#realizing that its not just them who have been treated like they are irrationally angry or unable to make their own choices

[ultraintrovertedgryffindor]

Omg I have an angsty request that I’m sure is going to rip my heart out and light it on fire. It’s a super long and specific request so sorry if I get carried away:

Okay so reader had an unspoken thing in the glade with Gally but then he “died” so over the course of the events of scorch trials she got closer with newt and they start their own unspoken thing. But then in the death cure, newt (realizing he has the flare) starts encouraging her to reconcile with gally because he knows that he’s gonna die and gally will take care of her? But she’s confused on who she loves but kinda clings to what she has with newt because he needs her. And she’s just heart b r o k e n over newt dying but gally helps put her pieces back together in the safe haven and eventually they have their fluffy first time together?

Thanks!

*Fanfare* *Triumphant Music* I finally finished this one! Sorry it took a while, I really wanted this to be perfect. But I think I'm quite happy with how this one turned out! I hope you like it too, sweet Anon. Btw, I know you wanted smut, but I just didn't think it would fit with this one. Sorry, maybe on the next one!

Over 5.2k words, so strap in for a long one y'all

Possible Trigger Warning: Self Harm

~~~~~~~~~~

During your time in the Glade, you were practically attached at the hip with Gally.

He was your best friend, your first go to whenever you had any issues, and you were the same to him.

After his supposed death, you felt a void in your soul. You took on a nihilistic attitude, nothing in life making sense anymore. You didn't care about what happened to you or around you, you wished you had died with Gally, the idea of it being welcomed with open arms.

The thought of dying brought no anxiety, no dread. Even the thought of dying painfully didn't scare you, you wanted it. Everyday you thought about that spear going through Gally's chest, wanting to feel what he must've felt. You wanted to feel the same pain and fear, you wanted to feel like you were dying too.

No rational side of you could explain why you felt this way. Perhaps, if you felt the same pain he felt, maybe it would give some sort of closure. Maybe it would make you feel like you were still close to him, even in death.

It wasn't too long before you decided to act on those feelings. You had been only a knife to your chest, right where your heart was, hyping yourself up to push the blade into your skin.

You didn't want to kill yourself, no. You wanted your death to be natural, not forced. You'd suffer your own existence until your time eventually came like it did for everyone else. But Newt didn't know this when he happened upon you that night, just a couple centimeters of a blade shredding its way into your skin.

Newt panicked, immediately stopping your from hurting yourself, his heart racing at the thought of being too late. But thankfully, he wasn't.

You tried to seem somewhat normal, but the laughter bubbling from your chest couldn't be withheld, making Newt fear that you had lost your mind. He wasn't too far off...

He knew how much Gally's death impacted you, he knew you were in pain every second of every day, but he never thought you'd go so far as hurting yourself. He just silently patched you up, fearing anything he would say from a good place would only upset you further.

Eventually, you explained why you had done what you did. It obviously didn't sit right with Newt. He wasn't particularly close with Gally back in the Glade, but he knew well enough that he wouldn't want you to be living with this mindset.

After a while in the Scorch, you stuck by Newt the most and you started to get better. You felt so empty after Gally's death, leaving a hole in your heart. Newt helped lead you out of that void, trying his best to fit that empty space. But you knew nobody could replace Gally, not even Newt. You knew that space could never be filled, but just seeing Newt try to be that person for you, it was too endearing not to pull at what heartstrings you had left.

Then the complications happened, so much time spent believing that Gally was dead came crashing down as he stood in front of you all, very much not dead.

You thought it had to be a dream, could he really be here?

It was strange. You thought you'd run to him, leap into his arms and kiss all over his face, but you didn't. You stood next to your friends awkwardly as he took off his gas mask. To think you'd be more outwardly happy that someone you cared about was still alive. But you couldn't help the guilt that you felt when Gally said that they left him to die. Sure, it might've not been specifically directed to you, but you felt the sharp sting of his words resonate through you. It almost felt like a strong invisible force hit your funny bone, the volt of uncomfortable aching pain spreading throughout your entire body and leaving you in a breathless agony.

For Gally, he was overjoyed to see you alive and well. He so badly wanted to go to you, feel you in his arms again. But he knew he couldn't, how could he after how he treated everyone back in the Glade?

He didn't remember a lot, but he knew he killed Chuck. The blurry memories of that day, he saw it every night in his dreams. He remembered the sound of the gunshot, the sudden pain in his chest and not being able to breathe. He saw Chuck laying beside him, his expressionless eyes trained on the ceiling, unmoving. His chest wasn't rising and falling like it should've been, blood seeping through his layers of clothing. The most purest soul Gally ever met was dead, and it was his fault.

Gally couldn't even bring himself to look in your direction, he was too disgusted with himself.

Thomas punching Gally wasn't a big shock, he knew he deserved it. But Newt quickly came to his rescue, stopping Thomas from acting out irrationally. But a part of Gally didn't want the Greenie to be stopped. Being punched wasn't something he enjoyed, but Gally would willingly endure whatever punishment that would be inflicted and he'd accept that he deserved it. But nothing he could do or say would bring Chuck back...

When Gally did finally force himself to look at you, he wish he hadn't. You looked indifferent, which never happened with you. He instantly thought that you hated him as much as Thomas did, but then again, he deserved it.

It was really tough for Gally to keep a conversation with everyone while he took them to see Lawrence, especially when he noticed how close you stuck by Newt. But, he supposed it was only natural to find another person to be close to when you've lost someone else, he still couldn't help the feeling of jealousy that bubbled up in his chest. He hated how good you and Newt looked together, you seemed...happy.

At the moment, you weren't even close to happy; you were confused, and angry.

It sounded terrible, but a part of you was angry that Gally was actually still alive. You had to go through the mourning process, and you hadn't even finished it and now all of a sudden, he was alive all this time. It put your emotions on haywire, the most you felt was confusion, and if someone would've told you what you were experiencing was some sort of a twisted dream, you would believe them. But your feet were too sore and sunburn too irritating for this all to be a dream.

You sensed Newt's eyes trained on you, you knew he was probably worried, but you couldn't decide what for. Was he worried that you'd go back to Gally? Was he worried you'd replace him now that he was still alive? Knowing Newt, he probably just wanted to talk to you, but even then, you would have no idea what to say. What do people feel or say in situations like this? You were certain not everyone has to go through the loss of a loved one just to find out that they weren't gone, right?

It was late, and you were exhausted, as was everyone else; but you stayed awake, attempting to sleep only causing you to toss and turn, and eventually giving up. But someone else was awake, you were shocked to see that it was Newt. "What're doing awake?" He asked, taking a seat next to you.

"Could ask you the same thing." You replied, only getting a look from Newt in response. "Couldn't sleep." You sighed, caving in to his concerned expression.

"I know it's not my place," Newt started, wringing his hands together nervously, "but, you haven't said a word to Gally." You knew he was going to bring that up, you had that feeling as soon as he saw you were still awake. "I know it was a shock, to all of us. But I thought it'd effect you the most, to be quite honest. You two were pretty close..."

You shrugged weakly, shaking your head. "I don't know what to tell you. Was I supposed to react a certain way? Was I supposed to drop to my knees and burst into tears or something?"

Newt grimaced. "No...of course you're not supposed to act a certain way. It's just a bit strange to me that you haven't tried to speak to him at all."

"I don't even know what I'd say to him." You chuckled bitterly.

"I know you and Gally had something, something special. That sort of thing doesn't just go away. You were absolutely gutted after what happened, this is a chance to reconnect. You care about him, a lot."

"Hey, that doesn't change the way I feel about you. I care about you a lot too."

Newt smiled weakly. "I know, but I really think you should go and talk to him."

You could tell he was being sincere, but you couldn't understand why. You two had grown close over the past several months, so why would he want you to reconnect with someone you used to be even closer with? You weren't really given the time to think over it more before Newt was quickly encouraging you to speak with Gally, telling you where his room was, somehow knowing this conversation would happen and finding out beforehand.

Just a few moments later, you found yourself outside of Gally's door, fist extended out to hover over the worn wood, but you couldn't bring yourself to knock. Thinking back to how hard you tried to avoid Gally when he came back, what if he thought you hated him? What if he didn't want to talk to you?

But before you could chicken out, you forced yourself to knock on Gally's door without thinking, soon hearing the thud of footsteps nearing. With bated breath, you waited for the door to open, anxiety gripping your mind so intensely that it almost triggered your fight or flight response. But Gally's almost hopeful and shocked expression when he saw you waiting relaxed you a little bit. "...hi." Gally voiced, the nervous and confused tone to his voice not going unnoticed by you.

"Hi." You replied, your voice probably just as shaky and nervous as his.

"Uh, come in." He said quickly, moving out of the doorframe, his hands slightly shaking when he motioned you to enter his room.

Your heart was beating out of your chest, so fast and hard that you were worried Gally would be able to hear it. Your hands were shaking, as well as your legs as you walked into his room, it was a miracle you didn't collapse right then and there. You tried not to jump as you heard the click of his door closing, you tried to take deep calming breaths before Gally turned to face you, the two of you almost on complete opposite sides of the room just standing awkwardly.

You stared at Gally, your gaze running up and down his body but ultimately stopping to stare at his chest. Tears quickly came to your eyes as you saw how healthy he looked, like a spear wasn't embedded in his chest months ago. You couldn't stop the flow of whimpers that came from your throat, putting your hands up to cover your face in embarrassment. You felt your face start to burn as you felt Gally's arms wrap around you as soon as you started to cry, but his warmth comforting you only caused you to let out more tears.

You never thought you'd be in his arms again.

Gally stood there silently, holding you and just trying to soothe you as best he could. In the back of his mind, he was astonished that you even let him come near you, you had avoided him altogether up until this moment. But the whimpers he heard coming from you, seeing the tears spilling from your eyes, he instinctively went to hug you. He also couldn't ignore the guilt he felt, thinking that you were crying because of him. He hated it. But you hugged him back tightly, burying your face in his chest and trying to stifle your sobs.

"You're here..." You cried softly, "you're really here..."

Gally's lip trembled, tears of his own brimming his eyes at how much pain you must've been in thinking he was dead all this time, your voice giving away your feelings. He exhaled shakily, "I am here." He placed a kiss to the top of your head. "I'm here."

For a few minutes, you and Gally just held each other silently. You both needed this, understanding how badly you missed one another. Soon, you were able to calm yourself, but you still didn't pull away. Gally only pulled away slightly so he could see your face, frowning when he saw your eyes were puffy and tearstained. "I'm so sorry, Y/n."

You furrowed your brows, shaking your head. "What happened wasn't your fault, Gally." You said genuinely. No matter how much pain and anger you felt about what happened to Chuck, you never once blamed him. You knew W.C.K.D. killed him, and every other Glader who died. But Gally's frown told you everything you needed to know; he still blamed himself.

"I should've gone with you." He whispered, resting his forehead against yours. "How can you even stand the sight of me?"

"Because I know you never would've killed anyone if you weren't stung, especially Chuck."

Hearing Chuck's name out loud made tears brim Gally's eyes once more, tightening his fists in anger at himself. "Chuck deserved so much better...he wasn't supposed to die..." He cried, causing you to pull him back into your embrace, rubbing his back while trying to not to cry again.

"None of us deserved to get experimented on."

Eventually, you lead Gally to sit next to you on his bed, holding his hand. It felt so right to be sitting there with Gally, you missed him so much that you despised ever feeling even the slightest bit of anger when you first saw that Gally was alive. But one emotion did not go away, you still felt confused.

While sitting there with Gally, you couldn't help but think about Newt. He was so adamant about you reconciling with Gally, was he hoping that something would happen between you two? You truly cared a lot about Newt, and you knew he felt the same way, so you couldn't understand why he was acting this way.

You sighed softly when you started to feel sleepy, standing up slowly. "I should probably head back."

Gally quickly stood up with you. "Uh, you could stay here if you want?" He stammered, causing you to smile a little.

"That's okay. I already had a sleeping bag set up for me downstairs, so..."

Gally tried to hide his disappointed frown, choosing to walk up to you until you two were face to face. Maybe it was too soon, but ever since he saw you, Gally had the strongest urge to place his lips on yours. He missed your soft lips that he only had the privilege of feeling a few times back in the Glade before everything happened. He gently grabbed hold of your jaw, tilting your face up and leaning forward slowly.

You wanted him, you wanted him so bad. But before his lips could connect, Newt's face popped up in your mind and you couldn't, you forced yourself to turn away.

You tried not to look at Gally's face, knowing that he'd probably look like a kicked puppy. You couldn't, it would be too painful. "It's Newt." Gally frowned, taking a step back.

Your eyes widened, finally taking a glance over to him to indeed see that his expression was one of disappointment and sadness. "I never said-"

"You didn't have to." Gally interrupted. "I see the way you look at him...it's how you used to look at me." You stayed silent, a feeling of guilt washing over you. "I don't blame you, Y/n, for finding someone else. I'd never expect you to grieve over me forever, that's too selfish."

Hearing this, you had a terrifying thought that you needed to voice out loud. "Did you ever find someone else?" You asked nervously, afraid of his answer.

"No..." He smiled weakly, "No one that could ever compare to you."

You hated that you felt relieved, you were the one who seemed to be selfish. But, you couldn't just drop what you had with Newt now that Gally's still alive. You couldn't say anything else, what could you say to that?

"You should get some sleep." Gally said, opening his door and motioning you to get out.

"Gally..." You whispered.

"Please. Just...we have a busy day tomorrow."

You sighed. You couldn't argue with him.

Newt watched you walk back downstairs, getting into your sleeping bag with a very prominent frown. Doesn't seem like it went well, he thought. He felt relieved and frustrated at the same time. Newt really cared for you, he could even go as far as saying he loved you, but he needed you and Gally to get back together, or become friends again at least.

It wasn't too long ago that Newt found out he had the Flare. He saw the black and purple veins slowly travelling up his arm, and the pain, the pain was the worst part. You had already gotten close to him, so he was heartbroken to know that you'd just lose another person you cared for. After Gally, he knew you wouldn't be able to handle another loss. So when Gally showed up out of the blue, it was like a miracle, Newt's prayers had been answered.

Newt felt jealousy, of course, he wanted to stay with you. He didn't want Gally to take you from him, but what use would he be when he was dead or a Crank? He tried not to be angry with you, it wasn't your fault how you were feeling, but he needed to know you'd be okay when he was gone.

Newt did try talking to you about it, but you always changed the subject or simply didn't answer him. Before you all knew it, it was time to start planning Minho's rescue mission. Thomas didn't want to use Teresa, and hearing that only made Newt's anger bubble to the surface.

It wasn't like Newt to lash out like that, he was always so calm and relaxed. Maybe the stress finally got to him, maybe it was something else...

You immediately followed after Newt when he stormed out after yelling at Thomas, not knowing that Gally's sad eyes were following you. You couldn't think of anything else, you just had to know that Newt was okay.

You found Newt on the roof, sitting on the ledge. "Newt?" You asked, concerned. "Are you okay...?" You stepped closer captiously, finally taking a seat next to him.

Newt only smiled bitterly. "No...no, not really."

You sighed, looking out to the horizon, trying to find the right words to say. "We all thought Teresa was our friend...it's okay to be angry."

Newt shook his head. "It's not that."

You furrowed your brows. "Then, why did you lash out at Thomas?"

Newt bit his lip to keep it from trembling. He never wanted you to find out this way. He didn't even want you to know. But after that scene he made, he knew there was no point in hiding it anymore.

Tears came to your eyes as Newt lifted up his jacket sleeve, revealing his discolored arm. You knew what it was immediately, seeing it on every Crank you came across. "No..." You whispered. "No."

"I know I probably shouldn't have kept it from you, but I was scared. I still am."

"We'll fix it!" You quickly said, it sounding more like a plead. "We'll find another cure!"

Newt only gave you a weak smile. "I don't think that's a possibility right now, love. Besides, Minho needs us."

"No, you're not allowed to give up like that, Newt. We'll find something to help you. If Brenda was cured, so can you. Teresa might-"

"Please, Y/n." Newt voiced sharply. "Please...just stop. I don't need false hope."

Before you could say anything else, you heard the roof access door open, Thomas walking up to the two of you. "Y/n, can I, uh, talk to Newt? Alone?"

You looked to Newt, who nodded, signaling for you to leave. You stood up, speed walking inside and down the stairs. The tears kept falling, blurring your vision, and you had no idea what to do. Newt was dying, and there was nothing that you could do about it, and it didn't seem like he was too eager to try and find a cure. You hoped Thomas could talk some sense into him. But in that moment, your feet subconsciously took you to Gally's little apartment. You stood in front of the door in tears, wishing that you didn't feel the urge to find comfort in him when Newt was sick. But, you knocked on the door, quickly placing yourself in Gally's arms as soon as he was in front of you.

Gally didn't know what was wrong, he barely got a good look at your face before you threw yourself at him. But the way you were shaking and whimpering, he knew you were crying, and he didn't have the heart to pull away from you. He walked backwards and shut his door, leading you to sit down on his bed with him. He just held you as you cried, leaning his head down on top of yours until you calmed down. He finally spoke when your cries were just quiet sniffles. "What happened?"

You exhaled a shaky breath, lifting your head to look at Gally. "Newt has the Flare..."

"W-What...?" Had Gally heard that right? Could his mind be playing tricks on him? He just assumed everyone that was in the Glade was immune, that's why they were there, right? But you repeated what you had said, confirming what Gally thought he heard. "I...I'm so sorry..." That's all Gally could say. He wasn't very well spoken in these types of situations, all he could do was bring you back into another hug.

You finally understood why Newt was pushing you to get close to Gally again; he wanted you to be close to someone when he died.

Yet another situation that had you confused. You knew you loved Gally, you always had, he was your best friend. But now you had Newt, he helped you through everything while in the Scorch, helped you try to overcome your grieve and probably saved your life multiple times. How could you possibly make a decision like this?

You and Gally never put a label on what you had in the Glade, and nobody asked either, not even Alby. You both just knew that you cared for one another, that you'd do anything for the other. But as time went on, you felt guilty knowing what you'd ultimately choose. It was always going to be a lose lose for you.

Newt needed you, and you couldn't leave him when he needed you the most.

Gally, deep down, knew what your decision was going to be. You had a big heart. You never would leave anyone behind, even if they were infected. Back in the Glade, Gally wouldn't have hesitated in sacrificing the few to save the many, but you were never like that. You cared about everyone, especially the people who were closest to you. You never were going to give up on Newt, you couldn't now. You would spend as much time with him as possible, what little time he might've had left. And you did, until he took his final breath.

You felt like you were a glass vase that had been shattered, and every time you tried to pick up the pieces, the glass would just cut deeper and deeper into your skin. It felt like life didn't want you to be put back together. Nothing felt real. Everything that happened in the Last City felt like a fever dream. You hoped that one day you'd wake up and you'd be back in the Glade, everyone was still alive. Maybe if you could go back in time, maybe you could save everyone, maybe you could've convinced Gally to listen to Thomas, maybe you could've held off Newt a bit longer in time for Brenda to give him the cure.

A lot of maybe's, a lot of hopes and prayers, never answered.

Now in the Safe Haven, you felt anything but safe.

You didn't talk to anyone for awhile, not even Gally. You had nothing to say, and you were afraid of breaking down in front of everyone. So, you isolated yourself. And then a couple weeks later, you finally felt everything bubble to the surface.

Sitting down somewhere along the coastline, not too close to the water, but close enough that you could feel the salty breeze of the waves hit you gently as the evening cooled when the sun started to go set.

You tucked yourself up into a ball, your knees as close as you could get them to your chest and your arms wrapped tightly around them. And, you cried. And cried. And cried. And cried. The ugly kind of crying. Your tears weren't coming out one eye at a time in a perfectly straight line down your face like in the movies, you weren't making quiet sniffles or whimpers, you were full on sobbing. Tears came out of your eyes so fast that you could barely make out the sun on the horizon, your shirt sleeves were most definitely covered in snot and whatever salty tears it had the chance to catch. Your throat felt like it was being torn apart by how intense your sobs were. The sobs sounded more like you were having a coughing fit, one of those phlegmy hacking coughs that made you feel like you were going to vomit.

You knew you most likely weren't far enough away from the camp to quiet your weeping, and you knew you were just embarrassing yourself, arranging for yourself to be completely humiliated the next morning when you had to face everybody. But in the moment, you couldn't care less. You loss someone so important to you, it felt like losing Gally all over again. But you knew this time, it was final. No surprise resurrections this time. You felt completely, and utterly, alone.

But you never were.

You felt so dissociated and detached from yourself, the wails of grief too much for your body to handle. You couldn't feel anything around you, not the warmth of the sand, not the slight chill breeze, not even Gally's arms wrapped around you tightly. You didn't realize until you passed out from exhaustion, waking up the next morning in a bed that wasn't yours, and a hut that wasn't yours.

Your vision was still a little bit blurry, all the tears from the night previous crusting to the creases around your eyes, making it a bit of a challenge opening them all the way. But, your other sense were intact enough to tell you that bacon and eggs were next to you on a bedside table. You hadn't eaten the day before, so it was mostly a primal reaction to quickly take the plate and gobble up the food.

You still had to rely on context clues to figure out where you were in the camp. As much as your eyes irritated you, they could now finally work once you were wide awake. You probably should've known immediately who's hut it was, but seeing that familiar grey knitted hoodie settled ungracefully over the backrest of a chair, you knew it was Gally's.

You blushed quickly after that realization. How did he know where you were, and how much did he see? The thought of him seeing you in such a state made you cringe. But what was more horrifying was that Gally was right outside the room, waiting for you to wake up. "Hey..." He voiced, his eyebrows knitted in concern, eyes full of sadness.

You had to look away, the heat rushing to your face making you feel like you were going to pass out again. "Hi." You croaked, your vocal cords still sore and raw.

Gally shifted his weight nervously, taking a step closer to you. "I'm sorry, for bringing you here...I was afraid you were going to hurt yourself." You snapped you gaze back to him in confusion, him quickly blushing, scratching the back of his head. "Uh, Newt told me about what you did to yourself after...after the Maze."

You self-consciously rubbed the spot on your chest where a big scar still remained. "I wasn't trying to...you know, kill myself or anything."

"Forgive me if I don't believe you." He said softly, taking a seat on the bed next to you.

You sighed, crossing your arms. "I just...I didn't know what I was thinking."

Gally gently grabbed ahold of your hand, making you uncross your arms, letting his warm hand take yours. "I'm so sorry, Y/n. Newt should be here with the rest of us. He was a good person."

You nodded as tears came to your eyes again, burning enough to make you whimper, and you leaned your head against Gally's shoulder. "I miss him so much." You cried.

Eventually, you and Gally became close again. He was always there for you. Whenever you had nightmares, whenever you were lonely, whenever you needed anything, Gally would always be there. You started to feel your relationship had almost gotten back to the point where it was in the Glade, it had been almost a year, but you still felt it was too early to be moving on. A part of you didn't want to move on, but you knew that's not what Newt wanted either.

You didn't read the note Newt wrote to you when Thomas first gave it to you. The grief was still too near, and you didn't know if you could handle it. But a couple months after your breakdown, you finally read it. Newt loved you, he had always loved you. And he wanted you to be happy, he didn't want you to be sad that he was gone, even though he knew it would be impossible. But he knew you would be okay, he knew Gally would protect you no matter what. Reading his note was part of the reason you knew it would be okay to be with Gally, it just took you some time.

One day, you and Gally were taking a break from working, just sitting near the forest tree line, and you did it; you kissed him, and you couldn't stop, you didn't want to stop. And you didn't, and neither did Gally.

After that, it was almost impossible to spend any time away from each other.

You never thought you'd smile again, but Gally always found a way. He made you so happy, and it made you cry one night when you finally realized that you were happy, and you knew somewhere out there, it made Newt happy.

~~~~~~~~~~

Cries in Español

[angelicmichael]

renegade

Andy Dolan x reader

Summary: After another night where Hedwig abandons Andy; reader is left with no other choice but to try and help console him the best she can.

Words: 3.6k+

Warnings: vague mentions of drugs and being intoxicated, some jealous! reader, lotsss of angst, brief fluff, mainly hurt/comfort fic tbh hehe, major Hedwig slander oops, maybe a bit of unhealthy relationships (??), slowburn, some conflict/arguing 

A\N: hey y’all, hope u enjoy this hehe. I was mostly going for a angst and fluff vibe when I wrote this but it just turned into hurt/comfort so.. hopefully it’s still enjoyable !! :) this takes place sometime in episode three probably lol. ALSO fic is named after the song Taylor swift has recently been featured in 👉🏻👈🏻

The town, Eden; regardless of its beauty was a force to be reckoned with.

Being practically forced to live in a town that was so.. particular was never something you envisioned for your future in the past, but now you wouldn’t want to be anywhere else; even given the choice.

After all how could you exactly complain?

If you were to ask any person- (or any sane person that didn’t know of Eden that well) they would say that living here would sound like complete fucking heaven. A small coastal town, a tight knit community that was overly abundant with beautiful people and drugs seemed beyond euphoric.. and it was. Atleast for the first week or two.

Looking back; you were purely fucking naïve, and far too much of a optimist to assume shit wouldn’t crash or burn eventually.

Your first red flag was Hedwig.

She was one of the first people you met, and you two quickly hit it off and became close but.. things never exactly felt right with her, per say. Maybe it was because of how guarded she was, or because of the drugs she dealt.. it was hard to tell. However; Hedwig was completely fucking harmless compared to the man she introduced you too.

Andy Dolan.

Just like everyone in Eden; he was drop dead gorgeous but.. oddly hostile. At first you only saw him at parties, ones that you tried your best to avoid him at since you knew he had a notorious temper but, Hedwig being the great friend she is introduced you to him.. and that’s all it took.

You two quickly hit it off after that night (mostly because you were tired of Hedwig being your only friend and branching out never hurt anyone.. right?). Your attraction towards each other at first was strictly platonic, that was clear in how he treated you and how careful you were around him. It was almost stupid to try and not think about how pretty he was but letting your gaze linger on him for even more than two seconds felt erroneous.

You saw almost daily (or atleast every other day) how quick he was to anger and how cold he was to nearly everyone he met.. The only exception at this point was you and Hedwig but your sure if you were to even show a sign that you had romantic interest in him, he would drop you without a second thought. That thought alone was beyond fucking torturous but it wasn’t enough to stop you from daydreaming about how soft his hair or lips probably were. Ones that you doubt you would ever get the pleasure of touching but- atleast it was a nice distraction from how fucking weird Eden truly was.

Sure, it was beyond beautiful and the weather was fairly nice most days but that didn’t make up for peoples attitudes; and you weren’t referring to Andy’s. It wasn’t hard to tell that people were strangely secretive and cliquey, which only really left you with Hedwig and Andy for your friends. No matter how pretty she was, Hedwig was really only surface level friendly so you never particularly trusted her. That only left Andy (which wasn’t exactly any better when it came to being friendly but you knew he cherished your company, which was way more you could say about Hedwig).

However; it didn’t take too long for you and Andy to form a routine. Every weekend he would throw a party and you would stay with him after. The first time it happened, it was purely because you were far too fucked up to go anywhere else (which perhaps is also why Andy finally started being nice to you..) but after that, it was a question you never had the heart to say no too.

How could you? It’s not like he exactly had anyone else which made the possibility of saying no, close to impossible. Just because everyone else who lived in Eden were assholes didn’t mean you were going to be one, which is what lead you to your current predicament.

Five calls you had made that had all been unanswered is what currently lit up your phone screen, as well as your room. It was far past midnight and instead of sleeping like any other sane person would be doing - you were calling Andy or trying too anyway but he wasn’t fucking answering.. naturally.

You weren’t calling for any particular reason, but that wasn’t the point anymore. The fact that Andy wasn’t answering was a huge warning that something was wrong, after all it was a weekday and you knew he wasn’t sleeping or exactly busy.

Unless.. He was with Hedwig?

The thought automatically made your blood run hot under your skin. The feeling seething and utterly consuming until you quickly found yourself going out to your car. Doing the only thing that you knew would make your sudden paranoia go away.

As you drove through the roads that were completely vacant of any other cars and drove past houses and neighborhoods that also looked vacant of any life - you couldn’t help but to think why you even cared.

Andy never really showed interest in you, so what if Hedwig and Andy were actually doing anything?? Unless you caught them in the act, it’s not like either of them would admit to doing shit anyway but that didn’t stop you from still feeling irrationally angry and a bit betrayed.

You didn’t realize how tight you were gripping the steering wheel until you stopped the car and had to let go of it. Your fingers unnecessarily clenched and stiff to the point where they physically ached. Not to mention, you were shaking with the possibility that you could really find them here together, but now that you were actually here- you quickly realized that there was no other car here.

Odd.

You quickly (and quietly) stepped out of the car and paced up to Andy’s house. Not bothering to knock as you let yourself in, knowing that Andy wouldn’t necessarily mind that you did so.. well, you knew if he wasn’t with Hedwig anyway.

The only thing you heard were your footsteps as you took a few steps into the house. Looking cautiously for any signs of life.. any sounds or anything that could indicate anyone was in the house at all but you found nothing.

It took your eyes a minute to adjust to the near pitch darkness that omitted from the large windows that sat on the vast majority of the living room walls. The only light came dimly from the kitchen but even that was too sparse to truly allow you to see anything.

You slid your shoes off and left them by the door, not wanting your steps to allude to your presence before you could see him first and say something. Your steps far more quiet and easier to control now that you only had socks covering your feet.

You made it about halfway up the stairs, originally trying to make a beeline to Andy’s room but quickly freezing once you heard something.

It was shallow and soft but, with the contrast of pure stark silence it was nearly fucking deafening. It was a whimper at first, and it was coming from downstairs on the couch.

Your heart sank once you realized what exactly you were listening too. The first sniffle you heard nearly making you jump from how off guard you suddenly felt; that was the last thing you were expecting to hear..

You looked down from the staircase at the couch; making out a very dim outline of someone slumped over and sitting on the edge with their head in their hands. Their chest and back heaving from how deep they were crying..

You stood idle for a moment, not knowing whether to continue standing or to leave silently but you felt as if you didn’t exactly have a option. Even without asking or being able to necessarily see; you knew who it was but even knowing this- you knew getting him to talk was a good first step.

“Andy?”

Your voice automatically cut off his sobs - almost stopping instantaneously.

You saw his hands move down from his face and drop down to his lap, his head turning up to look at you. Your eyes finally adjusting to the near pitch black atmosphere.

The silence only permeated the room for about three seconds but that was nearly far too long to withstand. Knowing how unpredictable Andy was, you didn’t know if the words that were going to come out of his mouth were going to be kind or purely vile.

You started to speak fast without a second thought, the silence driving you to immediately apologize and try to fix the damage before Andy completely went off on you.

“I’m really sorry. I just got worried because you weren’t answering my calls and I wanted to make sure you were okay, but.. obviously your not,” You said. Swallowing harshly after realizing that Andy was still diligently listening and not cutting you off or telling you to leave.. That had to be a good sign, right? “What happened?” You pressed on.

“What do you think happened?” Andy answered quickly. His voice rough and rugged from sobbing, as well as probably from previously yelling.

You slowly walked down the stairs, choosing to not shy away from his sudden outburst of anger. You weren’t exactly certain which direction you would go in once you were finished descending.. but atleast you knew Andy wasn’t fucking Hedwig. Not right now at the very least.

“Was it Hedwig?” you blindly guessed. Wanting to affirm what you were so desperately hoping wasn’t true and that you could finally relax a bit. That’s if Andy wasn’t mad that you practically broke into his house.. but he didn’t seem to be. Not right now anyway.

You heard him softly laugh in response which made you smile for a second. You could tell by how he was previously crying and in the tone of his voice that he was still hurt. His laugh wasn’t genuine in the slightest; but it showed that he was done crying for the moment which was worth a smile.

“Why does it matter to you if it was her?”

“So it was,” you affirmed.

Your feet stepped off of the final step, and you found yourself approaching Andy. The choice came naturally. The closer you got to him the more apparent it was how broken he truly looked. He stopped crying but his eyes and cheeks were still glossy and wet with tears. His lips red and trembling; among looking entirely and utterly broken there was a hint of agitation present as well. You started to wonder if Hedwig truly did something or if Andy once again was blowing things out of proportion.

“Will you tell me what happened?” You asked cautiously. Your voice was soft, not wanting to unintentionally come off as too strong or hostile.

He studied you hesitantly and with a gleam of uncertainty in his eye - but nonetheless he patted the seat next to him on the couch he was sitting on. Silently urging you to sit next to him and letting you know that he would probably tell you what happened.

At first he remained quiet. Awkwardly avoiding what he knew you wanted to talk about but he still remained silent.. but his voice suddenly broke through. Making you jump at the unexpected sound that suddenly sounded so loud, even though in reality his voice was still low in tone.

“She left me.”

You stared at him numbly for a second, not feeling necessarily surprised at his words (After all, since when was Hedwig not a flight risk?) but instead feeling weirdly a bit frustrated and sad for Andy.

You knew exactly how he felt; it wasn’t like this was the first time this ever happened but hopefully it would be the last. Seeing Andy this sad and broken over someone who in reality, didn’t give two fucks about him was beyond heartbreaking. It hurt even worse for you to keep witnessing him coming back to her though.

Just when you finally opened your mouth to speak he cut you off.

“You don’t have to say anything. I know it’s my fault and I’m such a fucking idiot-“

“Andy, stop!” You said a bit too loudly. You tried your best to hold eye contact with him when he finally turned to meet your gaze as he reluctantly looked at you. You fought the impulse to apologize for raising your voice but there was no need because you didn’t truly feel sorry. He needed to hear you out. “You need to stop blaming yourself. Hedwig’s actions aren’t your fault.. she’s like that with everyone, Andy. She’s always been-“

“I don’t give a fuck what she’s like with other people y/n! She should’ve acted differently with me, she was supposed to care about me and stay..” his words cut off with a deep inhale.

He was trying not to sob and failing miserably.

Andy quickly left the couch, taking a few steps away from you with his back turned. Trying to compose himself as you sat and.. felt entirely guilty.

Even though he had practically blown up at you; you weren’t leaving but you knew approaching him wasn’t the answer either, so you stayed seated at the couch. Hoping he would atleast sit back down next to you.

“I can’t control Hedwig or what she does, Andy but I know solely saying that I’m sorry isn’t enough either,” you started and then paused. The words you wanted to say next.. words that you knew were true but barely had the courage to say were heavy on your tongue. You knew this wasn’t exactly the time to even be thinking about how you truly felt for Andy but you couldn’t help it.

You wanted nothing more than for it to stop. His tears, his words and pleading with Hedwig, your feelings.. it wasn’t enough to just submit to it anymore and to be a witness to how you truly felt. If anything, it was slowly but surely driving you mad and you knew unless you atleast hinted at the fact that it was making you upset; Andy wouldn’t change his behavior.

You knew he payed for sex from Hedwig, it was the one thing that always kept her coming back no matter how he acted and well.. Even if his time was being bought, he liked the attention. He craved it.

It felt weird to admit to yourself that he was taking you for granted.. because he wasn’t really but, compared to how he treated Hedwig - you were definitely on the back burner. You didn’t blame him; why would he ever notice you when he could have someone like Hedwig?

You slowly looked back at Andy, noticing he was staring at you once again with glossy blue eyes which appeared dark in the lighting. A dark, almost midnight blue that would surely match the ocean waves that you could faintly hear from inside the house since the back door was open. He looked a bit annoyed but mostly intrigued. He was waiting for you to continue.

“But you deserve better, Andrew. You shouldn’t allow her to repeatedly do this to you because I know she knows how upset it makes you. She doesn’t care-“

“How do you know how Hedwig feels about me y/n?! You need to keep her name out of your fucking mouth. You don’t know her like I do,” Andy spoke roughly.

You stared at him blankly for a moment. Purely appalled that he was saying this to you in total seriousness; but you knew in reality that it was foolish to be surprised.. to not expect that he would talk to you like this eventually. After all; he blew up at everyone else, why wouldn’t he do the same to you?

You knew nothing made you inherently different and well.. this was just proving that assumption. Andy never viewed you differently from anyone else; that was now crystal clear.

Your hands started to gently tremble in your lap; and it didn’t take long for the rest of your body to follow suit. The sadness and self pity quickly washed away in what was quicker and more rapid than waves. Anger surged through your veins, forcing you to stand up suddenly. You could barely stand to make eye contact as you spoke, barely able to bear to witness how your words made him feel.

“Don’t talk to me like that. You don’t get to talk to me like that. If I didn’t randomly decide to come and check on you because I guess I’m the only one who actually gives a fuck about you, then you would’ve been alone again with no one to yell at. And maybe that would’ve been for the best,” You turned around on your heels. Walking fast and headed for the door, trying to quickly slip your shoes on before you heard Andy’s voice solemnly.

“Y/n wait.”

You stood still at first, weirdly feeling numb and waiting for the metaphorical shoe to drop. Andy’s voice was soft this time as he spoke, the roughness that was present earlier was long gone but.. you didn’t trust it.

You waited for him to catch his breath and to raise his voice and just say more words he would apologize for later; your throat tightened as you felt your body react almost instinctively. You slipped the other shoe you previously put on back off. Turning around just enough so that you could make eye contact, or attempt too with the horribly dim lighting.

“Yeah? Wait for what?”

Andy swallowed in response to your words. Almost bashfully looking down briefly to avoid saying anything or having to look at you any longer. You could see tears staining his cheeks, continuing to run down and nearly slid down his neck. He looked pathetic; and it would’ve almost been funny to see a grown man fully sob in front of you with no shame if it wasn’t your best friend and well.. the person you loved.

“Never mind. You were right; it’s probably best if you just go,” Andy’s voice cracked.

You wanted to believe that the best option for you was to turn around and leave but your judgment felt entirely skewed. Was it really the right thing to turn around and leave when he needed you? Probably not.

You knew if the roles were changed and you were the one who was upset that Andy would probably stay.. but that also depended on other circumstances as well, of course.

Stepping away from your shoes and the entrance of Andy’s house; you approached him. You tried to do so as quickly as possible before he could try to stop you or protest, but by the time he looked up you were barely a foot away.

You reached up, and with a shaky hand (that you hoped desperately he didn’t notice or wouldn’t swat away) you gently placed your fingertips on his cheek. Your thumb softly pressing against his skin, dragging your finger up as to wipe away his tears as the rest of your fingers lie under his jaw.

You tried to ignore how unsettled he looked at you doing this, and how he almost looked uncomfortable or as if he was on the brink of telling you off.. but he didn’t. He watched you diligently as you continued to brush away his tears.

“I’m sorry.. But I couldn’t stand to see you like that,” you said. Trying to give some rational explanation for your behavior even though, Andy didn’t look like he particularly cared why you were doing it. It was the fact you were doing it at all that seemed to have his interest piqued.

You tried to pull your hand back since his cheeks were dry, but he stopped you. His hand softly grabbed your wrist before his hand slid into yours.. your fingers slowly lacing together before you turned your gaze from your laced hands up to his eyes.

“Will you stay?” He asked. His voice was still rough and gravelly but this time, it was starting to sound a bit genuine.

You studied him for a second longer - your mouth dry but you knew the answer before you even spoke.

“Yeah. I’m not going to leave you Andy. I’m not Hedwig,” you spoke as if it were more of a promise rather than a statement.

You felt your stomach churn for a split second as you remembered how he scolded you earlier for talking down on Hedwig, but you smiled instead. The laughter you heard quickly subsiding your previous emotions.

“Okay,” He spoke almost uncertainly.

You could see the outline of him walking away before you felt him gently pull on your hand; making you follow him into the dark hallway which would eventually lead too, you could only guess, what would be his room.

Holding his hand like this almost felt weird but you couldn’t deny how almost.. right it felt too. Even perfect, you would dare say.

There was no way to guess what the rest of the night would entail but you didn’t exactly mind guessing; after all, how could you complain if you were to spend it with Andy?

You couldn’t. There was no way you could.

Whether it was platonic or not, spending the rest of the night right next to Andy, most likely in his clothes since you didn’t bother to bring any more of your own, sounded like heaven.

And since when did you ever complain about spending a night with someone that you had craved so bad?

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[zargsnake]

Knightkiller: Anakin and Obi-Wan’s First Adventure

Chapter 8: Priorities

Word Count: 2565 Links: Chapter 1, Table of Contents

*   *   *

Anakin hears the cheers for Obi-Wan turn sour, and he soon figures out why. It is no fault of his master's, who fights beautifully -- but there is a transparent dome-shield around the arena, and whenever someone in the angry, heavily-armed audience shoots at it, ripples of white electric shocks cross the dome and obscure the fight. Anakin is relieved that the audience is booing each other, not his master, though he worries that Obi-Wan will think they're booing at him.

Obi-Wan looks over his shoulder, trying to locate Anakin in the audience, and a blade suddenly whizzes by his neck. His reflexes protect him and he jerks out of the way, but a moment later he feels hot blood on his skin. He hadn't moved quickly enough -- the blade cut him sharp and swift. It hurts a lot more than he expected. It could have easily killed him.

He was so focused on finding Anakin in this crowd that he forgot Anakin's own words to him, his warnings about this opponent. Obi-Wan hadn't taken Anakin seriously about Tiango. Of course it was sad about Anakin’s “cool” gladiator friend, but Obi-Wan defeated a Sith lord not long ago. The experience buoyed his confidence to a fault. This Tiango -- not a Sith, not even a professional, just an ex-science experiment, just a Yooro -- landed a blow on him -- a pretty good one, too.

Obi-Wan rapidly teaches himself a lesson. Connecting with Anakin doesn't mean knowing exactly where he is. It means listening to him. Believing him. That's what teachers do. It's what friends do.

This isn't the Outer Rim, but these people are. This is Anakin's haunt. Obi-Wan will train it out of him, will make him a man of the Core. But for now, Anakin is the expert here, and his words must be Obi-Wan's textbook.

With his heart opened wide for Anakin, and his guard up because of Anakin's warning, Obi-Wan realizes he will have to hunker down in defense for a while. Tiango's assault is brutal and inhumanly quick, though Obi-Wan remembers that Yoroos do get exhausted -- eventually. What Obi-Wan lacks in comparative strength, he makes up for in endurance -- patience and energy, the long game, care -- these are Obi-Wan's secret weapons.

Anakin watches Obi-Wan deflect the same moves that once ruthlessly whittled down Crix Spartak, the gladiator who he had loved. The memory of that death match sends chills up his spine. He is certain that some of these blows must hit his master. Part of him is certain that Obi-Wan is doomed, too. Anakin had believed Crix would win, and he had been wrong. It is asking too much to have hope again, against the same, utterly evil man.

Though Obi-Wan has great endurance, his vibroblade does not. Out of habit, he treats it as roughly as if it were a laser weapon, depending on it for deflection, as a shield. Tiango's barrage strikes the metal and bends it back and forth into a zigzag, then into a knot. Obi-Wan is slowly disarmed as his blade becomes less and less tenable as a weapon. He has no choice; he has no other shield. The biggest bother is his own hand: the damn vibroblade is aptly named -- it quivers like a leaf in the wind, wearing out his wrist and weakening his fingers.

The crowd cheers enthusiastically for the graceful Jedi, chanting, "Kenobi! Kenobi!" Anakin does not join in. Obi-Wan could almost be dancing with his expert moves, but Anakin is not in the mood to learn from him. He gazes in hopeless terror at the duel. He watches bullets, lasers and slingshotted electrostones bounce off the dome, as well as gifts, toys and even people’s underwear. All such wild debris from this crazed crowd trying to reach out to their beloved or hated athlete, his poor, wonderful master.

The fastest or biggest bullets send fuzzy waves across the dome, but the dome quickly repairs itself. Anakin follows the arc of the dome, calculating the sources of its projection points from subtle distortions in the waves.

He moves the layers of fur in his stolen disguise to peek at the recharging screen on his hidden acid-blaster: 52%. No other weapons are making a dent in the dome. But no other weapons are quite like this one, and no one else seems to have figured out where to shoot. Could he crack the dome? What would he do then?

Anakin looks away from Obi-Wan for a second and scans his narrowed eyes over the happy rabble. He does not understand them. Are they seeing what he's seeing? They all shout and cheer, laughing and clapping, as if Obi-Wan is triumphant, as if he is playing. He looks back at his master. He sees that Obi-Wan is in great pain. Dying, even. How can the information from his senses, and the conclusions from his feelings, be so different from everyone else's?

Is he connecting, mentally, to his master -- using his supposed Jedi powers to see things for how they truly are? Is he seeing the truth, better than they are, because he is a Jedi, a Jedi Padawan? Is the Force giving him a special message -- because he, unlike the rabble, is a Jedi -- because he, unlike everyone, is the answer to a prophecy -- because he is closer to Obi-Wan than anyone else is?

Or ... is he, Anakin, wrong? Is everyone else right? Is his sight blinded by irrational fear, brought about by his utter dependence on this man? Did Obi-Wan really stumble, just now? No one else seems to have seen it.

Is he, Anakin, perhaps, confusing the past for the present? Crix for Obi-Wan? Death for life?

Is it all in his head? Or is it real?

   *   *   *

Below the arena, Zlinky has memorized the map from the computer. With Jane, she trespasses through the employee quarters. They reach a large, important-looking office which Zlinky guesses is Knightkiller's.

She hears voices inside and shouts at the door, “Hey boss! There's fried fluunies in Rec Room 3!”

She backs off as the door opens and two people exit. Zlinky creeps inside and Jane blusters along behind her. Too soon, they hear the people coming back and Zlinky shoves Jane under the slick metallic desk; the robot is so big that two of the desk legs lift a few inches from the ground. There isn't much room left for Zlinky; she has to nestle right up against Jane's bazooka. A belt of detonators falls across Zlinky's lap.

She peeks over the edge of the desk and sees the people more closely. They look more decorated than the other guards, with sashes and medals, as if there was some kind of made-up military ranking among Knightkiller's cronies, a worthless army dedicated solely to this evil entertainment. 

“These fluunies are great,” says one crony.

“I’ve had better,” says the other.

The hidden Padawan hears the gross sounds of chewing, and then the rather more alarming sound of Jane powering up her neutralizers. Zlinky quiets her and gestures for her to stop. Stealth has worked so far; it would be best to avoid violence, especially since these two seem important.

“I can't wait to run the missing Jedi kids through with this,” says the first one, as he ignites a lightsaber.

Zlinky stops gesturing, but Jane has already powered down.

“The Jedi kids must still be on the ship. No one's been allowed to leave and no shuttle pods have activated.”

“You think Jedi could survive in space?”

“No. Only the boss can do that. You saw them in those Coruscanti space suits, idiot.”

“Oh right.”

The second crony ignites another lightsaber. Even without looking, Zlinky recognizes the sound as her own. She feels something very powerful and uncomfortable. Taken aback, she identifies it as jealousy, one of the very worst emotions. Afraid of her own feelings, she is frozen, unable to act, unable to know if she is behaving rationally, according to the light side, or irrationally, which will lead her off the narrow path into darkness.

“They're real nice suits. I called dibs on the man-size one for me and the little one for my daughter.”

“Yeah...the gigantic one and the lady-size one are pretty useless.”

“I'll take the lady one for my kid to grow into.”

Zlinky thinks, I'm twelve! I’m not a lady! Though I am much taller than Anakin. So they say Anakin is missing, too? That means he's not dead! If only I was strong enough to detect his presence!

Jane pokes Zlinky and gestures to her blasters. Zlinky shakes her head.

We can't kill him! He's a dad!

They hear the two men walking closer and closer. One of them accidentally hits something with the lightsaber; the girls hear them cursing and smell melting plastic.

Zlinky feels time running out. This hiding spot is bad. She ran in here without a plan. She knows her decision-making is impeded by fear, jealousy, and access to a murder-droid, but she must decide something.

Zlinky quickly examines the settings on Jane's weapons. All these numbers and charts are too confusing to parse right now. She dials one dial back, but it only causes some numbers to rise and others to fall. She puts it back where it was, though the numbers are still not the same. The last time Jane shot someone, it wasn't fatal. At least not immediately.

The girl feels tears pressuring her eyes and throat. She doesn't want to hurt anyone. She has learned through stories and lessons that the darkness within is far worse than the darkness without. She is more frightened of doing wrong than she is of dying. There is no death. But there is evil.

She can't get out of her head a discussion she overheard from some of the older Padawans. This group of twenty- and thirty-somethings is the pride of the whole Temple. Everyone adores them -- the strongest, most beautiful, best students in school. Once they are knighted, then they leave the young people’s social circle to rub shoulders with the teachers, and have no time for their old friends -- but before they are knighted, they rule the school from the inside, and everyone lets them get away with a little more fun than knights are allowed. In those last years of Padawanship, they are the most free a Jedi can be.

Just last month, when Zlinky fetched the group snacks from the mess hall in order to bask in their presence, she found them in a very strange state. When one of them returns from a mission, the others crowd around to hear the stories and see the new scars. The latest conquering hero, a human named Sara Chid-wun, did not have a physical scar. But she had such an aura of bitterness around her that the whole group was affected, including the young interloper Zlinky.

Sara explained how she and her Master Kayji were caught in various difficult situations, and each time Kayji had neglected to act, so each time Sara had been forced to act herself, often with violence. It felt like a test that she continuously failed. And yet, ultimately, they succeeded in their mission. Sara claimed that Kayji would not address her concerns with anything beyond platitudes.

The whole experience led Sara to, hesitantly, conclude that Masters often take advantage of their students. Masters refuse to move, and claim they are trusting in the Force, or allowing evil to collapse in on itself, or some such excuse, while in reality they are leaving the sensible but nasty work to the impure, young Padawan tagging along.

The group discussed each example, and more from their own adventures, each trying to explain away their masters’ -- sometimes -- confusing actions, each unwilling to support Sara’s conclusion -- including, of course, Sara herself. But the group found that, if they were being honest, she might be right. Sometimes. So they had moved on to finding the moral lesson in this seemingly cruel behavior -- something about knightly violence being worse than non-knightly violence, something about power and purity.

And maybe they came to a satisfying explanation among themselves; Sara herself seemed as cheerful as normal the next time Zlinky saw her. But Zlinky hadn't felt comfortable sitting in on their important big-kid conversation any longer, so she had left at the darkest part of it.

Tila has never forced Zlinky's hand before. Zlinky has never had to kill anyone before. But now the master is indeed the one sitting out, while the student is the one doing the work.

Is it okay to stray off the path when you are only a Padawan? Is it, in fact, expected, and necessary? Must she walk in the gray area beside the light, until she is a master herself, and can savor the light all the time, and never have to do any more wrong? When she is knighted, then she can delegate that dark stuff to someone else, someone young and obedient?

The thought occurs to Zlinky that she is not the one who would do the killing -- that would be Jane. But she knows that is a flaky excuse. Jane is her responsibility. Just as she is Tila's. The blood is on all their hands.

Zlinky turns to Jane and nods. Jane immediately stands up and neutralizes the guards. Zlinky pokes her head over the desk, sees the smoking bodies, and fears the worst.

“Are they dead?”

“ɪ ᴅᴏᴜʙᴛ ɪᴛ. ꜱʏꜱᴛᴇᴍꜱ ᴀʀᴇ ʜᴀʀᴅʟʏ ᴀᴛ ꜰᴜʟʟ ᴄᴀᴘᴀᴄɪᴛʏ.“

“I'm pretty sure your full capacity is overkill.”

She tiptoes over to the guard's bodies. One seems to be breathing. The other, she can't tell.

She can't alert anyone to the danger, and she doesn't trust the medical facilities here anyway. But she has nothing to give them, to help them. She puts her hand on the soft, sandy hair of the one whose life is unclear to her, the one who has a little daughter.

“May the Force be with you.”

Her voice is a shaky whisper, but she's never meant those words so much as she means them now.

Please, please, live.

She pulls the lightsaber from his hand and turns it off, and does the same with the other guard. She finds three more lightsabers on their belts. She recognizes hers and her master’s; two of them must be Anakin’s and his master’s; the last one could be Glagret’s, a.k.a. Knightkiller’s. It's green, and of the same old fashion as her master’s. She is surprised and glad that it isn't red. But maybe Knightkiller carries her red one on her person. Or maybe, just maybe, the Sith are not at all involved. She prays that they aren't.

Zlinky and Jane hide the bodies behind the desk and lock the door behind them. Zlinky turns away from the door and does not look back.

They were gonna kill me. They still will kill me, if they figure it out. I have to act in self-defense. And I have to save the other three Jedi. These people may be people, but they are low-lives, murderers, and lawbreakers. It wasn't my choice that they got in my way.

Chapter 9: Crix Spartak

[sepublic]

G1 Starscream Ramblings

           The interesting thing to me about G1 Starscream, specifically the one from the cartoon is… He very much gives me ‘young upstart vibes’, the hot-headed rookie that’s fresh into war, just graduated, and is eager to fight and prove himself. Especially with his line about how ‘his time will come’, I get the vibe that Starscream sees Megatron as almost being outdated hardware, some crankety old-timer whose come and gone and outlived his prime (eventually literally as of the movie), which fits with how Megs was around since the beginning and founded the Decepticons from the start.

           And it’s this disrespectful, irreverent attitude, that constant questioning because he lacks experience and assumes it’s way simpler and easier than it actually is… It all just (star)screams new, fresh recruit who thinks he’s all that, wide-eyed and idealized and thinking he can take on the entire world, instead of being a battle-hardened veteran who’s been humbled and is more prone to the realities of war and its complexities. It’d play into Starscream being so power-hungry, wanting instant gratification and glory, and always being impatient about this sort of thing without really thinking things through, he’s an impulsive brat.

           Maybe he’s even the Cybertronian equivalent to a rich brat who got where he did thanks to his family’s high-end connections, and so there’s always that judging from more experienced soldiers about how Starscream is clearly operating on a lot of privilege, wearing shoes multiple sizes too big for him, and generally making a fool of himself as he parades around, treating the whole situation like an opportunity for fame and adulation, like he’s some celebrity indulging in the fun, and not a general and a commander who has to keep fighting for the cause, make the right and mature calls, all that.

           Because it’s worth noting that a lot of times in G1, he ends up acting out-of-line and doing costly maneuvers that hinder the Decepticons- Most notably, trying to bury the Autobots and accidentally awakening them in the process. And it’s this eagerness to get into fighting and prove himself that leads to Starscream short-sightedly wanting to focus on attacking the Autobots because they’re right there, picking a fight- When Megatron, who is older and more level-headed, has to steer this brash new kid in the right direction, set him on track with the proper agenda and mission. Maybe whip him into shape a bit, and this could all play into Megs’ patience because Starscream is just a dumb kid, so he’s willing to give him some more doubt- Give Starscream some time to actually cool down and taste reality and he’ll surely fall into line.

           He’s like some kid who grew up on military propaganda and bought into a bit too well, saw himself too much in those glamorous posters and manufactured, idealized images; So he’s pretty disappointed that it doesn’t turn out the way he expected it to. Starscream is like that popular kid in high school who always had a clique trailing behind him, and he kind of took it for granted how much he meant to these people because clearly their worlds revolve around him, which makes him all the more blindsided when he turns for help and his ‘friends’ immediately abandon him at the drop of a hat.

          All of Starscream’s ‘friends’ and social situations were blatantly manufactured and brought up by somebody else, but he thinks it was all him so he’s in for a real shock when Starscream is by himself- And people don’t immediately fall in line at his beck and call, so he falters. He’s out of his environment, just graduated all of his usual tricks don’t work, try as he might to stubbornly reapply them like a hammer with anything that looks remotely nail-shaped. It’s this kind of idiotic hypocrisy that makes Starscream not realize that people who do put up with him only do so because they have to, and/or they’re opportunistically kissing up to his façade the way he does with others. Starscream’s grandiose imagination and outlandish, fantasy ‘ideas’ straight out of fiction and films that clearly don’t work in real life, clearly need to be reined in.

           I also like to think that similar to that comparison I made earlier, he DOES have connections- Maybe it’s a Team Rocket situation, where the character is incompetent… But they had a parent who the leader greatly respected, and so they begrudgingly put up with their kid’s foolish antics and incompetent failures out of respect for that posthumous minion’s last wishes. Kind of like Hopper from A Bug’s Life really wanting to kill his brother, but because his mother explicitly told him NOT to on her deathbed, he kind of has to force himself not to because he still feels beholden to her- But there’s certainly no warmth on his end just because that person he respects, was fond of this dude he hates.

           It could factor into Megatron constantly tolerating Starscream as a thorn in his side… And really, Starscream seems to be even more of an idiot at times than Megatron, what with Megatron going into a spiel that one time about how Starscream lost because he lacked strategy. Perhaps Starscream is, like, SUPER skilled in combat, a beast and a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield; And if he’s doing so well and he’s so strong, then surely this means he’s fit to be leader, because obviously the Decepticon who’s the best fighter should lead, right? It’s a gross oversimplification of a narrow-minded worldview… And I imagine Starscream also somewhat got where he was because of privilege, so he kind of takes a lot of things for granted here about how the Decepticon faction works and its hierarchy and rules.

          Perhaps Starscream being an utter beast in combat contributes to Megatron keeping him around- He IS useful, he just needs some proper guidance and a good head to productively channel that ability. He’s confusing fighting ability with actual tactical leadership and charisma, but beyond that, Starscream clearly knows how to get out of a scrape, and has no reservations about playing dirty to add to his already potent combat skills as-is. So Megatron still has some hopes for Starscream, while sternly warning him not to make him regret his decision in further tolerating his nonsense- Because Megatron likes to think he’s a forgive and forget kind of guy, but only to people who justify themselves in his eyes as being strong and powerful, traits he actually respects.

          Maybe Megatron even sees a little bit of his young self in Starscream, and so there’s that hope for a pay-off; That if he just gives Starscream a chance and proper guidance, that if the kid has someone who can set him on the right track and help him figure things out- Then he can really live up to his potential! Because that’s what Starscream is- Potential. Raw, untapped potential, clumsily thrown about and unrefined… But it’s there and Megatron would hate to make a waste of it, especially since this whole conflict is about resources; Even the hedonistic Decepticons have to be mindful of how they use things, how efficient they are.

           Of course, having his constant patience and mercy, his tolerating, waiting in eternal hope for his investment into Starscream to finally pay off… Megatron is tired of giving him second chances, tired of how ungrateful this brat is, and how his failures keep adding up. So when Starscream straight-up throws him out to die, coupled with his reformatting into Galvatron… And Galvatron’s had about enough of this, he’s done and sick and tired of Starscream’s antics. After having people put up with him for so long, Starscream really begins to overestimate just how important and useful he is to them, that eventually he’ll reach a point where his negatives outweigh his positives, but he never considers this and believes he’ll always be allowed back into the fold after each betrayal…

          Literally everything about Starscream’s coronation yells in-over-his-head kid who really has to compensate for his lack of leadership and respect from others by playing up the adulation and the glamour, but… If he HAD been given a chance to actually lead, his reckless impatience and short-sightedness would’ve definitely led the Decepticons to ruin, and someone would’ve had to stage a coup. Even Starscream’s use in combat would stop paying off for him as he becomes too much of a liability.

          And it’s this inexperienced, clearly insecure demeanor that makes Starscream impatiently yell at the Constructicons to get to the point. He really can’t make up his mind and stick to it, so even though he has this music being played in the first place, Starscream just as quickly regrets and finds it annoying because he’s not particularly deliberate nor thoughtful about what he does. He knows what others think of them, that they don’t respect nor take him seriously, and it gets to his head and makes him irrationally angry because he doesn’t know to handle this, he expected this to be so much easier, to be as simple and done as THIS. Starscream really isn’t equipped to handle actually navigating around people from a charismatic standpoint and earning their trust, especially given his history as backstabber who has no concept of loyalty and bonds because he’s arrogant enough to think he can do it all on his own.

          And when faced with genuine adversity and reality, as we see… Starscream very immaturely fumbles and trips, and then defaults to begging and pleading because he hasn’t built up much of a spine, and he’s still an idealistic kid who clearly hasn’t built himself up and his fortitude all that well. He’s promising with snot dribbling down his nose that he won’t screw up this time, please give him a second chance he didn’t MEAN it, he seriously did not expect nor consider the consequences of his actions, nor how they could backfire and blow up in his face.

          Starscream is an upper-class snob who doesn’t really get it, he’s eager for approval because he’s young but also clearly selfish and ungrateful about it, because he’s always entitled to that thing and so when it DOES come around, it both means a lot, but also it’s about time, he was waiting for so long just to get the bare minimum he was owed, don’t pat yourself on the back for doing what you’re already meant to. And when things go wrong, Starscream blunders and starts to doubt himself because he was pampered, privileged, and sheltered, constantly told he was amazing- And so he doesn’t actually know how to handle failure and was always used to things coming easily to him on a silver platter, while having someone else to clean up the mess for him and protect him from the consequences. Starscream doesn’t appreciate the actual work that it takes for things, he’s basically spoiled and out of his environment in this military setting where nobody is having it.

           Of course, when Starscream IS spared and recovers, he then silently fumes because he totally would’ve succeeded had THIS happened, or if this other person hadn’t screwed up- And then he fails to learn any of his lessons and keeps trying to take over and take charge, because obviously he knows better and he thinks all of his ideas are the best in the world. When faced with past failures, he doesn’t learn he just denies them as soon as they’re not being shoved in his face anymore, like a child who wet the bedsheets and is now frantically hiding them. He has no real clue nor idea about what he’s doing, but as soon as it’s over he again takes for granted the safety net that his fellow Decepticons begrudgingly provide, and wants again continues to test their patience and resources.

           So, when Galvatron DOES come around and kill Starscream- The Decepticons are clearly elated, and if we’re being real here… They were all probably thinking of ways to assassinate or depose Starscream, or at least play to his ego so he could remain a figurehead who occasionally goes out into battle doing the one thing he’s good at, while his oh-so-loyal lieutenants do the dirty, unglamorous work of actually being a tactician and leader for hm. Starscream wants all of the power and fame, but like- NONE of the actual work and responsibility, that’s too much for him to actually work on so he just stamps his foot frustratedly when others don’t treat him with the respect he deserves, because he DOES recognize his own potential and expects other to revere Starscream for what he could be, VS what he actually currently is… And because he’s so caught up in the idea of what he thinks he’ll inevitably be, he never works on his current self so he can actually get to that point.

           Like I said- Galvatron killing him saved the Decepticons a LOT of much-needed stress and headaches. It got that young brat and upstart out of the way so they could all get to business and not have to deal with his nonsense anymore, because he ain’t getting any deader! There was some hesitation about what COULD be lost if they did away with him, but now he’s gone and so all they can do is just reap the benefits of Starscream’s death! It’s almost relieving- Like YEAH, we were prepared on how to handle this… But then Galvatron came and made things so much easier, he got this off our hands and he’s clearly bold and decisive and knows what he’s doing, taking out Starscream made him VERY popular, in addition to basically being Megatron with a new coat of paint;

           Up until his lava-bath fried his circuits… And then Galvatron basically became the Decepticon Leader Starscream that everybody feared, ironically enough. And then it was Cyclonus who had to do the job of looking after this dude, who was less a reckless young upstart and more like a senile old veteran gone mad and blindly waving his cane around; And then complications get worse when Starscream somehow returns as a GHOST, because why not? Sure, let’s go with that, we already have Galvatron seemingly saving us from Starscream, only to become the new one… Let’s compare him with the original and see what happens, why not? There must’ve been a lot of collective groans of exhaustion at each and every new development.

          The Decepticons must be so exasperated, it really feels like they’ve been on a downward slope, outlived their prime and golden age since the Battle of Autobot City… Yet despite Megatron’s failures they remember him fondly because he did a lot of other things right, was otherwise charismatic, and seemed pretty close to actually winning, all things considered. And so the Decepticons are too caught up in their delusional nostalgia and what-ifs, the way Starscream is about his own future, to really remember that Megatron kind of screwed them over with that risky, costly maneuver that clearly didn’t pay off.

[funkymbtifiction]

Thanks a lot for answering! I wonder could you please give examples of everyday deeds/types of behavior of different primaries and secondaries? Like what are they like when there's a school test or when they need to visit a doctor? The more the better. Something more down-to-earth than the situations from the fantasy movies listed on the website that may never take place in the real world, something found in everyday life that will help someone identify themselves and mb others around them

I’m not sure I can do that, because frankly, your Primary House is a state of mind. It’s what you want and how you feel about things (or do not feel, in the case of Ravenclaws, ahem). But I can talk about a few things, particularly in response to Harry Potter, that can shed light on the state of mind of the Primary.

What I have most noticed about people in general is that we all have a built-in bias, and in order to find our true type—whether that is our MBTI type, our Enneagram core and tritype, or our Hogwarts House combination—we must abandon our ego defenses. What does that mean? We have to overcome our biases and want to know our true self, and own it, more than we want to fight against an answer that might not please us. In the Enneagram, I’ve noticed particular biases against being a 2 or a 6. Everyone wants to be the more “glamorous” 4 or the elusive, bookworm 5.

Harry Potter, for better or worse, introduced us to the concept of Hogwarts Houses, but also introduced us to a bias, because it made Gryffindor the most glamorous House, due to all the main characters (however unrealistically) hailing from that House. Or, at least, all the main characters we like. Ravenclaw is full of wise weirdos like Luna Lovegood, who irrationally believes in things no one can prove. Slytherin is host to mostly back-stabbing, snobbish cheaters. And Hufflepuff is an “afterthought” where all “the boring, nice people are.”

What I like about Sorting Hat Chats is… they made the entire system more interesting and a lot fairer. Now, Slytherin isn’t the only House with villains automatically placed in it: their villains have to be specific in their love (and not betray their family, because it is the house of My Family is My Life). This also means people, fictional or real, who prioritize their loved ones, are Slytherins. Such as Mr. Darcy, or Katniss Everdeen. Suddenly, being a Slytherin doesn’t seem so bad, right? Not if you are loyal to the ones you love! That alone will appeal to the mindset of a Slytherin, because they will think, “Of COURSE I am. Of COURSE my loved ones come first! They SHOULD!”

I have friends in all four Primary Houses, but I will use myself as an example of the Ravenclaw. When I was reading the books, having all the main characters in Gryffindor bothered me, because not only did it show a bias, but I felt some of the main characters ‘belonged’ in other Houses—such as Remus Lupin being a Hufflepuff rather than a Gryffindor. I also felt like Hermione belonged in Ravenclaw. But that is neither here nor there… my objections to the system came from the logical flaws in how she arranged it. It wasn’t realistic to have everyone ‘important’ or ‘admirable’ within the story come from Gryffindor. It was easier to have them share Common Rooms, but people don’t isolate like that and only befriend someone from their House. They look for like-minded friends who share interests, and would make them all over the place. It was my little Ravenclaw brain, pulling away at her system and finding flaws in its logic, but reacting from a place of logical reasoning rather than moral indignation.

When I took the SHC test, it placed me in Slytherin. And I was not opposed to that. In fact, I explored it for a long time, as I thought about how I respond in various situations. Slytherin appealed to me, because… I wish I could stand up for my family automatically. I wish I could prioritize my loved ones all the time. But I kept hitting upon the fact that – I like to think about things in a detached manner, and come to what I feel is a rational consensus. It’s more clinical and less emotional than Slytherins are—and it helped at the time that I knew a Slytherin, and could easily see both how possessive she was of people (they are “mine to protect” – she always reminded me of Slytherin Sam Gamgee in The Lord of the Rings, with his “MY MR. FRODO”) and how, without fail, her sister came before even me, her best friend. Through comparison, I knew I had to be something else. So in typical Ravenclaw fashion, I went through and considered them all. Because, as a Ravenclaw, I want to be RIGHT more than protect my ego. I am always looking for the truth, even when it hurts. And I am always measuring the world against an ideal in my head, built up of my belief system. I do not go against my beliefs; I mold myself to them. And it shocks me to find others who do not, but who claim to be the same as I am. I take, for example, my Christian faith seriously—so what do you mean you are ignoring what your faith says, and doing whatever you want??? YOU MOLD TO YOUR BELIEFS, DON’T YOU? Well, yes, if you are a Ravenclaw, you do. If you are any other House, you do not.

The Hufflepuff Primary I know has a far more ‘felt’ opinion of the books and their sorting system. She got livid reading them, and thinking about how constantly unfair it all was, how biased Rowling was, and how Dumbledore was clearly playing favorites constantly with Gryffindor House. She developed a bad attitude about him as a result… which, of course, is coming from her being a Hufflepuff. To a Hufflepuff, people come first. They are all treated fairly and seen as equals. You do not discriminate, you do not alienate, you do not give unfair favors to Harry and his friends, just so Gryffindor can win the House Cup over and over again. She was actually so angry about this, from a Hufflepuff perspective, that she was willing to be a Slytherin in defiance of ‘The System’ until she realized that kind of mindset is… pure Hufflepuff. “You are not being fair about this, I will oppose you.” It’s all instinctual, it’s all emotional, and it’s all loyalty to the human race, which includes Slytherins. (This caused us some friction for awhile, until I realized it was “just a Hufflepuff” objection, because... how can you be mad at Dumbledore for that? It’s just a convenient plot device in the book! ... says the Ravenclaw who isn’t getting too emotionally involved. ;)

The Slytherin I know, by the way, denied being a Slytherin at first, because she felt ashamed of it. She has been taught to act like a Hufflepuff, that she SHOULD care about everyone all the time, but… she does not. She cares about her loved ones the most, and she would protect them above other people, every time. I pointed out to her that Hufflepuff fits her less than Slytherin, because “You ARE Katniss. You told me that once. That you identified so heavily with her, because you would go into the arena for your Prim.” And then she admitted it, and saw the gloriousness that is being a loyal Slytherin.

The Gryffindor I know is always looking for a Cause, and… as a Ravenclaw, I find that exhausting. She wants to be mad about things, because that anger gives her the fire she needs to do something about it. She has taken on big Causes by financially supporting the Causes she cares about, and done physical things about smaller Causes. For example, as a teenager, she came upon three guys tormenting a dog. It made her so livid, she charged straight at them, swearing and screaming at them to leave the animal alone, and it scared them all so much, they turned tail and ran. She just knew it was the right thing to do, and she and I often butt heads a lot, because she expects everyone else (meaning me) to be as passionate as she is about doing the ‘right thing.’ My more detached “well, let’s look at both sides of this issue” has no place in her black and white Gryffindor mind (no, that is WRONG).

Secondary Houses are… something that may take a little more time to figure out, as you think about how you handle the ‘unexpected.’

Gryffindors… have to speak up if they see an injustice, or hear something they disagree with. They are they person who cannot keep their mouth shut, they need to voice their opinion. They don’t care if you don’t like it or don’t agree, to not state their views would be antagonistic to their central self. My Hufflepuff friend is a Gryffindor Secondary. Not only did she get mad about the biases in Harry Potter, she complained loudly about it, to me, and to other people, and even in a blog post, because the injustice of it needed drawn-attention to, and dealt with, and she doesn’t really care if you disagree. That’s just how she rolls, about EVERYTHING. Because Gryffindor Secondaries state their views. They see an injustice, and they rush toward it. (My Gryffindor friend is also a Gryffindor Secondary: see dog being abused, rush in to do something about it!)

Ravenclaws… want to prepare for everything, and then rely on their own skill set to handle problems as they arise. They are the person who, when their bike breaks down halfway home, consider what they know about bikes (can they fix this easily?), and what they know about public transportation (am I going to be able to catch a bus home?), and make decisions from there. Or who study for a test in advance and show up, only to panic because they found out they read the wrong chapter in the book and know nothing about it. My father is a Gryffindor with a Ravenclaw Secondary, and he over-prepares himself with any useful knowledge he thinks he might need to combat a wide variety of situations—and then is stumped if confronted by something he did not prepare for, and knows nothing about. He is always trying to think ahead and prepare so that he doesn’t have to improvise anything at the last second—because he sucks at it.

It was a comparison with him that actually shifted me away from assuming I had a Ravenclaw Secondary, because… I don’t suck at improvising. I’m actually quite good at it. And I don’t over-prepare, because in true Hufflepuff Secondary position, I figure I can ask someone for help. And they always give it to me. But what really cemented the deal for me, in terms of recognizing my Puff Secondary House, were two—no, make that three, truths from my life. 1) Ravenpuffs distill complex information and put it back out into the world for others to enjoy (hello, Funky!). 2) Puff Secondaries show up and do the tireless work, clock the hours, and are highly reliable, which is… me. I have run this site day in and day out for years. I am punctual, fastidious, I put my responsibilities ahead of all else (even turning down fun occasions because I need to work), and I will painstakingly work on perfecting something, finishing something, improving something, or polishing something (even when I’m bored). In short, I show up and do the work. And 3) the truth that Puff Secondaries have friends to stand up for them, because they have proven themselves reliable and trustworthy, is no joke. A few years ago, I had trouble with someone online and, without being asked, three of our mutual friends came to my defense. Proof of the Puff.

Lastly, Slytherin Secondaries are highly adaptable. It’s no problem for them to shift their approach given the needs of the situation. It’s the equivalent of a friend you admire, but who puzzles you (if you don’t share their Slytherin Secondary trait) because… it seems like they are a different person everywhere you go, because whatever is needed, they can become it. They are the person who has no trouble with change and no need to plan, because they just trust that it’s all going to work out fine, based on their ability to adapt. It’s the person who shows up at a friend’s birthday party expecting it to be formal, finds out it’s casual, sneaks into the bathroom to rearrange their attire, and emerges ready to play Twister. Or who will be serious with you, joke constantly with your brother, and behave like a saint around your mom, according to whatever works and appeals to you the best.

Hope some of that helps, though it wasn’t explicitly what you asked for. Best this ENFP can do, since in-depth sensory specific examples require a heck of a lot more Si than I’ve got. :P

[suitofvibraniumarmor]

Boston Boys [Part Twenty]

Summary: The aftermath of the shooting at Downey’s house. Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC, John Krasinski x OFC Word Count: 1436 Chapter Warnings: Angst, language, character death, pregnancy.   A/N: This story contains a character who lost her hearing as she got older. I do work closely and regularly with the D/deaf community (I’m a sign language interpreter), but my own hearing problems do not involve significant hearing loss. It is not my intention to offend anyone, only to bring in a character with a quality I don’t see often in other fics. If you have questions about her, feel free to ask :)

This is it, friends! Thank you so much to everyone who came along on this ride with me. Thank you to @captain-s-rogers​ for encouraging me to write this story in the first place, and then agreeing that the rest of the world needed to read this fic. (Fun Fact: It wasn’t originally planned for this to go beyond Google Docs.) To everyone who has read, commented, liked, reblogged, asked to be on the tag list ... the love always seems extra special when people will come along for the ride with a writer’s OCs. Without further ado ... the finale! 

Boston Boys Masterlist

A few cloudy mornings later, John rolled to his side to see Aurelie sleeping soundly next to him. Her cheeks were tear-stained. He knew from the tossing and turning and the whimpering in her sleep that the events of Downey’s house were not far from her thoughts, even as she slept. He had done his best to comfort her, but there was only so much he could do.

Though he didn’t want to wake her, they had somewhere to be that morning. He decided he would shower first, then wake her. He would do what he could to help her get ready, to make the day as easy as possible for her.

With the towel still wrapped around his waist, John sat next to her on the bed. The smell of his soap and aftershave roused her a little, but it took his fingers in her hair to get her to open her eyes.

“It’s time,” John signed.

Aurelie closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, but it was to no avail.

“I keep thinking I’m imagining this. That it was a dream. But I wake up and it’s too real.”

“I know. What can I do to help you get ready?”

She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She looked at him, caressing his face. With a soft kiss, she shook her head. “Nothing. I’m going to get in the shower. What time is the car coming?”

“Hour and a half.”

Kissing him again, she pushed out of bed on the other side of the mattress. This was the most he had been allowed to touch her since the hospital had cleared her to come home after the ordeal, and John felt irrationally cold in her absence.

Brie and Ben had offered to come down for the funeral, but Elsa had assured them she would be fine on her own. The one night with Chris in New York had been enough for Elsa to know that an entire funeral with her Boston people would be far too much for her New York friends to handle.

She decided to wear the pearl earrings her father had gifted her for her high school graduation. Once they were secure in her ears, she realized that having her hair entirely pulled back would be one less thing she had to think about at the event.

As she worked her hair into a pretty French twist, the reality of the situation hit her all over again. Her chest tightened and a lump rose in her throat. A deep breath stopped the tears in their tracks and she was able to finish readying herself to leave the apartment.

“Turn around.”

Scarlett did as the prison guard instructed, rubbing her wrists when the handcuffs were removed. She walked to the window the guard had indicated, sitting on the other side of the plexiglass from Seb. He picked up the phone; she did the same.

“Didn’t expect you to come see me. Especially not today.”

Seb gave a single nod. “It won’t be more than this once. I need some answers from you, Scar.”

She looked around, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “What kind of answers? Why I turned to Downey while you and I were still together? Why I kidnapped Aurelie from the hospital?”

Sebastian’s lips pursed into a thin line and his chest heaved with angry breaths. “I mean, those would be great answers, but how about you tell me what it is that Chris did that made you so angry you were willing to kill him? That you could make yourself actually pull the trigger?”

She sat up a little straighter in an attempt to keep what little dignity she had left. “He threatened all of our lives when he decided he was going to pull out of the life. When he decided to date that woman. Downey wasn’t going to stand for it, and I wasn’t going to be on the side that lost.”

“There were no winners here. Chris is dead. Downey is dead. You’re here.”

“So what?” she challenged.

Sebastian tipped his head. “One last question. Was anything between you and I real?”

She thought for a moment, then leaned forward with a sardonic smile. “The orgasms.”

With a disgusted scoff, Sebastian slammed the phone back onto its hook. He stood and turned his back on Scarlett. He was certain this would be the last time he ever saw her.

The service was small. Most of Boston, still under the impression that Downey had been a philanthropist who enriched their community, were attending that man’s funeral. Aurelie decided it was better that way. Fewer people to see that she and John sat in the front pew, Scotty sat at the far end, and her stepsisters and mother chose to take the pew behind her. As if their blame for Robbie’s imprisonment wasn’t enough, her presence at the scene of Chris’s murder only served to distance her farther from her family. Scotty remained on the fence, but the rest of them refused to speak with her or otherwise acknowledge her.

After the burial, Aurelie took a moment to herself to step away from the short line of guests offering their condolences to look out over the pond in the middle of the cemetery. She wasn’t aware that anyone had joined her until Elsa spoke up beside her.

“You lied to me.”

It wasn’t a question, and Aurelie didn’t treat it as such. She nodded “I did. I’m sorry. I was protecting my brother. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

Elsa gave a single nod. “Scotty’s taking over the shop, I hear.”

“He is.”

“And the rest of the family business?”

“I don’t know,” Aurelie lied. “My involvement now is … it’s different.”

Elsa shook her head. “That’s right. Downey left everything to John, and you’re engaged to him.”

Aurelie wanted to tell Elsa more. She wanted to tell Elsa that the same night Aurelie had told John she was pregnant, he had confessed to her that he was an informant for the Boston Police Department. He picked and chose what he shared, and that would continue on -- as would Downey’s ‘philanthropy’ work, through John and Aurelie. Instead, she kept quiet.

“I’m pregnant.”

Elsa’s words finally pulled Aurelie’s gaze directly at the other woman. “You’re pregnant? Elsa, that’s -- Chris would be elated. I know that he hurt you and lied to you, too, but my brother loved you. More than you can understand.”

“I know,” Elsa whispered. “That’s why I’m keeping the baby. I can’t say that I want to be involved in any of the other business, ever again, and I certainly don’t want my child anywhere near it. But this baby does have a cousin coming, too. Maybe we can get them together every now and then.”

Tears stung the back of Aurelie’s eyes as the words pierced her heart. “Yes, we should do that.”

Several yards behind them, John called for Aurelie. When she didn’t turn around, Elsa nudged her, then pointed to John. Again, he signed to her that it was time. Aurelie nodded and asked for just one more minute with Elsa. She took the other woman’s hand.

“I know that you’re hurting. That Chris hurt you, that I hurt you. I know you have a hard road ahead, but you don’t have to face it alone. If Chris had known about the baby, Elsa, he would have provided for that child beyond what you can even imagine. I’d like to do that, in his place. Whatever you need, please, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Elsa showed a sad smile and gave Aurelie’s hand a single squeeze before withdrawing her own hand. “I wish the best for you, Aurelie.”

“Same to you.”

As the women parted, neither of them looked back over their shoulders at each other. They had crossed paths for such a short time, but there was now a thread that would forever link them together. Elsa could only hope that her child would never know the burden of family responsibility its father had known. Aurelie hoped with all of her heart that Elsa would reach out if she was ever in need, so that Chris’s legacy of giving and caring would live on. She hoped that she would be enough to carry out that legacy on her own.

As John took her hand, he asked what she wanted to do now. Aurelie glanced at her brother’s gravesite, then looked back to her fiance.

“Home,” she signed. “I want to go home.”

AlloftheThings: @captain-s-rogers​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​​​​​​​​​​​​ @hurricanerin​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @horsesandbandsforlife​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @im-not-an-armrest-im-short​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @captain-rogers-beard​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @shynara51​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @sea040561​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​  @pinknerdpanda​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @xtina2191​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @jackryanplz​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @beakami​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @heartsaved​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @fullprunerebelstatesman​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @blackwidowismyhomegirl​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @averyrogers83​​

Boston Boys:  @the-murder-strut-murdered-me​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @becs-bunker​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @shield-agent78​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @patzammit​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @crazyandanonymous4u​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @ntlmundy​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @jennmurawski13​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​ @okay-maybe-i-like-marvel-too​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​​

[lullabieswrappedinlies]

Boston Boys [Part Twenty]

Summary: The aftermath of the shooting at Downey’s house. Pairing: Chris Evans x OFC, John Krasinski x OFC Word Count: 1436 Chapter Warnings: Angst, language, character death, pregnancy.   A/N: This story contains a character who lost her hearing as she got older. I do work closely and regularly with the D/deaf community (I’m a sign language interpreter), but my own hearing problems do not involve significant hearing loss. It is not my intention to offend anyone, only to bring in a character with a quality I don’t see often in other fics. If you have questions about her, feel free to ask :)

This is it, friends! Thank you so much to everyone who came along on this ride with me. Thank you to @captain-s-rogers​ for encouraging me to write this story in the first place, and then agreeing that the rest of the world needed to read this fic. (Fun Fact: It wasn’t originally planned for this to go beyond Google Docs.) To everyone who has read, commented, liked, reblogged, asked to be on the tag list ... the love always seems extra special when people will come along for the ride with a writer’s OCs. Without further ado ... the finale!

Boston Boys Masterlist

A few cloudy mornings later, John rolled to his side to see Aurelie sleeping soundly next to him. Her cheeks were tear-stained. He knew from the tossing and turning and the whimpering in her sleep that the events of Downey’s house were not far from her thoughts, even as she slept. He had done his best to comfort her, but there was only so much he could do.

Though he didn’t want to wake her, they had somewhere to be that morning. He decided he would shower first, then wake her. He would do what he could to help her get ready, to make the day as easy as possible for her.

With the towel still wrapped around his waist, John sat next to her on the bed. The smell of his soap and aftershave roused her a little, but it took his fingers in her hair to get her to open her eyes.

“It’s time,” John signed.

Aurelie closed her eyes and let out a deep sigh. She squeezed her eyes shut even tighter, but it was to no avail.

“I keep thinking I’m imagining this. That it was a dream. But I wake up and it’s too real.”

“I know. What can I do to help you get ready?”

She sat up, rubbing the sleep from her eyes. She looked at him, caressing his face. With a soft kiss, she shook her head. “Nothing. I’m going to get in the shower. What time is the car coming?”

“Hour and a half.”

Kissing him again, she pushed out of bed on the other side of the mattress. This was the most he had been allowed to touch her since the hospital had cleared her to come home after the ordeal, and John felt irrationally cold in her absence.

Brie and Ben had offered to come down for the funeral, but Elsa had assured them she would be fine on her own. The one night with Chris in New York had been enough for Elsa to know that an entire funeral with her Boston people would be far too much for her New York friends to handle.

She decided to wear the pearl earrings her father had gifted her for her high school graduation. Once they were secure in her ears, she realized that having her hair entirely pulled back would be one less thing she had to think about at the event.

As she worked her hair into a pretty French twist, the reality of the situation hit her all over again. Her chest tightened and a lump rose in her throat. A deep breath stopped the tears in their tracks and she was able to finish readying herself to leave the apartment.

“Turn around.”

Scarlett did as the prison guard instructed, rubbing her wrists when the handcuffs were removed. She walked to the window the guard had indicated, sitting on the other side of the plexiglass from Seb. He picked up the phone; she did the same.

“Didn’t expect you to come see me. Especially not today.”

Seb gave a single nod. “It won’t be more than this once. I need some answers from you, Scar.”

She looked around, shifting uncomfortably in her seat. “What kind of answers? Why I turned to Downey while you and I were still together? Why I kidnapped Aurelie from the hospital?”

Sebastian’s lips pursed into a thin line and his chest heaved with angry breaths. “I mean, those would be great answers, but how about you tell me what it is that Chris did that made you so angry you were willing to kill him? That you could make yourself actually pull the trigger?”

She sat up a little straighter in an attempt to keep what little dignity she had left. “He threatened all of our lives when he decided he was going to pull out of the life. When he decided to date that woman. Downey wasn’t going to stand for it, and I wasn’t going to be on the side that lost.”

“There were no winners here. Chris is dead. Downey is dead. You’re here.”

“So what?” she challenged.

Sebastian tipped his head. “One last question. Was anything between you and I real?”

She thought for a moment, then leaned forward with a sardonic smile. “The orgasms.”

With a disgusted scoff, Sebastian slammed the phone back onto its hook. He stood and turned his back on Scarlett. He was certain this would be the last time he ever saw her.

The service was small. Most of Boston, still under the impression that Downey had been a philanthropist who enriched their community, were attending that man’s funeral. Aurelie decided it was better that way. Fewer people to see that she and John sat in the front pew, Scotty sat at the far end, and her stepsisters and mother chose to take the pew behind her. As if their blame for Robbie’s imprisonment wasn’t enough, her presence at the scene of Chris’s murder only served to distance her farther from her family. Scotty remained on the fence, but the rest of them refused to speak with her or otherwise acknowledge her.

After the burial, Aurelie took a moment to herself to step away from the short line of guests offering their condolences to look out over the pond in the middle of the cemetery. She wasn’t aware that anyone had joined her until Elsa spoke up beside her.

“You lied to me.”

It wasn’t a question, and Aurelie didn’t treat it as such. She nodded “I did. I’m sorry. I was protecting my brother. I wasn’t trying to hurt you.”

Elsa gave a single nod. “Scotty’s taking over the shop, I hear.”

“He is.”

“And the rest of the family business?”

“I don’t know,” Aurelie lied. “My involvement now is … it’s different.”

Elsa shook her head. “That’s right. Downey left everything to John, and you’re engaged to him.”

Aurelie wanted to tell Elsa more. She wanted to tell Elsa that the same night Aurelie had told John she was pregnant, he had confessed to her that he was an informant for the Boston Police Department. He picked and chose what he shared, and that would continue on -- as would Downey’s ‘philanthropy’ work, through John and Aurelie. Instead, she kept quiet.

“I’m pregnant.”

Elsa’s words finally pulled Aurelie’s gaze directly at the other woman. “You’re pregnant? Elsa, that’s -- Chris would be elated. I know that he hurt you and lied to you, too, but my brother loved you. More than you can understand.”

“I know,” Elsa whispered. “That’s why I’m keeping the baby. I can’t say that I want to be involved in any of the other business, ever again, and I certainly don’t want my child anywhere near it. But this baby does have a cousin coming, too. Maybe we can get them together every now and then.”

Tears stung the back of Aurelie’s eyes as the words pierced her heart. “Yes, we should do that.”

Several yards behind them, John called for Aurelie. When she didn’t turn around, Elsa nudged her, then pointed to John. Again, he signed to her that it was time. Aurelie nodded and asked for just one more minute with Elsa. She took the other woman’s hand.

“I know that you’re hurting. That Chris hurt you, that I hurt you. I know you have a hard road ahead, but you don’t have to face it alone. If Chris had known about the baby, Elsa, he would have provided for that child beyond what you can even imagine. I’d like to do that, in his place. Whatever you need, please, don’t hesitate to ask.”

Elsa showed a sad smile and gave Aurelie’s hand a single squeeze before withdrawing her own hand. “I wish the best for you, Aurelie.”

“Same to you.”

As the women parted, neither of them looked back over their shoulders at each other. They had crossed paths for such a short time, but there was now a thread that would forever link them together. Elsa could only hope that her child would never know the burden of family responsibility its father had known. Aurelie hoped with all of her heart that Elsa would reach out if she was ever in need, so that Chris’s legacy of giving and caring would live on. She hoped that she would be enough to carry out that legacy on her own.

As John took her hand, he asked what she wanted to do now. Aurelie glanced at her brother’s gravesite, then looked back to her fiance.

“Home,” she signed. “I want to go home.”

Tags: @themtbmbgirl​​​​​​​​​​​ @keithseabrook27​​​​​​​​​​​​ @ulovemelightsout​​​​​​​​​​​​ @rosie2801​​​​​​​​​​​​ @professorkrasinski​​​​​​​​​​​​

[oleanderblume]

Unrelated but OMYGOD. My clown series reached 1k reads on wattpad.

Which isn't super awesome because its only due to the sheer quantity of chapters I have but I need to rave and spoil it cause I'm super excited about what I'm planning and no one i care to tell gives a shit so I'm dumping it into the void that is tumblr.

So. Im writing a book series called Caring For Your Clown. Its about this trans kid named Oliver and he is sort of an asshole.

Well not sort of, he is an asshole. But a RELATABLE asshole.

The story sort of drops you in 6 months after the mysterious and tragic (and traumatic) death of his mother Marie, who was a scientist alongside her husband and Oliver's step father Jon at a lab that specializes in physics mainly.

They were working on a machine with an unstable particle that caused a..tear so to speak, in the fabric of dimensional space and she got torn into tiny little bits. :3

But apparently before this occurred, Marie was in contact with an alien race called clowns 🤡 (really they are interdimensional traveling amoebas that take the shape of humanoid clowns lol)

One of which pops up in Oliver's life completely unexpectedly for no foreseeable reason and her name is Dindet and she is absolutely precious.

Basically its a saga and each book ranges in about 30k to 50k words. The first book centers around Oliver learning about this weird alien houseguest and also the immediate fallout of the death of his mom because surprise surprise! His biological dad who is a terrible abusive fucktard rolls back into his life with the intent to take custody of Oliver and that is no good!

The entire arch Oliver's goes through is literally the title of the series. Basically learning to be caring and compassionate while ALSO dealing with grief and interdimensional shenanigans.

One of the things I found really fun (it was unintentionally done but now I like it so its intentional now.) Is that each book roughly represents the 5 stages of grief.

As the first one is anger. Oliver is mostly passed the fuck off that this dumb alien clown sauntered into his life and thought it would be neat to CARE about him like he was a PERSON with FEELINGS. Irrationally angry, because he blames her for the loss of his mom (i mean so does his dad who goes through the stages of grief slightly slower than Oliver does) and uses her as a personal emotional punching bag until he realizes that SHE got his bio dad to concede his appeal for custody via literally stalking him and making him so paranoid that he was deemed an unfit parent >:3

All the while too, as the main focus is on the two characters of Oliver and Dindet, there is a background plot leading up to the second, third, and fourth (possibly up to 6 books) of the clown authorities looking for Dindet. And also the checkovs gun that is his neighbor.

The second book is mostly erring in the bargaining side of the coin for Oliver while Jon goes through his stage of anger. Oliver learns more about Dindet but doesn't quite trust her as she is clearly hiding information and KNOWS his mom. But she won't talk. Meanwhile, his neighbor working on a completely different project gets his hands on some clown matter and goes apeshit with it to build his energy machine.

We also learned more about the type of person Dindet is, which is naive and caring but also incredibly self destructive and reckless. By far a major people pleaser with huge self love issues. While Oliver is more of a "i don't give a shit what you think" though its more a facade he puts on to protect himself from rejection :/ he is far more comfortable in his own skin but external factors can make him freak out a little and he is terrible at talking to people.

It culminates when the project Jon solicited Dindet's assistance in is wreck by her own hands and Oliver's growth completely backtracks to the point that he finally manages to get our clown to leave (only for her to be clownknapped by his whole ass fucking neighbor to be used as the conduit to his energy machine)

And yeh, Ols almost immediately regrets his actions (though at first its more denial that she actually left) especially when he catches his neighbor using her as fuel for his machine to the point that all her fucking matter is completely burned away via electrical current! >:3

THEN Oliver gets to the depression arch >:3 (i haven't written this part yet so its up in the air atm)

Basically, with his mom dead and now the only person who could reasonably be considered his friend ALSO Basically dead, Ols falls into this really bad streak of just walking backward in his grief. Anger, denial, bargaining, the whole shebang. But THIS time the lab and the government AND the secret clown police are all in cahoots to cover up what happened at the lab and to do that they need to get rid of Ols and his dad to allow their plot to work. (Will be revealed later)

So throughout the first two books I've been alluding to the leader of the clowns via Dindet's ostensible paranoia and their name is Smile. They have underlings though and one is named Poppy. So the clowns get into the lab and convince Jon to send his son to a treatment facility for therapy under the thin veil that it will protect them from the repercussions of the machine. Oliver is not to upset about this though because he has been to therapy before from his past with his bio dad.

Except obviously the clowns don't want to actually help anyone. Their goal is to wear my boy down until he ready to die because- did I mention this was middle grade??

Anyways. This particular book I want to develop my potential romance between Douglass (Oliver's kid neighbor) and Ols and also deconstruct Oliver's personality via flashbacks that parallel the events in the story so we understand why he reacts the way he does to things and also i think it would be neat that the clowns technically succeed in their plan to draw out Dindet the wanted criminal by using the person she cares most about against her. By making him want to die!!

Then! For the next book, I'm planning on having more clown infiltration, more bonding between my children and romance between my boys because oooohhh boy am I gonna have fun tearing everyone apart when the real fucking deal Smile shows up and fucks shit up. Smile is my main villian and a veru fun and manipulative one at that. She uses Oliver to get to Dindet and eventually catches the both of them, revealing clowns to the entire world right before snatching them back to the home base the Cornucopia.

This is where we learn all the information we have been wanting and building up to about Dindet >:3

She is a criminal because she has Essentially tied a doomed universe to the Cornucopia in a never ending time loop because she is so heckin big that every time that universe is torn apart, she jumps back in time and DIES in order to recreate it. (She's the big bang yo)

That isn't the only reason though. Oliver comes to learn that his mom was FRIENDS with Smile. And Smile was the one who tore her apart in the machine scattering her subconscious in the literally timeless Cornucopia (time doesn't exist there so aging, death, anything like that is completely halted) and MARIE who has been half alive and omnipotent this whole fucking time has been trapped in the Cornucopia unable to see her family or child but fully able to see a know the infinitesimal inevitability of the destruction of his universe. So what does she do? She PULLS DINDET PUT OF THE ABYSS AND TELLS HER TO GO BE FRIENDS WITH HER KID TO KEEP THE TIME LOOP GOING.

And this has happened before. Like this book series is literally ONE (1) version of events that have been stacking up on top of eachother for millenia. The reason Dindet shows up in the first place is because she can partially see these past loops and the remnants of her love for Oliver keeps her coming back YO.

But while all this lovely information is being shared, Dindet is in clown jail and Oliver is treated as a pet to Smile. He tries to stage a break out and fails and what does Smile do? She turns him into a got damn monkey!

And uses him as literal fucking bait to a starving Dindet in order to justify her sentence (which is obviously death)

It almost works too, if it weren't for the fact that these two kids are BEST FRIENDS NOW and would legit die AND kill for eachother, Dindet pushes Oliver out of the Cornucopia (he is still a monkey boy btw) into his universe which inadvertently scatters him.

(A human person can enter the Cornucopia but if they leave, their molecular structure will destabilize in a slow and painful way until they literally are nothing left so that sucks)

This is where I want the next book to start tbh. Now back at home without his friend, as. A. Monkey. Oliver find that his entire home town is under lock down and strict control by the clowns who have now infiltrated the government and are putting plans forth to rebuild the SAME MACHINE his dad and Dindet built to bring about the destruction of the universe. (They want to do this because if they prevent Dindet from jumping back in time, they can end the time loop and get on with their lives)

So ols has to essemble a rag tag crew of Douglass and some other classmates and figure out that all the goop floating around belongs to Dindet (bruh. She is the size of the universe like. There is a lot of her to go around) and they can technically use it as gateways into other dimensions to gather an arsenal of GIANT BABY ANIMALS AND SQUIRREL BIRD CATS AND DRAWN TO LIFE ANYTHINGS so they can try to 1. Bring back our clown gal who is the key to fixing this and 2. Take on the now heavily fortified lab in order to get Olivers and Douglass's dads back.

All the while my boy is slowly dying >:3

Eventually, Oliver finds a way to get Dindet back but its at a cost :/ he tricks Smile into turning our clown organic to prevent her from being able to control any of her matter whatsoever and the cost of it is that Smile is VERY bad at making humans, so she basically traps Dindet in a catatonic meat sack that doesn't have half the organs it needs to function properly :/

To make her not be organic anymore they gotta uh..kill the tumor that is an organic half body (which yes, does have nerve endings) which eventually allows Dindet to be 100% clown again.

They break into the lab, but its basically too late. Reality is fractured and the multiverse is imploding in on itself and in the midst of all of this, Ols and Dindet are careening through the vacuum of an entirely empty space, dying of starvation and scattering and the only option left is to jump back in time to start the loop over again.

It is heartfelt and it is good and pure and the last moments they share together perfectly bring this loop together because in the VERY FIRST BOOK Oliver asks why Dindet came and she says "you asked me to."

And their last moments together he asks her to come back for him. Like I CANNOT yall!!

But that isn't the end. Yet.

The real end is after they die and the universe begins and a single hand pushes through the stars and pulls out a little orange bean. And it's Marie, pulling Dindet put of the Abyss this universe that is so intrinsically tied to the Cornucopia that it literally creates all the fucking clowns.

Its not supposed to be destroyed. And the reason eveeything falls into place so perfectly and things always go the same way is because ita already been seen and already been narrated. By Marie.

The WHOLE ASS SERIES IS IN THIRD PERSON OMNISCIENT BUT ITS ACTUALLY NOT. Its first person. Narrated by Marie.

Dindet knows Marie because she pulled her out of the Cornucopia. Clowns exist because Dindet was told by Oliver that she was and looked like a clown. The entire ass UNIVERSE exists because Oliver and Dindet are the fucking building blocks of life.

All of Olivers character actions and growth and eventual love (platonic) for Dindet shape their futures and all of it started because a mom was so concerned and guilty about leaving her kid in such a time of need that she would rather start the world over than see him suffer.

So..themes.

Throughout the series there are heavy HEAVY parallels between Dindet and Marie (partly because Dindet is a parrot and almost all her actions and reactions mimmick things that she has seen and the first person she met who wasn't out to kill her was Marie) but also because Dindet is the conduit through which Marie vicariously lives out the rest of Oliver's fleeting life with him.

There is even a point where Oliver genuinely questions whether or not Dindet actually IS his mom (she isn't obviously)

One of the themes I really love about this series is that compassion, unconditional love and care is deserving to even the most obstinant. Oliver isn't easy to love. He actively makes it very hard for anyone who could be a peer (even his own dad sometimes) to care about him. He constantly pushes people away to safeguard himself from potential harm and it takes three fucking books ROUGHLY 200,000 words to get this boy to understand what unconditional love can do.

How it can help with the grieving process, and help you become a more compassionate person toward others.

And also how your actions affect others!!

Like i said, Dindet is a parrot, she can read your mind (if she wanted to) but what she sees she incorporates into her own thoughts and as a reflection, Olivers harsh words and actions, even the most simple kind are recorded and even amplified. He is MEAN to Dindet. He makes fun of her often and gets angry with her and calls her stupid and she internalizes that immediately and it has an immediate affect on how she views herself. Oliver doesn't even think of this as something that happens until much later in the story! And gradually he grows past it and becomes more considerate and affirming toward Dindet and Douglass as a result.

And the way things matter. Oh. Every little detail matters in this story up to seemingly inconsequential continuity errors! Foreshadowing is everywhere from the first fucking sentence to the last because the things the characters do and say to eachother are simultaneously current and in the past all at once and no one knows which is which.

Someone got hurt? There are consequences, even unforseen ones. Dindet loses her hat. It is the most precious thing she owns and is a huge comfort item for her. Oliver asked where she got it? A friend gave it to her.

OLIVER MAKES HER A NEW HAT AFTER SHE LOSES IT. He is the FRIEND that gave it to her.

Almost everything in this story has parallels and consequences and twists and turns and outcomes that are wildly unpredictable (up until now because I've just spoiled the entire fucking plot but who cares!!)

Like...this is my baby. I care SO MUCH about this story and the characters in it that when I think about certain scenes I legitimately start crying.

I can't wait to publish the first book yall. I'm planning on publishing it either through a publisher or self publish, and maybe make a comic even? Idk. I just i really think people would like my dumb absurd story about clowns and I wish i could just spout about it 24/7...it breaks my heart that no one will listen.

[justjen523]

Perilous Paradise

Chapter 1 (Chapter 2 on A3) “Dangerous”

Series Rating: E (18+)

A chilly breeze blew through the air and I couldn’t help but snuggle into the leather jacket surrounding me. The rich aroma of leather, soap and a very sexy cologne engulfed me as though he himself still held me in his arms. We walked along silently for a while and I couldn’t help but observe the design of the tattoo that covered his outer right arm. It was a tribal pattern with symbols unknown to me with the exception of an eye. 

“U-Ummm…..your tattoo.”

“What about it?”

“Does it have a special meaning?”

“Why, you interested in getting one?”

“W-What if I was!” Ha. You’re not the only one who can be a smart ass. He smirks, abruptly stopping and pulling me flush against his body. His hand tangles in my hair and he pulls my head sideways to lean in and murmur quietly in my ear.

“Didn’t your Daddy teach you anything about men?” A nervous tremor flooded me and though his words sounded threatening, I could hear the smile as he spoke.

“N-No. My Father left my Mother and I when I was young.”

“Unsurprising. You never would have left with me in the first place if you were taught about men like me.”

“Men like you?”

“Yeah Princess, though maybe you like taking risks with dangerous guys.”

“W-What’s that supposed to mean?!”

“Exactly what it sounds like. Did you even bother asking yourself who I am or where I’m taking you? Lesser men would have had you by now and thrown you away. You’re far too reckless for your own good.” He presses an open mouthed kiss to my neck causing me to gasp.

“What if I told you I wanted to fuck you. Fuck you in ways you’ve never dared imagine. Dark, dirty, disgusting things. What, would you still be so obedient?” I started to feel confused. I thought he liked my obedience. Wait, no he’s totally right! What the fuck am I doing still following this man? I should run, I should...” His sudden laughter breaks my train of thought and I stare at him wide-eyed and frightened. 

“Oh, I’m sorry beautiful. I was only teasing.” He snickered.

“T-T-That didn’t feel like teasing at all! That was..c-cruel!”

“Why, did I scare you?”

“W-What the fuck do you think?!” He laughs heartily before pulling me into one of those consuming hugs and I feel my head start to cloud.

“N-No! You can’t just hug your way out of this one!” His eyebrows raise and eyes go wide as he observes my face twisted up into rage. When he smiles I suddenly feel the urge to slap him which is too bad, he really does have a beautiful face. He bursts into laughter igniting my anger and before I even realize what I’m doing my hand is on a collision course with his cheek. Only it never reaches its destination. His left hand moves swiftly and intercepts mine holding it firmly in his grip. 

“So angry! How cute are you?” He chuckles pulling me toward him and gripping me by the hollows of my cheeks with his right. 

“Tisk Tisk Princess. It’s bad manners to hit people.” He teases. His expression is filled with excited amusement and I realize I am in way over my head here. My stubborn nature however refuses to allow me to back down. 

“Not if your defending yourself you jerk!” His grin widens and he is having far more fun than I like.

“Defending yourself? From what? Me?”

“Yes you! You just said I’m too reckless and that you’re dangerous, why shouldn’t I try to defend myself?”

“Oh I see. Alright then. Have it your way.” He takes a step backward releasing me from his hold. His posture and entire demeanor do a 180, his eyes regarding me intensely. No trace of a smile remains.

“I’d say see ya around but, we both know that’s not going to happen. Take care of yourself Princess.” With that he simply turns and continues his journey without me leaving me completely stunned into silence. He’s bluffing. Besides, he can’t leave without this.

“H-HEY! YOU FORGOT YOUR JACKET!”

“KEEP IT. THAT WAY YOU CAN REGRET THIS MOMENT FOREVER.” Not even bothering to turn around he waves over his head before disappearing into the crowd.

Fuck. What an asshole! This is good though. He was right. I am far too reckless. Just what had I expected following some strange man who broke into my apartment anyway? And after leading me there to begin with?! I can’t go back though now can I? No, and why would I? I need to go home. I need a hot shower and a good nights rest in my own bed. This has been the weirdest week of my life.

I make my way through the crowd toward the main road where hopefully I can catch a bus back to my neighborhood. It’s not terribly far away from what I remember. 

************

I’ve never been so happy to see my tiny apartment in all my life. I grab a hot shower and feel the tension melt away from my shoulders as the steam swirls thickly through the tiny room. When I’m finished I head into my bedroom and over to my closet to grab some pajama’s but a certain jacket now draped over my chair catches my attention. It’s such a stark contrast to my feminine colored and decorated bedroom. 

A strange emptiness begins to flood my stomach forming a pit and a seed of doubt is planted. Did I make the right decision? Yes! Of course I did, what I was doing was crazy! Yet why do I feel so empty all the sudden? Is it because I no longer have a reason to contact the RFA? No. I refuse to admit it though. No I am not even going to acknowledge it. There’s no telling what he would have done if I kept following him. Ugh....then why am I already starting to regret my  decision?

‘Keep it. That way you can regret this moment forever.’

“Ugh you’re such a jerk!” I feel the same anger bubbling up from earlier yet I can’t help myself from smelling his jacket. His scent floods my nostrils and for some crazy reason I have yet to comprehend, I feel lonely and empty without him. Then it finally sinks in that he was right. I really would regret letting him walk away without me forever. 

Slipping into his jacket, it’s all that covers my otherwise naked flesh as I collapse onto my bed, drowning in my tears till sleep takes me. 

************

I can feel the heat of the sun radiating on my face when I awake the next morning. My eyes are still swollen and puffy making me feel hungover when I try and open them. When I manage to sit up and out of the blinding light, what my eyes fall upon causes my entire body to freeze.

“Morning Princess. Miss me?” His face was as beautiful as I remembered, his smile warm and welcoming, his eyes hypnotic and enchanting.

“Unknown!” Whatever special power this man seemed to possess that made me act so goddamn irrationally was truly insane. Relief filling every fiber of my being, I immediately got up and threw myself into his arms which he had open and waiting. 

“I thought I’d never see you again.” I mumble as I rest my cheek on his shoulder allowing him to embrace me tightly.

“Why’d you come back?” I inquire truly surprised. This man doesn’t seem like the type to go back on his word.

“You have something I want.” He says point blank. Then the horrific reality punches me in the face the moment I pull away from him and see him grinning rather sadistically. Shit. No. I feel the heat rush through me, up my neck, across my face and engulf my ears. I’m...only wearing his jacket.

“Though, now that you’ve treated me to something so unexpected, I may have to rethink my itinerary.” 

tbc

[mst3kproject]

912: The Screaming Skull

This is another episode where the movie didn’t really leave an impression.  I remember the Gumby short, mostly on account of the bots’ traumatized reaction, and Tom Servo’s proboscis is one of those images that never goes away. But The Screaming Skull itself?  About the only thing I remembered about it was that it was in black and white.

Newlyweds Eric and Jenny pull up in the Electronic Car of Tomorrow outside their stately new home.  This house belonged to Eric’s previous wife, Marion, and Eric inherited it after she died in suspicious circumstances.  It doesn’t take long before Jenny begins seeing signs that Marion’s spirit is not at rest and does not approve of Eric’s decision to re-marry. Maybe it’s just Mickey, the disabled gardener who doesn’t quite understand that Marion’s dead.  Or maybe it’s Eric himself, who murdered his previous wife for her money and is planning to do the same thing to Jenny… but sssh, we’re not supposed to have seen that coming.

This movie gets one thing really, really right – and that’s the fucking peacocks.  Peacocks look pretty, but those shiny feathers cover up actual angry velociraptors who scream like the restless dead.  I stayed at a house in Italy where the owner kept peacocks and hearing them for the first time at two in the morning scared years off my life. They will also steal your food right out of your hands and drop it in the dirt without eating it, just because they’re assholes.

Other than that... my god, this is a dull, gloomy little movie.  It tries so hard to build suspense and all it builds is melatonin. Hearing a mysterious knock on the door once or twice is spooky.  Hearing it four or five or six times just draws our attention to the fact that it’s the same sound clip playing over and over.  Mickey is never believable as a threatening figure, while Eric, looming over Jenny with his I-know-what’s-best-for-you attitude, is so threatening and does things that are so obviously bad for her, you never believe in his innocence for a moment.

The fact that we know very well it’s Eric doing all the ‘haunting’ actually makes some of what’s going on quite funny.  For example, the bit with the repeated knocking.  You can picture him knocking and hiding in the bushes, counting to twenty and starting to wonder if Jenny is coming, and reaching out to knock again before once again leaping off the front step to hide.  Over and over again.  Then there’s the skull itself… is it supposed to be a real human skull?  If so, whose is it?  It can’t be Marion’s because her grave hasn’t been disturbed.  Where did he get it from?  How does the jaw stay attached?  Movies never think about this stuff.

Eric is a really repulsive figure, denying Jenny her autonomy and constantly pushing her to get worse.  Having made sure she identifies the portrait with Marion, he forces her to be the one who destroys it when she clearly doesn’t want to.  When she pleads to be put back in a safe place – the hospital – he refuses, telling her she will be happier at the house when it is patently not true.  I honestly wonder how this would have played in 1958. Did people back then honestly think a man knew what was good for his wife, particularly his mentally ill wife, more than she did herself?  Would they have seen Eric as merely overprotective instead of abusive, and been truly surprised by the reveal?  I have no idea but I hope not.

This abuser chooses as his victims people who are particularly defenseless.  Jenny has struggled with mental illness for years and has bought into the idea that being loved will cure her (Eric encourages this belief, even stating to Reverend Snow that she’ll be cured when she’s “really loved”), which leaves her incredibly vulnerable.  Eric’s chosen scapegoat, Mickey, has a disability that hampers his ability to communicate.  Eric describes him as having the ‘mind of a child,’ leading people to dismiss what Mickey says and to believe he will behave irrationally. Even if the truth comes out, Eric has every reason to be confident that people will believe the word of the able-bodied man over the disabled man or the mentally ill woman.

Eric’s behaviour and his status as unquestionable villain leaves me rather confused about one of the prominent motifs in the movie: that of The Beast in the Jungle, the story Mrs. Snow gives to Jenny.  It’s the tale of a man who only realizes he’s in love with a friend after she dies, and finds he has wasted his life.  The fact that they bother to give the story’s title and explain its plot suggests that it must be very important somehow.  I suppose we’re meant to see Eric as the hero of the story, who ignores the love of a woman and throws his life away for nothing.  But Eric is actively malicious towards the women in his life, while the protagonist of The Beast in the Jungle believes he’s cursed by a terrible fate and tries to protect his friend by not letting her get too close to him.  The two situations are not at all equivalent.

For all that, though, it’s possible to read The Screaming Skull as a feminist movie.  For the most part the movie infantilizes Jenny, treating her as somebody in need of comfort and care, yet she is also somebody who should be allowed to make her own decisions about the form that comfort and care take.  She wants a cure for her mental illness and learns that she cannot get it through the Power of Wuv.  Her tragic backstory and personal issues do not revolve around men, being rooted instead in her relationship with her mother.  Most interesting of all, Eric’s plot to get rid of Jenny involves turning her and Marion against each other – and it ultimately fails when Marion, from beyond the grave, refuses to let him!

Eric is Jenny’s only source of information about Marion. Mickey was close to her, but his handicap and his dislike of Eric keeps him from really talking to Jenny.  Eric tries in a dozen tiny ways to convince Jenny that Marion would have hated her, drawing on the fact that he already knows Jenny is prone to be jealous of other women.  All the information he gives her about Marion sets the dead woman up as a rival, right down to Mickey having liked her better and being expected to hate Jenny as a result.  But at the end of the story, Marion’s ghost arrives to speak for herself, and while she uses no actual words, her opinions are clear: she does not hate Jenny, she hates Eric, and she will not allow him to hurt his new wife.  This is a tale of women standing up for each other, even from beyond the grave!

On a practical level, unfortunately, Marion’s ghost is also where the movie falls apart.  The other characters have just discovered Eric’s deception and are discussing what to do about it, when the ghost appears in the form of a skeleton in a gown and hat and chases him across the estate before killing him!  In some movies this kind of supernatural denouement doesn’t work, being as much a deus ex machina as the dinosaur in The Beast of Hollow Mountain, but here it’s pretty satisfying.  Whether Eric actually murdered her or not (based on the information the movie gives us, we suspect this but cannot prove it), he has used Marion as a bogeyman, and she’s through with his bullshit and ready to take matters into her own spectral hands!   The problem is the ghost itself.  The skeleton in Marion’s clothes is ridiculous and the things that happen to it don’t help.

Take, for example, the moment when the skull clamps its jaws around Eric’s throat.  This looks so silly, especially when actor John Hudson is so obviously holding it there as he pretends to ‘struggle’ with it, that I laughed out loud.  My favourite part, though, is when Eric throws a chair at the ghost, and the fake skeleton goes flying apart.  Its arms were hanging from strings to keep them raised and when the prop falls apart they go sailing away in different directions!  It’s hilarious and it completely kills whatever mood of fear the movie has managed to generate.

And that’s not much, because the movie shoots itself in the foot right at the starting gate.  It opens with the infamous sequence in which the film-makers promise free burial to anybody who dies of fright while watching The Screaming Skull.  This is perhaps the ultimate example of telling the audience something you cannot show – they can’t show us a scary movie because all they’ve got is The Screaming Skull, so they tell us we’re about to see one.  The main effect of the bit, besides making the movie a couple of minutes longer, is to leave us extremely cynical.  What makes this movie think it can scare us literally to death?  As a result, we’re even less scared than what little scared we would have been anyway!

This one sucks.  It’s got some interesting subtext but that’s probably unintentional and the text is boring and predictable.  The Gumby short and Tom’s coffin delivery woes are far more interesting than anything in the feature presentation.  I fear we’re in for a succession of awful boring movies in the future because so far, when I’ve come upon a film I really don’t want to watch, I skip it and go on to something else.  Now I’m starting to run out of interesting movies.  It’s probably all downhill from here.

[thelegendofclarke]

“Things I Wish Someone Would Have Told Me About Depression” a Non-Comprehensive (But Still Absurdly Long) List:

That depression doesn’t just mean “feeling sad.”

That depression can be not feeling happy, or sad, or angry, or any emotion at all.

That depression isn’t really even a feeling that can be defined; that it can just be knowing something is wrong, but feeling too tired and numb to do anything about it

That depression can be letting people walk all over you and treat you like shit, but not standing up for yourself, not only because it sounds exhausting, but also because you don’t see yourself as someone who deserves defending.

That depression can be loosing track of and loosing touch with good friends with out even realizing it.

That depression can be getting irrationally irritated when ever someone asks you even the simplest of questions.

That depression can be letting people take their anger and frustration out on you, but just getting more angry and frustrated with yourself for it. 

That depression can be missing out on parties, vacations, events, and celebrations because the idea of prolonged socialization makes you want to cry.

That depression can be always feeling shaky and on edge and like you want to crawl out of your skin because your nervous system is so fucked up.

That depression can be not enjoying or feeling hungry for your favorite foods, or for anything at all.

That depression can be constantly getting sick because you aren’t taking care of yourself.

That depression can be constantly feeling like you just did a full triathlon even though you can’t even remember the last time you did anything active.  

That depression can be finding no joy in the things you used to love doing.

That depression can be knowing you are draining and dragging other people down with your constant negativity and feeling guilty but not being able to help yourself. 

That depression can be feeling like you are never fully awake and like you have constant brain fuzz and static.

That depression can be giving up on routines or habits you have had for years because now they are just too exhausting.

That depression can be going back to old, unhealthy coping mechanisms like self harm, drugs, or alcohol, that you thought you had left behind yeeeaaarrrsss ago.

That depression can be not being able to remember the last time you didn’t have at least a little bit of a headache.

That depression can be feeling like your eye lids weigh about 50 pounds each and like keeping them open takes a downright herculean amount of effort. 

That depression can be giving up on things before you even start them.

That depression can be feeling like you are going to burst into tears anytime someone tries to get you to be spontaneous or go along with some “last minute plans.”

That depression can be spending the days leading up to planned events trying to think of an excuse not to go because you are so tired and dreading it so much.

That depression can be feeling like you can’t reach out or strike up a conversation with anyone or make friends even though you would have had no problems doing it in the past.

That depression can be not thinking at all before you speak and just blurting out random things. 

That depression can be worrying so much that you are saying the wrong things that you stop saying anything at all.

That depression can be feeling like all your skills and strengths and positive qualities and every single good thing about you have somehow been totally erased. 

That depression can be barely cracking a smile and things that would have made you so excited or made you laugh so hard in the past.

That depression can be having to physically force yourself to unclench your jaw and unslump your shoulders and relax your muscles and just generally chill tf out. 

That depression can be knowing full well that people are manipulating you and using you to feel better about themselves but not caring about or respecting yourself enough or even having the energy to do anything about it.

That depression can be constantly worrying or feeling like the friends you love and care about don’t love or care about you anymore.

That depression can feel like being isolated and abandoned.

That depression can be preferring to sit alone in complete silence than having to do anything or interact with anyone.

That depression can be feeling deeply hurt or bother by things you know you shouldn’t let get to you.

That depression wishing you had someone to talk to about what’s happening, but not knowing wtf you would even say.

That depression can be binge watching tv shows that you don’t even enjoy just to distract yourself from how crappy you’re feeling.

That depression can be sitting right next to someone, or being in the middle of a conversation, or being surrounded by people, but still feeling completely alone.

That depression can be telling yourself you will respond to messages, answer emails, and return phone calls later, and then never doing it.

That depression can be saying “I’ll do it later” about pretty much anything and then never doing it.

That depression can be spending your entire day, staring with the moment you wake up, wishing you could get back in bed. 

That depression can be spending entire days in your pajamas because just the prospect of getting dressed makes you need a nap. 

That depression can be dropping off in the middle of conversations and feeling too drained to pick them back up again. 

That depression can be somehow not giving a fuck and giving way too many fucks at the same time but being too tired to try and  figure out wtf to do about all the fucks you do and don’t give. 

That depression can be feeling just as tired after you get 12 hours of sleep as you do when you get 2 hours of sleep.

That depression can be hearing your favorite songs or reading your favorite books or watching your favorite shows and movies and feeling nothing.

That depression can be spending hours on this blue hellsite hate scrolling and looking at content you know is going to piss you off or upset you but not being able to stop yourself.

That depression can be feeling like you can’t have normal conversations because you can’t focus on what people are saying to you, but you don’t want to seem like an idiot because you keep asking them to repeat themselves.

That depression can be people constantly asking you to repeat yourself or speak up because your voice is to heavy to raise and you’re too tired to do anything but mumble. 

That depression can feel like you are incapable of making small talk or maintaining eye contact. 

That depression can be constantly worrying that everyone else is as annoyed with you as you are with yourself. 

That depression can be constantly forgetting things, and feeling like you have no short term memory; or when you do remember, feeling too exhausted to do anything about it. 

That depression can be looking at the clock at noon and then looking at it again and seeing it’s 8 pm and having no idea how you wasted an entire day.

That depression can be objectively knowing that hours, days, weeks, or even months are passing you by, but being to exhausted and numb to do anything about it or to even care.

That depression can be having no concept of time at all.

That depression can be knowing your family is worried about you or notices something is wrong with you, but being to numb and afraid to talk to them about it. 

That depression can be knowing you are shutting people out and pushing them away but not knowing why and not having the energy to figure out how to let them in. 

Thats depression can be even the simplest or most mundane tasks like doing laundry or making dinner or going to the bank feeling completely exhausting and overwhelming. 

That depression can be hoping one day you will wake up and just ~magically~ feel better and then getting even more frustrated and exhausted when you never do. 

That depression can be getting so frustrated with yourself because you can’t just be happy and normal.

That depression can be trying to force yourself to be happy and act normal, but feel like it’s draining the life right out of you. 

That you can still get depressed even though you have always been a “happy person.”

That depression can be feeling like your life is like having a tv show on in the background  where you know its there but you aren’t engaging or paying attention or don’t even really care.

That depression can be feeling like a bummer or a burden or like you are getting ~too personal~ whenever you do try to talk about it. 

That depression can be feeling like you are a bummer and a burden in general. 

That depression is not a weakness or a character flaw. 

That depression is not something you should let other people punish you for or that you should punish yourself for. 

That accepting you have depression does not mean you are giving up or accepting defeat.

That no one can force you to confront your depression and get help; that it’s something you have to do on your own time and by your own terms.

That having depression is just like having any other kind of illness or injury, or being any other kind of sick; you have to give yourself time to heal and get better. 

That depression is how you feel, not who or what you are.

That feeling depressed is fucking scary. 

That being depressed is not your fault; it’s not happening because of something you did or didn’t do, or some mistake you made, or because you messed up somehow along the way. IT. IS. NOT. YOUR. FAULT!

That feeling depressed doesn’t last forever; that it does get better, that you can get better.

[dashingndaring]

Once Off That Island

Characters are from the main D&D campaign I play in, the Enigma Emblem Chronicles. Xorynth (PC) belongs to me, and Keynan (NPC) was created by me and belongs to @scatteringmyashes

Rating: Teen, for mention of abuse, violence, and death. 

Words: 5,658

Summary: Xorynth, with the aid of the mysterious Keynan, has escaped from Skia island, but not without consequences. Will she be able to accept them and reclaim her freedom? Meanwhile, Keynan tries to reassure the struggling half-elf, but isn’t sure what he’s doing wrong. 

---------

When she awoke to the taste of salt and the foreign feeling of being suspended, the half elf jumped with a start. This of course resulted in her ass hitting wood as her entire body crashed from a hammock to the ground.

Banished light on high that hurt more than it should have...

As quickly as the thought nestled in her brain, it flew away in a panic. Calm down. Think. She stared up, noting that the only light in the room came from an orange flame from beyond the door. It trickled in just enough through the door cracks to reveal wooden planks all around. On impulse she brushed her hand against the hardwood beneath. Rough, she noted, even against her calloused fingers. Slivers threatened to leave splinters, but she couldn't bring herself to care about the small pricks of pain. They were nothing compared to the emptiness quickly consuming her insides. Now that the shock of waking up in an unfamiliar room had worn off it was impossible to stay calm while every gruesome memory came flooding back.

She wasn't on the island anymore. She had run. Rhaina had tried to stop her. But what came next? Why couldn’t she remember what came ne--

Rhaina is dead.

Ice erupted in her lungs at the memory. No, Rhaina’s death wasn't as simple as that. It was far, far worse.

I killed Rhaina.

Xorynth froze, but time continued on. Seconds went by after the revelation. Then minutes. Then hours. Slowly, her mind found an eye in the storm of her raging thoughts, just long enough to grasp the situation at hand. She should probably figure out where she was and if the person who “saved’ her was also here. But when she did, how would she react to them? Thank them for her life? Beat them bloody for daring to interfere, for making her escape a thousand times worse?

Soon enough the wave of clarity passed, and she couldn't be bothered to deal with the questions posed. They were problems that required moving, and she never wanted to get up from her new resting place.

So she remained there. Back to wood in the darkness.

***

It didn't take long past daybreak for him to realize she was conscious again. He knocked, several times, greeted by only silence before attempting to slip inside. Bread in one hand, a lantern in the other, and a bottle under his arm, he quietly closed the door before turning around and nearly dropping everything with a frightened squeak.

He had expected her to be asleep, perhaps even nervously huddled in a corner from sea sickness or anxiety. What he hadn't expected was for the girl -- woman? -- to be laying on the floor, eerily calm as she steadied her unreadable gaze towards him in the dim light.

Pulling himself together with a trademarked smile he prayed. Please, let it be that she didn't hear that squeak or see my nerves. Because it certainly seemed that her steely eyes were trying to reach into his soul for… something. Maybe information?

Well, information he could give.

***

“Hello, my name is Keynan,” the figure offered, managing to recover enough from their initial fumble to gently place their items on the ground as they sat down to be closer to her level. The words were spoken so softly Xorynth couldn't help but wonder if they were afraid of breaking her.

She simply blinked in reply. It was them. The one who stopped a spear from piercing her heart. The one who forced her hand. The one who took her to this room to face her demons alone.

The bittersweet irony of the situation did not escape her. This Keynan seemed afraid to break her, when in reality it took all her years of patience training not to levy a killing strike to their throat at any moment. Logically, she knew she did what it took to leave the island alive. Reasonably, she also knew that she plunged the dagger into her partner's heart, not Keynan. The demons in her mind had been keen to remind her of those facts since she awoke.

But emotionally? She was irrationally angry at this stanger. Unhinged grief, sorrow, and anger had taken turns over the hours trying to beat her heart until it stopped. Swords had left scars, teachers had left bruises and broken bones, and even Rhaina - oh elders passed on high, Rhaina - had made her bleed with searing, hot white pain. Yet, none of those experiences were as excruciating as the phantom feeling currently tearing Xorynth apart. She felt the pain in the same spot where a metal spearhead should have been, where a polished wood pole, marked by a single purple ribbon tied above the handle, should be protruding from her chest..

She wanted to fight back against her grief. To scream at an invisible enemy and rip their last breath from their chest. There was nothing Xorynth wanted more than a physical manifestation - a scapegoat - to take her anger out on.

Despite the urges, the monk schooled her visage into the embodiment of cold. Her body still frozen to its resting place. This stranger, who she had yet to decide if she owed or was owed by, would not be submitted to her inner plots. Not yet. Instead she would remain here until she was ready for whatever was beyond that door. Once she quelled the storm inside she could learn more. Then she would decide if Keynan was worthy of her wrath.

***

She hadn't spoken that night.

Keynan introduced himself, hoping to gauge her reaction to him. Does she remember? She probably does, right? He tried detecting any trace of fear in those silver eyes, at the same time noting the left was both silver and hazel. That was all he got, however, from her piercing gaze. If he could just get to talk…   

“May I ask what your name is?”

Silence. Fair enough.

“How are you feeling?” He asked, wondering if his voice was soft enough. “The journey off island was difficult, I'm sure you're famished.”

She didn't even glance at the bread he held out, let alone reach for it.

“Ah, of course. Silly me. You can’t eat with a dry mouth. Something to drink?” He tried again, replacing the food in his hand with the glass container of water.

Her reaction remained the same. She simply stared back: serene and guarded. Occasionally she would blink owlishly, something Keynan would have found humorous if the tense atmosphere wasn't thick enough to cut with his sword.

Nothing he said, no matter how much he turned on the charm, compelled her to react. Neither her body or mouth moved. Most concerning of all, her stare never faltered.

“If you're tired I can leave you to rest further. I don't fault you for not wanting to talk or eat. You've been through more than anyone should.” Keynan paused, hoping for a small glimpse of any emotion. But her stoic face and silence drew on.

After it became evident she wasn't going to answer, he continued with every ounce of sincerity he had. “The captain told the crew to treat you like a guest. I intend to see that order through and more, just so you know. Anything you need, I will do my best to give.”

With that he stood up, gave a farewell bow and left her to her own devices. For now.

***

Over the next two days, the pair settled into their pattern.

Xorynth would wallow and seeth and plan and meditate - all without moving. It took all of her concentration not to drown in the weight of her actions and all of her energy to remain in a facade of calm. If she had any water or food to relieve herself of, she wasn't sure she would have been able to get up.

Every few hours Keynan would come back with food and water. Each visit brought gentle attempts at conversation that always ended in one-sided sharing. However, by the third try the first day she wasn't sure if the words were to soothe him or her.

She assumed Keynan identified as him by this point, anyways. When she faded in and out of consciousness, Xorynth periodically heard the other sailors talk about the weather or each other. Surprisingly her visitor was a common conversation topic. She heard rumors that he never slept, that he had saved dozens from burning ships, and even one that he could glow bright gold, blinding his enemies in battle.

The monk almost rolled her eyes at the thought. Slinking in the shadows was one thing. Glowing? She wasn't a fool.

Still, the superfluous talk helped distract her from her plight. There had been no time or mercy for distractions in her past life. Now she was clinging to any and all whispers in the dark like a lifeline. But they weren’t enough to drown out the voice in her mind. She needed more to keep her busy, to prevent the plunge into pure self-deprecation long enough to think through her next steps.

So at the end of the second day she decided to actually look at Keynan when he arrived, instead of staring emptily at him. This visit would be about information, not intimidation. She was level headed enough to let her guard down for just a few moments of observation. It is just a basic perception exercise. You’ve done this hundreds of times. Yes, she could perform this simple task.

Finally convinced to follow through with her plan, she let her eyes wander, hardly straining with her darkvision despite the familiar low-orange light.

He had a lot of features she simply hadn't registered in their escape. First she noted his height. He was likely a few inches taller than her, which she was surprised by. The few humans she had known at the monastery were all shorter, though perhaps a faulty sample size. Being lower to the ground was an advantage in the acrobatic fighting styles they trained in.

Next, his skin. Judging by what little she saw illuminated in orange, aside from a few pale scars that peaked from the collar of his shirt, he was darker than her. Also something she was not used to. Wherever the new recruits came from, it didn't seem to be from wherever her ancestors did. She had been considered dark for their lot, although it had never been a problem. In fact, her brown tones made it easier to blend into the darkness, earning her favor early on. Now on a ship probably leagues away, Xorynth couldn't help but feel emptiness in the pointless praise she once held dear.

His hair was also dark, coiled neatly into locs that ran past his shoulders. He seemed to take care of it well, and the thought of him spending time to manicure them stood in contrast to both his simple clothes and the opinions she hadn't fully formed around his character. She assumed he worked hard, perhaps a favored shiphand based on the rumors and his freedom to make time for these visits. But making snap judgments was a dangerous path. Who was she to say whether this man was selfless or shallow? Rhaina had more ferocity and work ethic than Xorynth had known possible, and she liked to spend hours playing with both her own hair and Xorynth's curls.

The thought made her blood grow cold. Rhaina is dead. There would be no more secret morning rendez-vous just to play with hair. Gone. No more stolen moments to feel like normal girls for at least a precious few minutes. Because you killed her.

Xorynth had nothing left. Where would she go? The orphanage wasn’t an option; she was almost of age and she would rather die than risk falling into their incapable, corrupt hands again. If she stepped foot on the island again the Elders would have her blood or make her pay for her insubordination in some worse way. The only home she ever had was Rhaina. Reliving the realization that her home and partner were gone hit sharply in her abdomen. So sharp that Xorynth couldn’t handle the pain and finally moved.

Curling in on herself, she turned her back to Keynan. Perhaps if she didn't look, she wouldn't have to acknowledge anything outside of the darkness of this room and the dryness in her mouth.

***

Why?

Keynan could only pace outside of the now closed door to the girl's room as he tried to wrap his head around what had just happened.

For a moment it seemed like she was sizing him up. Quiet still, yes, but her normally cold eyes had melted into curiosity. He dared let a sliver of hope grow while he let her. Maybe she was finally warming up to him, he had thought. Getting her to eat and drink and stay alive could work. If she reached to meet Keynan just one step closer to halfway…

But fate had other ideas. Soon enough her curiosity died, replaced by a brief flash of pain so quick Keynan might have imagined it. Just like that her back was to him, closing herself off from him so assertively she chilled the room. Somehow the gap between them had grown farther apart than when he had started.

After all the attempts to make her feel welcome -- sharing what he could about the ship she was on, bringing her food (even if she rejected it), and giving her quiet company -- he had managed to do the opposite. His stomach sank.

Why is she so closed off?

Obviously, Keynan was missing something. All the visions of child slaves in the world couldn't tell him the whole story of this one girl's life. Which meant he had to work with what he knew. Alright, go over the facts.

Fact one: if his visions were time accurate she had to have been on the island for approximately 10 years. So there were a decade’s worth of memories, training, and potential horrors he didn't know about. Keynan frowned. He needed to be careful about what assumptions he made going forward.

Fact two: she had been trying to escape, seemingly on her own. When he stumbled onto the scene of her yelling at another monk, he had only caught snippets of the disagreement. The gist he got implied the red haired one currently on board had been trying to convince the other to join her “to escape from His control”. The plea seemed to fall on deaf ears. Keynan couldn't be sure whose “control” she was referring to, but he guessed it was one of the traffickers.

Fact three: the brown hair monk had tried to kill the other. That's when Keynan got involved. At first he had parried the blow, saving her from a lethally aimed spear. But he left himself open in checking to see if she was okay, and she had to turn around and save him. The spear wielder crumpled to the ground as Keynan watched the young half elf take a dagger out of their assailant’s chest. Keynan cringed at the memory. Despite a lifetime’s experience he had let his guard down. Perhaps she thought ill of him for his mistake? He tucked away the idea for later.

Fact four: she remained graceful on her feet after the fight, but her whole body was shaking as they maneuvered their way to his hidden boat. And she didn't stop until she was long into her fitful sleep. That night he wondered if the brown haired girl had been her first kill. She seemed fairly young after all The action seemed to come naturally, however, so maybe there was a different reason for her frightened reaction. Perhaps the more important question was who were the two monks to each other?

Keynan needed to reflect on this information, and quickly. The captain was gracious enough to pardon Keynan for getting involved on a simple reconnaissance mission and take in a survivor without questioning. But that patience would only last so long. She would have to do her part to gain trust and keep this ship afloat if she was going to stay. More urgently, if he couldn't get her to accept sustenance soon she was as good as dead even off the island.

***

On the third day he didn't come. Xorynth knew the moment the first replacement knocked -- two loud thumps compared to the soft pattern he used.

Apparently her outburst yesterday had cost her valuable time to learn more from Keynan. Even if he avoided speaking about himself and the circumstances of her “rescue”, every session carried important kernels of information on the ship and the outside world. For instance, knew she was on the second floor below deck, and outside her door lay the food storage, drink cellar, holding cells, weapon rooms, and the anchors. Upstairs were the living quarters, mess hall, and captain’s office. She also knew that the ship’s crew were contractors for hire, who take missions that aligned with their “cause”: defeat local pirates, smugglers, and thieves on the water in exchange for money and reputation. But she hadn’t heard anything about their current contract or why they had been at her island. Why Keynan had been there.

She sighed. The pirate seemed genuine, but Xorynth couldn’t take anything at face value. She thought her Elders, hard as they had been, genuinely cared for their charges. She had been wrong. She needed to figure out if Keynan was really friend or foe. But when the first knock of the day arrived, she got a sinking feeling that the opportunity had fallen out of her reach.

Instead of his overly positive attitude and gentle mannerisms, someone else came through the door. The figure was a short and lean gnome with pale skin and red hair, carrying the usual lantern, food, and water. Unlike him, they silently accepted her lack of acknowledgment. Whether they were too respectful or nervous or indifferent to introduce themselves, she didn’t know. They simply shrugged off her cold stare and left the items on the ground before closing the door once again.

After having a soothing voice to listen to so frequently, the long stretch of silence settling in filled Xorynth with dread. Soon enough her mind would turn against her. Don’t let the voices back in. Please, no.

Squeezing her eyes in concentration, the monk strained to hear the whispers from the outside, hoping to hear anything, even a weather report.

Boots shuffled. Wood planks creaked. Crates slid, creating soft crashed. For what felt like an eternity, the closest thing to company were rare, indistinguishable murmurs. Then she finally got lucky. A gruff voice carried down the hall just loudly enough for her to pick up the middle of a conversation.  

“... about the girl?”

A second voice replied, slightly higher in pitch but too soft to hear clearly.

“Apparently she hasn’t spoken a word or lifted a finger, yet.” A pause. “Waste of rations in my opinion. We be carrying a bad omen on board, an fer what?”

Their companion murmured again, frustratingly too quiet again.

“Did you not hear? Got silver eyes, she does. An’ different shades. It’s like we’re asking for a tempest. Stranger still, I hear she has those old Eladrin markings ‘round her eyes and hair like burning coal.” The gruff voice waited again.

“If you don’ believe me ask Cain yerself! Hell, I wouldn’t be surprised if she were a spy from you-know-who,” they exclaimed conspiratorially.

“Kyrin, not everyone is a spy,” someone else calmly replied.

“Until you get proof, I’ll be suspicious all I want,” Kyrin muttured.

“Given where we found her, she probably just needed time. She’ll earn her keep soon enough.”

Xorynth’s stomach sank, ever so slightly, while she waited for the next damning words. Useless. Burden. Failure. Her mind filled in the gaps, but the words never came -- only the heavy fall of boots reached her ears.

She was used to ignoring rumors; the gossip itself didn’t bother her. But hearing angry mutterings while at the mercy of an entire ship of strangers? With no real context for an escape route, the words made her feel trapped. Who knew how many others felt the same way as Kyrin? Just because some of the crew didn’t mind keeping dead weight on board for now, didn’t mean they would lift a finger if the Captain suddenly decided to change their mind about her current “guest” status.

She was running out of time.

Your time is already up. Without her, without them? You have no future.

Xorynth gritted her teeth, doubling over as the phantom pain returned with a vengeance. She gasped, struggling to breathe. No, no, no! She needed to clear her head, she needed a moment to think. To breathe.

There's no point. You have nothing. All you can do is hide in the shadows. Hide, hide, hide…

As the darkness took her again, she had one thought: Maybe it's right.

***

“You want my advice?”

The ebony skinned woman sitting across from Keynan posed her question without looking from the small wooden bird beginning taking form in her hands.

“Yes?” He returned the question with his own and a charming smile to boot, hoping she could see it in her periphery.

Keynan had spent most of the day in thought while going about his ship work. What was the best way to make a secluded victim feel ready to ease into the outside world? Keynan had helped countless others in his lifetime, including slave rings and indoctrinated children, but this particular situation was different. Messier. Over the course of the day rational thought and prayers blurred into an unintelligible headache that could only be cured by taking to another person. And who better than his only friend on the crew to have a similar disposition to the monk?

Lucia sighed, staring down the figurine in her hand. Keynan had explained the situation so far, including what he knew from the mission. After a few moments in thought she set the dagger and bird down on the table to focus on her companion. “What’s your goal?”

“Primarily for her not to starve or dehydrate.”

“A wise idea. And after that?”

“To learn her name.”

“And after that?”

Keynan scratched his head. “Well, I was she would want a tour of the ship. That stuffy room isn’t good for anyone after more than a day.”

Another sigh escaped the woman. “Long term Keynan.”

Placing his elbows on the table, Keynan laced his finger together and used them to support his chin. “I spoke with Captain Taffrin about her condition today. They were… frustrated and concerned to say the least. If I can’t get her to a stable condition and working for her keep soon, Captain is afraid of unrest. I managed to convince them to give me another day, and a promise that if she proves capable, a place onboard.”

Lucia raised an eyebrow. The gesture was simple, almost vague, but Keynan knew her well enough to understand the implied question.  

“Only if that’s what she wants, of course!” Keynan raised his hands in surrender. “Otherwise we can take her to the nearest port and set her up for a week or so. But I can’t imagine just leaving her there. After all she was victim too I’d like t--”

The woman interrupted, raising a hand. “Stop right there.”

“Wait, wh--”

“Shh.” Lucia waited for Keynan’s confused noises to cease before continuing. “That is your problem.”

It was Keynan’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“She isn’t simply a victim who needs saving. She has most likely experienced trauma, yes, but that is not what defines her. As long as you have boxed her as a victim, you will not be able to help her climb out of whatever slump she is in.” Lucia picked up her wooden bird and made a few key carving strokes. “She is a survivor. Perhaps, she needs a reminder of that.”

Keynan stared at the finished bird statue his companion set on the table between them as he mulled over her advice. The statuette depicted a great-horned owl, which Keynan vaguely recalled as a night time predator. Though it live in darkness, it may thrive. Hmmm.

A signature smile slowly grew on Keynan’s face. With a jolt of newly found optimism, he reached over to grab her face in his hands and placed a speedy kiss on her forehead.

“You are truly shining blessing my dear, dear friend!” He called out as he skipped from the table.

If he had bothered looking behind him, he would have seen Lucia shake her head knowingly at his familiar antics, a small smirk on her lips.

***

Dark. Twigs snapping. Panting. Foot steps.

She was running. Every muscle burned, but she couldn’t stop. They knew she had left. They were following. She had to keep going, to push through her bodies’ screaming.

Leaves rustling. Another twig, snapped. Sweat. Salt in her mouth.

Faster, or they’ll catch you. Faster or you’re dead. Faster, faster, fasterfasterfaster--

Whoosh.

Time slows to a crawl. Out of the corner of your right eye you watch a spear barely miss your ear. Silver eyes register purple ribbon.  

She’s here.

Skid to a stop. Grasp the spear free from bark. Turn. Search for the familiar.

The face you find has her features, but not her eyes. Close them, it’ll go away. Shut it out, shut it out shutitoutshutitout shut--

Open. Panting, once more. Foot step. But not just yours.

They’re running, too. This connected body. Arms linking, shoulders supporting.

Together you run and run and run.

“Don’t give up.”

Warm voice. Who said that?

“Don’t. Give. Up.”

The burning is intense. It would be so easy to collapse, to rest…

“If you give up you lose. Trapped for eternity. Do you want your freedom or NOT?”

The voice booms like thunder.

Freedom. Sweet on your tongue. Heat turns to cold. Feet heavy, yet light.

Freedom. You choose freedom.  

Suddenly, salt water. It crashes over, fills every pore. But you take a shaky breath. Air fills your lungs.

Dark. Peace. Finally.

***

Xorynth woke from the dream in a cold sweat. Most of the imagery faded instantly, but the swirl of emotions -- the fear, then confusion, followed by helplessness, and finally peace -- stayed and sat in her belly. She let herself cycle through them one at a time, again and again.

Freedom. Sweet on your tongue. She could almost taste it for a brief moment.

The half elf frowned. Was her freedom not what she wanted? What she craved and risked everything for? Why was she trapping herself in a desolate room after such sacrifice? She would not get to take this second chance at life if she withered away in the bottom of a ship.

For this first time in days, she sat up, fighting through the painful twinges of moving. It was a logical train of thought, a life line her mind began to wrap around. To get her freedom she simply needed to take control.

As soon as she thought the words, the voice inside chuckled, dangerously low. She realized now, almost like the dream had jogged her memory, that the voice reminded her of Elder Ru: patronizing and deep. Control? What control do you have? You have yet to properly taste freedom, and already it paralyzes you. The one thing you loved you destroyed.

NO! ��she tried to scream, but instead sharp pain erupting in her throat, taking the sound away.

You are a fool! A slave! A child! It taunted.

Closing her eyes as tightly as possible, Xorynth fought to clear her head. To meditate on the wood beneath her, the salt and sweet of her dream, on dreams of freedom. It was an uphill battle. The berating voice just had so much power. Only a few seconds into battle felt like an eternity at war.

You will never be free. You were groomed better than that.

No! No… she felt her fire dimming.

Submit to your fate. Accept your failure

I am tired...

Then stop wasting your energy. Rest. Submit.

Suddenly it felt so easy to submit to the storm. To the anger and fear and exhaustion. Why had she ever thought freedom would be attainable?

Knock-knock. Knock. Knock.

The sound of the familiar knock pulled Xorynth roughly out of her trance. Keynan was back. She felt like that was significant. Like she was supposed to remember something, but it escapes her, just out of reach. It takes all of her remaining energy to stay upright, eyes and ears open, though faced away from him. So she ignores the feeling of forgetting.

She heard glass and clay touch wood. Her stomach knotted and throat throbbed, in response. No, I -- I don’t deserve it.

He doesn’t speak right away. A true silence falls over the room for once, and she realizes that they’ve both held their breath.

“I do not pity you.”

Involuntarily, her back tenses. She doesn’t understand. What does he mean?

“A good friend reminded me today that pity isn’t always empathy. Sometimes it is a reflex that shackles those it means to help. So I do not pity you.” He sighs.

She remains silent, struggling to process his words with the fog of the voice and her dream heavy over her consciousness. But she keeps trying.

“We do not know each other yet. I can tell you need to grieve. By escaping captivity you’ve gained much, but I would be a fool not to acknowledge that you may have lost something else worth one hundred fold. You deserve to take as much time as you need to process this new life.”

He has no idea how much I have lost, she thought bitterly.

“But the woman I escaped that island with was strong and determined to reach freedom.” With every word his tone was shifting. The gentle lilt she was now accustomed to hearing took an assertive and passionate turn. “Though she shook with pain, she ran. Despite fear, she did not stumble. She was not a simple victim. She was a survivor. You are a survivor. Would she truly allow herself to starve, caged in this room?”  

It was like he had dumped water over her head. The shock of his words rushed through her system, clearing the fog. Banishing the voice. She could finally take stock of the pieces her life had become.

Despite the fragments, she had survived. Despite all odds and every circumstance she. had. survived. For the first time since waking on this ship she allowed indignance to take over. Memories of every lashing, every night without sleep, every physical punishment, every mental test rushed through her mind’s eye. She had survived. Despite abuse and torture and an assassination attempt: she had survived.

So lost in her reverie, Xorynth almost missed what Keynan said next.

“I refuse to pity you, survivor. Lie there all you want, but know that every time I leave those doors I will come back until you decide to function again and earn your keep.” He paused, and the no doubt intentional dramatic effect creating enough tension to brandish the next sentence in her brain. “I am not giving up on you.”

It was too early for promises, but Xorynth pondered the significance of the offer nonetheless. If she could manage to not give up on herself, perhaps that would be enough. With enough time, maybe she could put the pieces back together and slowly learn to function in this new world.

Maybe it was time.

***

The man shook his head in disappointment, dreads gently swaying from the momentum. The deafening silence in the room, after all he had said, ached more than it had before.  Standing in front of the door he couldn’t help but feel the disappointment spread, creeping up his neck. He had sincerely expected that speech to work. He reached for the door handle, plans already swimming in his mind. Perhaps tonight I ca-

“Xorynth,” rasped a mysterious voice.

Keynan’s hand hovered above the knob. Had she just--

Like lightning he spun around to face her again, taking in the scene before him.

Instead of facing the opposite wall, she now faced him in a meditation pose. Her legs bent at the knees and she held the flats of her feet together, making a shape of a butterfly. One hand was still, palm down her right knee, while the other held the bottle of water she was chugging in a surprisingly graceful manner.

He closed his dropped jaw and and simply stared, unsure how to react. Eventually, she finished drinking and placed the bottle gently by her side before boring her eyes into his in a now familiar fashion. Silver searching gold. But this time it was warmer, dare he say more relaxed.

Keynan didn’t dare breathe in fear that whatever this breakthrough was would end as abruptly as their last encounter.

Apparently, it was his lucky day.

Whatever thoughts she was processing ran their course, and whatever she was searching for in him she seemed to find. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath, and sighed in the way one does when a burden is relieved. It was as if she had been single handedly holding a ship on her shoulders and just now let it fall. Or was it resignation? Keynan couldn’t be sure, but in that moment of vulnerability he swore to himself he would learn to tell the difference in her nuanced expressions with time.

Keynan only had a moment to be shocked at how strong his emotions were to invoke such a promise when her voice rose again. A murmur much smoother than the dry scratch from earlier carried across the room:

“My name is Xorynth Nailo.”

[rogerrachel1995]

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[ii-thiscat-ii]

What about one for Incandescence?

DVD-style commentary for Incandescence.

(Commentary is provided on the whims of the author. The author feeds on your blood. Consider yourself warned and keep sending requests.)

Ah, the single darkest fic I’ve ever written. The idea for this fic has been around for a long time. I don’t remember exactly how long, but we’re talking years at least. It’s gone through a million different forms before I even started to write it.

Let’s go.

Chapter 1

This fic was not actually supposed to be chaptered, but it grew, and then it grew, and then it grew. It was at over 12k words when I let myself be convinced to post the first part. I thought at the time it would be two parts. It ended up as three. That keeps happening.

Here, love was what made her different. Not quite nightmare, but not a dream either. Love made her bright, made her a mess of colours and smiles. Love made her more. Love made her Incandescence. 

Incandescence. The original idea involved just any random generic nightmare, but I’m glad it ended up with her instead.

I don’t remember where she came from. All I know is that she works for this. She’s good, innocent, beautiful and bright, and such a big contrast to what I’m putting her through. She’s only been with the Flock for a little while, which I honestly don’t remember why I did, but it sure makes things even worse. Pretty sure that at the end of it she’s spent more time trapped in the physical world than she spent as a sheep beforehand.

She’s also the first sheep I’ve written who’s explictly “non-binary”. It’s not a term that works for sheep the same way it works for humans, as the dream-nightmare binary is completely artificial.

All nightmares are dreams as well, and of the dreams that come to be in the Mindscape, the vast majority are smaller, nicer dreams. The problem, of course, is that only the biggest, baddest dreams survive long enough in the Mindscape to make it to a safe place to live without being eaten, and these are the ones that make it to Dipper’s mindscape and become his nightmares. Of course, when he starts rescuing dreams, most of the ones he finds are very drastically different, which makes the apparent binary appear, but the difference is much more gradual than that, and Incandescence is one of those on the nightmare end of the scale.

She’s also literally made of love. They’re all made of different emotions, giving them different ways of thinking, and she’s one of very few of them who’s capable of romantic love. Not quite the way most people do it, but she is.

She’s panromantic or omniromantic or what have you. If she likes you, she’s probably in love with you, and that’s just how she is.

The scene where she’s pulled into the physical plane is one of those I could rewrite a dozen times and still not be quite happy with, I think. How do you describe someone’s mind being torn to pieces, from the inside?

I do like the description of her realizing what’s happened, though. I played a lot with pronouns for things. You might have noticed I only ever refer to the body as ‘her’ body when it’s from someone else’s point of view. From her point of view, I took care to describe it with as viscerally revolting words as I possibly could.

In contrast, the next scene where the scientists talk about what they’ve done, the whole mood is different. They don’t know they’re the antagonists.

“She even understands human language!”

She laughed. They were both beside themselves with happiness, exhaustion from a sleepless night the only thing keeping them from still skipping, as they had after Eve opened her eyes.

“To be fair,” Ida said, “mostly she was screaming ‘no’.”

They know ‘Eve’ isn’t happy about what’s going on, but they can rationalize that. In the end, they don’t think about her as a person as much as she is a personification of their personal success. They believe they’ve created a human being, but they’re not treating her as one, which is of course the one thing that creates the conflict in this fic.

As someone who is very fond of science myself, these characters annoy me most of all because they’re very good at what they do. They’re making amazing breakthroughs which could be used for wonderful things, but they failed their ethics classes at some point and are thus reduced to mere antagonists.

It’s a shame, really.

“I don’t know!” Lolonja snapped back, and she belatedly realized that she was angry. At herself, for not taking better care. At her flock, for not staying closer to their brightest, newest sister. At him, for not being the great, all-powerful Master and easily fixing everything immediately.

I love this paragraph a lot.

I’ve gotten comments about how I make the nightmares so much like people, make them individuals, but that is, in the end, exactly why I love them so much.

They are individuals. They have feelings and bonds. They react to stressful situations in human ways, because they’re not just tools to use. They’re people. They act irrationally sometimes, and their devotion is not blind.

They’re still devoted, of course, and that means more when they don’t have to be. It means more when it’s because they think he deserves it.

Other than that, this scene is mostly the beginning of Alcor’s despair. He’s an extremely powerful character, which means that taking that power from him is a very important part of writing stories about him, otherwise you won’t have any plot. Despite that, it also means that he isn’t used to having his power taken away. He isn’t used to being powerless, which makes putting him into a situation where he truly is that much more rewarding.

It also lets me show off exactly how strong his bond with the Flock is. Sometimes they’re the only thing he’s sure is going to be there, and he really doesn’t know how to deal with that constant failing him.

The second time Incandescence opened the seeing-parts, the eyes of the body that was not-her-but-her, there was darkness. 

This scene. Was a nightmare. I almost never rewrite things. I don’t bother to. They’re just fic. This scene though, I came halfway through and then rewrote several times.

The description of how Incandescence sees the world filtered through human senses instead of directly like she’s used to was easy enough. I could do that. But the conversation. Oh god, the conversation with the person who came into the room.

I needed to show how the human would talk to her, as a thing that the human thinks it thinks is a person, while also figuring out how Incandescence would read and react to what was being said. Then I needed to have Incandescence argue while not explaining things well enough that this human understood exactly how badly they fucked up.

One side effect of that was that I had her not be able to give her name, which is of course very important. Names are important for the sheep, because it’s not something they’ve been allowed before, and her not feeling like she deserves her name anymore is such a strong sign that she’s already falling into despair.

I was stuck for so long. It was terrible. But I got through it, and then I could write the rest of it easily enough.

This scene is probably also the darkest one, wordwise. It’s the one that shows the best what I imagine it must feel like to be stuck in a body that really isn’t your own, where every movement disgusts you because it doesn’t belong to you.

I’m calling it heavy body dysphoria. I’m not sure how accurate that is, but I also don’t know what else to call it. I also didn’t actually mean for the fic to become an analogy for transness, but with the central message of ‘you aren’t your body’ I suppose it was hard to avoid.

Either way, the end of this scene is pretty much as dark as it gets. It’s the beginning of Incandescence’s descent, and it starts off Alcor’s on the other side.

The forest around the now-levelled building was mostly quiet, aside from a single set of footsteps. Likely some random hiker, who unlike the animals did not have the sense to move away from loud, inexplicable noises in the woods. A hiker who would most likely make a fuzz about a child crying in the ruins of an old house, after which there might be a lot of screaming. 

This whole scene is much better than the last one. It fits so perfectly after Incandescence falls back on the Master coming to save her as the only way out, to show that Alcor can’t find her, and that he’s horrified by this.

He’s not used to being powerless, and he doesn’t know how to give up.

The hiker actually showed up in on idea for this scene. Someone who was walking around in the woods and decided to check on the random crying child in a smashed building.

It was an interesting scene, but ultimately contributed nothing to the plot, so I left it as an exercise for the reader, by making it just a possibility that never happened.

The blip into the current Mizar’s bedroom was as quiet as he could make it. She was asleep on her bed, muttering vaguely into her pillow, and he had no intention of changing that.

Not only did he not want to bring her into this, he also did not actually need her for the next step. He just needed her computer.

Then there’s this. I honestly have no idea which Mizar this is, and it doesn’t matter. I just needed to establish that Dipper has a life outside of this one random fic, though he’s putting it on hold right now.

And then there’s Al-V, who, if you look closely, is the only person in this fic who actually manages to do shit. He’s a saving grace for Incandescence, and also for me, when I wrote this fic. I had no idea how to make any of Alcor’s scenes relevant when all they were was him flailing about in angst and accomplishing nothing. Al-V presented himself as something Alcor could do that would seem to do nothing even though it ultimately moved the plot to its end.

The last part of this chapter is just Incandescence hitting rock bottom. I had her bite a chunk out of someone and eat it, which was fun. Not for her, but I don’t actually think of my characters as people in context of myself, so it’s fine.

The first chapter is worst, honestly. By far. Maybe not in quality, but in mood. It’s dark as fuck, and really meant only to send people spiralling downwards with no apparent hope for rescue. Which of course is much more effective when it actually turns into a chaptered fic.

Chapter 2

And he was definitely not Oskar Rasmussen, intelligence officer. He was John Zipp, Mafia enforcer and currently inspector, going to take a look at the progress of the project the bosses had commissioned, and he was perfectly calm.

Oskar. Hah.

I have no idea how many times I spelled his name with a ‘c’ on accident, but it was a lot.

I also have no idea how the military works. Did you notice?

But I like Oskar. I just needed someone to come in and rescue Incandescence, but he turned out to be a pretty neat person. Intelligent enough to know what he was doing. Empathic enough to feel the significance of it.

The difference between Oskar and ‘John Zipp’ is also fun, because it let me write someone we were supposed to cheer for being really rude to those asshole scientists and then have them be scared in return. It was fun.

I was honestly worried about what people would think about such a long part of the fic focusing only on an entirely new character all out of nowhere, but it seems like people doesn’t mind?

Most of the first part of chapter two is just me trying to find the balance between making things go too fast and not getting bogged down by ridiculous amounts of exposition. I needed to show how this whole thing worked, and to make it seem like Oskar was doing his job, but I also wanted to get to Incandescence as fast as possible. I think, in the end, I balanced it well enough, but I still have issues with parts of it.

This is also where I introduce the idea that what was done to Incandescence isn’t only trapping her, it’s killing her. There had to be a reason bodies generally have souls, and not just lumps of thought-stuff, and here it is. It raises the stakes, and it gives us a new antagonist once these ones are taken out of the picture. (Friendly reminder that an antagonist doesn’t have to be a person, but it can be such an abstract concept as an illness, or time itself.)

She was a woman, almost definitely, with ghostly pale skin and dark, dirty hair. Maybe black, maybe dark brown; it was hard to tell in the dark. She lay straight on her back on top of the sheets, wearing a thin dress, possibly a hospital gown. She was completely still, facing the ceiling and with her arms straight and limp by her sides. 

One thing I wanted to communicate and am not sure if I managed is that Eve is classically beautiful. The body was made to be attractive. Incandescence, trapped in the body, isn’t beautiful. Not only because she’s dying and the body reflects that, but because the hate she has for it reflects outwards. She does nothing to maintain that beauty because she can’t see it, and will actively try to ruin it if she gets the chance.

Oskar, here, doesn’t see a beautiful woman. He sees, at most, something that might have been one, once. It doesn’t make him very happy.

She had her eyes closed. Against the light, he realized.

“Sorry,” he said. “Is it okay if I sit down on the bed?”

And here we have the first friendly interaction Incandescence has had since she arrived.

The first thing he does is apologize, the second is ask for permission to come closer.

She tells him she doesn’t care, and he does come closer, but only a little. You can be sure that if she had said no, he would remain standing. And this is important. As is the fact that the very next thing he gives her is his name. A thing that is so important to her as a nightmare, and specifically as a nightmare.

You can draw parallels between this conversation and the one I struggled with in the first chapter. Oskar treats her as a person, not as the body she’s stuck in. He listens, he believes her, and he gives her hope.

This is also the place in writing the fic I realized I’m writing a story of a man coming in and rescuing a powerless woman, which still leaves a bad taste in my mouth, so this is where I tried to give her some autonomy.

Not a lot, and still necessarily depended on him granting it to her, considering the circumstances, but she has a voice here and she lets it be heard.

“Here, I’ll show you,” he said, and she pulled herself up to watch. He pointed at his watch, digital, luckily. “You know how to read numbers?”

“Yes,” she said.

The watch. Until now, she’s been seen more or less as ignorant. Oskar doesn’t think she is, but a part of him still thinks so, because that is how she’s been presented.

He knows she speaks more than one language, but he doesn’t take it for granted that she can read numbers. Of course, the fact that she doesn’t know how long half an hour is kind of gives him a point. Then he’s surprised that she knows about seconds, and again when she can ad in her head better than he can.

Because she’s intelligent. She’s just also trapped and has had no reason to show it. Until now she’s been entirely powerless. This man gave her something. One tiny little thing, and she grabs it with all she’s got.

The next scene, the watch scene, is Incandescence alone in the darkness again. Only this time she has a ray of light. Literally. Most of it is just her contemplating whether or not it’s worth it to start hoping again, even as she already is.

I like the part where she calls Oskar’s teammates ‘flockmates’. It’s what she knows, and she doesn’t think of him as the same kind of creature as the ones that trapped her in the first place.

The second chapter ends on a brighter note than the first one, but it’s not over yet and they all know it.

Chapter 3

The first scene of chapter three is all tell and very little show. I honestly just didn’t feel like creating a whole bunch of characters just to establish Incandescence’s life at the base. Maybe I should have, but at that point I really, really just wanted to be done.

I needed to establish even more hopelessness, and explain why Al-V didn’t notice anything earlier. It happened through making all the military people so distrassed about the whole thing they’d rather not think about it.

The coffee just showed up as a natural consequence of the dream thing, which was a natural consequence of considering exactly how wrong shoving a nightmare into a human body would go. I still think she’ll probably drink coffee whenever she can get it even later, though.

I also needed to give them all a reason to be attached to her, because the next few scenes really wouldn’t work without that.

The source of the small program read the saved file considerably more slowly, as there is a large difference between truly reading something and just searching through it for a specific word. It still only took him a few seconds before his variable counters associated with success and reward spiked, and he scrambled to double-check his conclusions, a process that took him approximately five minutes and involved hacking into seven cell phones and getting access to a closed-circuit military security system. 

And Al-V to the rescue. He’s the one who got the military moving in the fist place, and he’s the one who found Incandescence before it was too late. Honestly, he’s the hero of this story by a large margin. Everyone else is just flailing.

Case in point, the next tiny scene is just a scene of Alcor taking a brief break from his ineffectual flailing.

“Hey, you okay?” Mizar asked.

The first time he had come down and tried to focus on something else, the day before this one, he had ended up crying on her shoulder.

…he’s not okay.

Luckily, that won’t last much longer.

And then the next scene. Sheesh. That was one of the first scenes of this I really wanted to write, and it was great.

It felt like a ‘pop’, a small pressure change, something weird, something you noticed, but not more than that. Still, it was peculiar enough to have them all quiet for a moment and look around curiously. Dor rubbed at an ear. 

This is possibly my favourite of all of Alcor’s entrances I’ve ever written.

Just��� ‘pop’. Alcor.

And then he shows up, too worked up to think about explaining himself, in the middle of a group of armed, twitchy and overprotective soldiers. Ahh, I had so much fun with that.

Everyone’s scared, Alcor is intent on finding his lost sheep and really nothing else, and Incandescence is too confused to be sure anything is real.

The table disappeared. Not thrown aside, not moved, just disappeared as if it had never been, letting the pieces of Marilynn’s gun clatter on the floor, to make room for him as he sank to his knees beside the couch.

I like this a lot too. I needed the table out of the way, and then I thought, ‘oh right, demon, heh’ and removed it.

There were tear tracks down his face. The world’s most powerful demon sat in a heap on their break room floor, sobbing. 

Only thing that annoys me is that I felt the need to add dialogue before this part. If I could have found a way to go directly from “what have they done to you” to this, I’d be happy.

Of course, then he wakes her up properly, starts rambling about how happy he is that she’s alive, and she decides he’s being silly and kisses him instead.

I foreshadowed that kiss enough that it felt natural for the plot, but just like every other time I’ve ended my fic with a kiss, I’ve gotten comments from people who weren’t expecting it. Honestly, I just like having people kiss Alcor. Don’t judge me.

Then he leaned back in and they were kissing with a fervour that suited the aftermath of a weeks-long life-or-death situation. It was deep and urgent and blithely oblivious to the handful soldiers with guns still half-raised towards them. 

No seriously, this is the only part of this fic I wrote out-of-secuence because I needed to make sure the words were safe.

And of course then he impales her.

I don’t think I actually thought about that when I first came up with the idea. Of course he needed to get her out of there somehow, that was obvious. I considered having him just melt the body, but this was more fun.

The soliders, at this point, are pretty much convinced that everything is going to be fine, so having their suspicions towasds demons confirmed so suddenly and violently is a shock I was happy to give them. For entertainment purposes.

Honestly, that entire scene is such an emotional rollercoaster for them I a so happy I decided to have it from their point of view and not his or hers.

Gard’s arguments against murdering the scientists is actually something I’ve been thinking about for a while.

There are fics out there where Alcor shows up and takes over court cases one way or another, but probably, if a demon got involved with that, it would have rather nasty consequences for everyone involved. You can’t trust your evidence when there’s a demon involved. You can’t trust that the person you just sent to jail was actually sent to jail because they hurt someone, and not just because the opposition made a deal with a demon. If you can solve it without letting anyone know Alcor has a stake in the result, please try to do so.

Anyway, anyone who’s ever had insomnia knows that a lifetime of nightmares is a worse fate than death. And much more poetic in this case. I don’t actually care about letting Alcor get his revenge in this one, it’s Incandescence who needs it.

I considered Having an epilogue where Incandescence was a witness at the trial against the scientists, but decided against it. I still think the idea is funny as heck.

And then the Flock was upon her, dozens and dozens of gleeful faces, pressing up to greet her, to welcome her home, to touch her just to make sure she was truly there, and the Master dropped to the ground with them and laughed and cried and laughed.

And all was good.

In the end, this was a better ending.

[broken-endings]

even though i’ve seen code geass twice before

i somehow missed out on a lot of the stuff I got into for other fandoms

like thinking of AUs and finding fanfic close to those AUs and fanart of ships

like, i wasn’t as avid at all those things as i am now

and now i’m rewatching it for the 2nd time. It’s been almost four years. My first rewatch almost predates my entrance to the yaoi universe

lelouch/suzaku is prob one of the biggest ships of all the anime i’ve seen that has an inordinate amount of doujinshi, but I never had interest

but HELLOOOOO interest

cuz, in between my last rewatch, and now, I actually figured out ways to get myself into ships that I hadn’t been into for a long time (coughcough timkon and jaytim) and now it is so easy to get me into a ship. Give me some gorgeous smexy fanart and the right chemistry and BAM i’m gone.

though these guys most definitely must be the most tragic of all my ships.

but so, in my rewatch now, i’m ALSO thinking of AUs for me to list of different canon divergences.

Thems below the cut

1) Canon Divergence AU where after the Mao incident, Lelouch doesn’t mindwipe Shirley. 

She’s near inconsolable in regards to thinking she’s a murderer, and hysterical about Lelouch being Zero and responsible for her father’s death. But she’s in too deep. She was willing to kill to protect Lelouch, even knowing he was Zero, whom she also contemplated killing.

Lelouch, when he was going to attempt to use geass, made the mistake of saying, “I can make you forget” and she doesn’t want that. She doesn’t know what he’s gonna do but she blocks his face and shields herself. “Shirley, then what do you want?” “To stay by your side.”

She stays by Lelouch’s side, but she’s not the cheerful girl she once was. She’ll smile at him, but it’s gentle and pained, and he can’t remember the last time he heard her laugh.

Lelouch refuses to let Shirley get involved in the Black Knights.

Shirley's paranoid about Lelouch’s identity being discovered, and sneaks around, following him when he isn’t in a mask. She still carries Lelouch’s gun.

Lelouch selfishly finds comfort in having Shirley with him, physically and emotionally. Not having to hide or lie. He does care about her.

She eventually gets him to relent and allow her to be involved in his resistance, but insists that she hide her identity like he does. He doesn’t introduce her as anyone special though, so his people wouldn’t get suspicious or jealous. She isn’t the only member to wear a mask other than zero, for protection.

They have their private moments during missions.

Shirley is the one who lies and hides to keep Lelouch safe. All she can think about is what would’ve happened that night she found out his identity if she’d done nothing. So she makes sure she always does something, even if she doesn’t have the right skills, she makes do. For Lelouch.

I imagine them as a kind of lost, tragic, dark couple.

2) PERSONA 5 AU

all the stuff about geass is actually related to the other world and shadows and personas. Geass is a power used by channeling one’s shadow self. They remain two separate entities but in that moment join to trigger their power. The two worlds overlap in that moment, and because of the power of the other world, said “magical” like effects happen in the physical world.

Geass is weaker than a persona because it is the unawakened other-self.

Lelouch has been channeling his shadow self, but Suzaku is the first to awaken his persona. It is only due to Suzaku’s awakening (when he comes to terms with the fact he killed his father) that Lelouch is even made aware that there is something stronger than geass. Gosh, Lelouch’s other self would be fascinating to see converse with his normal self.

If I was a better read person I’d totally assign everyone their personas, like how in p5 they’re characters of legend. Maybe pull some gods or goddesses from myth, or significant literary characters.

People who’d awaken to personas!!

Suzaku

Lelouch

Kallen

Shirley

Nunnally (the support role)

C2

Euphemia

Rolo

All the crazy stuff with the geass temples and the emperor’s obsession is about him wanting access to that other world, or rather to merge the worlds into one.

PALACES, characters who’d be targeted to get a change of heart

Clovis

Cornelia

Rolo

Schneizel

Marianne

V2

Emperor Charles

It’s possible to enter people with geass’ palaces because their other selves still slumber. Yes, Rolo is both one whose heart they change and he joins the team after that.

3) Psycho Pass AU

Britannia and Japan still are as is in canon. Japan is under Britannia’s control, but it’s Britannia’s use of the Sibyl System that has allowed it widespread control of the world. First the system was implemented through a joint effort, then control was slowly wrenched away from the original government.

There was no war. It’s the distinct lack of fighting that is different in this universe

The Royal family controls the Sibyl System, which leaves them as exceptions in its judgement. Though the system is exactly the same otherwise. Rather than the royals be unjudgeable, the system was built to not be critical of them, anyone within the royal bloodline.

Suzaku is an enforcer, has been ever since he killed his father, the prime minister who opposed partnering with Britannia and implementing the Sibyl System. But the fact that he killed his father is a close guarded secret within the government. Most in the agency, even Lelouch don’t know this truth.

Lelouch is an inspector, and Suzaku is in his squad. They’re still childhood friends. He was surprised to find out Suzaku was an enforcer, wondering what possibly could have happened to him. 

There is no geass in this universe.

Lelouch's psycho pass remains clear no matter what he does or thinks. He realized this early on. He’s always wary that maybe one day it’ll be updated and work on him and is extra cautious because of that thought. As an inspector with a dominator, he’s learned he can actually control the modes his dominator is in as well. Regardless of the Sibyl system’s judgement, he can override it. He keeps this a secret as well. To anyone watching his actions, they’d just assume whatever shape his dominator takes is a result of Sibyl’s judgement.

Kallen and CC are also enforcers in Lelouch’s squad, though CC has an unnatural amount of knowledge about the Sibyl system and confronts Lelouch on his secrets that should be impossible for anyone to guess or figure out.

Lelouch doesn’t know he’s royalty. His mother kept that a secret, and she was still killed. As an inspector he seeks to find her killer. His life outside the bureau he has his sister who is still disabled, though not blind. He has his friends (everyone from the student council)

Lelouch is the youngest senior inspector

I want Euphemia to be in Lelouch’s past too, but I can’t figure out a way to do that and still have him be ignorant of his bloodline

4) Canon Divergence AU in R2 when Lelouch was ready to give up and shoot up refrain in Shinjuku, Kallen does NOT reach him in time.

Kallen gets there too late. Lelouch was all drugged out. She tries to snap him out of it w/ some slaps and yelling, but her motivation dwindles with his lack of response.

She started speaking more calmly, touched him gently, pleading with him to give her any recognition, to which he does respond ���Kallen” and she starts to tear up thinking she’s reached him, but then he starts rattling off old orders he gave her, telling her he wants her to be leader of the zero squad.

With a heavy heart she drags him back to where she had been staying alone, hidden in a corner of the ghetto. Unable to stop remembering her mom, Kallen takes care of him, and nods or gives a sullen one word response when he says things.

He seems to be starting to come back to his senses, and she decides one night that the next day she’ll start trying to talk to him again, but she wakes up to find him gone.

He’s gone to get another fix, and when she finally finds him again, she has to start all over with the waiting game. She cries herself to sleep, and talks precautions to keep him from being able to leave when he sobers up.

When it finally seems like she might be able to get a conversation out of him the next day, she decides he’s not going anywhere. While he sleeps, she handcuffs his hands behind his back, and cuffs herself to him as well. She makes a point to actually drape herself over him, so there’s no way he could even move without waking her. She doesn’t think she’ll get any sleep, but ends up falling asleep like that with the monotonous calm of his steady breathing.

“Come back” she whispers before falling asleep.

She wakes up to a shivering Lelouch

He’s lucid and she can talk to him but he’s getting irrationally angry and starts yelling about how he just wants “one more.”

“I’m not gonna let you destroy yourself. You don’t get to do that, not as long as people need you.”

5) Canon Divergence AU When Lelouch says the line to Kallen suggesting she console him and there’s things a woman can do, he doesn’t say it seriously.

He treats it as sarcasm and doesn’t approach her. He just sits back down.

Because he didn’t approach her or force himself, because he was truly at the end of his rope and Kallen didn’t know what else to do, and she could tell that he said those words, believing she’d never do such a thing.

Because she had time to think about it and felt desperate herself, she considered that even if he isn’t serious, he wouldn’t have suggested such a thing if it was meaningless. Even if his intention of saying it was to try to scare her off or push her away, there’s a lot of things he could have said or done, but he chose that one.

One thing Kallen has learned from Lelouch as zero is every decision he makes is precise and thought-out, every word he says isn’t said without consideration behind it, that’s how deep his manipulation and predictive nature goes. Even in this crisis where he’s not himself she can still believe that “There’s a reason he specifically said that.”

“Fine” she says after the abnormally prolonged silence.

“What?” Shock in his eyes he slightly turns to look in her direction

“You heard me.”

The one thing Lelouch can’t predict is the human element. People may have patterns, but they can also break those patterns. That’s one thing he can’t anticipate.

Kallen goes over to him and gently takes his hand. He still looks shocked and hasn’t said anything else. He’s so out of character it’s scaring her. She leads him to stand up and follow her, still holding his hand

“But not here.”

All Kallen can think is “if this can bring back Zero, so be it.” She would already kill for him, so she’d do anything.

They’re walking quite a while before Lelouch flexes his hand and starts gripping Kallen’s back.

They get to where she stays when she’s not with the Black Knights and she only lets go of his hand when she’s led him to sit on the bed in her tiny room. She closes the door behind her. Kallen could swear his look of shock was exactly the same as it was initially.

She walks over to him, to which, Lelouch finally manages words out “Kallen, you don’t have to–” 

She silences him with a finger to his lips. Standing over him she leans down to give him a kiss and she lets him, then much like his instinct when Shirley kissed him, he pulls her close to him, arms encircling her, deepening the kiss.

It started slow and passionate but they steadily picked up the pace

They don’t speak again about what they’re doing. The only words out of either of their mouths are either encouragement or direction, “lower,” “faster,” “wait,” “yes, that’s good.”

6) Canon Divergence AU where Shirley doesn’t die

I just want it. I have no idea how it would GO

[missjackil]

The Not-So-Bitter Sam Girl

Let me first establish that I love Sam Winchester with everything in me. I eat, sleep, drink,and dream Sam Winchester. Often times, like many Sam girls, I feel like he is treated unfairly, and that makes me bitter, but I read a lot of the meta from other Sam girls, but I don’t agree with a lot of what you all are bitter about. Let me also say, that I love Dean too. The brother’s relationship is the only reason I am addicted to this show. I couldn't care less about the monsters and most side characters to be honest, but I definitely favor Sam. I have only been watching the show, via Netflix, for just under a year, but I am a CHRONIC re-watcher. There isn’t an episode or season I havent watched at least 15 times, and some more than 40 times (yes its a sickness) the only episodes I dont watch much are Bitten and Bloodlines.  I will try to explain my view on some of the most common things I see bitter Sam girls write about, and hopefully give a new perspective. WARNING: This is indeed long, you may scroll through and read topics of interest, and feel free to send me an ask or a message about anything you would like to debate or discuss further :)

Dean gets more air time! From my point of view, I will agree this is the case, but not throughout the whole series. A prime example is the S4 episode In The Beginning, when Sam is only in the first 45 seconds of the episode. I dont consider this the show favoring Dean, but the knowledge that it was in a time when no one was sure if Jared could continue do to his mental health. He had a breakdown during the filming of Mystery Spot, and things were rocky for a while. I don’t know what was going on during the time of In The Beginning, but it’s quite possible that Jared needed time off. Granted there are no episodes were Dean is only in 45 seconds of, but they probably don’t like do episodes that the boys dont share time, after all, the show is about them both.  The Panic Room! Yes, definitely the panic room! It might be the first time I felt my bitter Sam girl come out. How DARE they lock him in a room to detox alone??? It tore my heart out! But on one hand, it was an extremely Sam heavy episode. We got to see inside his head through his hallucinations, which up till then, we’d only see glimpses. It was hard for me to piece together what exactly was going on with Sam in S4 until this episode. It was confusing. On one hand he had been his normal, cute, nerdy, sensitive self, but hiding his baddass, sexy, dark side. Up till then i thought he just didn’t want Dean to be angry with him for what he was doing, but then I realized, he was genuinely addicted to the demon blood, and didn’t want Dean to know because he’d want him (make him) stop, and he also feared Dean would hate him like a monster. He felt like he disappointed everyone he loved, even himself, and coming off felt like torture. (hence the Alistair hallucination) So story wise, we needed for him to be alone this time so WE the viewers would see what all he felt, which he may not have, if Dean sat with him to comfort him. And having dealt with addicted people personally, I know that sometimes, an addict will use their addiction for the sole purpose of having someone sit and suffer with them, which sometimes makes the addiction worse. However, the second time Sam was left to suffer alone in the panic room was 100% uncalled for (S5 My Bloody Valentine) If the writers wanted to show how bad Sam’s problem was affecting Dean, which Im sure it was... he could have prayed that prayer while holding Sam through the detox, and it would have been 1000 times more powerful. So this one, I am bitter as well.  Soulless Sam wasn’t that bad!! No, he wasn’t. I actually really enjoyed him! He was definitely hornier than our normal Sam, less inhibited,  snarkier, funnier, but still, not quite Sam. Why would Dean be so freaked out? Well, we’ll overlook Sam allowing him to be turned by the vamps, because Dean felt creeped out before then. So consider the fact that dozens of years, Sam and Dean were glued to each others hips for the most part. Especially when John left them alone as children, and since Sam was back from Stanford, and now, he was back from Hell, no one knew how, and not his normal self at all. Dean, being Sam’s soulmate, knew something was wrong, and at first was scared that maybe it was still Lucifer in Sam’s vessel. That to me, sounds like it could be scary. Think just for a moment, if the person you love the most, that you thought was dead, is suddenly back but not anything like they used to be. This would be terrible, especially if you thought there was a good chance they were actually Satan wearing their body.  Once Dean knew it was actually Sam, but without a soul, he could have lightened up a bit. Yes, I think so too, BUT Sam was still not anything like what Dean loved about his brother. Sam didnt love him back, didnt even care about him, he was Sam otherwise, but i dont blame Dean for wanting to get Sam’s soul back, especially with the knowledge that he could be fine, so long as he doesn’t regain the memories. And even if he did, there’s a good chance he could fix him.  Dean did act irrationally, wont argue, but we know they are both irrationally co dependent on each other, and if the tables were turned, Sam would have done something equally irrational to get Dean back. (As we see in About a Boy when Sam wasnt in favor of Dean being 14 so that the Mark was gone. He’d be willing to take Dean back, Mark included, so long as Dean was the Dean he knew and loved today) The narrative is heavily in Dean’s Favor! No, I dont think so. Occasionally yes, but for the most part no. When bitter Sam girls see Dean scolding or berating Sam for being wrong about something, most of the time Sam isn’t wrong about the thing. We see it, and most people see it, so the narrative makes Dean look like a douche. Yes, there are Dean girls that throw Sam hate all the time, but they’re not the majority. They’re just loud on Tumblr. Honestly, in real life, Dean girls, just like Dean’s looks, or personality better than Sam’s and thats simply taste. Tall, long haired, sweet, intelligent, badass, nerds arent everyone’s favorite flavor (dont know how that’s possible but....) thats fine, but ive yet to come across a real life Sam hater.  Theres some on tumblr and occasionally some might give Jared grief at a conference, but again, thats not the majority. And I see bitter Sam girls also throw the same hate Dean’s way too. But anyway, getting off point. Dean has always been “its not what you do but who you are” and Sam has always been “its not who you are but what you do” from early on. And we all know Sam’s view is better. Sam is always willing to talk, and give people/monsters a chance to choose good. Dean has only recently agreed to go that route too, but will still think “monster” first and then bend Sam’s direction. killing Sam’s friend Amy in S7 just because she was a monster, was a huge douche move on Dean’s part and everyone thought so Im sure. It was also the last time Dean killed someone for just that reason. Sam’s view of situations like that have always been to give the monster the benefit of the doubt if they wanted to be good, from the beginning, so that narrative has always been in Sam’s favor.  Dean was mad that Sam’s happy memories didn’t include him!! Not true. Dean may have been disappointed that Sam’s happy Thanksgiving memory was at someone elses house, but after that, Sam’s best memories were Deans worst. That’s what upset him. Not that Dean wasnt in them, but they were terrible times for him. When Sam was alone in Flagstaff with his dog, Dean was home worried sick that Sam was dead because he ran off while he was watching him. “And when Dad got home....” Dean probably got his ass beat. When Sam went off to Stanford, Dean says it was one of the worst nights of his life. Zachariah was manipulating their memories so it could appear they were happier without each other. Sam didnt get to see the part when he and Dean shot off the fireworks, only the part of Dean’s life when he was happy with Mom. I am sure that if they got to explore more of their heaven, they would have found plenty of memories that were just those two.  The writers feminize Sam and make him the Damsel in Distress!! Lord, I have seen HUGE meta on this and I disagree with so much. The male/female formula when there are two protagonists is a common formula to use. This is true, but it is not the only formula to use and its not always Sam that is feminized. Other formulas are the classic comedic/tragic, the big one/the small one, the smart one/the dumb one, light/dark, good cop/ bad cop and so on. The brother have fallen into all these formulas at different times. Sam has a few feminine qualities, it’s true, he cries sometimes and he’s generally nicer than Dean, he has long hair, compassionate and empathetic, he isnt as “butch” as Dean and is conscious of his diet. Dean also has feminine qualities, he cooks, cleans, and irons their clothes. He is very much a nurturer, not only to Sam but to Kevin, Garth and Charlie as well. Dean is much more physical than Sam is. Dean is usually the one initiating the bro hugs, and its not likely that the “Dean is bisexual” thing, would be a thing, if he initiated as many manhugs as Sam has. He cries more than Sam does, he admitted to have enjoyed wearing women’s underwear, loves chick flicks, and said “All women lie about their age” and Sam said “Wait, you told our waitress you’re 29″ and Dean said “Yes”. Often times Sam and Dean are paralleled with married couples, but not always, sometimes its siblings, sometimes best friends, sometimes Rocky and Bullwinkle LOL... but not always male/female, in fact, in the parallel of John and Mary Winchester, Sam is John and Dean is mom. Sam was named after their grandfather, and Dean after their grandmother.

Also, Sam is NOT a Damsel in Distress! My friend went through S1 thru 11 and counted how many times each saved the other, and Dean only beats Sam by 3 saves. Ahead by 3 out of 240 (some episodes have more than one salvation scene, some have none or they save each other) episodes is well within the margin of error and it means neither one is a damsel in distress. HOWEVER Tumblr makes Sam overly feminine! But that’s a whole other rant.  Season 8 was a horror fest of Sam hate! Omg is so was NOT! i felt there was more love from Dean towards Sam than any season before it. This season was an emotional roller coaster between the boys, its by far one of my favorite seasons (5 and 11 are my other faves) but i think all the meta written about being a Carver catastrophe and trying to explain WHY it wasnt OOC for Sam to not look for Dean, made some of you not watch the season, or at least, not all of the season, or watched it after reading the meta and thus missed the whole point. However I will agree, like even Jared did, that Sam not looking for Dean definitely was OOC for Sam, especially only knowing what we knew in the beginning. Sam went right away to the promise the boys made not to look for each other, even though he knew Dean looked for him when he went to Hell. It was very OOC for Sam to at least try to make sure Dean was dead first, he had no idea where he was, there was no blood or body, just black goo. Take into consideration that 1) It has been said that S8 was going a different route, but the producers decided to change it, so it’s likely there was more to that story than we actually got. 2) it was the beginning of the season and neither we, nor Jared knew that Sam would later say “I lost my brother a few months back, and my world imploded and everything rained down on me, and i ran” None of us knew that before hand, and Dean was never even told. All he was really told was that Sam was alone, and didnt know what to do so he fixed up the Impala, and just drove. Took time to enjoy the good things, and get a dog and a girlfriend and a home in Texas. Will I will agree that Dean didnt have the right to berate Sam, but he had every right to be hurt and feel betrayed. Sam later turned the table and berated Dean for having Benny. Again, Sam had the right to feel hurt and betrayed, but had no right to berate him, but since they both griefed each other about how they spent the last year, Ill call them both even. This fight that was nothing less than watching a married couple fighting over each other cheating, but once Sam decides to stay with Dean, and Dean cuts ties with Benny, the boys relationship is beautiful again. I say there was so much love shown even in their fighting because we learned part of the depth in which they love each other. Not unlike a married couple.” Don’t ever let someone be more important than me” And though I know, at the end of S8 when Sam was reminded of his “failure” by Dean, Sam was ready to die, but in the middle when the trails are about to start, Dean recalls what kind of life Sam wanted, and was ready to die so Sam could have it. Watch Trial and Error, I think its a great place to see where the boy’s heads are at, at that point in the season.  Dean had no right to trick Sam into letting Gadreel possess him! Absolutely true, he had no right to do that, but Dean knew it too. He knew Sam would never agree to such a thing, and he would rather die. But Dean JUST saved his life back at the church, despite that good that would come of if it Sam finished the trials. This didnt matter to Dean anymore if he didn’t have Sam beside him. It wasn’t like Swan Song... now he KNEW what life without Sam was like and didnt want to do it again. Now he sees that Sam is moments from dying, and has an option... a bad option, but an option. He acted in sheer panic. I cant honestly say I wouldnt do that either. But immediately after, Dean had regrets and fears. Did he make the right call? Was this angel gonna take Sam over or tear him apart? Dean wrestled with this every episode till they finally got Gadreel out. He knew Gadreel taking over and killing Kevin was his own fault and whatever backlash was coming from Sam, he deserved. Now after this I fully understand Sam’s hurt 100% and I think he was even hurt that Dean chose to leave afterwards, but his words at the end of The Purge hurt me for Dean’s sake. Not “Same circumstances, I wouldnt” because of course he wouldnt do the same thing. But telling Dean theres no upside to him being alive, and how Dean tells himself that he does more good than bad, but he doesnt, and “Ill hand it you, you;re willing to do the sacrificing, as long as you’re not the one being hurt” was crushing. Dean has always been hurt in his sacrificing, it was like Sam forgot Dean sacrificing his soul for Sam to live and spending 40 years in hell. So, where I will agree Dean says some crappy things, Sam has been guilty of that too. Both have every right to feel what they feel, but that doesnt give them the right to do or say whatever they want.  Dean always gets friends and Sam doesnt! Now this I think is basically their make up, not a narrative bias. Sam learned in S1, Skin that friends are a liability and having them in their line of work, puts them in danger. Sam is kind and compassionate and the one who talks to the victims and witnesses with care so they trust him, but he doesnt try to pull them closer, to be friends, because he knows its dangerous for them, as he explained to Adam in Jump the Shark. Dean knows this too, but he needs people. He makes friends and tried to have a family outside the job... it never works out, but he still tries. I think Jody is more drawn to Sam, and probably even Rowena, it also looks like Mary is more drawn to Sam,  but Sam is still leary of being close to people. I dont think this has anything to do with the writers wanting us to think Dean is more likable, but to see that the boys need different things. Like Dean has a lot of sex, he needs physical, Sam doesn’t he needs verbal. This is why he has conversations with everyone.  Dean has more dialogue than Sam! He does, often times, I guess if its measured, Dean has probably had more onscreen lines than Sam, but I think they make up for that by giving Sam the bigger story arcs. They give Jared the harder roles to act. Dean’s arcs are almost always the same, he is either more violent, or less violent, whereas Sam has been possessed numerous times, went through addiction and withdrawal, Soullessness, fighting against himself, and acting along side his own different personas, insanity, twice, hallucinations,severe physical illness, loss of loved ones,  sexual assault, and torture, torture, and more torture. He’s been as weak as a child and yet the biggest badass on the show ever. Dont think because Dean says more that Sam doesnt impact the show just as much, if not more. If both shared the same character arcs, it would be monotonous, if Dean didnt have more dialogue than Sam, compared to Sam’s story lines, Dean would look like the antagonist. Oh trust me, I wish every episode was Sam centric, but its not, thats not how the show works, and I have accepted that.  I know I missed many more, but I tried to hit all the ones I see the most meta on. i just want all you Sam girls (Bitter or not) to know that not every Sam girl has gotten as negative of a view as many of you have. Feel free to add to this if you want to, I welcome opposing view points too :)