#they didn’t have a shade (likely their defect) but they did become a ghost! and they looked like their whole self

[bugging-robot]

I touched on it in a fic I wrote; I think it can be explained in the game’s death mechanic. Upon death, we see their mask break (the body seemingly disappears into a shade, but we could assume their entire carapace cracks open to release the shade). I think, in their travels and fights for survival, they’ve “died” repeatedly, never living long enough to reach the next stage of growth because their shell respawns as young and new every time.

Maybe if they naturally grew bigger (perhaps molted to a larger size, as bugs do), then the shell would form to the size they were upon death. New and fresh, but not any smaller.

In contrast, I doubt THK would’ve ever “died” while in the White Palace. Besides the care they would’ve received under the Pale King, death would’ve had two major consequences: 1) THK would be a proven failure, because if a mortal bug could fell it, what chance would it have against the Radiance? 2) THK’s shade, freed from the limits of a solid body, could potentially be contacted by and even reunite with the countless shades of its siblings in the Abyss, and Hallownest’s savior would be gone.

If THK had died at any point, it wouldn’t have been with the same frequency as their sibling.

Gnawing cement, I actually wonder what allowed the Hollow Knight to grow up but not the Ghost. I mean, both of them were, apparently, from the same hatch, but, by the end of the game, while the Hollow knight is massive, Ghost is still a baby. And its not like the the Ghost was locked in an abyss with all the other vessels all this time, since they clearly came from an outside world in the beginning of the game. Was it only because of the Father's presence?

[arotechno]

O. basilicum, part v

This is the secret about grief: somewhere between the ages of ten and thirteen, Basil stopped thinking very often of his parents, or of Ace, or of Swallow’s Point. It wasn’t that he didn’t miss them—but it was a longing for a home that did not exist any longer. It ached, deep within the open well of his chest, but only in the way that his knee still seized up on him from time to time, never to truly heal.

He still didn’t know what had become of his parents. The price you paid for harboring a Heartless child was said to be a steep one. Do not speak of it, they’d told him. You’ll bring death upon this house.

Don’t speak of it. That was how it always was, wasn’t it? You can live as you are, just live it in silence. You’re still human, just defective. Hide who you are. Know your place. Keep quiet, and never speak the truth aloud. You’ll ruin us all.

A sharp snap pulled Basil out of his thoughts, and he looked down at his hand to find that he’d crushed the beans he’d been shelling in his fist. Damn. He hadn’t realized he’d been gripping them so hard.

Basil pushed the anger and frustration down, way down. He didn’t know if his parents had heard tales of the curse that had been said to plague him, or if they’d have sent him away if they did. It wasn’t something they ever discussed. Basil never even told them about Ace—one’s own child was a different story, but someone else’s child whom they had no real reason to protect? Well, there was no telling what they would do.

It was better not to know. It was better to assume they were as good as dead rather than ask questions, like why they’d never come looking for him. Better not to face the possibility of rejection. Better to let ghosts continue to be ghosts, haunt him always as they may.

Basil returned to shelling beans. Looking around the garden, it seemed no one had noticed his minor episode.

This was the other secret about grief: it never actually got any smaller. You simply had to grow around it, like a meadow around a line of sharp brambles. Eventually, it didn’t seem like the only part of you anymore. It became easier to ignore, and most days, that was just fine. But touching it was just as painful, even still.

Frida said Basil was growing like a weed. Dusty always disputed this, saying that she should choose something more respectable, like a poplar tree or the humble spinach, but Basil didn’t mind the comparison. Wildflowers were like weeds, after all—hardy little things, growing where they may not be wanted, but beautiful all the same.

Basil grew up around the pain, sprouting like summer grass and digging his roots into Verdigris’ fertile soil. After three years, the vestiges of his old life were likely lost forever, but no amount of hurting was going to change that.

A shadow loomed over Basil. He looked up from his work and saw Dusty standing over him with a tin cup of water outstretched in one hand, the other clutching a pair of dirty gloves.

“Break time,” they said.

“I’m not done shelling.”

“Don’t care. Drink.”

Begrudgingly, Basil accepted the cup and took a sip. The water was still cool, having been kept in a canteen in the shade all afternoon. The weather was growing cooler and the days shorter, but the sun was still warm most days.

Dusty settled down in the dirt beside Basil with a grunt, leaning back against a fencepost. They removed their sunhat and let their long hair spill out, then dropped the hat onto Basil’s head.

“I don’t need to rest,” Basil said.

“Maybe I do, and wanted company. Besides—” Dusty gave him a side-eye “—you were shelling aggressively, and you usually have steadier hands than that. That’s why I asked you for help in the first place.”

Basil sighed, staring at his hands in his lap. His fingernails were caked with grime, dirt smeared across his palms. He clenched them tightly, then released them, feeling the anger wash through and away from him like a hot breeze.

“I’m alright,” Basil said. “It was just… I got upset for a moment, but it passed.”

Dusty just hummed and reached for Basil’s unfinished basket of beans. So much for needing a break.

Basil often came to help Dusty or the others with the community garden. Dusty had a passion and a knack for gardening, and the arrangement gave them someone to share that knowledge with and Basil something to keep himself and his fidgeting hands occupied. Plus, it got him out from under Frida’s feet for the day. It was a win-win situation.

“You’re allowed to be upset,” they eventually said, tossing a shell aside. They worked much faster than Basil had. “You’re a traumatized thirteen-year-old. Who is telling you not to be upset?”

“Me,” Basil said without thinking.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to be angry. I don’t like the way it feels. It feels like someone else is controlling me, and I can’t stop it.”

Basil sank back into the quiet of the garden. There were only a few others milling about, mostly down by the far gate, but the admission made it feel as if the whole town were watching. The setting sun cast the sky a dusty pink to match the blush rising on Basil’s cheeks.

“Basil,” Dusty said, “you just have to accept that this is who you are.”

“What if it’s not?” Basil looked up at them pleadingly. “What if I don’t want it to be?”

“Then you can change, if you try. But shoving it all down inside of you isn’t going to help.”

“Did you do it? Change, I mean.”

Dusty laughed. “Kid, I’m changing all the time. I left my family behind years and years ago, because I could only stay with them if I denied and hid everything about who I was. It was hard, and it isn’t fair that I had to burn my whole life down to build one I was happy with. But it happened. And I don’t regret it. I regret that life is unfair. I definitely regret that somebody ever tried to hurt you for being who you are. But I’m becoming who I want to be more and more every single day, and that I don’t regret one little bit.”

Pensive, Basil clutched at the hem of his sweater, uncaring of the dirt. “I know who I am,” he said softly, more to himself and to the plants than to Dusty. “I’m Heartless, and there’s nothing wrong with me.”

“No way! Me too!”

Basil scowled. “Dusty, I’m being serious!”

“Well, have you ever given a really good shout about it?”

“What?”

“Now, it’s my turn to be serious.” Dusty grinned, nudging him with their elbow. “Go on, let it out. Nobody will care. I promise you’ll feel better, I do it all the time.”

There was a chance it was a prank. But Dusty wasn’t the type to embarrass Basil like that—at least not when he was already upset. So Basil shut his eyes, took a deep breath, and let it all flow out of him like water in a stream.

“I’m Heartless,” he shouted, “and there’s nothing wrong with me!”

“Atta boy, Basil,” Dusty cheered. “Again, louder!”

Basil staggered to his feet and leaned out over the garden fence, shouting into the day’s dying light over the hillside.

“I’m Heartless, and there’s nothing wrong with me! I know who I am, and no one can hurt me!”

Once he started, Basil found he couldn’t stop. At his side, Dusty had also gotten to their feet and was whooping and hollering along with him.

“They tried to get rid of me,” Basil continued, “but I don’t care! I know who I am and I won’t let them stop me. I’m going to be happy. I’m going to get better! And I’m going to do it on purpose!”

Basil cut himself off and opened his eyes, panting. He felt lighter, but raw, like those spiny brambles had snaked their way out of his ribcage through his mouth. Down at the other end of the garden, a few looked on amusedly, while others cheered him on in return.

“There we go,” Dusty said. “Feel better?”

Basil stood quietly for a moment, looking out beyond the garden’s edge at the setting sun. Then, his face split into a grin, and he nodded. It didn’t feel like a revelation. More like a reaffirmation of what he already knew, a moment of striking clarity that although the anger and sorrow of grief would creep up on him from time to time, he did not have to be defined by it.

The past was in the past. He could let it stay there, even if he would never truly be free of it.

On his way home that evening, Basil stopped by Hank’s door. When the man opened up, Basil asked, without greeting, “Do you remember when you first took me to the Ridge, and you said you would take me anywhere I asked? Back to my hometown, if I wanted?”

Hank blinked at him for a few moments, and then chuckled.

“Yes, I remember. Why?”

“Well, I’m not going back. I don’t want to leave Verdigris. I’m staying.”

Hank cocked his head. “I’m happy to hear it, kid, but I thought that was pretty much clear already, seeing as you’ve settled yourself in here so well after three years now.”

“I know,” Basil said simply, before turning on his heel and marching himself home, cane in hand, leaving Hank to scratch at the top of his head in bewilderment before chuckling to himself and going back inside.

[remsmoonlight]

Title: safety net

Pairing: daryl dixon / original female character

Chapter: one

Summary: In a world designed to test your humanity, a woman fights to keep hers. But she walks a fine line between staying human and welcoming death and darkness. [ S2 - S4 ]

The light coloured gaze that belongs to a lone female almost darkens in frustration as she notices the sky beginning to dull and bleed into beautiful tones that always signified the oncoming approach of the night and the glistening stars that could only be seen more prominently ever since the world had passed its very own death day. Light pollution has become a thing of the past. Cassie hadn’t meant to stay out so late, but she had wanted to prove to herself and members of the Greene family that she was able to survive out in the town as she scavenged for things that would be useful to them.

Maggie had made many trips into town, always refusing Cassie’s help. Now, whether or not that was because she couldn’t trust her friend to hold her own, she doesn’t know but this was something that would only bring concrete proof that she was able to survive. She lets out a sigh at the whole situation, digging into her backpack for the half full bottle of water that she’d managed to ration very well -- you couldn’t be too careful those days. Such as when you lose track of time and end up staying out hours later than you should. They’re so gonna kill me later Cassie mentally remarks to herself, she thought it would be a quick trip but she’d gotten too distracted by trying to be useful.

The woman drops the bottle back into the backpack as she drags her feet along the cooling dirt that had suffered the heat from the punishing Georgian sun. She scans every building in her line of sight, call her a perfectionist but all she can see are the defects with the potential safe shelter. Are you trying to die out here? she asks, as she thinks negatively to herself. Too many breaks in that window, that door looks weak, not enough exit routes. The slow dragging of a pair of feet and snarls causes her to turn suddenly, she hates this part. Cassie knows she can handle herself, she’d done so with those things before she’d found refuge at her old school friend’s farm but it isn’t something she enjoys. It wouldn’t even be the first thing she wished to do, but it had to be done.

I don’t have to like it but I’ll do it.

Gripping the knife, Cassie slowly advances to meet the dead being halfway, studying its movements intently  -- a few seconds and it’s over. She pulls the knife from their head with little less fight than she was used to, I’m getting better at this she comments to herself in her mind, though a heavy feeling soon begins to settle in her heart as she realises that this person used to have life. They used to have friends and family, they used to have bills to pay, they used to have favourite songs to sing along to. They were human. Cassie doesn’t want to believe that she disregarded their humanity so easily in favour of thinking about herself and how well she was able to cope.

This is what you were afraid of. You’re losing yourself faster than you thought.

She pushes herself up harshly with a verbal shudder, tears beginning to build. She rubs her eyes with force to banish them away and sniffs. The young woman needs to collect herself before she finds herself in a situation she can’t get out of. One of the things she has feared ever since killing the first of those things was losing her humanity.. even before the world turned she knew how despicable people could become. She didn’t want to think about who she could become if she survived this world, Cassie didn’t want to lose her light or her life -- the world was dark as it was.

As if planned perfectly, her eyes settle on an aging liquor store.The cobwebs and dried spray paint were visible from the distance she sadly stood. I remember that, she mused fondly. It was when she and some friends were caught trying to convince someone to buy a bottle of alcohol for them as teenagers - before her father forced them to move out of the town to the next one over. It was a strange sight to see, how these places that held so much life now dead and silent.

Still, the stone walls and bars on the windows are perfect and wash a warming comfort over her entire body, it was safe enough to spend the night in. She only prays silently that  trouble doesn’t follow in her path.

A small grunt of effort is dropped into the open air from her parted lips as she dedicates little energy and force to open the doors into the building. People had been there before her, the assumption is only confirmed when she makes her way through the door and scans the area - everything, empty. A disbelieving chuckle erupts from her. The end of the world where the dead roam the Earth and what do people go and do? They leave the shelves bare from bottles of alcohol. When you need your wits about you and they want themselves inebriated, Cassie didn’t want to believe it. Human nature was still a surprising thing.

With a bicycle lock secured to prevent anything or anyone gaining entry into her temporary housing, the woman allows herself some steady breaths before she overturns one of the few chairs from it’s upside down position on the floor to sit down on it. There isn’t much effort when she lifts the bag to the table, not much was left to scavenge. Cassie is happy with what she did get however, smiling to herself when she pulls out dried food that would be beneficial in the long run and the batteries that would be needed soon. There were a few other trinkets that may or may not be of use but she proved something to herself -- and for that, she learnt something about herself.

Despite laying herself on the floor to sleep, it doesn’t come easy. Her mind is too preoccupied with the noises from the outside of the building, sometimes they were too close to be able to tell if they belonged to the living or the dead. She tries, however, to give a mighty fight with her own mind to fall asleep by scrutinising the dust that littered the creaky floors but it’s a fight she’s destined to be defeated in. When she finally spots sunlight beginning to break through the clouds to fill the dirtied room, Cassie makes no hesitation in deciding it is a good enough alarm clock. She swiftly realises that she isn’t  going to be getting anymore sleep and she’d rather be back at the farm anyway.

There’s an energetic spring in her step despite the lack of sleep she had been able to get but that doesn’t matter, she’s happy to be home soon. The nagging thought of Maggie and her family being furious with her lack of notification of her whereabouts lay heavily on her soul -- though she was good with confrontation though, her patience was almost never ending.

Her heart beats rapidly as she spots a group of people she had never laid eyes on in her life, they surrounded one of the wells on the property, standing out against the warm shades of the ever growing grass and oversized bushes that were everywhere. The only solace granted to her weary soul is that Maggie is standing with them and does not appear to be in any distress by their presence. She cautiously steps closer and closer to the scene, mentally placing the pieces to make a puzzle -- yet even then it’s as if her fingers are trying to force pieces that do not fit together.

“ Maggie! What’s going on? “ she calls out to her friend, closing the distance between them with each growing second.

“ Ca- where have you been ?! “ Maggie shouts, ignoring the question put to her. Maggie storms forward to her friend, eyes have been ignited with a growing fire as she sets her sight on the other woman.

“ I went out on a run, I .. I just lost track of time, I guess. “ Cassie shrugs effortlessly with an upbeat tone despite the tense atmosphere.

“ How do you lose track of time? “ scoffs Maggie, she could feel the panic merging with the pain in her veins to form a melted pot of furiosity. “ You didn’t -? We didn’t know where you were! Cassie, Otis is dead. “

The optimistic glow that had powered her journey back to the home is instantaneously diminished until it’s no more than dying embers as she allows the words Maggie had just spoken to her to soak in completely. The bag that she held on one shoulder fell to the hay covered grass with a flat thud as she moves closer to her friend to embrace her. In the time Cassie had known the man, he was nothing more than a gentle giant. She can physically feel her heart break into pieces at their loss, the woman clinging to Maggie as she disregards the others who watch curiously momentarily.

“ Mag’s.. I’m so sorry. “

“ Come on, let’s get you back. “ Maggie speaks, pulling away from Cassie. She tries to paint a lighter image on her features as this. She was grateful that her friend had not suffered a fate that is a mirror image to that of Otis. “ Everyone will be happy to know you’re here. “

“ What happened to him? Who are they? “ she asks with curiosity, as she’s led back by her friend with an arm around her shoulder.

“ They showed up last night, one of their guy’s with an injured kid on our doorstep. '' the two walk up the steps of the large house, facing one another. “ Couldn’t exactly say no. They showed up after. “

A storm slowly battles its through the woman’s features as she tries to come to terms with how inverted their situation had quickly become in the hours she had not been present, she doesn’t want to shed her tears in front of strangers but you never expected to lose your friends or family under such circumstances. She brings both of her hands to wipe her face - as if to wash the pain away until it was no more than a ghost across her image.

“ He died gettin’ equipment dad needed to help their boy. “

Cassie is hardly looking forward to any lecture that every Greene in the household probably had for her absence. She admits to herself she should have told them that she was going but her stubbornness prevented her, to her, it was just a quick trip. However quick trips were not to the corner stores now, but what used to be people’s own homes. Their sanctuaries that now have become their graves.. providing they were not graced with the blessing to escape from one nightmare into another, one they had more control over.

Her knees bob up and down at a brisk pace as she watches Hershel walk into the room from her seated position on the plush couch in the living room.

“ What you did was very irresponsible, Cassie. We wouldn’t have been able to send anyone out after you. Between the boy and Otis.. “ Hershel’s tones are filled to the brim with disappointment, especially as they had the little boy to deal with.

The eye contact shared is broke harshly, she’s unable to hold the connection under the burden of his disappointment.

“ I’m sorry, I mean it. But you guys wouldn’t let me out! Even with Maggie. “

“ You must understand there’s a reason for these decisions. You might not understand now, but down the road. “ Hershel replies gently, his voice is a step above a whisper. He’d known the woman since she was a child -- Maggie and her were both so close as children.

A cynical laugh hangs in the air over those in the room, she hates to be so disrespectful to the family who has handed her security with the seclusion the farm provides. On a rare occasion she would find herself forgetting that the world had collapsed into itself, the serenity providing her a peace that was often a missing part that her soul craved from time to time. Cassie certainly doesn't want to offend anyone but she needs them to realise that she wasn’t naive as she may present herself to be, she knows how the world works.. though his denial would prove a burdensome load on that plan of hers.

“ I understand! I mean it that I’m super grateful for everything, but you need to realise. It’s not what you think! “ she argues, feeling a tingle in the very ends of her fingertips from the emotion she felt.

“ I don’t want anyone in this house getting sick, that was the risk that you took without consulting us and it’s something that I can’t allow to happen again. “

Guilt begins to overwhelm her shuddering body, she knew she did wrong and it was the circumstances that really threw her plan of independence into the deep river of inconveniences but it was a battle she would lose and she knows it’s best not to argue. She truly does feel bad that she had added onto the Greene family’s stress those two days, she prefers not to burden people after all -- knowing there had been incidents in the past that had been out of her control yet she brought down the spectacle from time to time. However, within the dark corners of her mind she yearns to intently to yell at him, to scream they’re not sick but rather they are dead. Hershel was a man in denial, and there was nothing harder to break than a man who cannot confront the truth that is right in front of him.

“ You’re right, I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. “

“ Look -- “ Hershel leans forward, and clasped his hands together. He could see both of her parents in her. “ I promised your father you would be safe here, and if you’re not here that can’t happen. “

“ May I be excused? “ she asks the man, inching towards the end of her seat.  

Hershel simply nods, he’d also rather wash his hands of the situation, especially as they had bigger things to worry about now. The new additions to the farm did not taste so sweet on his tongue and the sooner the boy was ready and healthy, the sooner they could leave.

As Cassie stands before the declining state of the mirror, small particles of dust lining the mirror as a light blanket she washes the cooling liquid running from the tap over her face. She can hear the voices from the unknown new arrivals from the open window, needless to say she was curious of the new situation but, there was also a sense of dread clawing its way from her gut. She had a bad feeling that a storm was on its way.

AN: okay this is the first time writing for twd and im nervous and excited, especially as i'm not used to writing in this style! but i hope this will be something you will like soooo just let me know what you liked or what could be done better! we'll be having team family interactions next!

[reynesofcastamere]

Broken Shards[β]

(A/N: This fic is for @awryen, who I also asked for prompts/requests and was given the option of a slightly more dark/cynical Ahsoka working with Maul, or him helping her deal with her nightmares. Once again, having no self-control-and a lot of free time-, I chose both. Also, smut was not requested but it wound up in here anyway! XD. Mention of previous Ahsoka/Barriss. Warnings for disturbing imagery, violence, death, depression/intrusive thoughts, blood and possible dub-con.(Potentially triggering sections will be marked with ****) Absolutely Not Safe For Work and unbeta’d as usual.) 

****

How could you do it?

The Temple burns, and the Jedi with it. But they do not fall. They stand, mouths gaping open in silent screams, empty eye sockets weeping blood in half a hundred colours. Her Master cuts them to pieces, again and again. He is not alone. Barriss stands beside him, eyes filled with grim conviction, the clone troopers flanking this tableau of horror and carnage like mindless automatons. Ahsoka can only watch, helpless and immobilized as the people she loves are burnt, broken and mutilated by their own comrades. Even the younglings...Her stomach churns.

There is only one body, one face that remains undefiled in all of this. Senator Amidala smiles, serene and welcoming. But she is just as dead as all the rest. Did you kill her too? The woman you loved, the one you trusted with your life: Did you even care, in the end? Anakin Skywalker stops to look back at her, eyes corrupted, turned to sickly, acidic yellow rimmed in old blood. ‘You weren’t here, Ahsoka.’ He pronounces with utter certainty, that her leaving was the one thing that sent him toppling into the Dark. ‘But it’s not too late.’ Black segments crawl, beetle-like, over him and Barriss, transforming them into her waking nightmares. Vader and the Seventh Sister. ‘Join us. And seize your destiny.’

NO!

****

“Ahsoka.” Her lids snap open, breathing stuttered and rapid, heartbeat going into overdrive as she sees another pair of awful, venomous eyes looming over her in the semi-darkness. She lashes out blindly, determined not to go down without a fight. The hands that catch her wrists are bare and callused. Strong. She needs to fight harder, to get out, get away- “Naak, cabur. Gar racin kyr’adiise munit dar. [Peace, guardian. Your pale corpses (are) long gone].” Her eyes well up with unbidden moisture, suddenly overwhelmed. Ahsoka is relieved at hearing a ruthless killer speak Mando’a to her in a hushed, hypnotic tone. Because it is better than the hiss and wheeze of the machines powering the...abomination that her Master has become. She can feel Maul’s hands move to cup her face, the pads of his thumbs brushing the tears that managed to escape. He seems more curious than anything else, head tilted slightly as he examines her. “Have you never seen anyone cry before?” Her voice is weak, despite the attempt at humour. “Not this close. I lost the ability some time ago.” He replies, calm and completely untroubled. As if it were normal, and she is somehow the strange one for not being able to control her body’s response to the terrors plaguing her sleep.  Perhaps she is. Her Master has willingly chained himself to a monster that devours galaxies to satiate his hunger for absolute power. Most of her friends and comrades-in-arms are either dead or missing, a fellow Padawan and former lover is hunting down Force-sensitive children for slaughter or brainwashing; Her current lover-enemy-ally is a former Sith assassin at the head of a criminal empire. And Ahsoka....Ahsoka lies, steals, and kills while she bargains with slavers and worse for anything that will help keep the Rebel Alliance alive and undetected just one day longer. What is the point?  Even control of the Force eludes her because she cannot find peace. The closest she comes to it these days is the brief oblivion of climax or a few hours of dreamless slumber. The rest is bitterness and pain wrapped in a dull grey haze.Which is why she is here. Maul at least makes her feel something. The sharp bite of anger, the rush of drive and ambition, the raw red strength of clinging to life and refusing to let go. She pulls away then, turning over and presenting herself to him. “Are you certain?” “I’m not in the mood to beg. Now-aaaaaAAAaaah-” Before she can issue an order, he has grasped her hips and is entering her roughly. She is not quite ready. Every shift and thrust hurts, but this is what she wants. To be used hard enough that she aches for days afterwards, just to hold on to some sliver of what keeps him burning so fiercely. Maul presses her down, forcing her to turn her head to avoid being smothered by the pillow, the peaks of her breasts rubbing against the sheets as she is made to lift her backside higher. The change in angle is enough to provoke another long, mangled stream of vowels. “Touch yourself.” He hisses, and oh, it feels as if he could pierce right through her and keep going.Every sharp plunge impacts her cervix, the sound of their bodies meeting only becoming more and more crude as her arousal builds. Ahsoka pants and reaches for herself in a half-dazed state as he growls and fucks her harder. The base of him slides against her fingertips a few times before she finds her nub, circling it with her middle finger as her other digits spread her folds open. “Now. You will tell me what is wrong.” Her stomach sinks even as he makes her moan. “W-what are you talking about?” “Your presence in the Force is practically non-existant, despite the ghosts that cling to your shoulders.” Maul snarls. “You are lost, listless, submissive...Before, you would have made me struggle for the privilege of having you like this.” She is trapped, something he emphasizes by leaning over, lips brushing against her jaw with each word. “You were glorious, Ahsoka Tano. And now you are a ruin, waiting to crumble.” He still hasn’t let up his pace, as if to discipline her for these ‘defects’. Her lips tighten as she buries her face in the pillow. It is none of his damned business why she is different, now. Besides, why should he care? Ahsoka expects him to keep going, and is mildly shocked when he stops, withdrawing from her core with a speed that borders on violent as he turns her over and yanks her upright. “Look at me.” A demand which she blatantly ignores until he manipulates the Dark Side to hold her chin in place, his hands gripping tightly to her upper arms.

There is anger in his sunburst gaze and in the power that roils and snaps around him, but beneath that...Oh. He is afraid...For her? The revelation hits with the force of a sudden blow to the chest, and only grows more solid as their foreheads come to rest together, his stare softening by slow degrees. “I-” Ahsoka swallows a choked sob. “You were right. Anakin- he-he was Sidious’s apprentice all along. I didn’t want to believe it, but Vader-” She can’t bring herself to say the words. “I failed him. If I hadn’t left-” “No.” Maul’s snarl cuts into her self-recrimination. “Your Master failed. And continues to fail every day that he allows Sidious to live.” He releases his grip to trace the outline of her lekku, then up her throat and along her jaw. “They think themselves untouchable, but they forget...The dark is generous, and it is patient, and soon, very soon, their stars will burn out.” His words are silk and poison on the air, and she wants- “Join me.”

“What, no offer to rule the galaxy this time?” She retorts dryly, trying to cover up the fact that she is wavering, kept on the edge of a steep cliff by the barest sliver of rock.

“You have rejected power, revenge, and almost every other shade of temptation placed before you. I can only offer myself.” There is some scrap of cautious hope in his gaze as he answers, the words devastatingly simple. Yet for someone like him, secrets and vulnerabilities so carefully safeguarded, it means everything. If she accepts, if she falls, her life will change irreversibly. There is no guarantee that she will be able to hold onto herself once she takes that final step. Maul has never been a moderating influence. And Rex...She’s not certain what he or anyone else she still calls ‘friend’ would think of this.  Perhaps...it is not impossible to find a middle ground. “Show me?” Ahsoka asks, breathless and uncertain, but willing to extend some degree of trust. “Breathe.” His hands sweep downwards to rest lightly at her sides, ribcage expanding and contracting under his fingertips. “Focus on your passions, your fury...And let them out.” Her eyes close as she matches his pattern of breathing, positioning herself on his lap and bracing her hands on his chest. She takes him inside her again. Gradually, gently as the Dark Side seeps in. It is cold at first, almost numbingly so. But after the first adjustment...Ahsoka can feel Maul much more intensely; The difference of being on the same wavelength as opposed to different signals. There is even a dizzying moment where she sees herself through him, sees her eyes open, burning gold with a ring of blue flickering around the pupil like a candle-flame. The surge of wonder-possession-desire-protection from her lover threatens to sweep her away for a moment. “Is...Is this what you feel all the time?” When he’s with her, at least. Considering his default state is prickly at best and downright murderous at worst.

“The intensity is the same, yes.” His head lowers to let his mouth pay homage to her breasts as they move together. This feels...right. A slow build-up of pleasure as emotions, thoughts, and sensations twist and weave together. There are words lurking within his head that have her dragging her nails over his torso. He really...Wants that, with her? Strangely, the idea isn’t repulsive. At the very least, it means that he desires an equal partner, not a subordinate. "Mhi solus tome, mhi solus dar'tome, mhi me'dinui an, mhi ba'juri verde. [We are one when together, we are one when parted, we share all, we will raise warriors.]" Their voices merge in ancient oath, parting only when something else speaks through them.

“There is no Light-” “-without the Dark.” “Through passion, I gain focus.” “Through knowledge, I gain power.”

“Through serenity, I gain strength.”

“Through victory, I gain harmony.”

“There is only the Force.”

There are no words to describe what is happening to them right now. No defined point where she ends and he begins. Their awareness is scattered across galaxies, caught in the endless cycles of birth, death, and renewal before everything is once again narrowed to a single point and they cannot handle it... It feels as though years have passed when Ahsoka opens her eyes again.The Light practically hums without her even needing to reach for it, but the Dark is there too, vibrating in harmony. She is not...free from her burdens or her ghosts, but she has another purpose, now. And perhaps more than that. “I can feel your ambition, my Lady.” Maul’s voice is a teasing rumble next to one of her montrails. “Whatever are you planning?” “To lure Vader into a trap. He can either fall in line...Or get out of the way.” If she cannot persuade her former Master to topple Sidious, she will have to kill him. There is no other option. Of course, she will need to plan carefully to have any hope of success. But if the risk pays off...She kisses him one last time, brief but passionately, his grin full of visceral pleasure as they part. “I may have some...suggestions to that effect.” “Mm, I’m not surprised. But first, my Lord, I think we’re due another round of celebrating.” (A/N: Whoo! Okay, so going in order. Barriss Offee is the Seventh Sister in this fic and her and Ahsoka were previously involved because I’m a sucker for tragedy. The ‘dark is patient’ line is taken and bastardized from Matthew Stover. Yes, Ahsoka and Maul are married by Mandalorian custom in this fic and they’re speaking the version of the Gray Jedi code that I like best because it flows well. *insert ‘That’s not how the Force works!’ joke here* Also Ahsoka’s eye colour is back to normal after they ‘finish’;). Hopefully this works as a suitable compromise between the tropes that I wanted to incorporate. Cheers!)

[tmandpm]

Four Names She Had, and One She Didn’t

Daughter.

Her eyes darted around the moving scenery as they drove. Her heart was conflicted over the new chapter she was starting. She hated to leave home, but she was ecstatic to see the world beyond the vicarages and churches her childhood had been filled with. She looked to the front of the car where her parents were sitting, holding hands, and she smiled sadly.

She had been her father’s little companion since the day she was born. He had given her the world as she grew. They passed by a pond, and she laughed quietly as she remembered when her father had attempted to take her fishing. She couldn’t have been more than four. He had sat her in his lap, fishing pole between her hands that his were holding, and they had waited and waited and waited. Nothing had bitten, and she was sleepy and moody when an older man had passed by, stopping at the fence to yell that there were no fish in the pond. It was meant for swimming only.

“Tessa, are you okay? You’re very quiet,” her mother said in a soft voice.

“I’m fine. Just thinking.”

Her eyes took in the half smile as the older woman turned back to look at the road. Her mother. Her mummy. She always felt a tug in her chest when she looked at her. She could vividly recall the days they would spend in the back garden playing all sorts of games. Her mother had always been the sort to make the best of the worst situation. It had been her birthday, and they had promised to take her to the park and have a picnic when a storm came from nowhere. She remembered how she had cried until she’d made herself sick when her mother had come in her room quietly and pulled her downstairs. Her eyes had gone wide when she saw the indoor picnic and sheet fort she had made. They’d stayed in that thing all day, playing with dolls and board games and cards. It had broken her heart to see the older woman shrivel into someone she wasn’t...someone who was a ghost of who she had been.

“Love, we’re here,” she could hear her father say as she snapped back to reality.

“I’m glad you two will only be a phone call away.”

“We are too,” her mother whispered as tears filled her eyes.

………………………………………………………..

Sister.

She couldn’t quite believe her ears when Cathy had said it. “I’m...what now?” She asked.

“I told them you were my sister,” she said with a smile as she took in the dumbfounded look on her face. “Face it, Theresa. You practically are.”

She nodded as she sat back on the couch. Sister. She had heard the word countless times, but she had never considered herself close to one. She had been an only child. Her parents had, had her late in life, and any cousins that she had were much older than her. It boggled her mind that Cathy considered her one. Joy and John had taken her in without so much as a second thought, but she never thought Philip’s siblings would.

Philip plopped down beside her on the couch, arm slinging around her shoulder. “You okay?”

“Does David think of me as a sister?” She asked suddenly.

“Yeah. I guess,” he shrugged. “He wanted to poke his eyes out after he walked in on you in the bath. That’s something he’d do with the girls.”

She nodded as she stared in front of her.

“What is it? You’re thinking awfully hard.”

She sighed, leaning into him. “I just never thought I’d have siblings. It’s a bit...I don’t know.”

“Gross? Annoying? Irritating?” He teased.

“Odd. It’s odd to have a family so...big,” she admitted.

Philip smiled, kissing her forehead. “Get used to it. You aren’t going anywhere anytime soon.”

……………………………………………………….

Wife.

The weight was obvious on her hand, specifically her left hand. And to be exact, her ring finger. It had yet to be twenty-four hours, and her whole life had changed. She was married. She didn’t even have the same last name. Her eyes drifted to the man laying beside her. He was on his stomach, eyes closed as he dozed. The sheet was draped across his legs, and the first thing she noticed was how youthful he looked in his sleep. Her hand ran through is unruly curls as she shifted, sighing at the soreness between her legs.

“Morning,” he muttered as he pulled her closer.

“Not quite,” she giggled out.

He smirked, eyes still closed. “It’s after midnight.”

“Damn. You’re right.”

“Look at that. A wife telling her husband he’s right,” he teased, kissing her head. He smiled as she rolled into him more, face buried in his neck.

“I like that name.”

“Wife?” He asked curiously.

“Your wife,” she corrected.

“I like you being my wife too,” he whispered before kissing her neck softly. “I like that I get to kiss you anytime I want.”

She giggled as they snuggled again. She loved the fact they got to do this, share an intimacy they didn’t before. She couldn’t wait to see all the little things she missed. They had put in an offer on a house, and they had a good chance, but she loved having him in her flat...in her personal space for a long period of time. They had decided to put off a honeymoon until after they had a house, saying it was more important to have a home than a week away. Her eyes fluttered closed as his hand traced up her thigh.

He kissed her deeply, rolling her onto her back. “What would you like, wife?” He asked while smiling down at her.

“You. It’s always going to be you.”

……………………………………………………….

Orphan.

She hated it. It was like acid on her tongue every time she said it. She saw the pitying looks everyone gave her. She wasn’t stupid. Her life had been ripped apart. Everything was painted in black and shades of grey. She was tired of the tears and the pain and the hollowness that wouldn’t leave. Her parents were gone, and she had to accept that.

She had thought it was getting better. She had gone back to work, she had taken her life in her hands and forced normality back into it, but she could feel the volcano about to rupture inside. She kept pushing in down until Philip had brought her a cup of tea one night. The sobs had come so easily it was like they had never left.

“Oh, darling,” he whispered as he rubbed her back.

She looked at the cup, heart wrenching. “It’s her tea set.”

He gasped. “I...I didn’t know. It was in the cupboard,” he explained, pain lacing his words.

“Why me? Why did they leave me?”

They were questions that had been swirling around her head since her mother died, and she wanted the answers. She wanted the closure. She craved it.

“They didn’t want to. You were their world, Tessa.” His arms pulled her into his chest as he rocked them back and forth on the couch.

“I’m an orphan,” she said through her tears, voice quivering and cracking. “It’s not fair. He...He was only meant to take her...not both of them.”

“Who, love?”

“God. Did he abandon me too?” She asked.

His eyes went soft as his heart crumbled. “He most certainly did not. I don’t know why He did it, love, but He’s not cruel, and He did not abandon you.”

“I just want them back,” she whispered. “I just want them back.”

……………………………………………………..

Mother.

It was the one that hurt more than the rest because if people called her that it was cruel. They taunted her with it. Political cartoons, critics, even family members that didn’t particularly like her. It was all some sick joke to them. Her and her husband’s infertility had become a punchline, and it broke her heart every time. She knew it hurt Philip just as much as her, if not more than. He had told her that one night after they had gotten tipsy on a bottle of his favorite red and made love. He had whispered into her hair that he wished the public didn’t automatically blame her for it all because he knew she blamed herself enough.

The truth of it was that they didn’t know. She had decided after one too many negative pregnancy tests that they should stop. She didn’t want to know whose fault it was. She didn’t want to know which body was too defective to create a life. It never really stopped though, the ache to grow a child in her belly or to see Philip as a father. It was ever present and ever painful.

The older she got, the more she looked back on her periods with speculation. She began to wonder if the unusually heavy cycles had been miscarriages, and she had been too naive to realize it. She asked herself if the great blood clots that she passed at times were actually the babies she had so wanted. She had only voiced these thoughts once to her doctor, and she had never mentioned it again.

It was a dull ache now. The fact they didn’t have a spare room made up for the grandchildren was a constant reminder. She could see the resigned sadness in Philip’s eyes when he watched her with children, and she knew he could see it in hers when he held a family member’s child. They had each other, but they both knew it wasn’t the same. Love conquered and love healed, but love also brought wants and desires. And sometimes love just wasn’t enough to fix everything no matter how much two people loved each other.

[makoheadrush]

hazy shade of winter [WIP]

[So...I wrote this all in one sitting.  There’s more to come - Cloud’s POV follows this passage - but the beginning part is all Tifa. Kind of a follow up to my one-shot piece, Outside - follows Cloud at the very beginning of the OG]

Tifa smiled to herself as she finished drying off the last pint glass, placing it back in the rack. She very judiciously tried to ignore Barret’s probing stare as he came back upstairs from Seventh Heaven’s basement hideout; she could tell there was a question behind Barret’s frown, before he even opened his mouth.

She had a feeling she knew what the question was going to be, too; but one thing Tifa was not sure of, was how she would answer.  Or if she even could.

“Where’d he go?” Barret asked her gruffly, his frown deepening as he took a seat at the bar.  “The hell’s wrong with him, anyway?”  

Tifa pursed her lips, cheeks flaming slightly, ready to spring to Cloud’s defense.  “He just stepped outside to get some air, Barret…don’t worry about it.  What do you mean, what’s wrong with him?” She wanted to get Barret’s take on Cloud, even though he’d only just met him; Tifa had been wondering the same thing herself.  It was Cloud, just like she remembered him….but also not at all like she’d remembered him.  He was acting…not like himself.  Cockier than Tifa had remembered him being, but maybe that came of being in SOLDIER.  And then he’d talked about that day as though he’d been there.

But he wasn’t there…I don’t remember him being there…I don’t think?  Tifa shook her head, trying to gather her thoughts, to make sense of the puzzle pieces of her past that didn’t quite seem to fit together neatly. I lost a lot of blood that day…maybe I’m the one with a bad memory?  

“I mean,” Barret continued, downing half a bottle of soda pop in one go, “somethin’ wrong with him.  I know you say he’s your friend from back home, but how well do you really know ‘im, Tifa?”  Barret finished the rest of his soda, exhaled a satisfied sounding sigh, and set the bottle back on the bar.  They had a mission the next day, Reactor No. 5, and Barret never drank the night before a job.  Tempting though it was, living beneath a bar, Barret wanted to keep a clear head when it came to business.

“We grew up together,” Tifa replied, shrugging her shoulders. “Cloud lived next door to me for….well, ever since I could remember.  He was…kind of sweet on me, back then.”   She smiled a bit at that, remembering.

Barret chuckled, then leaned his arms on the bar, shaking his head.   “Childhood sweethearts, huh? He sure seems like he’s still tryin’ ta impress ya – “

“No – well – it wasn’t like that,”  Tifa explained quickly.  “We – we never dated or anything like that.  Cloud….he had a huge crush on me, I knew that much.  Everyone knew it, really.”

“So you didn’t like him back?  Man…that’s cold, Tifa,”  Barret commented, laughing and teasing.  Tifa’s face reddened again.

“Barret!  Just stop. It wasn’t like that. He – I thought Cloud was cute, okay?  But – he was always getting into fights back then.  He was picked on a lot by the other kids.  Sometimes….sometimes I wish I’d said something to them, to get them to stop.  I could have stuck up for him more than I did.  But I didn’t want to embarrass Cloud, either.” She sighed.  “Maybe I should’ve said something – “

“Nah, you did what you thought was right at the time, yeah?”     Barret shrugged, feeling a small pang of sympathy, but mostly he was indifferent. After all, why should Tifa blame herself for something that had happened so many years ago?  “Wasn’t your fault, right? Can’t be fightin’ the dude’s battles for him – “

“Well…” Tifa continued slowly.  “It wasn’t only that.  Something happened.  I got hurt – and Papa – “  her voice caught on the word, only for a second – “He blamed Cloud. I think that was the last straw for him, really.  Cloud left Nibelheim not long after that.  Said he’d prove everyone wrong.”  She remembered that last night, the last time she’d even seen Cloud until he resurfaced in Midgar years later.

But she didn’t share that memory with Barret, for some reason it felt like one she wanted to keep to herself; it was too private.  Just between the two of them and nobody else.

“Huh.  Well…I guess he showed ‘em, joinin’ SOLDIER an’ all, yeah?” Barret raised a bushy eyebrow quizzically.  “Too bad he hooked up with the damn Shinra – “

“But he’s not with them anymore, Barret,”  Tifa clarified.   “You have to remember that.”  

Barret snorted, and got up from his seat at the bar.  “I don’t know nothin’ about the guy, Tifa.  You’re vouching for him, so I’m hopin’ you’re right about this dude.  He don’t seem right to me.  Looks all skinny, and his eyes  - “

“That’s from the mako, Barret.  Remember? The mako treatments for SOLDIER – “

“That’s not what I mean, Tifa.  His eyes – looks like he seen a ghost or something.  They look – haunted.  Like he ain’t all there.”

“Well, he was in SOLDIER, right?  He’s probably seen some horrible things.”  Tifa was grasping for what felt like a reasonable explanation, but she didn’t believe it herself.  Not entirely. Barret was right, and he didn’t even know Cloud, not the way Tifa did.  Cloud wasn’t all there.  What had those eyes seen?  What had Cloud been through, and what made him defect from Shinra?

All he ever talked about was becoming good enough for SOLDIER…it was his dream.  And he walked away from that dream.  Something really, really bad must have happened to him, Tifa mused.  

“He just went out to get some supplies,” Tifa pretended to sound as though she wasn’t worried.  “I’ll just talk to him later.”  

[rvbficwars]

Angst War Masterpost

Submissions listed under the cut!

Art Submissions:

@artsyorangeykay

Removing Bullets: Wash gets shot and Tucker has to remove the bullets on-site

Guess That First Date Isn’t Happening: Tucker has to choose between saving Caboose or saving Wash

OH: 

The Crash of Merope:

@captainkonot

Too Late: draw the team/characters of my choice finding wash and caro too late. and then i accidentally posted it early and deleted it and accidentally deleted the original request with it wh oo ps haha

@chickendentist

Felix Haunts Tucker: Felix’s ghost haunts Tucker.

@creatrixanimi

Grif Leaving Home: Grif and Kai’s last night together

One Saved, One Lost: Reds and Blue are too late to save Wash

Remote Control:

@grimmmons

After Charon:

@fandomescapades

Betrayed: Warned by Santa that Locus is about to betray him, Felix strikes First.

@hazk

That’s Not Simmons:  Grif sees his friends again - but why do they have blue visors?

Search and Receive: Season 8 - Grif falls off the cliff with the Meta, but the Reds and Blues won’t leave without finding his body

@loyle-trash

Simmons in a Closet: Spoilers for RVB ep 10. Simmons has a hard time with closets.

@lostlegendaerie

Reverse Transistor AU: A character is immortal, it’s less pleasant than it sounds

@novarcade

Cyborg Vision: Being a cyborg has its drawbacks

@quetzalcactus

Supposed to Be: After Felix dies, things start adding up to Locus. Mostly how relationships are supposed to work and how theirs did.

Over:  how about Felix deciding the only way to get past his “fear” is killing Locus?

@sabishiita

Kids of Yesterday: Some Jensen angst for @kansasjustgotgayer. Warning for a bit of blood.

A Reflection: Anon prompted “Nightmares” and I knew I had to attempt something I’ve been wanting to do since I began watching this show.

@sxpaiscia

Grif Alone:

Donut’s Nightmares: Donut has nightmares about being shot

@telekenetic-pony

Hello Gene:

Fic Submissions:

@agent-murica

A Letter to Sunday Drive: Felix is supposed to have nice parents according to Miles. How do they take to their son's actions when everything comes to light?

Beach of Melancholy Thoughts: Grif sees Simmons again – and discovers it isn’t the real Simmons.

@anneapocalypse

Line of Sight: agent illinois is actually camped out in a sniper’s nest when wash and carolina find his place. he knows he’s being hunted, and he intends to strike first. 

Please (Don’t Leave Me): CT tries to convince south to defect with her, and fails.

Cascade: the moment PFL-era tex discovers what she is 

@arirashake

An Eye Opening Experience: Locus goes back in time to the start of the Chorus trilogy

Poor Mary is A-Weeping: Carwash siblings in their current predicament?

@aquatariuswrites

Freckles: oh, for rvb angst war, maybe something with Freckles and Caboose angst?

@awesomenessagenda

Phantom Pains: What happened to Siris?

That’s What I Am To You: Caboose has never seen this many empty tables at a party.

Wait: It takes Felix twelve seconds to hit the ground.

Unwelcome: Felix knows that, if Siris knew they were leaving on this job, he’d never let them go. So Felix and Locus don’t say goodbye. They leave for Chorus, and they know they’ll never see Siris again.

@bizarrebird

Shatter: how about epsilon fragmenting inside of tuckers mind and seeing tuckers memories vanish and not being able to stop it????

Through the Fallout: After a nightmare, Wash shoots Donut again. This time, forgiveness might not come so easily.

when it’s burning low: “You have to let go” - Tuckington

@comefeedtherainn

Crumble: Franklin Delano Donut is not afraid of Frank Dufresne. But should he be?

@cptgrif

Acceptance: For the Angst War: Grif dies during N+1, after falling off the cliff at Sidewinder. Simmons deals with the aftermath.

Double: something where simmons meets fake grif? (or, a bonus if its actually the real grif ;0)  

Care: grimmons where one of them takes a bullet/other attack for the other person, maybe?

@cutellic

I Lose Everyone and Now I Lose Myself: The Director didn’t lose it just because of Alison. He lost Carolina’s older sibling too.

@daftprodigy

Last Words: Warned by Santa that Locus is about to betray him, Felix strikes first. 

@darthrevaan

lay this body down: Lavernius Tucker knows who he is, and what he’s doing. He knows why the Reds and Blues are taking these missions; he knows why they have to work with Charon. Lavernius Tucker knows who he is. (Doesn’t he?)

@deltawash

Exposure Therapy: DID!Church, with a focus on Theta, as requested by anon for the angst war. child abuse, psychiatric abuse, and very blatant manipulation of a damaged kid

@eclaire-de-lune

Asset Retrieval: Instead of imploding by itself, PFL survives until Chairman Hargrove’s investigation brings all its secrets to light. Hargrove offers some of the Freelancers a deal; in return for getting them out of prison, they’ll do whatever dirty work he needs doing, no questions asked.

York and Tex Look for the D: Something’s gone wrong with the implant. York can’t hear Delta talk anymore.

@freelancercarolina

Past is Past: The Reds and Blues had returned to Blood Gulch after Chorus as originally planned, Donut and Kaikaina reminice on past events with Carolina, horrifying and upsetting her.

@gkingoffez

Paralysis: After Temple leaves, Wash and Carolina attempt to remain calm.

The Malfunction: Simmons never meant for anyone to get hurt. Running away was supposed to avoid that.

@hakanakiki

Walnuts: Caboose genuinely doesn't seem to understand that Epsilon is gone. Tucker and Wash discuss whether they need to have a talk with him.

@hazk

The One Day Regret: Grif changes his mind and comes back, but he’s too late and Simmons is already dead

@herecomesthesniperbutt

Felix’s Last Thoughts: felix's thoughts as he falls to his death

@illumynare

Rookie: You’re so tired. You’ve never been able to tell what’s real.

@irenkaferalkitty

This is What Family Means: Kai helps Grif build a new life after the Reds and Blues depart on a new mission. When the others finally return, the reunions aren’t what any of them expect. Written for RvB Angst War, @rvbficwars, 6/9-6/16/2017.

Just Broken Pieces: AU where North sides with Locus and Felix, South fights for the People of Chorus

Magic in the Marks: Each day, he reminds himself that his sister is the most important person in the world. No matter what, she’s all that matters. Written for the RvB Angst War. Dark fic.

@isumagica

Code: Alpha Church meeting the fragments for the first time… right before he’s killed by the EMP.

@justabookworm39

Can You Repair a Broken Heart: character of your choice becomes fed up (sorta the same way Grif did this season) and leaves the group behind.

Old Habits Die Hard: For the angst war how about North calming South down after her finds her pacing the halls having a panic attack because of a nightmare?

I think you’re my best friend: Caboose breaks his leg in the middle of a fight, and Tucker gets hurt trying to drag him out. Carolina and Epsilon find them once the battle is over. Happy or sad ending, you decide. *finger guns*

@lavernius-tucker

Alone: After Chorus, Wash decides to go home to find his family, only to discover there’s nothing left. 

@loyle-trash

Simmons Has Nightmares: Simmons has nightmares

@madqueenalanna

A Story, A Love Story: Set after 15x06. Caboose and Simmons can’t sleep, so Caboose begs Simmons to tell him a story.

Grief and Closure and How To Drink Your Way Through Both: After CT’s death, her friends drink and share their memories of her.

Negative Category: Tex spends a late night watching York and Carolina train and muses on their relationship and her own.

What if this is it?: During season 10, Tucker takes a quiet moment to call Junior, but it doesn’t go as well as he hopes.

@meteoratdusk

This Pale Shade of Blue: he Reds and Blues do find Church. But there’s one problem for Carolina. It’s Alpha, not Epsilon. And he doesn’t know her.

@my-nerdy-shiny-self

My Mind Repeats the Scene: "Caboose! No!"

Protect and Defend: “I will always be there for you.” “We lost my brother! Not just an agent! Not a state name on your leaderboard! My brother! My brother is dead!”

@nms-manga-and-other-stuff

Gene and Simmons: Here’s where I’ll be posting all my entries for the angst war.  I only received two prompts, but I’ll be writing more than just those.  Thanks to @riathedreamer and @secretlystephaniebrown for sending me prompts!  All fic warnings should be listed in the tags.  If anything is improperly tagged, feel free to let me know.

The Triplets: The Triplets learn that Wash is dead

@notabyronichero

The Fire and the Flames: Agents Maine and South Dakota are sent on a mission. They have a simple set of instructions. If they fail to accomplish their mission, South could completely fall off the leaderboard. She is willing to do anything to stop that from happening.

@primtheamazing

numbers are a pain: “You’re welcome, Agent Carolina,” he says, because that’s what you’re supposed to say, and his body remembers that, his mouth moving to say you’re welcome as soon as his ears hears the thank you, no thought needed. “It was fun!” he adds himself after a moment of thinking, because it was, he got to do something he’s good at and doesn’t have to think about that reminded him of his sisters, so he could just sit there and braid and brush and think about his sisters while Agent Carolina slowly relaxed when he didn’t rip her scalp off or set her hair on fire or something.

@recxvery-xne

Unlocking the Truth:  Tucker dies on the staff of Charon. Wash gets his sword. And the fate of those who carry it.

@riathedreamer

Mirror, Mirror on the Wall: Grif comes back, only to discover that Simmons has started dating his doppleganger.

Theft: grif siblings shitty abusive childhood, especially their early childhood. Maybe including grif protecting Kai from one of their mom’s shitty boyfriends or something?

Digging Like You Can Bury: red team dies and grif’s the only survivor

@twinmeansneveralone

South vs North: Angst War: AU where South isn’t recruited to Project Freelancer, but her brother is. Instead, she joins the Insurrection, fighting against North.

@what-happened-to-agent-georgia

Promises Promises: North Survives the Meta taking Theta

I Know You Can Hear Me: Simmons returns to the moon to find it empty

Identity Crisis: hi! from the discord chat for the angst war: simmons keeping mistaken for jene (gene?) and even sarge and grif (if he comes back) just mistake the two soldiers, making simmons go crazy because they know him from years but this guy can easily take his place without nobody noticing. i hope u like this : ) 

@whatevertotesyourgoat

Memory: Chex role reversal: Tex is the AI that came from the director, Church is the echo

Grif: Grimmons, maybe Simmons's thoughts when he thinks Grif is dead after the Meta pulls him off the cliff? (Or you could go darker, up to you haha).

@whimsical-writer

Separation: after locking Wash and Carolina in their armor, Temple plays on Caboose’s abandonment issues, telling him they left him without saying goodbye. By @anneapocalypse Thanks Anne! Hope you enjoy this. :’D

What five things Wash would want for his team and one thing he would:

@winter-okami12

Time’s Up: Hey!! I have a prompt for the rvb angst war: Temple fails in killing Wash and Carolina, but when they go search for the reds and blues, they find out they’re already dead, and Temple kills Tucker last so Wash can watch it (Tuckington *•*).

@wordsysayswords

Please Don’t Go: The stupid part is, Tucker’s angry at the helmet. He couldn’t leave it behind, Goddammit, he just couldn’t. Abandoning it felt like abandoning some small part of Washington. And the thought makes Tucker’s stomach churn.

@zalia

Old Yeller Lived Here: the AU where Wash is still adopted by the Reds & Blues, but they’re mercenaries who work for Hargrove ;)

Cold Comfort: Tucker and Carolina find more than they bargained for when they explore the Staff of Charon.

Mod Submissions:

@a-taller-tale

You Suck: Simmon is still new to being a vampire and loses control. Set in my Vampire AU, though not in that canon.

@goodluckdetective

I Don’t Want to Set the World On Fire: The Institute catches up with Simmons.

Echoes and Other Ghosts: Tucker has to choose between believing Wash or believing Temple. He chooses Temple. (Or wash if you'd rather have fun~)

@powerfulpomegranate

Zeus: If Hawley had managed to kill Locus is ch 19, what would she have done to Carolina?

Grif driving: Simmons is hurt.

Your Fault: Carolina went with York and Tex

@renaroo

Claustrophobia: Wash and Carolina are paralyzed in a room with the bodies of their dead friends.

The Battle is Won: maine recovering/remembering himself only after killing washington

Revenge is a Dish: wesome, can you do a short where Temple and the Blues and Reds kill the Reds and Blues. But Dylan and Jax make it to the Freelancers and they plot revenge?

All In the Phrase: The Counsellor secretly brainwashed control phrases into all the Freelancer Agents. When he allies with Felix and Locus, he tells them the phrases to use on Wash and Carolina.

Time’s a Funny Thing: Grif and Simmons drift apart and years later, before he knows it, Simmons gets a wedding invitation in the mail. Could be "Took a Wrong Turn at Normal"-verse except they never patched things up. :D

@secretlystephaniebrown

Loves Me Not: schrodinger’s relationship. you don’t know if you’re boyfriends until he’s gone. grimmons.

Boxed: Felix and Locus put Wash in a box, then die before they tell anyone where it is.

Back to the Start: Tucker finds the murder fridge before they find wash and Carolina. Maybe he realizes. Maybe he doesn’t

Deprivation: Wash is kidnapped after season 11, and Tucker is told he's dead. Things go downhill from there.

Breaks Your Little Heart in TwoYork’s terminally ill from having Delta plugged in nonstop for [X] number of years. Set after “How to Heal a Broken Heart”. (bonus for “-But I just got you back!”)

Start the Clock: Tex trying to rescue Wash and Carolina from the murder fridge! And I was like “what, Tex in 15? this is the dream scenario.” Then I figured out how to make it angsty anyways

[stuffphilmade]

Life as a Cyborg - Day 0 - Implantation

Please note: No blood or gore is shown in this blog or the accompanying video. It was the 22nd of April 2017 15:00, my phone lights up with facebook notifications, change of plan, it’s GO time.  My partner and I change out of our casual clothes into something a bit more presentable, grab my camera, with a shade of cowardice I pop a few painkillers in the hope to defend against some of the perceived (but false) impending pain. 

What I didn’t know is that I would be introduced to my new cyborg family and our joint 2nd birthday, 22/04/17.

We were not to become Human 2.0 but something closer to Human 1.2. 

This is not a work of fiction, on the 22nd of April 2017 my partner and I got dressed and jumped into my car to attend a so-called #implantParty where we were implanted with a Dangerous Things xNT NFC chip.

Leeds International Festival, a tech and art festival in the North of England, had invited Hannes Sjob (@hsjob) and Keren Elazari (@k3r3n3) to fly in from Israel and Sweden respectively.  They flew from their own countries to give a talk on Biohacking, Cyberpunk & Hacker Culture. 

I had known of this talk was for me since the first week it was announced, I, like Keren was massively influenced by 1995′s “Hackers”, “Ghost in the Shell” and 1999′s turn of the millennium western cyberpunk classic, “The Matrix”. 

From the moment I heard this talk was going ahead, I booked tickets. On the booking page, there was one line that blew my mind:  “If you’re brave enough, you’re able at the event to get a live chip implant onstage too.”

I had watched the Vice documentary about Dangerous Things: The Man Biohacking Encryption From His Garage

I had watched Keren’s Ted Talk: Hackers: The internets Immune system

I had just finished rewatching Ghost in the Shell and reading the manga in anticipation of the Scarlett Johansson’s remake.  I was ready to join Major Kusanagi. 

I bought tickets for my partner, knowing what and opportunity this was I proceeded to assault the Facebook and Twitter feed of the organisers trying to find a method of signing up to get what would have been a $100~ implant for free, zero, zilch, without shipping, import tax, even without having to pay a piercer or a private medic to “install” it in a safe manner.  

I heard nothing.

The day before the event I read a post on social media, from one of the lovely organisers, that the chipset WOULD be xNT NFC model from Dangerous Things in the USA. 

I got butterflies at hearing this, I knew of their pride in their products, their high standard of construction, their extensive (if a bit ghetto) testing procedures including Amal (the owner of Dangerous Things) having the first model he produced implanted in his hand for 11 years and counting. On top of this, the NFC model was the one I wanted for two reasons: 1) I have a Google Pixel phone with an NFC reader, I could use this to hand out my business card in a futuristic technical manner. 2) The 13.56MHz frequency is what my current hackspace card registers at, TL;DR I COULD USE IT TO GET IN AND OUT OF DOORS WITHOUT KEYS! 

Tech Specs: 

xNT tag – 13.56MHz ISO14443A & NFC Type 2 NTAG216 chip

2x12mm cylindrical sterile biocompatible implant package

ISO14443A – compatible with all ISO14443A RFID systems

Fully NFC Type 2 compliant – compatible with all NFC devices

The day of the event rolls around, I get up, have lunch and wait nervously for 18:00 to roll around so that I can head to the University of Leeds lecture hall, watch two amazing speakers and, presumably, thrust my hand in the air and hope to be selected as one of the few people who could get implanted as my wonderful partner waves on from the stands.  .. now.. some of you may have noticed my time discrepancies above, that is because it did not unfold as such: Sat waiting for 18:00 to roll around, we eat and as it hits about 15:00 my phone lights up as if all the posts on the event page I had made over the past month had been replied to... it turns out they had:

“Hey folks! Due to complications with the venue, we're unable to do the piercings there BUT DONT WORRY as we are still able to do them but before the event. 10 places are available” 

Followed by instructions that it would happen at 16:30 in the north of the city at a well-known piercing parlour. 

I had a Sherlock Holmes out of body moment as I planned our route from the south to the north of the city, what to wear, logistics of keeping my hands clean, messaged a fellow Leeds Hackspace member about the change of plan, I threw a dress at my partner and ran into the shower... Let's do this!  I had spent enough time thinking about infection, my family history of auto-immune diseases, not getting tattoos or piercings. If I trusted anyone to implant me with a sterile microchip the size of a grain of rice, it would be these speakers, this brand, this event and this studio. It felt like the metaphorical moons had aligned. This year I am 30 years old and had an experience with a severe spinal injury that really made me think about how safe I have been playing life so far, I could be run over by a bus tomorrow or become paralyzed, so let’s do something a bit dangerous for the progress of science and my cyborg street cred. 

16:30, I step into Rude Studios in Leeds, I scan around the room, 5 people, MADE IT!  One, I know, the others I do not, but they will become part of my Cyborg Family and share in an experience I never thought I would have. 

After a quick chat with Hannes, fresh off his flight from Sweden, we sign a consent form, get a quick briefing and are directed into the piercing room, where we meet Luke, the first man to stab me, just a little bit, FOR SCIENCE! 

(Photo Credit Ben Bentley)  

Luke, wearing nitrile gloves, sterilises his work surface, lays fresh paper down and asks which hand I would like my implant in, as I am right handed I opt for my left hand  Luke mentally finds the trapezium and trapezoid bones where the metacarpal bones of my thumb and index finger meet. Next he finds the first proximal interphalangeal joint (first knuckle) of the index finger, then halves the distance between the bottom of that joint and the top of my carpometacarpal joint. Then taking a biosafe pen, marks the insertion point. 

This point is chosen because: 1) low risk of damaging major radial and median nerves  2) low risk of damaging major blood vessels  3) low risk of damaging tendons or their synovial sheaths  4) plenty of soft tissue to help absorb blunt force impacts  5) good distance from bones to avoid pinching and crushing

Once this is has been marked, he opens the sterile package containing the sterile NFC implant within a sealed injector, gauze and importantly sterile gloves. 

Lukes professionalism and hygiene best practices show as I notice him move from the standard piercing and tattoo gloves to the sterile gloves included in the implantation kit. 

The nitrile gloves protect him from any biohazard coming from the person that is being implanted or tattooed, whereas the sterile gloves protect me from infection as he breaks my skin with the needle.

Big breath in.  Slow breath out.  My cowardice is unfounded, the implantation is no worse than any time I have had blood drawn at the doctors, just a little bit more of a sting. 

I am now a cyborg. A piece of technology is now part of my body, working to compliment my other features. 

This is an upgrade of choice, I am Human 1.2, unlike people I like to class as Human 1.1, upgraded by doctors to help fix defects such as pacemakers, insulin pumps. 

I am lucky to have been able to choose my upgrade and it that my upgrade be purely for scientific interest and life improvement rather than forced life extension. 

I get a sticky plaster and the proverbial lollipop for good behaviour.  Luke looks to my partner Holly and says “Next!”, motioning for her to sit down. Wires had been crossed, she had not intended to be next, never mind be anything but a supportive partner (and very good looking camera stand).  She grabs hold of the moment, she asks if there is enough for everyone... and within 2 minutes ...  WE are cyborgs. 

We step into the waiting room where Hannes is waiting to give us a lesson on programming our NFC chips.  I type HELLO WORLD. /Write  We step out onto the streets of Leeds new, upgraded and excited with the possibilities ahead.  I will be documenting our ongoing adventures in cyborg in a series of Blogs and Vlogs. Make sure you subscribe to my channels to hear more, also more technical nitty gritty experimentation to follow! Please check out our first vlog below: 

[blueprintnewspapers-blog]

Adedibu’s deserted crumbling political dynasty

New Post has been published on http://blueprint.ng/adedibus-deserted-crumbling-political-dynasty/

Adedibu’s deserted crumbling political dynasty

Chief Lamidi Adedibu straddled Oyo political landscape like a colossus. At his ‘palace’ in Ibadan, he held sway as an oracle and dished out orders that were considered laws at a time in Ibadan and other parts of Oyo state. Deserted palace On a clear day, a visitor can perch on its veranda and behold the Molete overhead bridge. At a spot adjacent the mosque lies a poorly kept, dust-covered pavement provided for Muslim faithful for ablution. The pavement reeks of urine. There are about five buildings inside the compound but unlike what was the norm when hief Adedibu was alive, they all looked empty, dust-ridden and deserted. At a far-flung corner of the ‘palace’, a white-and-brown-striped cow was grazing around. The space used to be the spot prepared for cattle, from which visitors and other appendages of power got their beef. There were no goats and pigeons, neither was there any sign of the usual Amala and gbegiri festival held on Fridays. Beggars, political thugs, artisans, old women and others, who thronged the ‘palace’ for favours, have all disappeared. The place had become a ‘ghost community’. As against the norm when the ‘palace’ was operated like a car mart with hundreds of vehicles occupying the open space, there were just six vehicles in the entire compound when PREMIUM TIMES visited – three cars were parked at the front of the main buildings; a bus was stationed at road leading to the gate; while two other cars were placed on the tarred road at the entrance. The main building where Chief Adedibu lived clings to the side of another building where political meetings were held. At the entrance of the building, painted in white and green, there are portraits of some deceased Nigerian politicians and foremost nationalists: Adegoke Adelabu, Ladoke Akintola, Obafemi Awolowo, Nnamdi Azikiwe and Tafawa Balewa. It is February 2018, about a year away from a major national election and few months to the state’s local government elections. Yet here in Chief Adedibu’s Molete Palace, there was pin-drop silence and the entire place reeked of emptiness and inactivity. For the old-time visitor, it was quite difficult to imagine this was the much-dreaded Lamidi Adedibu’s famed ‘Molete Palace’, otherwise considered the political ‘mecca’ of politicians and their hangers-on in Oyo State, the southwest region and beyond.

Adedibu as ‘Garrison Commander’ In 2006, former governor Rashidi Ladoja was ‘impeached’ by 18 members of a 32-member Oyo State House of Assembly, in clear contravention of the rule of law. Chief Ladoja’s impeachment came against the backdrop of the crisis caused by an alleged money-sharing disagreement between him (Ladoja) and Chief Adedibu, his estranged godfather. Chief Adedibu had in 2003 thrown his support behind Ladoja of the PDP, who contested against the then incumbent, Lam Adesina of the Alliance for Democracy (AD) Ladoja won the election, but following Ladoja’s impeachment, Adebayo Alao-Akala who was then deputy governor was sworn in as governor. In the heat of the crisis rocking the state, the then national chairman of the PDP, Ahmadu Ali, had described Ibadan as a ‘Garrison Command’ and Chief Adedibu as the ‘Garrison Commander’. Political analysts opined that Adedibu bestrode Ibadan like a colossus, with the covert support of the federal government, led by then President Olusegun Obasanjo of the PDP. True to his name, Chief Adedibu ruled Oyo State like a ‘garrison’. With the support of men of the state wing of the National Union of Road Transport Workers, NURTW–– e.g. Sule Adu, Lati Elewe Omo, Concord, Alado, Ismail Agbaje – he battled opposition figures both within the then ruling PDP and other parties. In 2007, he supported Mr. Alao-Akala of the PDP and led the party to victory in the state. On June 11, 2008, Mr. Adedibu died.

Crumbling political dynasty Since Mr. Adedibu’s death, his political dynasty has been thrown into disarray as many of his political protegees have either deserted his Molete home or deviated from his ‘style’ of politics and choice of political party. Alao-Akala, believed to be one of the direct beneficiaries of the Adedibu brand of politics, has since defected from the PDP to the Labour Party (LP), and lately the APC since he lost his re-election bid in 2011. A former Senate Leader and renown Adedibu loyalist, Teslim Folarin, has also defected from the PDP to the APC, after he contested the governorship seat on the platform of the party in 2015 and lost out to the incumbent Abiola Ajimobi of the APC. Similarly, Taofeeq Arapaja, the then deputy to Alao-Akala has since defected to the ruling APC in a bid to maintain relevance in the state’s political space. Adedibu’s biological son who was the senator representing Oyo South Senatorial district before his father’s death, Kamorudeen Adedibu, has exited the political space in the state since he lost his re-election bid in 2011. When his campaign office in Molete was visited, officials said the former senator could not be reached. “He is just trying to stage a comeback and you can see the banner,” a resident of the area who craved anonymity said. He left here long time ago and we didn’t even hear anything from him. I think he is also preparing to come back in 2019,” he added.

Mixed reactions trail ‘legacy’ For Tawakalitu Ajibola, a trader at Oja’ba market in Ibadan, Chief Adedibu was a colossus who she remembered for his support for the poor and the needy in the society. She explained that the late politician’s position remains unfilled. “He gave out rice and other things during festivals. Many people ate in his house on Fridays, he was a great philanthropist and benefactor to many. We miss him.” But a butcher at Bode market, Tiamiyu Ajao, said the late politician’s death signalled the end of politically-motivated violence in the state. “We have been enjoying peace in Ibadan since he left; we must recognise that too as a part of his ‘legacy’,” he said in Yoruba. For the spokesperson of the Oyo State APC, Wasiu Sadare, Mr. Adedibu played his part in the political scene of the city and the state. “Adedibu has left the political scene for good as no human can live forever,” he said in an interview. Also, Maroof Asindemade, an Ibadan-based public affairs analyst, traced Mr. Adedibu’s authority to his role in the politics of the Fourth Republic. “The political heavyweight appellated as the garrison commander resurfaced at the return of democratic rule in 1999 but in a low-key fashion. He belonged to the All People’s Party, a less thriving political party at the time. “Late Chief Adedibu regained political prominence when he became a staunch and prominent member of the ruling party then, the PDP. His house at Molete became a political Mecca for all shades of politicians and hangers-on who wanted one political favour or the other. “Late Chief Adedibu understood the language of local politics and he deployed it to great advantage. The gate of his palatial premises was left open for poverty-stricken people and political opportunists who swarmed his house for food and financial favour; not to talk of those who hanged their political destinies on the late political godfather. ” Asindemade, who lamented the manner politicians deserted the Molete home of the Ibadan politician, attributed the development to Chief Adedibu’s refusal to embrace refined politics. “Chief Adedibu only empowered people with stomach infrastructure and once he was not there again to sustain the empowerment, people moved on to where their stomach would have sustenance. “Chief Adedibu did not inculcate worthy political ideology into his political godsons and daughters. The result of this is that there’s nothing to immortalise him on; such that till date, no memorial lecture has been held in honour of the political enigma. “Third, the maverick politicians did not leave behind offspring with the large heart and political acumen that he possessed. They could not manage the political dynasty the chief left behind. Molete home of the late garrison commander has become a shadow of itself”, he said. For Akeem Olatunji, spokesperson of the Oyo State Chapter of the PDP, the late Adedibu was a great politician in his era; but time has changed. “Unlike in the past, thuggery and rigging associated with the politics of Adedibu era are no more in vogue as the electorate are now more enlightened and prepared to defend their votes,” he said in a chat. “Although PDP missed Chief Adedibu’s organisation skill and generosity, the party is fortunate to have Sen. Rashidi Ladoja as the Leader of PDP in Oyo State and Kunmi Mustapha as the State Chairman of the party because the three were instrumental to the victory of PDP over the ruling AD government in 2003 despite intimidation and harassment suffered in the hands of the then AD government. “Oyo State PDP as presently constituted is in safe hands and well prepared to replicate the winning streak of 2003 when PDP won the presidential, National Assembly, governorship and State House of Assembly by landslide.” He hinted that if the party won the gubernatorial election in 2019, it would dedicate the victory to the late Adedibu. “According to our leader, Rashidi Ladoja, and the state chairman, Kunmi Mustapha, PDP victory in 2019 will surely be dedicated to the memories of Late Lamidi Ariyibi Adedibu as a mark of respect to the great leader,” he said.