisto.”

Dr. Akri nodded to Kit as they left the room, passing a woman holding a curious bundle in her arms. The female Nautolan was petite- smaller than most women he’d seen here. Her robes were weathered and cheap, clearly from years of wear. “Master Fisto?” Her voice was high and nearly shaking. He could sense the anxiety coming off of her in waves.

“What is it?”

“My name is Arcaena. I need your help.” He hadn’t even recognized the third life form in the room until a split second before she revealed the contents of the blanket.

It was a baby. A beautiful baby boy with almost iridescent blue skin. Kit sensed something different about the boy and, with a start, realized the child was Force sensitive. He looked at the woman in astonishment. Did she know the risks of bringing the child here?

Of course she did, he realized, that’s why she’s here.

“Please, I need your help. You need to take this baby.”

Kit was startled. “What?”

“Please, I can’t take care of him. You need to protect him.” Her eyes were watering. “Please. The father is gone and I don’t know what else to do. They’ll find him and they’ll hurt him, I know this in my heart. He’s too strong for me. They’re too strong for me. Please. You’re a Jedi; he’s one of you!

He found himself at a loss. Her emotional tirade seemed genuine, as did her helplessness. “I- I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“Take him,” she urged, thrusting the baby towards him.

-

Kit had turned away, saying he needed time to think about it. The woman had given him on last desperate look before leaving him alone. How could she want to give away her own child? He swept a hand over his face. She had never even referred to the child by his name. He couldn’t believe that a mother could really hate her child, but he believed that a mother could fear him.

It occurred to him that Arcaena must love her child immensely to be willing to give him up for his own safety. She viewed herself as weak and incapable of handling such a responsibility. Then again, it was rare for a Force sensitive child grew up outside the realm of the Jedi temple. She had every right to be scared, especially with the rumored Jedi hunters relentlessly searching the galaxy for any stragglers. The news of the hunters came as both a blessing and a curse: there were enough survivors to warrant special operatives, but these hunters were likely highly trained and ruthless unlike anything they’d ever seen before. It takes more than strength to kill a Jedi- it takes cunning. Kit’s own experiences with sadistic bounty hunters led him to believe it wouldn’t be long before the Jedi’s already painfully low numbers dwindled down to nothing.

Kit shuddered to think what would happen to a child that was found- likely something far worse than death. Force sensitive children had always been coveted, especially for slavers and other traffickers. But he doubted the Empire would be so merciful. His thoughts dwelled on Maul, who he knew spent his adolescence tortured beyond all imagining to keep him firmly in the clutches of evil. For all the wrongs the Jedi had done, at least they had not tormented children, he thought. Manipulated and sent off to war? Yes. But not this.

Kit’s musings were cut short by a curt knock on the door. Kit rose as guards lined the room, eyeing them cautiously- these were not the guards he had grown accustomed to and he couldn’t see Lerel or Drex anywhere. No, these were more than just your average soldiers. Unlike the regular city guards, these had chest plates and helms, designed for maximum protection. It didn’t take Kit long to figure out that this wasn’t for fighting- it was for defense. Should the object under their care come under fire, it was these men who would throw themselves at the danger, sacrificing themselves. It didn’t take a Jedi to figure out what kind of rank would be deserving of such dedication.

“Senator Darsana,” the Jedi bowed respectfully, risking a glance up at his new visitor.

A far cry from the rags that clung to the begging mother, the Anselmi was adorned with fanciful clothing. Despite the uncomfortable material needed to make the outfit waterproof and pressurized, the suit had a discreet elegance fitting for a royal senator. The only thing that really threw off the look was the rather large helmet allowing the much more human-like humanoid to breath underwater, though he supposed that couldn’t be helped. Through the glass, Kit could see the Anselmi features: large dark spots peppering the edges of the face in an almost reptilian pattern, the sporadic patches of muted feathers indicative of a stressful daily process, the dark small eyes bereft of the emotion that was so blatantly obvious in the Nautolans’, the nose slits humming dutifully and the thin mouth pursed into something not quite resembling a frown. Kit grimaced when he realized the whole Jedi situation was probably doing a little to dampen his mood.

“Master Jedi.” The Anselmi were known to have liquid voices. Kit would’ve thought liquid voices underwater wouldn’t sound as nice as it did, but the soothing drone was nearly enough to disarm the Jedi. “I’m pleased to finally meet you at last. I must admit we’ve been somewhat following your exploits since you left us all those years ago. We’re proud that such a mighty warrior has come from our world.”

Kit put on a nice smile, preparing himself for the tedium of politics. “Thank you, sir. It’s an honor.”

There was a glimmer in the Senator’s eye. “An honor to be a warrior, to be watched, or to hail from here?” Kit blinked stupidly. Darsana chuckled, bringing his elongated fingers to tap on his own shoulder, his elbow resting on his arm. “Tell me, Master Fisto, what brought you to our humble star system after the fall of the Jedi?”

Kit repressed a gulp, but still found himself appreciative of the man’s directness. “I had nowhere else to go,” he admitted. “Nowhere else to go but home.”

The Anselmi nodded thoughtfully and began pacing the room slowly. “You’ve brought a great danger to my people by coming here. It’s not a secret that relations between the Nautolans and the Anselmi are tense right now. The last thing we need is unwanted attention from the Empire.”

“So it is unwanted?”

“While we could easily agree that any attention from fascists is unwanted, I’m afraid the safety of the people is worth more than any petty personal vendetta I may have, don’t you agree?”

Kit flushed, embarrassed that his sorry excuse for a negotiating strategy had been found out so quickly. He’d hoped to rely on the senator’s well-known spite for the chancellor, now emperor, as a way to weasel his way into the senator’s good favor. He cursed himself for not listening more closely to Kenobi’s prattling on the intricacies of rhetoric. Instead he realized this meeting would be safer as a one-way conversation. “Yes,” he said stiffly.

“Should the Empire get word of your presence, they would no doubt bring a swift and destructive end to your residence, which would certainly end in collateral damage. The Republic has never been known for its discretion in such matters and I’m afraid the brutality has only increased with the transformation into a much more regimented regime.”

“Yes, sir,” Kit thought of the innocent casualties suffered at the hands of Republic troops, including his own, in the past five years. The cries of dying children echoed through his mind.

“As much as I pity your position, you must do well to understand ours. I’m afraid we can’t have you here without endangering the lives of our people.”

“I understand.” Kit understood more than the senator could ever know.

“My hands are tied. The fact is, I swore an oath to the Republic.”

“So did I.”

The senator paused and Kit noticed for the first time that he seemed genuinely concerned for him. “I’m sorry we can’t do more. Ultimately it is up to the elders to decide, but I will ensure that they at least allow you to remain until your wounds have fully healed.”

Kit subconsciously pressed his hand to his side. “And if they decided I would stay longer?”

Darsana sighed and reached to scratch his neck, startled when his hand thudded lightly against the glass helmet. “I’d present your case to the senate and, should it come to that, we’d gather our warriors and prepare for invasion.”

Kit was silent as the senator nodded respectfully and left the room, his entourage not two steps behind.

-

They would not survive a war, Kit thought, looking out his window at the glowing depths of the city. The fact that his staying was still a debate was proof enough that there were those willing to fight and die for him. At least one or more of the elders were adamant about him remaining and would give up Glee Anselm’s fairly pacifistic ideals in order to protect him.

Kit couldn’t allow that. He couldn’t just sit back and watch as these wonderful, colorful, benevolent people threw their lives away for him. Even beyond the code of the Jedi, that was just something that Kit wouldn’t consider from a moral standpoint. He’d grown up his entire life knowing he would die to protect those in need. What kind of hypocrite would he be if he allowed these people to sacrifice themselves for him?

Of course, Kit wasn’t so selfish as to think this was all about him. The authoritative totalitarian government the Republic turned into had cast doubts in the mind of every free star system. Whispers of a Rebel alliance growing to oppose the looming evil of the Empire were suddenly solidified as reports of increased attacks on trooper convoys and Imperial outposts trickled in from around the galaxy. Raids far too numerous for the standard pillaging of pirates could only mean the rise of some league of insurgencies to combat the toxic spread of the Emperor’s curling fingers. More and more star systems were secretly aligning themselves with the traitors, giving more validity to the defense of any remaining Jedi.

Of course, what were the Jedi? What were they other than reminders of a broken past? The Jedi, for all their esteem and regard, were nothing compared to the lengths of the mistakes they made. Over the weeks Kit had spent on Glee Anselm, observing real people and real places, he realized just how much had been taken from him. His chance at real life had been stripped, as had all the others who were so easily deceived by the cunning lies set up by the Jedi. Yet after generation upon generation of practitioners, was it even a lie anymore? The empty promises of peace and prosperity had their own merit merely by surviving for the centuries that it did. The vibrance and joy they had all sworn to uphold was nothing but a dull throbbing of mutilated abstention. How could Kit blame the Council for merely abiding by the only lie they’d ever known?

Did that allow Kit to continue the cycle? Kit was barely a knight himself before he’d taken on young Nahdar as his padawan. The headstrong little runt was so full of life and energy. He would’ve given anything to see what he would have become without the binding tenants of the Jedi. The Mon Calamari pupil was so eager to please; there was nothing he wanted more than to gratify his master. It was that determined altruism that led to his downfall.

Kit hadn’t been able to teach him how to deal with the pressure of concealing his emotions. Instead, Nahdar became an unstable deity susceptible to eruptions of anger stemming from his own inability to suppress his unimaginable powers. With so much pure vitality and no outlet, Nahdar became yet another victim of the Jedi’s cruel inadequacies.  He couldn’t do that to another child. He wouldn’t.

He thought of Arcaena and the boy she’d do anything but live for. As the baby grew into his powers, it would begin drawing more attention. Arcaena would live in fear of the day the Empire would find them and take her child away. Eventually the mother would grow wary of strangers’ glances, suspicious of everyone and everything that showed the merest hint of curiosity in the boy. At last, overwhelmed by the claustrophobic weight of eyes on her and her son, she’d leave. She’d gather up her minimalist resources and travel throughout the galaxy, slowly selling herself away to care for the pair. They’d be hunted relentlessly. The child, as he grew up, would live to see his mother’s misery and would blame himself for it, going so far as wishing death upon himself if it would ease her suffering. He’d do everything he could to help her, but she wouldn’t allow it. His exposure left too much up to chance; if he was found, she would lose everything. He was all she had left. She was all he ever knew. So she continued killing herself to keep them afloat and he would wait out his days in little more than a prison, hiding from the world. His capture would be inevitable. They would find him and rip him from his mother’s grasp. It wouldn’t matter if they killed her- she was dead anyway. In truth, she had died long ago. Only the love for her son was keeping her together, like a thin thread holding a ruined tapestry. His loss would devastate her beyond all imagining. Whether they killed him or forced him into becoming something far worse, she’d be left to suffer a fate worse than death.

Knowing all his, Kit couldn’t bring himself to take the child. He may be wrong by not accepting the responsibility, but he wouldn’t be making the same mistakes he’d made in the past. He wouldn’t ruin a child’s life by subjugating him to the one he had. Not anymore.

His decision was made. Late at night, he gathered up a few basic materials and snuck out of the hospital. He ran to one of the docking ports and boarded a ship, stealing away before anyone could know he was missing. Kit hesitated as he thought of Dr. Akri and Drex and Lerel and all the other friends he had made here. He shook his head and clasped the controls resolutely. He wouldn’t allow people to suffer because of him any longer. He wouldn’t give them that choice.

He didn’t know where he would go, but it would be far away from here.

Aaron opened his eyes at the man’s silence. “Is that it?” he asked, unwilling to admit that he’d wanted an ending with a little more closure than that.

The figure turned his head to face the clone. “No, I suppose not. But it’s getting late and you have regained your strength.”

Aaron stood up, grimacing and clutching his ribs. He contemplated for a moment. “Why did you tell me this?”

The figure shrugged. “You don’t seem that different from Kit, to me.” He chuckled as Aaron raised an eyebrow. “Come now, it’s just a story. Just a silly old story some poor sop on the street made up.”

Aaron scowled. “Why?”

“A man once said to me, ‘You don’t know real loss until you love something more than yourself.’ Neither of us knew at the time that I loved everything more than myself because I was undeserving of love. I grew up in a world where I meant nothing. That was all I knew. So when I lost my world, I lost everything that I thought had meaning. But in reality, I still had the most important thing in the galaxy: myself. The world doesn’t end just because you die. Why should you end just because the world dies? I had the ability to breathe love into a new reality, and, after many years of trying to remember how, I did. Oh, I did.” The hooded figure, despite the shadows concealing his face, still managed to stare directly at the clone. “We are not so different, you and I. We are so much more than what we were told. We are so much more than our maker.”

Aaron found himself getting frustrated at the man’s remarks. All his life he’d been told he was worth nothing, that he was just a number. If he lost the only thing that he’d ever known, the only thing he’d identified with, he was nothing. He may be a sorry excuse for an absconder, but at least he still had that much. Angrily, he spat at the ground beneath the tattered figure and stormed off, determined to find his way home.

He was nothing. He was nothing.

He’d never been told differently.

He’d always taken that mantra with a grain of salt. As he fought alongside his brothers defending the innocent and fighting for the righteous, he knew that, with them, he was more than a number. He was a part of something good and glorious, and that made him at least part good and glorious. He’d always thought that. But when he woke up from that horrible trance all those years ago to find the horrors he’d done, he finally believed them. He was a tool. A pathetic little manipulated pawn created for the sole purpose of being used in a millennia-old feud that had nothing to do with him. He was insignificant. None of anything he’d done in his entire life had any meaning or purpose. He believed that.

-

The next day the old Jedi woke up. Of course, it was impossible to tell what day it was so deep in the Underworld, but Kit liked to think he could tell when the sun rose. He smiled as a grimy little loth cat bounded up to him. He admired the undeterred vigor of the creature. No matter what traumas it had suffered through, it still managed to look up at him with those hopeful eyes. He smirked as the loth cat’s purrs as he began scratching its striped back.

Suddenly, it bounded away. The Nautolan grinned. “Back for another story?”

For the first time in years, Aaron smiled. “Maybe just one more.”

[ts-nightingaleislands]

Episode #10- “Is Cheatham actually high regularly or is it just a figment of his imagination?”- Sara

that was such a HARD tribal for me. i loved having noah on my side and stuff but also i know he would be one of the ppl to make a big move on me if he stayed . its getting harder and harder for each vote . i just gotta stay focused and hope my alliance stays strong another round or two . tumblr survivor gods i hope your pulling for me!

Austin and Vincent have to be testing me. I dont get why Austin is playing dumb with me or why he act like he didn't know. According to Vincent Austin was in on it. I mean regardless I know who Im just wanting to stick with but yeah, the weird jumped out. Cheatham is also saying this was a week or so then went MIA so thats cool

(LATER)

Austin and Vincent are coming off super sketchy. I mean it is nothing new with Austin, but Vincent oof. I dont mind it all that much because of who I prefer to go with, but it is interesting. If these guys are coordinated then, well, seems uncoordinated

(LATER)

So right now Austin, Cheatham, and Vincent have added me to a chat I guess to work together. I actually worry I am not Natalie Anderson, but Sierra Dawn Thomas Worlds Apart. Nonetheless, I think its smart for me to wait til F7 or so to make the move against Austin/Cheatham. I can't allow enough time to pass for the idol to bite me in my butt!

(LATER)

I now see that Austin probably thinks he can manipulate me, so I have to time when I vote him perfectly. Him feigning ignorance on the Noah vote tells me he likely feels I'm naive enough to believe him and hey people do prefer to keep the ones around they feel are lesser than themselves!

(LATER)

Ive had a change of heart- I think now Kyle is going to get dragged by people, however, I strongly believe he would choose me over anyone so its just a matter of navigating 6 tribals

Inane ramblings from Vincent's cf, dated 3 AM on December 26, formatted terribly bc this cf is dated 3:06 AM on December 26: >i'm looking ahead to the future >austin is likely going to want liam out >bc when he said he wanted to make a move he'd have to mean one of them >them being liam/am/sara >and as far as i can tell liam is being perceived as the glue >so if he goes then am/sara become lone wolves who are easier to manipulate >however if liam stays then the other one, maybe am, is linked with them and they will be mad at austin for doing this >so those are numbers on our side >my previous boot order (EDITOR'S NOTE: never discussed in a cf, but will be discussed at length later) changed due to the unexpected development that austin is willing to flip on his group >however i'll note now that there is a very good chance he's faking >although if he is i can't imagine why he'd put his true allies in such blatant danger when kyle is literally right there as a vote >*person to vote >so let's say 5-3 vote up next >me/cheatham/austin/chris/kyle all against liam's trio >ideally voting out sara >bc she is the messiest and the one i trust least >my goal will be to convince the others that this is the best vote >liam and i are good and he is my decoy f2 >too early for goat stuff but am is a better goat than sara imo >just keeping my options open >liam/cheatham/annmarie could easily each be in my f2 >but not in a "ideal f4" way >so if austin is with me for this vote then he should at least appear to establish further connections with me >he can't do anything without one of chris and cheatham >or kyle i guess >kyle is easily the most expendable of those 3 >so to limit austin's options we need to vote kyle >we >my old boot order is more or less the same >just kyle vote goes from getting austin's trust back to weakening him >then at f6 cheatham chris and i stick together >vote out am unless liam becomes dark horse threat >f5 austin goes >f4 chris >f3 liam >then maybe i win >wow this seems so real >like usually in orgs when i'm at the merge im like'well maybe it's still possible that i could maybe end up at the ftc but lmao imagine getting votes' >oh no i'm becoming overconfident >wow meeting noah in jury again is going to be awkward huh No matter how I place this is honestly one of my better confessionals. Either full of dramatic irony and I look stupid or I win and I look good. One outcome is significantly more likely than the other, of course. But neither isn't so bad, is it?

God I feel this challenge is gonna stir up so much shit! I just hope my target dont get bigger because of it.

Where I stand now is that Austin is very willing to have Kyle go this round quote unquote, but what is to say he may not actually want somebody else? It is interesting seeing him discuss his perception and everything. I guess he cannot help but try to downplay himself, but I feel the ship has sailed for him and now it is only a matter of time. Watch him pull a W

(LATER)

I can't wait for someone to get offended by this Touchy Subjects challenge. I know I won't. If anything, I'll just adapt with it! I also feel like now, it's important to see how AnnMarie and Sara handle things from here on out- either they're willing to try and go for Austin/Cheatham/Vincent, or they'll settle for Kyle. If this happens to go the way I think, I may end up as a potential swing in F7, but I sure as heck am not about to be like Miss Sarah Lacina Cop-Turned-Criminal in Cagayan. No Ma'am! I'm not ever feeling safe until I'm sitting in the Final 2

(LATER)

So Austin asks me for a name and I am like ok I dont mind if it is Kyle unless you guys are up to do someone else. Austin proceeds to say he wants to have options and just wants a name and I'm. It really feels like a bit of a bait just to go to X to say I said their name. I could be wrong but its just weird becaise I haven't heard him say a name yet

(LATER)

Austin! Do not think that Ive forgotten your leaky faucet ways! Like that's the odd thing about it- Austin has shown what he is capable of and it is just weird of him to press about this when I know he has lied to me before. Like right now I literally told him I am fine with anyone going and his response was to know who I actually want out. I really don't know what he wants me to say other than a name to implicate myself but nuh uh! Not I!

(LATER)

The way it looks, I can make the move to get Liam out but I highly doubt I will last much longer. All it will take after that is to say Chris did X lets do him  and so I want to try and wait at least to chat to Kyle. I also want to see how willing AnnMarie and Sara are willing to talk about this vote instead of waiting. I definitely do not want Cheatham/Austin/Vincent all in F6 or at worse F5 however that is easier said than done for this lot

Wowza, Cheatham is playing hard now. SO, basically the votes are supposed to go 6-2, Chris being voted out. Now I do not wanna go any further with Sara, AM, and Liam bc they will take out me and Austin first. So I talked with Chris and now there is a 4 person alliance with Austin, Me, Chris, and Vincent. Im going to use my idol on Chris and then Chris and Kyle will vote out one of the others. Kyle is a wild card and we don't wanna tell him EXACTLY what's going on because he is kinda crazy. So we are thinking about having Vincent vote with Chris to ensure that one of the others go home. This is yet again ANOTHER big move on my part. Im getting worried that people will think that I'm the biggest threat with MORE idols in my hand and doing all the big moves. All I can do is wait. If I keep winning individual immunity like this week then I'm golden.

I think I've had an epiphany and it took talking to Cheatham to figure it out. Apparently I am the vote for tonight, though he wants to do something I've been wanting Cheatham to do in this merge and that is take advantage of the idol system- in doing so he gains a lot of leverage and I felt disppointed that he wasn't optimizing it. Having that said, I think I got a little sad because he told me people feel like I never give a name and truth be told I don't and it is a mistake on my end. I feel like I'm so scared to say a name because it failed miserably for me in the first half of this game and now that I don't do it anymore, people use it as a reason to vote me out. I do feel like its like I can't win with these people, but I want to change as much as I can to give myself a chance

(LATER)

HI am seeing that Austin, Cheatham, and even Vincent legitimately want to work with me and so perhaps I should consider going with them. The question with this vote is how I do I go about it. I've already named Sara because I have the most reason to do her AND I know Austin/Cheatham lowkey wanted her so its a win win for all of us, but it would be interesting to split it if the idol were used on me. Regardless, I just want this to end greatly for me, be that new start to a Chris that has what it will take to make it to the end and win.

I have...lots of questions right now... Am I being voted out tonight? Wouldn't surprise me. Does AnnMarie have a f2 w/ Austin? Cuz I accidentally caught her in something the other day where she told me she knew Austin was asking others for finals. But it might have been an accident because I mentioned that Austin asked for us 2 in a f3 with him....never said f2. Is Cheatham actually high regularly or is it just a figment of his imagination? Why do people get weird and quiet when they're planning a blindside or change loyalties? I literally brought this up to Liam last night a while after results. Gwen/Rizo/Chris did this exact same thing. It's Survivor. Lie and make a move if you have to. I'd respect that a whole lot more. Ignoring people is just shit jury management and I'll totally call Cheatham out at tribal now if I go! At least Vincent gave me an ANSWER! *Giggle* And also...is Austin actually that nice or is it game? Cuz I lit dunno if I'll ever be able to write his name down if that's really his personality. x)

Cheatham wants to invent a situation in which he would play his idol and gain full access to two others. This really feels like a resume padding thing more than a legitimate move out of necessity, because we have the numbers to vote out our target now, and there's no reason that would change any time soon. To me, this solidifies that Cheatham really can't make it to the end, just like Austin. Ideally I want to be able to choose between Liam and Chris because I think I have an ok shot against them both, and it's reasonable for both of them to make it very far. Of course it's the final 8 so it's still way too early to think about the end, but I definitely can't take Austin or Cheatham with me bc they both have a good shot at winning against me.

Sara me and Liam are apparently a strong group so there are plans to usurp our place on the throne! I'm watching a documentary about Queen Elizabeth while writing this. Cheatham apparently wants us gone as well, which hurts. I thought he was with me. I guess not. That is all.

So this round is insane, originally it was gonna be Chris but apparently Cheatham is gonna idol him so we’re having to take out the biggest goat in this game, which is so annoying, but if it must be done to save Sara so I have a shot at making it to the end then so be it. There’s still so much game to play so I need to make the most outta it.

5 votes Kyle (w/ self-vote), 2 votes Sara, 1 vote Chris (negated by idol.)

[daeneryses]

so. it’s been three days and i can’t stop thinking about the episode. in that sense they must’ve made something correctly bc wow, i literally can’t get it out of my head. i still enjoy the show for what it is, it’s supposed to be entertainment and fun, not everything has to be a well-written fantasy novel i guess. but i just cant stop thinking about it, trying to understand the reasoning behind what we just saw, and i just end up more confused.

i don’t want to shit on the episode bc they got many things right. it was beautifully directed, the score was phenomenal, i mean production-wise, it’s top-notch, it shows how far tv has come, those sequences with the dragons could rival any blockbuster, the cgi was incredible, and we had some pretty chilling shots (e.g. the dothraki, when the trench was light up, the dragons) and the whole battle was cool. i was biting my nails and sweating, they really know how to build up dread. but the story simply didn’t match the episode. and the worst part is that they had it all to make it right, but they didn’t. you can still have arya kill the nk, just make it make sense. and they had everything to make it make sense, just explain to us the story of the stark family. in the novels, it’s been heavily implied that the starks have something to do directly with the WW, they could easily twist that into some sort of magical blood thingy that states that only a stark could defeat the AOTD, the NK himself, and that’s why he survived being burned by drogon. it was right theeeereeee and no one would complain cause everybody and their grandmas love the starks, we’d easily accept that there’s something special in their heritage, just like the targaryens. hell, the outrage isn’t even about arya killing him, she’s a beloved character and fan-favorite, it’s about the overall execution of the quote unquote story. i appreciate what they tried to do, subverting the trope of the chosen one, but wouldn’t it have been nice to have jon fight the NK? make him lose and at the last second arya saves him, the endgame is the same, but that way they delivered what they had been teasing since hardhome.

i guess if you try really hard you can accept it, and there’s a certain appeal into what they made, if jon rly was the cosen one maybe the nk didn’t want to risk it bc maybe jon could win and that’s why he raised all the wights, and then he was walking all smug to finally kill bran but he made the mistake of being too confident and that’s when arya gets him. it can work if you don’t think about technicalities too much, but it’s incredibly frustrating to think that they could’ve made the same thing with just a few tweaks here and there that would make it more satisfying.

also, and i think this is the biggest mistake, why is everyone still alive? can someone explain to me how brienne, jaime and pod survived half the episode being against a wall while attacked by like 500 zombies at a time? jaime i already knew he had the biggest plot armor bc cersei, but pod? don’t tell me they couldn’t kill him w/o hindering the story. can u imagine him dying saving brienne? the emotional impact that would have? if you aren’t going to kill them off, don’t show them to us in situations where it was humanly impossible to make it out alive. also SAM. jfc that dude was- i don’t even have words, he was swimming in a pool of wights, all while crying, how is he still alive? i don’t think he adds a lot to the KL plot does he? tormund and gendry were in a mountain of wights, one of them should’ve died and we know it. 

these writers were never afraid to do so, they killed off like 7 main-ish characters (including fan favorite margaery tyrell) in the explosion of the sept of baelor, and it payed off! i’m not going to get into the red wedding bc that was martin’s work not d&d’s.

and, if this was going to be the end of the nk’s plot, they could’ve been ballsy and let jon or dany die. the only way i could’ve accepted dany dying was sacrificing herself in the war for the dawn. that’s it. buuut we all know they are both still alive so that they can fight over the iron throne and i just. jeez. don’t get me wrong i love the game of thrones, i would gladly remove the magic element from the novels/show and i would love them even more (the political intrigue is what drew me into the novels in the first place), but does it make sense to have them fighting for a throne that jon obviously doesn’t want and dany obviously does? I KNOW that there will be more players involved, sansa will probably try to get in jon’s head to make him reclaim his right to the throne, but ultimately, these characters have already been built up. we know what they stand for. they can’t aim to have a plotline that’s basically the dance of the dragons when one of the dragons clearly just wants to nap and retire.

ofc we have cersei, and that actually gets me pretty pumped, i feel like she’s been the most consistent and well written character throughout the show, and having her as the main bad isn’t a disappointment to me, but i’m biased bc i really enjoy her character so there’s that (i actually prefer her show counterpart, martin did her dirty in some chapters of affc). however, there’s a big issue w her storyline. euron. if that dude takes out more main characters than the nk i’m going to riot. they’ve completely failed to establish him as a real threat, no one gives a shit about him and it’d be a let down if he kills characters that we have come to care about. not because they shouldn’t die (they should be dead already) but because it’s not earned at all. just imagine euron, a character introduced in season 6 that hasn’t really evolved at all (he’s the most one-dimensional character in the show), that no one gives a shit about and whose purpose in the story i still can’t grasp, killing someone like jaime or tormund or brienne. what a waste would that be. and ik this is my own imagination but the actor did say his character did a lot of “cool stuf” in the season and so far he’s done nothing so i’m afraid ladies!!! they really shoul have developed him more if they intended for cersei to be the final boss, bc i have no clue what he wants or what he stands for, so if any character that has had any sort of impact in the overall story dies by his dirty hands i WILL RIOT. im excited for cersei, so i really hope the pirate is just an accesory in the story and not fundamental to the plot.

another point that bothers me is lf’s death. i know it happened last season, and when it happened i was fine with it bc it supposedly represented the end of the game of thrones and how everyone was now focused on survival. but if this was the endgame all along, why kill him off? had we have him backing up sansa who will surely back up jon and varys backing up dany, we could have had an interesting thing there. had that been the case, the dance of the dragons would look wayyyy more interesting wouldn’t it? because the characters we have left have witnessed death itself, they survived the literal apocalypse, and now they’re supposed to turn on each other? idk man, it seems hollow to me. i guess they could pull it off, but the writing would have to be spectacular in order for them to do so. sansa’s going to have to be one of the main main main players, since she’s the only one with clear motives to betray dany. i guess tyrion could be a wildcard but eh im not too excited abt that, it would be a disservice to his character imo.

and well this has become way longer than i intended, i guess im just worried about how my favorite show of all time will end. there’s so many great things they could still do, i just hope they deliver something that lives up to seven amazing seasons of compelling characters. now that they got rid of the AOTD, they really could focus in human conflict, which they’ve done beautifully in the past, so i believe not everything is lost. we’ll just have to wait and see.

[lovelayla13]

Step 1: Get Noticed

Who: Layla & Elias When: This past weekend Where: At a house party What: Flirty words & locked rooms

Layla was glad that Kamila had come with her not that she knew exactly why. Yes she did have a definite interest in getting the ball rolling with the boy who seemed to actually like her enough to offer her several responses on social media but it wasn't really like she'd need or even want Kamila next to her when she made her move. It was certainly nice to have someone by your side that would tell you if you honestly looked like shit before you moved in though and quite literally Layla had just asked Kamila that very thing before she walked into the house party. It looked like it was well on it way, also a good thing because no one wanted to be the first to arrive to one of those. She was hoping Elias had already arrived though and she casually looked around to try to get a glimpse of the boy.

Elias walked in about fifteen minutes later, immediately on the hunt for a drink. He tolerated parties for the mere fact that they typically ended with him getting laid, but generally he hated people his age and couldn't make it through more than five minutes of a high school party without alcohol. Finding the keg, he grabbed himself a cup and quickly filled it. He downed it quickly, not wasting any time going back in for a refill.

Layla had gotten a drink not long after she walked in and had already finished it. A bit of alcohol had only ever helped people if you asked her so she was going to refill her cup and to her ideal something great did happen, she found just who she was looking for. Walking up to him she said, "Fancy meeting you here."

Elias looked up when he heard a girl's voice, smirking when he saw it had been the girl he was talking to online. "I'm not typically far from the booze," he explained. Noticing her empty cup, he put his own down and took hers from her hand, filling it up and handing it back. "I assume that's what you're over here for."

Layla nodded, "A good choice really," she added. It was one of the main reasons to even come to these parties. "And thanks," she added as he handed her back her cup, "but I can't lie, I did also see you and just wanted to make sure you were real," she said finishing with a laugh.

Elias raised his eyebrow at her comment. "Make sure I was real?" He repeated in confusion. Noticing a line forming at the keg, he placed his hand on the small of Laylas back, leading her away from the table and towards a corner of a not so packed room.

Layla laughed again at his reputation. "Yes. Your 100 percent catfish material," she joked letting him lead her out of the way of what would have been some pretty angry high schoolers had he not.

Elias gave her a look and shook his head. "I go to school with you," he pointed out before taking a sip of his beer. "Don't people who catfish tend to like... live across the country or some shit like that?"

Layla was stumped for a second. "I guess you're right," maybe it made her look a bit dumb but she found that most of the time it was fine. Boys liked hearing they were right.

Elias smirked and nodded, running his fingers through his hair. "I typically am," He hummed. "But it was an easy mistake... don't discount yourself," He added before taking another sip of his drink. "So now that you're content I'm not a catfish, can I help you?"

Layla liked the way he had worded the discounting part. It was a bit confusing to her but it did make him sound smart. "Hmm," she said as though thinking over her choices. "Well I wanted to get to know you," she said though her voice definitely made it clear she was interested in more than just a conversation. "When I set my mind to something I don't give up easily," she added

Elias smirked at her comment, taking another sip of his drink. "Depends what you want to know about me," He said. "Somethings I share... most I don't," He explained, giving her a once over.

Layla took a sip from her drink when he looked her over, it coved her pleased smile some but not much, and the way she lifted her chest up just slightly made it pretty obvious she rather liked him looking at her. "The stuff you normally don't makes me a lot more curious," she answered. "Do you not share with everyone?" she asked with a small pout, dog eyes in addition because she could work it.

Elias shook his head. "If I told you then it wouldn't be things I didn't share," he shot back, shaking his head once more. Chuckling at the face she pulled, he gave her a look. "Depends on what you want me to share, now doesn't it?"

Layla rolled her eyes playfully back in the direction of the boy. "It could still be something you don't share with most people," she told. "How about why you don't share some things?" she asked hopefully.

Elias shook his head once more. "Uhm..." He shrugged. "I don't know, people don't really tend to care for one. And if it's someone who wants to be a temporary person in my life, they don't need to know shit about me."

Layla took a second to consider his answer, "How do you know if someone want to be a temporary person in your life or stay around longer?" she asked. "I mean maybe not opening up is the reason people don't stay around to long. They might just think you aren't interested in them being long term," she took a bit of a drink from her cup before her head popped up to say something else, "Mm, and you can't know if people care or not just interpret," the alcohol finally getting a bit to her certainly let her stop thinking about her internal word count. Sober she wouldn't use so many words to flirt. She was supposed to be flirting not talking his ear off.

Elias shrugged, moving his head to try and flip away the loose strands of hair that were falling in front of his eyes. "Touche," He hummed, downing the rest of his drink because he definitely hadn't been coming out to figure himself out. "If people are that interested, they'll just stick around though. "

Layla couldn't say she disagreed she'd been trying to get people's attention her whole life. Being interested was just about enough to keep anyone around. "I guess its just hard for me to imagine someone not being interested in you," she said with a firtacious small smile.

Elias "Different meanings for the word interest," He hummed, knowing exactly where Layla was going. "Plenty of people are quote unquote interested," He shot back, licking his lips as he looked down at her.

Layla didn't answer his first statement but she didn't miss a beat when it came to his next. "Are you?" she asked her heart beating a bit faster now.

Elias smirked down at the blonde. "I think the better question is are you?" He shot back.

Layla laughed a bit at his question. "I wouldn't be here if I wasn't."

Elias chuckled, moving his hand down to rest on her hip. "In that case, you wanna go check out the situation upstairs?" He asked, figuring there were empty bedrooms.

Layla took a small step towards him when he put his hand on her waist. "I'd like that," she said with a nod and definite sort of accomplished smile on her face.

Elias let his hand slide to the small of her back, putting his cup down on a table as he lead her to the staircase and up the stairs. He tried the first door but it was locked, the second he came to was open a crack. He pushed it open, smirking to himself when he saw it was empty. "This should do," He hummed.

Layla let him lead her up dropping her own cup on the counter before they headed upstairs. She kinda smiled when she saw the first door was opened. If she was about to have some fun it was nice other people were too. When he opened the door to the second that was even nicer though, especially considering this room had a bed in it. "Agreed," she answered closing and locking the door behind them herself.