#[sitting here thinking about the level of trust and mistrust he had to go to reach peak mister rizz fayre embrumu bonds and all

[convxction]

ooc. Imagine you like this post for an ask from kid chrom?

[cassipedia]

Review of A Cat’s Life

Hey, Cassipedia, what're you watching?

Tucked in the middle of these big, blockbuster movies was a little French film called A Cat’s Life, directed by Guillaume Maidatchevsky. It’s a simple story about a little girl who adopts a kitten she found in her attic and it follows her life up into the cat’s adulthood, during which the girl has to make a tough decision about her cat’s future.

Do you recommend watching it?

This was a cozy movie to watch, but I think it might not be to everyone’s taste. Being originally a French movie dubbed in English, it may take some getting used to situations where a character’s mouth doesn’t match what they’re saying. But once you get past that, it is a film that I think may be best enjoyed by younger audiences, cat lovers and, considering I saw mostly elderly couples in the theater with me, older audiences may enjoy this too.

What's the story like?

This is a movie about growing up in which the cat is a symbol of growing up too fast. Clémence, played by Capucine Sainson-Fabresse, is the little girl that adopts her kitten Lou after realizing that Lou’s mother had gone out for food but hadn’t returned for days. She manages to convince her parents to let her keep Lou, and it becomes apparent throughout the film that her parents love Clémence but have a hard time loving each other. There is no villain here, and, in a funny sort of way, the movie is more about the girl than the cat, whom simply partakes in the standard cat fare of getting up to no good, wandering off where he shouldn’t and searching for food and a cat companion. There are ways where the movie could have tightened up its focus and the first half may be hard to get through, especially as the girl starts out as not being the most responsible cat owner. However, that actually feeds into the rest of the movie, as the cat ends up reflecting her carelessness with her own childhood, desiring to grow up too fast, only to then see how quickly her kitten has turned into a full-grown cat whom may not need her anymore. The heart of this movie is the cottage out in the woods that her family vacations in, and my favorite character of the film is the neighbor to the cottage Madeleine, played by Corinne Masiero, an older woman living on her own as she talks with her humongous dog and has a wry sense of humor. She is brutally honest but has a soft spoke she won’t admit to, and she expresses trusting animals more than people, but she lives off the land and dignifies the animals she hunts by not wasting their meat. Clémence starts out mistrusting Madeleine, but the best part of the film was when Clémence ends up staying for a few days as Madeleine’s house as they tend to a deathly-sick Lou, bonding over loving animals and making art out of the junk that was illegally dumped in the woods, with Madeleine’s art pieces being incredibly similar to the elaborate toy wars back in Clémence’s own home. Though the writing and storytelling may feel simplistic, it’s all akin to a children’s storybook and with a surprisingly powerful message about appreciating youth and accepting when it’s time to let someone go.

What does the movie look like?

Have you ever marveled at the colorful clutter in I Spy books? I loved those books even more when I learned that the artist behind them individually and carefully arranged each piece for his photos. In this movie A Cat’s Life, there is always something visually interesting to look at. The dusty, crowded attic with items that are full of history yet abandoned is the perfect place for newly-orphaned kittens as they sit atop an armchair that is more torn-upholstery than it is a chair. Most of everything is down to the ground, at the cat’s eye level, giving a new perspective what would otherwise be a standard-looking living room. The majority of the movie takes place in the woods, which turns from a bustling green to winter white. My favorite point in the movie was when it settled in Madeleine’s house, for she turns junk that people carelessly dump in the woods into art, and her house is appropriately full of weird and wonderful sculptures of metal pieces and plastic cups formed into a junkyard zoo. Her hilarious sense of humor shows most through the Fox Graveyard being a living space of vicious chickens, whom have an array of knifes tied to the ceiling of their hen house for decoration. What impressed me was that all the moments with the animals were done with practical effects, either using live animals in a scene or using fairly convincing puppets for quick shots that would be difficult for a live anima. Whether or not any of it looks professional is I think irrelevant to how charming it is.

Where can I watch it?

It is currently available in Marcus Theaters, though it may not be around for too long, being a small film amidst so many bigger movies. I’ve heard Fandango is useful for finding local showings as well and the movie is likely to be available for Vudu, Apple, YouTube and Amazon. Being an international release, it may or may not be available in physical copies. It is unlikely to be available for streaming.

Final thoughts?

A Cat’s Life is a movie that caught my eye as a cat lover but I wasn’t sure what to expect. I may have found the first half cheesy, but the rest of the movie was well-worth the trip for me, as it had a genuine children’s storybook in the heart of it with an endearing bond between a little girl and her neighbor along with a sincere message. If you’d like to try something that cozy and fun, then I encourage your curiosity for this film.

[lyallblacklupin]

Just like fire.

After years of regrets and sorrows, Remus tries to apologize to Sirius for his own mistakes, despite the fact that he has been hurt by the very same person who he wants to say sorry to. The years of damages has passed, should they give each other a chance, or start fresh with new people in life to forget their old wounds?

Tags: Heavy Angst, Fluff, Post-Azkaban, Angst with Happy Ending.

Sirius walks in the kitchen, completely heedless of Remus’ presence—or he pretends to be heedless after he catches the sight of Remus. He walks promptly, not limping but flinching at his aching bones. This is how Sirius Black has become: broken. And he has not just broken out of thin air, it has taken fourteen years which includes the twelve years of unjust imprisonment and two years of being a prison escapee, and Merlin knows how many more to go.

Half of Sirius’ time is spent in thinking about death and longing for it. Remus can tell because he has witnessed the hunger of dying in his eyes when he’d sit alone with himself, and the other half is always occupied in worrying about Harry Potter who is last person keeping him from dying out of misery; his dear godson only. Otherwise, he’d have been free.

He stops at the stove and boils the water on the kettle. He doesn’t have his wand so muggle way it is. Muggles have been growing on him, a lot. He keeps talking about them with Arthur. Remus is glad that if there is anything Sirius is looking forward to the order meetings is for the conversation with his new friend Arthur Weasley, who also attains the equal amount energy for the same subject. It makes Remus happy to witness that they have any reason to—even temporarily—lit up in the times of war. However, Sirius never smiles. He nods, or makes a funny face. He only smiles when Harry visits.

“If you want for yourself, it’s still in the kettle.” Sirius says without looking, and begins to walk out of the kitchen but Remus rises from his chair.

“Sirius.” He stops but doesn’t turn to face Remus.

“What?” His voice cut through Remus’ heart.

“I was hoping we could have tea together?” He tried, his heart hammering in his chest.

Sirius finally turns and hold his gaze. After a lingering eye contact, he nods and brings Remus’ tea with pink mug that has a David Bowie on it. He is slightly hopeful that Sirius has kept it because Remus gave him on their sixth year Christmas holidays. But he highly doubts that Sirius remembers it. Sirius sits across Remus’ seat. The silence is irksome.

“I want you to know that I’m sorry for…all that—“

“Define ‘that’, Remus?” Sirius’ facial expressions are blank but very grave.

“For believing the murder of Lily and James was because of you.”

Sirius scoffs, and Remus wants to scream because deep down inside he doesn’t feel he deserves it. He suffered too for twelve years. Even so, he tries to sustain the ceasefire he is trying to build between them.

“I should have believed that you would never have done anything like that to the Potters. You loved them more than anything in this world and—“

Remus pauses because Sirius is shaking his head with a manic smile playing on his lips.

“Wrong. I didn’t love them as I was supposed to. It wasn’t that I didn’t, but it was more like I couldn’t. My fucking stupid heart belonged to just one person that time as if my life would end if I stop centering my life on him.”

Remus swallowed. He knows that no kind of eloquent words are going to be good reply to what Sirius has said, so he says, “You did. Love them, that is. I know that.”

“Oh what did you know!?” He shoots up so violently that the chair collapses down on the floor that Remus inhales sharply, “You were out there kissing Dumbledore’s shoes!”

He knew that this will happen, that he will be humiliated again just like the times in the first war when Sirius would scream at him for going on the secret missions and not giving a clue about when and where he would go and come back, and for not being there for his friends and family. But in reality, all Remus did was to protect the order, and the people he loved. However, the questions still pops in his head, ‘for what? How did he not see it that they were breaking apart?’ It feels like he was watering a dead plant over and over again during the severity of lacking water, but the plant didn’t revive, and the precious water spilled into filthiest vain. Despite of that, Remus shuts his mind and chooses that pettiest way to get back at the person who endured twelve years of imprisonment for the crime he never committed.

“Don’t you dare!” Remus rises from his chair too, leveling up at Sirius, “Don’t you dare go down there again after all these years!”

“WHY NOT!?” Sirius yelled anyway, “YOU SHOULD LISTEN TO THIS NOW! YOU NEVER BELIEVED ME! EVEN BEFORE YOU THOUGHT I BETRAYED JAMES AND LILY!”

“WHEN DID YOU BELIEVE ME!?” Remus is now few inches away from Sirius. He wants to slam him against the wall and put some sense into him because he still cares about him, no matter what.

“WHAT!? You made me this way! You build this mistrust with your hands! Don’t you dare forget that!”

“I did!? Or was that you!? Who didn’t believe me when I said I was not allowed to tell to anyone!”

“I WAS NOT SUPPOSED TO BE ANYONE!” Sirius’ voice breaks poorly that hits like a dagger in Remus’ heart. Sirius holds himself by the chest and leans down to rest his torso on the kitchen table, breathing heavily. Remus instantly feels the stinging in his eyes, and followed by the hot tears spilling from them. He comes behind Sirius, and places a hand on his back.

“Don’t touch me.”

“Shut up. Just shut up.” Remus whispers, and pulls Sirius up in his arms. He sobs and sobs, and Remus sinks down to the floor with him, squeezing him tightly in his embrace. “You are right. You were never just anyone. You were never…” He tries to put his feelings into words but Sirius interrupts him.

“You stopped loving me.”

Remus feels his stomach twist but what comes out of his mouth is a laugh. An empty laugh.

“Hell, I didn’t even stop loving you even when I thought you killed James and Lily.”

Silence.

“I was disgusted by myself. I used to feel so filthy. To want you even after believing you ruined my life by walking away so brutally, killing my friends. Killing my reasons to stay on this planet. I wanted to hate you. I couldn’t. I didn’t think that I even deserved to go to their funeral, you know…because I thought I’d be downright hypocrite to grieve for their loss when I was actually grieving the loss of you. I’d dream about you. The only thought keeping me sane and alive. Sirius, I’m not sure if this makes sense to you…I don’t even know if I’m asking you to love me back or what, but I have always loved you, mostly when I shouldn’t…”

Sirius is staring at him with his tears streaming so rapidly down his cheeks. He is trembling as sobs are racking through his body, his breath hitching every now and then. Remus’ heart breaks to see him like that. It is like Sirius is cleansing himself with all of the unwanted darkness off his soul by spilling all the expanse of pain in form of tears. Remus can see that he is not stopping himself from weeping. He seems lost somewhere, with his eyes shut and his hand on his mouth.

“I am not defending myself,” Remus whispers once he notices Sirius is just sniffling and wiping the dampness from his face, “I never meant to bring that up. I just want to let you know that whatever you went through had not even a single place or moment you deserved to be at.”

Sirius looks up with wide teary eyes, staring at Remus’ hopefully. He looks innocent and raw.

“Tell me,” His voice rough with tears but still a whisper. He clears his throat, “that I deserved all of that.”

“That is not true.” Remus says instantly, his hands grasping Sirius’ wrist instinctively, fearing he might fade away with the wind swooping in from the kitchen window.

“It is,” He says in the weakest voice, “My mistakes brought me here. For not trusting you enough…”

No words comes out from Remus’ mouth but they are caught in his throat like a lump. He can feel their prickling. The silence stretches on, smoothly breaking by the sounds of fire battling the wind filling the kitchen. There is also some faint sounds of dripping water from the tap into the basin. Someone must have forgotten to turn it fully. Huh, wizards.

“You are one celestial presence on the world, Remus Lupin, aren’t you…” Sirius chuckles softly, leaning back on the paddles of the chair to rest his back on them. Remus doesn’t understand but Sirius continues, “You are…this sacred or a saint-like wizard—half-blood werewolf whose father committed suicide because he thought he was the reason for his son’s affliction, and whose mother faded away with grief…”

Remus’ heart feels fragile in his chest, fearing it might break again after the poor mending.

“Merlin puts a very heavy price on people to pay who hurt Remus Lupin, who mistrust Remus Lupin...who thinks little of Remus Lupin.”

There is something strange in Sirius’ eyes. There is surrender and envy but Remus stares back into those glistening, and almost-silver orbs with courage to find what he wants. And he does. There it is. Love, swirling into the diffusion of grey and blue.

“I paid twelve years of losing myself and my family for mistrusting you, Remus.”

“I’m sorry…” He doesn’t expect his voice to whimper but it does because his chin is trembling and he is trying hard to gain composure. He is trying so hard with his clenched jaw, and balled fists in either sides of his lap. But Sirius put a thumb under his chin, and he shudders.

“You’re so stupid, Moony.” Sirius whispers when he is just an inch away from his lips.

“I know,” And just as those lips touched his, he feels a tear trickle down his cheek before Sirius has completely captured his mouth. They move languidly but cautiously, scared they might break each other again with haste and roughness. They don’t trust themselves to be firm either. Remus doesn’t. But when Sirius pulls back a little, he comes back and kisses him again decisively on the lips.

“I don’t know if it is still worth it,” Sirius says when both of them are resting their foreheads against each other, breathing in and out one and other, “But I want you to know that I don’t blame you for anything. Maybe I did. Just to keep myself sane by pretending to believe the lies I made within my already suffocated brain.”

Remus lets out a small laugh, which follows by Sirius’ arms wrapping his waist.

“I hope you can still accept me despite of everything, Remus.”

Remus hold his jaw, and tries to smile at him because he still feels like it is not enough. Nothing is enough with Sirius Black. It is always so much, even in this flickering flame which is almost dead. He knows that it will ignite again to fiery life once they become one. They are dangerously perfect for each other. He leans in to kiss the back of his ear, and inhales a whiff just like the wolf would do when Padfoot would return on first full moon after the summers, to recognize his mate. Sirius smells of rain and cigarette, mixing the aroma of the tea that has been sitting out in two mugs before their argument.

“I do. And I hope the same from you for myself?” Remus cringes after he realizes how lame they sound next to Sirius’ words. After few minutes which feels like hours to Remus, Sirius gropes his hands to hold both of his wrists, with his eyes still locked with Remus. He then bends down to press a lingering kiss on the right, and then on the left. Remus just looks at him, feeling utterly weightless in Sirius’ hands.

“I will not fail you again, Remus.”

“I trust you. I love you,” Remus says with all of the broken words spilling out his mouth, “I love you so much. I will not let you go. I will not let you be alone.”

They embraces each other again, just enjoying the warmth and the closeness. It reminds Remus of their time at Hogwarts when their limbs used to be wrapped around each other at every possible free period, smoking cigarettes at the Astronomy Tower.

“Don’t make such promises, my dear Moony.”

“You’re just saying that because you’ll be annoyed of me for sticking around you all the time.” Remus wipes his tears, and Sirius helps him too with his sleeve, shaking with silent laughter.

“Yeah, maybe. Just don’t follow me in the bathroom.”

“Can’t make such promises, my dear Padfoot.”

 Thankyou for reading!

[twdeadfanfic]

Feral Pt.4

Daryl Dixon x OC

Summary:  Daryl is on a run with Rick when, in a warehouse, they find a woman who attacks them, and who reminds Daryl to a lioness…or a feral cat, and who doesn’t seem to trust anyone, including them, but Daryl finds himself going back to the warehouse, trying to get that feral to go with him to the prison, and to earn her trust.

Chapter 3/10 Words: 3485

You can find my other fics in my masterlist.

Last chapter…Dana was introduced to the council and around the prison, though she still seems only on ease around Daryl, and it was decided that she’d be hunting and patrolling with him

Daryl was walking through the woods, followed by Dana, who walked silently ,“like a cat”, Daryl had awkwardly joked.  It was good that she was able to walk in silence and that it came naturally to her, that way she wouldn’t scare the game. Daryl already had a squirrel hanging from his belt, and was now tracking what he was sure was a rabbit. “Went that way…” He muttered.

“How?” Dana said.

“What?”

“How you know it.”

Daryl looked at her, back at the track and then at Dana again. If he stopped to point at her what was he following and how, the rabbit might go away…but he decided to do it anyway. What was going to be a quick thing, just pointing at Dana what he was seeing, ended up being a longer explanation about the basics of tracking game and hunting…not that Daryl minded it, and it didn’t seem like Dana minded it either, she listened to him with a level of attention that Daryl had barely had anytime before.

Daryl ended up getting a rabbit anyway, and although he was the one doing the tracking, Dana watched and paid attention to everything that he told her and pointed at, seeming in total focus, and Daryl would be lying if he said that he didn’t enjoy it.

“You gotta learn and hunt yourself, uh?” He told her once the rabbit was hanging from his belt. “A cat that can’t hunt makes no sense,” he joked awkwardly and Dana scoffed, but she smirked, and she nudged him with her shoulder. It took Daryl by surprise, and a smile tugged at his lips at seeing her seeming comfortable with him like that, even if it made him feel weird too.

As they patrolled the woods near the prison, Dana spotted a group of edible mushrooms on the ground, tugging at Daryl’s shirt. “Good job, cat,” he said while they picked them up. “We can stew them with the rabbit and the squirrel.” Dana gave him that small smile that always made him smile back and always made his belly do funny things at the idea of her not being that scared and mistrustful anymore. “Let’s go back, alright?” They hadn’t found any threat in the woods, they had gotten a squirrel and a rabbit, and mushrooms, and Dana seemed more at ease…all in all, it had been a good morning.

Some of Dana’s apprehension seemed to be back as they walked into the prison and were around waving people again, but at least she didn’t look like she was about to run away or stab someone if she got scared.

“I’ll show you how to clean and get ready the squirrel and the rabbit, yeah?” Daryl asked and Dana nodded, following him to the kitchen area. Like when he’d been telling her about tracking, Dana watched attentively while he got the pieces ready, and Daryl couldn’t help how it made him nervous, though he tried to control it and to give her some instruction here and there. They had almost finished when Carol walked in.

“You learned to hunt already?” She asked to Dana and Daryl didn’t know if she was joking, but he scoffed.

“She ain’t gonna learn in a day, but she will.” He was sure of it. “But she hunted some mushrooms.”

“Good.” Carol scoffed, but she nodded looking at everything that they had lied out on the kitchen. “We can make a good stew out of this.” She looked at Dana, who seemed guarded again. “I know it’s comfortable if Daryl brings you dinner again, but why don’t you come down to get your own this night? We actually won’t bite you…” She said as she glanced at the bite mark on Daryl’s arm, who rolled his eyes.

“Let’s finish this…” He muttered, back to cleaning the rabbit.

That evening, the dinner was getting served and Daryl was about to go get two bowls, one for himself and another for Dana, when he saw her walking down the stairs to the cafeteria area, looking around and seeming like she might run away and retreat, but she nodded at the people who waved at her, and made her way to the queue for the food. Daryl smiled at her, nodding encouragingly, and she gave him that brief, tiny smile, even if she seemed anxious.

Once she had her food, Dana looked at the table where Michonne, Rick, Glenn and Maggie were sat down, but finally she rushed away and up the stairs towards the cells. It was progress, though. Daryl noticed Rick looking at him and nodding with a small smile, he’d seen Dana too. Taking his bowl, Daryl went to sit down with them, Michonne was probably leaving in the morning and he wanted to talk to her before, but he rushed through his stew to go see Dana once he was finished.

Once in front of her cell, though, he didn’t know what to say. “You did well” he finally murmured awkwardly and Dana just shrugged, seeming awkward too. “Give me your bowl, I’ll wash it.”

“Don’t have to,” Dana muttered.

“I know, but I’m going to.” Daryl shrugged.

“Thanks…” Dana said, handing him the bowl.

“Ain’t nothing…I’ll see you in the morning, alright? Maybe we’ll find a deer tomorrow,” he said content when Dana gave him that small smile. “So, get some rest.”

*

The next couple of days, Daryl kept taking Dana hunting and patrolling with him, pointing trails to her, showing her how to track and hunt, and she kept listening attentively to all he had to show her, and so Daryl was confident that she’d be able to eventually track by herself. It’d be good to have another tracker and hunter, in case something happened to him, Michonne was not bad at tracking, but with her coming and going all the time, it’d be good that someone else learned to track too. Daryl had told Rick a couple of times, but even if he wanted to, he’d always been too busy first leading then with the gardens and whatnot.

Dana, though, seemed to give him her undivided attention now while they tracked and hunted, and also once they were back inside the prison and he showed her how to clean and cut his kills, letting her do it too.

Dana seemed a bit more at ease at the prison, and although sometimes she seemed anxious, she didn’t seem to think that someone would attack her there anymore or that she was unsafe, but she still spent most of the time around Daryl…for how much he’d thought he wanted his time alone, he still found that he didn’t mind to have her around, most of the time he didn’t even notice her, just a silent presence near him, and if it helped her to feel better, he wasn’t going to complain.

When she wasn’t with him, she was usually locked in her cell, reading a book that Beth had given her. She still didn’t really talk to anyone else, but she seemed less startled and on edge around people, even waving or nodding awkwardly back when they greeted her. She was adapting to the prison and Daryl was glad of it. He hoped that she’d open up to more people too, the more people she bonded with the better, so she wouldn’t rely only on him, in case anything happened and he couldn’t be around her.

Daryl was now looking for Dana, after talking with Rick. Since Michonne had told him about that old bike she’d found, he’d been itching to go get it, even if Michonne thought that there was no need to rush. She had marked the place on a map for him before leaving the day before, and it wasn’t too far, he was surprised that they hadn’t stumbled onto it before, so he wanted to go. He’d told Rick, who said that it was okay, and now he wanted to tell Dana, they wouldn’t be going hunting tomorrow. He wondered what she might get up to in the prison without him there, and he hoped that she’d be okay.

She wasn’t in her cell and so Daryl went to the stables, finding her there, stroking the horses. “You know, you could help with the horses,” he told her, he’d realized that she liked them. “Feeding them and all that, you just have to tell Hershel.”

“No hunting?” She said.

“Yeah, we’d still hunt, but you can help once we’re back at the afternoons, if you wanna.” Daryl shrugged, he usually had stuff to do and Dana had been trailing alongside him, but maybe she’d enjoy more to help with the horses.

“Maybe.” She shrugged and went back to stroking the horse’s snout.

“I gotta talk to you, cat,” Daryl told her and she frowned at him, seeming worried. “I wanna go out tomorrow to find a bike in a cabin that Michonne told me about, so we won’t go hunting, okay?”

“I go with you?” She asked him.

“Uh…do you want to?” Daryl asked, wondering why he hadn’t thought about it, and Dana nodded. “Are you sure? You’ll be okay in here without me, really, nobody will hurt you.” He thought she knew, but he assured it to her again, he didn’t want her to feel like she had to be around him all the time.

“I want to go,” she said.

“Alright…” Daryl wouldn’t mind to take her with him, maybe they could even track something. “I don’t want us staying the night outside, so we leave before the sunrise, okay?” If it were him alone, he wouldn’t mind that much, but he didn’t want to risk it if he was taking Dana too, when there was no need to camp outside, the place was close enough for them to be able to come back and spend the night behind fences. Dana nodded, giving him that tiny smile.

*

Early the next morning, when the sky was just starting to clear, Daryl drove away from the prison. He was taking their pick up, he’d rather ride, but he might need to carry bike parts or the whole thing. Dana was sat down next to him, looking through the window, and Daryl peeked at her while he drove.

She looked so much better than just a few days ago, less terrified and wild, less on edge. A couple of days ago, she had chopped off a good chunk of her wild, dark curls with her knife before Daryl realized it and could offer to get her some scissors, she was probably frustrated at the knots and tangles. The shorter hair suited her, Daryl found himself thinking.

She still hadn’t wanted to go to the showers, but Daryl knew that now that Dana knew that they had a stable source of water from the creek, she washed herself with her bottle and a rag, locked in her cell. Daryl had seen her once, by accident, he hadn’t meant too, and he had quickly looked away and retreated, but he had noticed the marks and old wounds in her dark skin again, and the way in which she washed herself without closing the curtain, looking outside for any incoming threat, even if the cell was locked, one hand holding the wet rag while the other held a knife. Daryl couldn’t help but wonder what had she gone through, feeling angry at it, but he never asked, not wanting to prey and upset her.

They drove through the same road for a while, until eventually Daryl had to leave the road and drive through a path to the woods until even that ended, but he kept driving until the trees blocked the way. “Alright, we’ll walk from here,” he told to Dana. “It can’t be far.”

Dana nodded and got out of the car, following him in silence through the woods as he followed Michonne’s indications. At some point, though, she tugged at his shirt and when Daryl looked at her, she pointed at a squirrel up in a tree branch.

“Good catch,” Daryl whispered to her before shooting, he’d been too busy trying to find the way to see it, but as always, Dana was looking attentively at everything around her, and she always seemed to notice the tiniest details…no wonder she was a survivor, and she was picking up on how to track fast.

Daryl had been thinking about getting a hunting rifle with a silencer for her for when they went out, though for what he could gather from the few words that Dana said when he told her, she seemed to prefer her knife and wasn’t too used to shooting even if she could do it, but she couldn’t hunt just with a knife, and she’d be safer with a rifle too, maybe he should have gotten her a rifle anyway for today instead of letting her go just with her knife, but there didn’t seem to be walkers around and he was with her.

Eventually, they found the cabin, a tiny, tattered place hidden among the trees, overgrown with plants, and Daryl wondered how Michonne had stumbled into it. As they got closer, he spotted the bike lying on the ground, half-covered by plants too. Daryl knelt down next to it, carefully trying to lift it, afraid that it’d break down or even turn into dust just by touching it.

It was an old bike, vintage they’d say, and as Michonne had said, it was in very poor condition, it seemed to have been abandoned even before walkers were a thing. “You could have gotten good money for a bike like this before the world ended…” Daryl murmured, though if the bike had been his, he’d have kept it on point and wouldn’t have sold it to any collector no matter he needed the money.

“World didn’t end,” Dana said and Daryl looked at her. “Just changed.” She shrugged and Daryl guessed that she was right. The idea that the world ended had been a sentence he’d picked up from someone else, but yeah…Dana was right, it hadn’t ended, the world was still there, they were still there, it had just changed. And sometimes, sometimes, Daryl found himself wondering if actually his life wasn’t better now…he knew it was crazy, but maybe he could tell  Dana someday, see what she thought…

Daryl focused his attention back to the bike. He’d check if there were pieces that he could use for something else, or if maybe he could actually save the whole bike, or enough stuff to take it whole to the prison…he thought that getting it going would probably be impossible, but he wanted to try anyway.

“Cabin?” Dana asked.

“Michonne was here already and checked it,” Daryl told her but Dana walked towards it, looking at everything around. “Don’t go far alright? Come back if there are walkers around.” Daryl went back to tinker with the bike. It looked worse at first glance than once he began to check it, and he was getting confident on being able to save more pieces than he thought at first.

Suddenly, though, he heard a noise and he looked up from the bike. “Cat?” He called for Dana when he didn’t see her around, and before he could worry that for some reason she’d actually decided to run away and leave him and the prison, Daryl was sure that he heard the growl a walker not too far. “Dana?!”

Daryl ran towards where he thought the noises were coming from and he found Dana fighting a group of walkers with her knife. There were two already dead on the ground, and she was viciously sinking the knife into the head of another, before grabbing the closer one to do the same. Daryl didn’t lose time to shoot a bolt to another before it got closer to Dana, and she turned towards him when she noticed the walker falling down, seeing him there before she grabbed the remaining walker and put it down too.

When she had turned towards him, Daryl had noticed blood on her shirt, her arms, and her face, and he couldn’t help but straight up panic. “Are you hurt?! Are you bitten?!” He asked as he rushed towards her, grabbing her arm to try and check her but Dana flinched her arm away.

She didn’t seem bitten or hurt and Daryl noticed that one of the walkers on the ground was all bloodied up and with its insides hanging out, and he realized that Dana must have gotten covered in its blood when she held it to stab it and maybe then touched her face with her bloodied hands. Somehow, it didn’t help to calm him down.

“The hell were you thinking?! Going for them alone?! They could have bitten you! Could have killed you!” Daryl hadn’t meant to yell, but he couldn’t stop himself, agitated and scared, even if he knew he was all the time doing the same, putting down small groups of walkers himself even if Rick told him not to…maybe he’d start understanding Rick now… “Told you not to! What if they killed you?!”

“I can do it!” Dana snapped back, sounding angry too, but all Daryl’s scared anger left him when he noticed tears in her eyes. “I’ve killed before! I’m not useless! I’m no kitten!”

Daryl didn’t know what to say or what to do, but he regretted that he had yelled at her, the idea of maybe having scared her felt like a kick…he had upset her for sure, but he was scared at the idea of her having gotten hurt, even bitten or killed, he couldn’t help it. He just looked at her while Dana glared at him, before he reached out tentatively to try and check her again, but Dana seemed mad, almost like the feral woman that he first met at the warehouse, and she pushed him away before rushing towards the cabin.

Daryl followed her, looking at her getting inside the cabin and closing the door behind her. “Dana?” He called for her but there was no answer, and Daryl felt like shit. He had yelled at her…but she had to see that he was worried, that she had scared him, right? What if now she wouldn’t want to go back to the prison with him? What if she’d want to stay away in that cabin like she’d been in the warehouse?

Daryl decided to stop thinking it and he went back to the bike, but he couldn’t focus on it, couldn’t stop his regret and fears, and he didn’t know what to do. After a little while, though, he noticed Dana walking out of the cabin. He still didn’t know what to do and so he focused his gaze on the bike, tinkering with it even if his mind was on Dana, afraid that maybe just looking at her might upset her or scare her after he’d yelled at her. He noticed her kneeling down next to him, and suddenly he felt her touching him, and when he looked at her, he realized that she’d headbutted him softly, gently nudging his arm with her forehead once.

“Are you okay?” Daryl asked her softly and Dana nodded. “I…I’m sorry I yelled…” Dana nodded again. “I just…I…I got scared, I saw the blood and thought you were hurt,” he made himself explain it even if he was embarrassed and shy. “Got scared thinking a walker would hurt you.”

“I’m sorry,” Dana murmured, apologizing too. “I’m sorry I pushed you.”

“It’s okay.”

“No.”

“Just…just don’t do it again, alright? You know it’s dangerous.” Daryl asked her softly, he didn’t want to feel like that again. “If there’s a group of walkers we put them down together…it ain’t that I think you can’t do it alone, I know you’re a fighter, just…” Daryl shrugged, not knowing how to explain it. “You don’t have to. Me…I…me and everyone in the prison, we got your back now, alright? Just let us help.” Dana nodded again and Daryl looked at her, the blood that had spattered over her face and hair, down her neck, smearing on her shirt and arms… “You’re a mess.”

“Always,” Dana joked and Daryl snorted.

He reached into his bag, taking the bottle of water and a rag, and pouring the water on it, he began washing the blood smeared on Dana’s face, cleaning her a bit so people in the prison wouldn’t freak out at the sight. “I’m just gonna take the whole bike, drag it to the pickup and work on it back at the prison,” he said and Dana nodded, eyes closed as he brushed her face with the wet rag until there wasn’t any blood, though her skin was stained. “Let’s go back home, okay?”

“Okay."

*

I still think they’re cute...that feral kitten might need some cleaning up anf grooming now.

Thanks to the people who decided to give this story a chance, your support keeps me posting. If you enjoyed this and have a moment, please let me know your thoughts.

As always, excuse my English, is not my first language.

I’m going to reblog the taglist in another post to see if that way this shows up in the Daryl tags.

[theres-an-impulstor-among-us]

I've been thinking a lot about the Sheriff role, and mainly, about what actually happens when the Sheriff picks the wrong person and dies. I imagine the game code just kills them with a heart attack or something...but I'm thinking less about the game mechanics right now and more about what it would be like for the person who the sheriff tried to kill. Just, one of the Hermits having somebody they know has been following them around and mistrusting them, only to watch that person drop with seemingly no warning or reason... The Sheriff dying in the crewmate's arms as they try to save them, or maybe just try frantically to think of some way they won't be blamed for the death...long story short, I'm in the mood for some angst with a wrongful Sheriff kill attempt, if you happen to find that inspiring.

soooo i wrote the thing and only then reread your request and saw the word “hermit”... whoops… i’ve used the friday night crew, hope that’s okay lol

honestly i’ve started defaulting to the friday night crew, especially when it’s not specified which crew is wanted :)

…

At the end of the first meeting, Brody heads over to communications to do his download. As he does, he quickly realises someone is behind him. “You appear to be following me.”

“Uh huh,” says Joker, watching Brody with the expectant expression of a child who wants to ask their parent for something. “You appear to be doing the download.”

“I AM doing the download,” Brody responds.

“Uh huh. Are you faking it?”

“...if I was, do you really think I’d say yes right there?”

“I dunno.”

Brody finishes his download and goes up to admin to upload. Joker follows him, causing his friend to shoot him a scowl. “Maybe you should spend less time bothering me and more time doing your own tasks.”

“I think you’re the imposter,” Joker states. “I want you to kill in front of me so I can get you kicked off.”

“What’s stopping me from just killing you right here in front of no witnesses?” asks Brody casually.

Joker stares at him for a moment. “Gonna be honest, I did not think of that.”

Brody snorts. “I thought not. Lucky for you, I can’t kill you this round. Get outta here and do your tasks.”

Joker moves away from Brody and watches him stand at the panel, apparently uploading. He shifts from foot to foot, before pulling out his gun and aiming it directly at Brody. Despite his flippant attitude to the whole situation, he genuinely believes Brody is not a crewmate.

So he pulls the trigger.

And immediately lets out a scream.

Brody whirls round, startled, to find Joker collapsing, the gun clattering to the ground. Reacting fast, he catches his friend and carefully lowers him down, trying not to panic. “Nonononononono! Joker, stay with me! Stay with me, buddy!”

He feels Joker’s wrist for a pulse. He finds one but it’s weak, and getting weaker by the second.

“Stay awake, Joker!” Brody hurriedly taps Joker’s face. “HEY! Stay with me! C’mon, please…!”

But within a second or two, the light in Joker’s eyes fades and his weakly moving chest settles.

Brody hangs his head, hugging his friend’s body close to him. “Damnit, Joker,” he whispers. “Why…?”

He’s so distracted that he doesn’t notice the arrival of two more people until one of them reports the body and everyone is teleported to the meeting table.

“Brody just killed Joker,” says Endless immediately. “We saw it.”

Skizz glares at him. “No we didn’t! He was next to the body when we got there but we didn’t see him do it! We didn’t even see the body flop. It coulda been a swooper, lover kill, anything.”

“Okay, but you get how bad it looks that he was sitting next to the body, not reporting it, right?”

“He was cradling Joker in his arms! Have some compassion, man!”

Brody stays silent and lets them argue. There’s no point in trying to interrupt while someone is fighting his corner for him. Plus, he’s still semi-stunned from what just happened.

Finally, Etho speaks up: “Guys, guys, guys. Shh for a second. I wanna hear what happened from Brody.”

Everyone turns expectantly to him.

“Joker tried to sheriff me,” Brody says quietly.

“Why are you so sure?” asks Etho. “Are you saying there’s no way it could’ve been a swooper or lover kill?”

“I’m certain. Swooper kills and lover kills leave behind wounds; failed sheriff kills don’t. There was no blood, no wound on Joker’s body, nothing.”

“I can confirm there was no blood,” Skizz says. “Endless?”

Endless nods reluctantly. “I mean… I didn’t see any. But I still think it’s incredibly sus that Brody didn’t report it.”

“I was in shock,” says Brody truthfully. “Given a few more seconds, I probably would’ve reported. But I was just too shocked.”

He stares down at the table, Joker’s cry of pain echoing in his ears. He’s said his piece. It’s up to Etho now. Etho has so much pull; if Etho is unconvinced, Brody will be voted out.

“C’mon, you? Shocked?” Endless is clearly completely unconvinced. “You’ve played enough of this game that seeing someone die shouldn’t really faze you.”

Brody fixes him with a cold look. “He died in my arms. I literally saw the light leave his eyes. Tell me that wouldn’t affect you too.”

Endless simply meets his gaze and doesn’t respond.

Finally, Etho says, “I believe Brody here. Endless, why were you so determined to say he did it?”

“Because it really did look like he did it. Sorry if he didn’t.”

To Brody’s relief, he’s not voted off. He leaves the meeting table with everyone else and heads back down to admin to finish his upload. After he’s done this, he realises he forgot to swipe his card, so he goes to do this now.

But as he gets out his card, a shadow falls over the table. He looks up and his heart skips a beat as he registers the figure standing there, aiming a gun at him.

“Sorry, Brody, but since you’re clear, you’re of no use to me,” says Endless emotionlessly.

Before Brody can even open his mouth, there’s a loud BANG and his vision immediately goes black.

“-ake up, dude! Brody!”

Brody forces his eyes open and finds Joker’s face peering down at him. Blinking, he sits up. “Joker? Oh great. I’m dead, right?”

Joker slowly nods. “Yep. Endless got you.”

“I shoulda known it was him from the way he was SO eager to push your death on me.”

“Yeah, about that…” Joker rubs the back of his neck sheepishly. “Sorry, dude. I tend to not trust anyone in this game so I took a shot and… yeah. Turns out I didn’t just kill myself, I ended up traumatising you.”

Brody gives a chuckle. “It’s okay. I’ve just never had a sheriff fail to kill me before. It kinda shocked me.”

“I don’t blame you. I guess I’d better be more careful about who I go after next time, huh?”

Brody raises an eyebrow. “You? Careful?”

“I know, I know,” Joker snickers. “I’m probably gonna forget about this in, like, three rounds, tops.”

“I think you’re vastly overestimating your attention span and level of dumbassery.”

“Shut up.”

[thicctails]

Summer Of Whump Days 16 + 19 [Touch-Starved/Hope]

Happy Father’s Day! Have toothpick dad figuring out how to get his adike outta space prison.

Crosshair pressed his forehead against the wall of his bunk, gritting his teeth. His head was pounding, the ache radiating from the left side and seeping down through his skull and spreading into the rest of his mind. It had been a steadily building pain, starting when that damn animal had hit him with its tail. He’d dodged going to a medic, instead choosing to spend his free time trying to sleep the migraine off. So far, it hadn’t worked.

 He pulled his pillow over his head when a slight ringing started to form in his ears. The sound grew and grew and grew, until all he could hear was the unyielding, skull-piercing ringing.

 Then, silence.

 Crosshair blinked.

 It was like a huge drop of cold water had been dropped on him, shocking him back to reality. He sat up, running a hand over his face. The guilt and disbelief of his actions had him reeling for a moment. He’d almost killed his vod'ika, would have had Omega not sacrificed herself. He went a little pale at the memory of what state the girl had been in when they’d been picked up. Whatever had happened on that Jedi cruiser, it had been ugly, and he felt a ripple of burning shame rush through him when he thought about how much it must have hurt to stand in front of him like she had.

 He slid off of his bunk, not bothering to grab his helmet. He needed to go see her, make sure her burns were getting properly treated. It had been a day and a half, had anyone gone to change her bandages? Checked in on her? Fed her? Likely not, as he seemed to be the only one here who understood how important it was for her to remain alive and healthy. That was still top priority, but now it was for different reasons.

 He had to get them out of here, back to his vode and out of the Empire’s reach. Omega’s existence was proof that the Kaminoans had successfully managed to create an artificial Force-sensitive being, and the thought of them creating an army of Force-sensitive clones with inhibitor chips sent a chill down his spine.

 No. He’d find a way out of this outpost and off of the planet before they were due to make the trip back to Kamino. He’d have to find a way to get the chip out, maybe go back to Bracca? Then he’d find a way back to his batchmates and they’d disappear. Good. Yes. Great plan.

 Pausing, he stepped behind a wall as a group of troopers marched past. They had come from the direction of the prison cell. He scowled at them silently, fighting the itch to end their lives. He needed to be subtle, cunning, and stealthy, which meant he couldn’t let his temper flare up, lest he risk being discovered.

 Once the coast was clear, he slipped out from behind the wall and approached the room door. He put in the password and stepped inside once the door slid open. His eyes widened upon seeing that someone new had been put into the cell. The kid was tugging at a thick, black collar, a red light blinking rapidly. He jolted suddenly, his muscles spasming as he was electrocuted.

 “Cal!” Omega cried, reaching out to him. Her own collar began to blink rapidly, and she yelped when the same happened to her. Pillow, who was chained against the, was honking loudly, the sound sounding more like short roars now. He was the one to first notice Crosshair, and he snarled at the clone, his tail smashing against the wall. The stone cracked under the force, bits of the wall crumbling away.

 “Shh!” He hissed, putting a finger up to his lips. “Do you want to get into even more trouble?”

 The two children gasped when he spoke, their eyes widening in fear. The boy, named Cal, apparently, glared at Crosshair. He moved in front of Omega, shielding her as best he could. His collar beeped, but not enough to activate the electric shock. Omega peered at him, her large brown eyes wet with unshed tears.

 “Crosshair?” She asked, her voice sounding strained. The collar was probably pressing against her already bruised throat.

 “It’s me, ad’ika.” He said softly, kneeling down. “I’m back, at least for now.”

 Omega brightened, her face splitting into a wide grin. She shuffled forward, but the other kid remained firm. He didn’t move from his spot, and Crosshair could practically feel the anger and mistrust rolling off him in waves.

 “How do we know we can trust you?” He snapped.

 “You don’t, but you’re going to have to.” Crosshair replied. “We need to get out of here. Fast. A transport vessel will be here before the week is out, and we need to be gone before that happens.”

 “Well in case you haven’t noticed,” Cal pointed to the collar on his neck, “we’re kinda trapped here. These collars shock us every time we try and use the Force.”

 “And Pillow is stuck over there!” Omega chimed in, gesturing to where said amphibian was straining against the short chain that was keeping him trapped. “We can’t leave without him!”

 Crosshair hummed, peering at the collars. There was a small slit on each one, a lock that would need a certain key card to open. A key card that he didn’t have.

 “I’ll find a way to get those off. Until then, try to refrain from getting electrocuted.” He said, standing back up.

 A small growl sounded out, and Omega looked at her stomach in embarrassment.

 “Sorry. I haven’t eaten since…” She brought a hand to her chin. “Just over two days ago, I think? The last thing I ate was a ration bar on the ship before we got to Bracca.”

 A memory flashes through his head. He’s young, still learning how to fight, and he and his brothers have failed a test. They end up not being given rations for the day. He remembered it being especially hard on Hunter and Wrecker, who even at that age, burned more calories that the rest of them. He remembered feeling sluggish and unusually weak, his stomach growling like a wild animal as it ate away at itself. They had all felt miserable, and it had served as a good motivator to not fail next time.

 Crosshair growled, the sound reverberating in his chest. “These animals- I’ll be back in a moment. Remain here.” He spun around and stomped back out of the room.

 “We don’t have a choice!” Cal called, huffing when the door simply slid shut. The freckled boy turned to look at Omega. “Do you really trust him?”

 Omega nodded. “He’s not a bad person, he was just being made to do bad things.”

 Cal sighed and gave her a slight smile. “Okay, if you say so.”

    Crosshair returned about a half hour later, a bag slung over his shoulders. He pressed a few buttons on the control panel, locking the door before moving deeper into the room. Omega looked up from her place on the floor, gritting her teeth when as she sat forward. Cal was sat next to her, the two of them having moved over to where Pillow was. The pale creature was sleeping, forced to rest sitting up due to the chain on the wall being attached to his muzzle. Crosshair gave Omega sympathetic look, kneeling down again so that he was closer to being eye level with her and Cal.

 “Okay adike, lets get some food in you so you don’t end up looking like me.” He joked, reaching forward and unlocking their cuffs.

 He reached into the bag and produced two wrapped squares, passing a sandwich to both kids. Omega thanked him excitedly and quickly took the offered food. Cal hesitated, but in the end his hunger won out. He cautiously took the sandwich, softly uttering his thanks. Omega and Cal took a minute to rub their sore wrist while Crosshair carefully unclipped the band around Pillow’s muzzle.

 Pillow’s eyes opened, eyeing Crosshair as he tossed the metal band aside.

“I’ll need to put that back on before I leave, but I’ll try to loosen it.” He said.

 Violet orbs bore into him for a moment, flicking between him and the now ravenously eating children, before Pillow’s head swung towards him. Crosshair flinched a bit, but calmed when Pillow merely rubbed his head against Crosshair’s chest, a deep, rumbling purr sounding out. It seemed that his actions had earned him forgiveness. That would make things easier.

 While Omega finished off her sandwich, he dug into the bag and retrieved a roll of gauze, a container of warm water, a clean cloth, and a container of bacta, setting them down on the floor. He retrieved two bottles of cool water and handed them over to Cal and Omega.

 “Here, drink this. Omega, come here so that I can change your bandages.” He said, grabbing a numbing shot from the bag.

 Omega gulped down her water, cringing when Crosshair stuck her with the needle. After the numbing liquid had set in, he went about unwrapping Omega’s bandages. He sighed in relief upon spotting no signs of infection. With a gentleness that he didn’t know he still possessed, he soaked the cloth in the warm water and cleaned her wound. The skin had already started to scar, and since most of the tissue had been too damaged to regrow, the scar would be rather large. As he gently dabbed the burns, he noticed something odd. Small, circular scars covered Omega’s back, some not even fully finished scarring. They were all the same size, and they were perfectly spaced. It looked as though someone had taken a small cookie cutter to her back.

 Suddenly, he’s back in the medical ward on Kamino. A machine is whirring in his ears and the bright lights overhead are hurting his eyes. A sharp pain erupts from his left shoulder, and he turns to see a chunk of his flesh being sliced out of him. Later that night, he finds out that his vode all went through the same thing. Tech thinks that they want to find out if they’re as enhanced as they we’re designed to be. Apparently, they were, because they weren’t all euthanized within the next few days. Whatever they had been searching for, they’d only needed one sample to find it.

 There had to be dozens on Omega’s back.

 He suppressed a growing roar of rage that was bubbling up from his chest. He’d barely knew Omega, only having those brief moments with her before his chip had been intensified, yet he already knew that he’d kill for her. No child should ever have to endure something like that. He quickly applied the bacta, then re-wrapped Omega’s dressings. Once he was done, he fished another container out of the bag. Unscrewing the lid, he set it down in front of Pillow.

 “It’s food. Eat it.” He commanded.

 Pillow sniffed at the offered container, then started eating, chunks of meat being snapped up and gulped down. Omega laughed when Pillow pulled his face away and revealed that there was a piece of meat stuck on his nose. Cal reached over, plucked the chunk of meat off of the amphibian’s forehead, and tossed it up into the air. In a flash, Pillow snapped his jaws closed around it. He licked his teeth and flopped down next to Crosshair, staring up at him with his big, pleading eyes.

 “No, that’s enough for you. It was hard enough sneaking that amount in here.” Crosshair scolded.

 Pillow moved his head onto Crosshair’s knee, staring sadly at him as he sighed loudly. Crosshair sighed and reached back into the bag. He produced another sandwich and tossed it into Pillow’s open mouth. The white-scaled creature purred loudly and rubbed up against Crosshair, knocking him over onto the floor. He laid his head down on the man’s chest, ignoring Crosshair’s protests.

 “Get off me, you obese salamander!” He yelled, shoving Pillow’s head. Pillow merely snuggled down, rubbing his cheek against Crosshair’s armor.

 “Looks like he wants you to stay.” Cal piped up, taking a sip of his water.

 “Well I can’t. I need to locate the key to those collars so that we can get out of this dump.” Crosshair hissed, finally managing to wiggle out from underneath Pillow.

 “Aw, but you just got here!” Omega said. “Do you have to go right away?”

 “Unfortunately yes. Those troopers out there aren’t the most observant, but even they will notice my absence if I am gone too long.” Crosshair sighed. “Which means I need to put your restraints back on.”

 Cal and Omega groaned, but put their wrists together regardless. Crosshair snapped the cuffs back on, giving the duo an apologetic look.

 “I promise that once we’re out of here, none of you will spend another  minute in shackles.” He said, looking between Pillow, Omega, and Cal. “Now, I have to go. I need to do some stealth work and find out where the key card to your collars is.”

 “Be careful Crosshair.” Omega said, her eyes full of worry.

 He nodded and stood, grabbing the bag and heading out the door.

     It took five days for Crosshair to locate the key card, and another whole day for him to manage to steal it. Throwing his bare essentials into a bag, he slung it over his shoulder and stalked out of the room. The outpost was dark, the electricity out due to a growing storm taking out their generator. He was a predator here, prowling through the shadows, using his superior sight to navigate through the black. He passed troopers as he moved through the outpost, none detecting him over the howling wind and the sound of their own chatter.

 Just as he’s about to reach the outpost’s makeshift prison, he overhears a conversation between two troopers.

 “Is it true? Did they really make a clone that can use the Force?” One asked, leaning in close to his companion.

 “Yeah, but it’s a weird little runty one. Kaminoans must’ve kriffed up while they were making it, I guess.” The trooper sneered. “Little shit’s too cocky for its own good. Hope they put it down once they’re done experimenting on it or whatever.”

 In an instant, a flash of burning hot rage enveloped Crosshair. His hand found a vibroknife that he had stashed away in a hidden pocket. He pounced, gripping the trooper’s head and pulling it back, exposing his neck. The knife’s blade easily sliced through the man’s neck. He made sure that it was deep enough to kill but shallow enough to make it a slower death. While that wretched creature choked on his own blood, Crosshair swung the knife and plunged it through the other trooper’s visor, the sharp point piercing the man’s skull. He jerked the vibroknife free, fresh blood dripping off the blade.

 His anger cooled a bit, and he made his way to the cell door. The door was running on emergency power, and he had to sever that connection to get the doors to open. Inside, he could see the rapidly blinking lights of the two Force suppressant collars, the red glow highlighting the faces of Cal and Omega. Omega’s face was buried in Cal’s chest, the young clone quivering. A clap of thunder rang out, the sound louder than it would be on most planets. It made her squeak in fear, and she shuffled even closer.

 It was so easy to see Hunter in Omega’s place. Back when they were still cadets, his vod had hated the storms on Kamino, his sensitive hearing being battered by the roaring thunder that made itself known every other week or so. So every time there was a storm and they were in their quarters, Crosshair and his vode would take all of their blankets and pillows and they’d create a little hiding spot for Hunter. Once he had curled up in the middle of the makeshift nest, they would cover him up until there was only a small hole left for air.

 Omega had no such luxury. She had no batchmates, a fact that hurt Crosshair on a deeper level, and thus was left to exist in a state of fear. The medical centers were tucked into the middle of Kamino’s bases, so Omega had probably never heard thunder this loud before. He crossed the room quickly, dropping to his knees when he heard Omega’s quiet cries.

 “Come on, adike. It’s time for us to go.” He said, just loud enough to be heard above the fading rumbles. Pausing only to remove their restraints, he slipped tiny the key card into the small slits, ginning when the collars became slack and slid onto the floor.

 In an instant, the two kids were locked in a tight embrace. They were both quivering now, and judging by how their hands were twitching more than the rest of their bodies, he figured that they were both currently using the Force. While they comforted each other, he set about freeing Pillow from his bindings. The amphibian nuzzled him, before starting to nose at his bag.

 “Cut that out. There’s no treats for you in there.” He grumbled, pushing Pillow’s muzzle away. Darting back over to Cal and Omega, he extended a hand.

 “Neither of you will be able to see until we get to the ship, so we’ll need to hold hands. We’ll be moving fast, so try your best to keep up.” He said, grasping Omega’s hand once he saw her reach out to him. With Omega holding on to him, Cal holding on to her, and Pillow bringing up the rear, the group escaped the room, Crosshair leading them out a nearby door and into the raging storm.

 Bitter, biting wind whipped all around them, freezing cold rain drenching their clothes and causing Omega and Cal to slip more than once as they ran across the shipyard. More than once, Pillow had to keep Omega and Cal from getting tossed around by the storm while Crosshair dealt with a trooper or three. Finally, after a good half hour of sneaking and stealth killing, they made it to the ship Crosshair had chosen to steal. He ushered the kids on, wanting them out of the harsh storm. They were soaked to the bone, shivering with chattering teeth as they strapped in. Once everyone was secure, Crosshair fired up the engine, gripping the controls. The storm was so intense that there was a chance that it would mask their take off, but at the same time the fierce lightning that was building within the mass off clouds could send them plummeting down.

 Crosshair gripped the controls tighter.

 He’d get them out of this.

     Crosshair chewed on a toothpick, his eyelids drooping from exhaustion. He’d found them a good hiding place, a heavily forested planet not too many light years from Bracca. He needed to contact his squad, find a way to convince them that he could be trusted once again so that he could get this damnable chip removed. He needed to do a lot of things, but for now he was content to simply take a moment to breathe.

 Omega and Cal were asleep, dressed in uniforms that were far too big but would ultimately keep them warm and dry. The two were sleeping on the floor, a soft cushioning of bunk mattresses and blankets providing a comfortable place to sleep. Omega was half draped over a sprawling Cal, the young clone snuggling up to her friend. She’d fallen asleep easily, and the boy simply hadn’t had the heart to move and risk waking her. So there he lay, snoozing away with Omega holding onto him like her life depended on it.

 A regular person might have been confused by her clinginess, but he understood completely. When clones were very young, they slept in piles with their batchmates. It provided a sense of security, lowered their stress levels, and helped forge an important bond. If your very purpose was to fight in a war with a group of people, you’d better be someone they’d fight to keep alive.

 The Kaminoans had, at one point, tried to see if this behaviour could be stopped. They had forced a batch of clones to sleep apart from their batchmates, only allowing them to train and eat together. By the time they had reached adulthood, they had become noticeably different. They were anti-social, only called each other by their numbers, were completely out of sync in combat training and often acted aggressively. They snapped at each other and at the other clones, distancing themselves from the rest of their vode.

 They’d all died in their first battle. The Kaminoans never tried the experiment again.

 Omega had no batchmates, no vode to form a pile with. He wondered if the Kaminoans had tried to make more and Omega had been the only survivor, or if they simply hadn’t cared because she was never meant to be in a group. It didn’t really matter, he supposed, it wouldn’t change the fact that Omega had been missing out on a crucial part of growing up as a clone. However, it seemed that Omega had found someone to pile with in Cal, even if neither of them really understood what she was doing. Hopefully, it wasn’t too little too late, and she would grow up to be a well adjusted young lady.

 Omega yawned softly in her sleep, shifting as she tried to find a more comfortable position. She repositioned herself so that her head rested on Cal’s chest, throwing an arm over the boy’s torso. Cal mumbled something incomprehensible and turned onto his side, pulling Omega into a loose hug as his blanket fell onto her. Omega smiled, eagerly nestling into the new warmth.

 For the first time in years, Crosshair found himself aching for that comfort. He and Hunter had always been at the bottom of the pile, the close presence of their vode always being the one thing that could ease them into a peaceful sleep. In the pile, there were no harsh lights that signified the early start of a new day, nor the echoing roar of Kamino’s storms. There was only them and their brothers, safe and together.

 He remembered the day they’d first been made to sleep apart. The noises and smells and brightness had made sleep impossible. Their room door had a crack at the bottom that always let in a bit of light, and to his advanced eyes, that little stretch of light had seemed like a kriffing sun to him. Only the threat of being separated from his batchmates for the whole day had kept him in his bunk. Once the morning lights had come on, he’d launched himself at his closest vod, which on that morning had been Wrecker. His second-eldest brother had pulled him into a crushing hug, and he had felt the wetness of tears on his shoulder. Any other time, he would have teased the larger clone for crying, but on that morning, he’d have been a hypocrite.

 Maybe it was their enhancements, or maybe it was the fact that the other clones didn’t like them very much, but for some reason it took far longer for them to become acclimated to sleeping alone. After their first mission, they’d all started towards their own bunks, as they had been for months, when Wrecker had paused and asked if they would still be separated if they pilled together on the ship. They had all looked at each other, before instinctively turning towards Tech.

 “I’m sure it’s against the rules, but…” He’d given them a small smile, “I won’t say anything if you all won’t?”

 So they had thrown their mattresses together and had arranged a set up that resembled their old shared bed. They had grown at that point, but hadn’t quite reached adulthood, so Hunter and Crosshair could still sleep comfortably at the bottom. They’d slept better that night then they had in months. As time passed and they reached their maximum sizes, they began to sleep apart more and more. Crosshair and Tech especially had taken a liking to having some extra wiggle room, Tech for his tinkering and Crosshair because he was simply becoming more used to being apart than together. He was often far away from his vode on missions, providing them cover from a distance.

 Hunter and Wrecker seemed less excited about sleeping by themselves, and both had trouble with sleep. Wrecker filled the void with a stuffed toy, one that his batchmates had made for him out of supplies they picked up on one of their earlier missions. Hunter simply carved the walls of his bunk or cleaned his weapons, exhausting himself so that sleep would come and take him into its sweet embrace.

 He wondered if they’d even let him pile with them now.

 The thought of being rejected from such a simple yet important activity had him feeling nauseous, and he shook his head, clearing the thought from his mind. He didn’t deserve to share that closeness with them, not after all he’d done, but he couldn’t bring himself to think about it. Curling up in the pilot’s chair, he let his eyes close, now painfully aware of how exposed and cold he really felt.

[artsy0wl]

Maul: A Broken Evil Retrospective

On a Star Wars Amino I’m in, I had made an introspective on why I feel that Maul, while he is a villain is not whole heartedly evil, but broken.  I took from said Amino post, with a few needed edit tweaks.

Chaotic Evil

Of course given the fact he was a Sith and some of the decisions he’s made, I don’t completely want to negate that in this discussion. If we were to use the alignment chart (lawful good, true neutral, chaotic evil, etc), he would probably fit best in Neutral Evil. From my understanding, Maul would fit Neutral Evil as a lot if what he does has to do with benefiting himself. Even if that means using allies (i.e. Ezra initially) and potentially betraying them (i.e. blinding Kanan once the Inquisitors were dealt with). He’ll follow things as he needs and can be calculating when he needs (like his take over of Mandalore). He’s not spontaneous enough or lacks enough restraint to be Chaotic Evil (like the Joker for instance), nor is he as calculating and “lawful” to be Lawful Evil (like say Thrawn and/or Palpatine). With that said, I’d agree that Maul has a darkness/evil in him considering all of the things he’s done. Obviously, he’s not winning any hero points by killing people like Qui Gon and Satine or blinding and attempting to kill Kanan. 

Onto why I feel he’s broken.

Palpatine: Taken From a Young Age and Molded into what Sidious Wanted

Whether it be Talzin offering Maul as a child in Canon or his mother giving Palpatine Maul as a baby in Legends (Darth Plagueis), Maul was caught in a situation that he really didn’t have much control over. Granted, his life may not have been much better on Dathomir, given how the Nightsisters used their male counterparts, but there’s no telling what kind of life he could have had, had he not been handed over to Palpatine. Maul was molded into a weapon as Darth Sidious’ apprentice. And Maul spent most of his younger years being molded into what Sidious wants. Only to be “cast aside” when he is presumed dead. With Sidious being his only form of human contact/interaction, it’s fair to say that Maul feels a level of rejection/abandonment by the only person he had a bond with.

However, rather than having a level of depression because of it, he’s angry about it. For him that seems to be a common response, along with hatred and arrogance (the latter of which was used to explain how he survived the Phantom Menace). Sidious created a weapon out of Maul. And with that, a character with no real coping mechanism or knowing how to let things go.

A lot of, if not all of, Maul’s issues can be linked back to Sidious in some way. Sidious isn’t exactly Mentor of the Year material. Especially with Maul.  Though that could be chopped up to him being a Sith and very manipulative.  He wasn’t the kindest person to the Zabrak pre or post Phantom Menace (both in canon and Legends). Either way, a lot of Maul’s issues are a direct result of Palpatine’s involvement in his life.

If it weren’t for Sidious, Maul would have a normal life (or whatever that would equate to on Dathomir). He would have had his family, would have been more level headed and maybe less cocky, and he wouldn’t have enraged abandonment issues. The amount of grief, trauma, and hatred would be vastly different

Family: He Lost a Brother and a Mother

Let’s be real, thanks to Sidious, Maul’s lost a brother and a mother (two brothers when you count Feral, though he never got to meet him). By the time Savage came around in Clone Wars, we got to see Maul sort of build his character more than say the Phantom Menace (the novels did too, but I can’t say that everyone’s read them). We also get to see Maul exhibit more emotion where, again, the movie lacks as well as the introduction of his family, Mother Talzin, Feral, and Savage. And while Maul may not have been what you’d call an “affectionate” brother, he does care for Savage to the best of his ability.

Their deaths still haunted him years after the events of the Prequel Trilogy and Clone Wars. These deaths stuck with him psychologically to the point that he is still effected by it in Rebels. Which in turn, may have contributed some to him wanting Ezra as an apprentice (among other factors).

Torture After Loss

In Son of Dathomir after Maul tries to get back at Sidious, he is captured after his last battle with Sidious in Clone Wars (season 5). It starts off with Maul being interrogated and tortured by Sidious. He makes it through without faltering and escapes with the help of the Shadow Collective. That being said, we never really get to see where his mindset is. During Son of Dathomir, he gets a lot done, capturing Dooku and Grievous (taunting Sidious and working with Dooku to fight Obi Wan and a few other Jedi before escaping). However, we don’t get to see the mental toll Savage’s death here. Though with everything going on, I guess there wasn’t time.

Now the reason I bring this up, is because part of me felt like I should and the timing. Prior to Son of Dathomir, Maul had recently lost Savage. At the end, he loses his mother. The torture and the scheming in between shows how he didn’t catch a break. And while he was able to stay strong when he had to, they never really explored how the torture effected him, which one would think he would have been.

Obsession, Insanity, Arrogance: Maul’s Faults

I do feel like I address this point. I’ve already kind of touched on his anger and arrogance (synonymously with cockiness). While training Maul, Sidious didn’t consider how arrogant he had let the Zabrak become (according to Darth Plagueis, the novel). This has Maul’s Achilles Heel since the Phantom Menace. While having a healthy dose of pride never hurt anyone, a healthy dose, Maul dose not possess.

His obsession with getting Obi Wan and Sidious is another issue. This really only pops up after his apparent death in Phantom Menace. Because after that point, Maul finds out that he was replaced by Sidious (with Dooku) and that he was bested by a mere Padawan (Obi Wan). I feel like this obsessive tendency is a combination of his feelings of abandonment and having his ego damaged.

And of course, I feel like Maul’s roughly decade long battle with insanity really didn’t help his psyche. While his sanity was restored thanks to Mother Talzin and Savage, I do feel like that’s caused more harm than good. Something like that had to feel draining after getting his sanity restored. He was sitting on a trash planet and on his own. Along with not having anything from the waist down and forced to manage with what he had. Hatred may have helped keep him alive, but his psyche during those ten years didn’t.

He has a lot of internal conflict in an emotional and mental sense. Unfortunately, these negative emotions, obsession and pride especially, cause him more harm than good.

The Ezra Bond: Feeling a Need to Replicate a Connection, Even if He Approaches it Incorrectly

By the time Rebels rolls around, Maul is older and calmer (though still proud). Obviously, he still wants to get back at the Empire for what they (more specifically Sidious) did to him. And at first, Ezra seemed like someone that he could use. This is an element that is prevalent, however, not the only aspect of their relationship.

According to Sam Witwer, Maul’s VA, Maul did have a (platonic) fondness for Ezra. And on top of wanting to make Ezra his apprentice, Maul wanted to emulate a sense of brotherhood between him and Ezra. For example, his phrase in Visions and Voices when Maul says “...We can walk that path together. As friends. As brothers.” How he said it shows how he does miss Savage and wants that family back.

That being said, how he approached this connection could be seen as manipulative and more than likely one sided.  Sure, over the course of Twilight of the Apprentice, Ezra grows on Maul, to the point where Maul wants to make him his apprentice and has an appreciation for Ezra. However, his pride and lack of planning cause a rift between them and there was a lot of mistrust on Ezra’s part, not that one could blame him.

Subsequent episodes show that Maul is hellbent on making Ezra his apprentice through any means possible. 

Maul lost Savage and Talzin, and Ezra was one of the first few people to trust him in years.  I think it’s safe to say that, in Maul’s mind, Ezra gave him a sense of belonging or connection.

Maul’s need for a connection could be interpreted as him trying to find something good in life. However, manipulative tendencies and how he was brought up, hinder him doing that in a healthy and positive way. With Savage, he didn’t need to do anything as they both had a similar plan when they met (Savage being indoctrinated into the ways of the Sith). But subsequent relationships (i.e. Ezra), Maul is at a bit of a disadvantage emotionally and morally. 

Sure, he could relate to Ezra since they both lost people they care for because of the Empire (and by extent Sidious), but manipulation and harming Ezra’s allies hinder a smoother connection. Even if a force bond was eventually made. Ezra, arguably, could have been what he needed for what he wanted and a possible change/redemption/blank slate only for things not to entirely go as plan.

Could Maul Have Something Along the Lines of PTSD?

Now, I could do a mini theory about this as I’ve speculated that with another character before. It’d be an interesting way to look at Maul’s psychology. It’s one last little avenue I thought I’d address before closing this post out. Of course, it’s worth noting that I am not a Psychology major (as interesting as psychology is). I have, however, done some research.

I do believe that Maul, to some degree, may have PTSD. But instead of exhibiting panic/anxiety, depression or easily startled, Maul has more aggressive tendencies and is easy to anger. He still lives with the trauma of the death of his brother (and mother) and flashbacks of that and other events in his life, I’m sure he’d be effected by.

Conclusion

In conclusion, while I certainly think that Maul is no hero, his life experiences certainly effected what kind of person he became. Being raised as a weapon, abandoned, and tortured would bring any normal person way down. And because that was all Maul knew, I don’t think that entirely means he’s evil. Rather, he’s a character who’s been used and abused to the point that he’s mentally and psychologically broken. Unfortunately, that effects his life in ways that make him arrogant, hateful and obsessive. And when he tries to build bonds later in life, he doesn’t know how to in a way that, while laced in trauma, has manipulative and one sided undertones.

That being said, I feel like I should round out this introspective with a little positive. While he’s definitely been through a lot, Maul is pretty resilient all things considered. He’s cheated death and managed to live through a lot of abuse. The fact that he could keep bouncing back shows just hoe resilient and determined the character is.

[reshirement]

Pass the happy! 🌻 When you receive this, list five things that make you happy and send this to 10 of the last people in your notifications. 💛💛💛

this one might take me a minute but have some loose spacehobbit!au headcanons:

though not quite at the level of a super computer, bilbo's processing power is nothing to scoff at, and he takes to new information like a duck takes to water, especially languages, for which he has a particular ear and something of a passion for thanks to his mother's stories and the influence of the elves.

this becomes a problem very rapidly as most of the dwarves are quick not to trust this strange creature, and often speak amongst themselves in khudzul rather than actively including him unless strictly necessary, whether the hobbit appears to be listening or not. however, their extreme mistrust of bilbo is entirely one-sided, and while he doesn't quite have a grasp on the whys exactly, he generally does his best to try and smooth things over by helping out where he can (where he's allowed, anyway) and generally keeping his distance BUT with khudzul, well, no one's told him it's a secret language and the moment he gets it in his head that perhaps reaching out to them on their terms i.e. their language, might help his case, he gathers what basic linguistic footholds he can from listening to them all speak, and is decently proficient and able to hold passable conversations in very short order, much to the shock and horror of the dwarrow when that little tidbit gets brought to light

-----

the first time bilbo interfaces with technology that isn't from the shire is thanks to fili and kili after questioning him in detail about what sort of technology they'd find on his home planet while they're camped out and waiting for emergency repairs to be done on the roac. it's a diagnostic tool for the ship that they swiped from bofur, and when bilbo gives it a try for the first time he's so thrown off by the unsettling sensation of it that he loses direction a little bit trying to get out, and ends up briefly connecting with the ship itself and setting off three different alarms

thanks to some quick thinking on fili's part, they do not get caught that time, but he does have to sit quietly for a while to process that experience

-----

every now and then bilbo will essentially 'check out' for an internal scrub of any garbage data he's picked up. it's never an emergency, it's like brushing your teeth, good maintenance that you should always make time for, but nothing immediately critical, and he tries to make time for it at least once a day if he can

however, when he does, he does go into a sort of dead-eyed stare for a while, which is really uncomfortable for any dwarrow who find themselves inadvertently on the other end of it (bofur is the first one to get fidgety enough under that gaze to call him on it, and while the apology is appreciated and the explanation is reasonable, it's still something that the dwarrow very much Do Not Like even if they don't hold it against him)

-----

on that note, something about the dwarrow that disturbs bilbo Very Deeply is the concept of poisoning. hobbits love to cook and to eat, and can eat anything that's entirely organic. if it tastes well enough, they're happy to throw it into a pot.

on one of their stops (later on, when they're all getting along fine), he and bombur are talking about hobbit fare when bilbo spies a familiar looking mushroom-type plant, and is quick to pluck it from the ground and eat it in the middle of his ramble of the sorts of shrooms he'd see back home and the stews he could make, and by the time he looks up at bombur he realizes his companion is pale and several of the dwarrow are giving him horrified stares (thorin included)

it takes them a while to explain exactly what poisoning is and what it does to dwarrow, elves and men alike, and takes even longer for him to convince them that yes, he's completely fine, and no, there's no way that something so ridiculous as that could kill a hobbit

and by the time it sinks in that at any point during the quest he could've easily killed his friends, or made them horribly ill just by cooking them some of the dinners he used to enjoy regularly, he's equally as unsettled, and immediately tries to learn as much as he possibly can about their biology so he can be sure to avoid that in the future

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i know i've rambled both in and out of the tags about hobbits and hand touching before BUT here's a fluffy headcanon

the first time thorin takes bilbo's hand is at beorn's while they're both sitting down for a smoke. bilbo is admiring the gardens and explaining at thorin's behest how the view reminds him of his home (a bit awkwardly, trust be told, one hug does not a sturdy friendship make), and eventually asks thorin more directly about erebor, what sort of home it was

and thorin knows what the hand-touching is about, he's seen it, he's spoken to balin about it, but he's never done it (mostly because before now a) big nope and b) it's not like he's sat down and had an actual conversation with the hobbit before anyway), so after a brief moment of indecision he reaches out and takes bilbo's hand, and begins to tell him about the beauty of erebor that he remembers from growing up

and he doesn't really call attention to it, and neither does bilbo but after a moment or two of glancing to confirm that yes, that is thorin's hand in his and yes, he's gone out of his way to make sure bilbo feels accepted by him beyond a one-time proclamation, the hobbit just lights up (metaphorically, don't get too excited haha) and they spend the next couple hours getting to know each other a little better though stories and old memories, perhaps even a joke or two, and it's quickly apparent that their personalities do mesh well together, despite their many differences, and heyoooo that's a start

[lauwrite1225]

Somebody to die for.

Finan x OC; The Old Guard inspired Alternative Universe

Summary : Victoria’s life is rather simple until she has a car accident from which she ends up miraculously unscathed. A series of weird events animates her daily life, everything seemingly bringing her to a strange man. Until this very man knocks at her door.

Spotify Playlist • Masterlist

A/N : Happy F- SIHTRIC SUNDAY!! I'm so sorry for the time it took to publish, but I had a lot of classes and the person that proofread my chapters usually was very busy, so i have to thanks @osferth for proofreading this week💕💕 Anyway! There it is! Thank you so much for all your comments and likes and so sorry again for being late D: 💕

Warnings : mention of deaths

Chapter 7 : Je suis le roi, le roi des cons

“Are ya sure it’s here?”

“Yes I am. I saw the name of this supermarket and there’s no one else around.” 

Finan sighs annoyingly, leaning back in the driver’s seat, his fingers drumming impatiently on the gear level. They have been waiting in the back parking of the Carrefour for three hours now, looking for the woman they are suspecting knows Osferth. They arrived in France two days ago, and Victoria couldn’t help the surprised look she gave to Finan when she realised how good he was speaking french.

“French women find the accent sexy when I speak french and others find speaking french hot.” He explained after they asked their way to a woman who gave him a gracious smile after. 

“Oh, a real benefit then.” She commented, pretending to be impressed, even if she might be part of the other women.

Finan grinned broadly. “Indeed.”

Another thing that this time didn’t make her laugh, was Finan’s skills when it comes to stealing a car. She never felt more nervous than when he asked her to check if no one was coming while he was trying to start the car. 

“Maybe she doesn’t work today.” He mumbles under his breath but Vicky ignores him when she spots a woman coming out of the back door. 

“Oh Christ, I think it’s her.” She exclaims, taping Finan’s arm to have him look. 

The woman walks away from the door, looking at her phone while searching something in her bag. “Alright, I'm goin', stay in the car.” He says, opening the door as Vicky rolls her eyes, tired of always having to wait in the car. 

“Bonne chance!” She tells him with her best french accent, looking forward to how he'll convince the woman to tell them where Osferth is. (Good luck!)

Finan rolls his eyes and closes the door. She immediately opens the window to try to hear something, even if she doubts being able to understand half of the conversation, but at least their tones would give her a clue on how well it's going. 

“Excusez-moi de vous déranger!” He calls the woman and she immediately looks up to him with furrowed eyebrows. (Sorry to bother you!)

Victoria leans forward, trying to see the woman's expression as Finan and her talk. She seems on her guard, looking around and her hand playing with her car's keys. She shakes her head and starts to walk away but Finan catches her back, grabbing her arm. Doubting he will succeed with how reluctant the woman is, she opens the car and joins them, taking her sketchbook with her. When he notices her approaching, the Irishman lets go of her arm while she studies Victoria with the same distrust that she has for Finan. 

“She says she doesn't know him.” He grumbles, crossing his arms over his chest. 

“I don't know who the hell you are talking about.” She confirms with a light French accent, though she keeps staring at Vicky awkwardly. 

Victoria opens her sketchbook to a page where she drew Osferth and her on the next one. She gives her the work and her eyes widen. “You must know him, because he does know you.” She says in a soft but nonetheless determined tone. 

The woman hesitates, looking between the two strangers and then back to the drawing. “How did you do that?” She asks Vicky. 

“I've been dreaming of him, just like he probably does dream of me, right?” She tilts her head and at how the woman bites her lip, she knows she's right. Through her dreams she has learned that Osferth and she are close and that he told her his secret. Finan keeps thinking it was risky to trust the woman, but Vicky is confident. 

“Are you like him?” She asks carefully, Vicky and Finan nodding immediately. “What do you want from him?”

Vicky glances at Finan for some sort of approval before answering. “He may be in danger, we need to talk to him.”

She runs her hand through her hair before giving back her sketchbook to Vicky, her expression conflicted between mistrust and worry. But she eventually sighs and accepts. “Alright, follow my car.”

Victoria huffs in relief while Finan mutters something in Gaelic. She stretches out her hand toward the woman with a kind smile. “I'm Victoria, and this is Finan.”

“Sophie.” She replies before they separate to join their respective cars. 

Vicky can't help but smile widely once they are on the road, excited by the idea of meeting others like her. She dares to hope that this time, no one will die as when she met Finan. The thought amuses her and she turns to him to remind him of it, but she changes her mind when she notices how tensed his jaw is, his thumb tapping the steering wheel frantically. He is nervous again, like he has been since they arrived in France. He hasn't seen his friends for centuries and she supposes that he fears their rejection. Though she hopes that her presence could ease possible tensions. 

When they stop at a red light, Victoria reaches for his forearm, her palm grazing over it until her thumb can rub the back of his hand. He turns his head to her and she didn't expect his intense dark gaze to leave her breathless. However she doesn't look away and gives him the most reassuring smile she is able to make, her fingers squeezing his wrist. 

“It's going to be alright.” 

His features seem to ease at her words and he let go of his grip on the steering wheel to shift his hand and grab hers, but before he can, the light is green again and a car behind urges them to move. Victoria removes her hand, looking away as she becomes aware of the heat in her cheeks. 

They don't talk for the rest of the way. They quickly are driving through the countryside, still following Sophie close, and Vicky finds that it isn’t so different from England.  After twenty minutes, she takes a small dirt road that makes the car tremble. They enter a thick pine forest and she has to hold the handle above the window’s door while the car struggles in the mud. But finally they reach a small clearing, an old stoned house standing in the middle of it. Sophie stops her car while a man, alarmed by the engine noises walks out of the house. The french joins the blond man and exchanges a few words that confuse him. Victoria gets out of the car and who she now recognizes perfectly as Osferth looks at her with wide eyes, but it's nothing compared to how his mouth drops when the driver door slams and he stares at Finan appearing behind her. 

“Finan?” Osferth calls him, disbelieving. 

The Irish warrior stops a few steps in front of Vicky, a tight and shy smile on his face, his eyes not daring to meet his friend's one. “Hi Baby Monk.” He greets him, waving his hand. 

Osferth huffs a laugh before crossing the gap between them until he takes him in a strong embrace, letting Finan frozen by surprise for a second. He wraps his arms around his friend's shoulders, holding him tightly and Vicky can't help the way her heart melts at the scene. 

“You are alive.” Osferth breathes, his hands holding Finan. 

Finan chuckles. “I can hardly die, Osferth.”

The blond man opens his mouth, but finally gives him an awkward smile. Then, he turns to Victoria, studying her intently with his clear eyes. “How did you find me?”

Finan glances at Vicky, giving her a grin before looking back at his friend. “Through Victoria's dreams. She is just like us.”

Osferth makes another huff and softly smiles at her, which she gives another huff. “I thought it wasn't real.” He blinks a few times before motioning and designating the house. “Come, come inside.”

Osferth leads them inside, and Vicky can't help but whisper 'I told you' to Finan before they pass the front door. He rolls his eyes, but keeps smiling, so she squeezes his arm gently before taking place at the table Osferth points at. Sophie brings them glasses of water and finally sits next to Osferth, quite close in Vicky's opinion. 

The former monk, if she believes what Finan told her about him, leans forward, his hands joined upon the table. “So, how did you two meet?”

Vicky puts down her glass. “Well, Finan followed his dreams, just like we did for you. One day he knocked at my door and killed himself in my flat.”

She can feel Finan offended glare at how she foretold their meeting. “That's a really short summary.” He comments, pointing a finger at her but speaking at their hosts' attention.

Vicky waves her hand. “The most important lines.” 

Osferth and Sophie only nod slowly, the story sounding really strange in just a few words. Though, the blond shakes his head and turns to Vicky with a hint of curiosity making him narrow his eyes. “But how long have you been immortal? We've traveled all around the world and we have never found someone else.”

Vicky hesitates, so much happened in so little time to her that she isn't sure anymore. “Hum… About two months.”

“Oh… So you died in the car accident?” Osferth raises his eyebrows until she nods in agreement. “And, why are you here?” He asks, this time looking at both of them alternately. 

Vicky glances at Finan, his smile now gone, and clear her throat. “Maybe you've seen it, but we've been attacked.” 

“We don't know who they are but they were searchin' for Victoria, and they knew that she is immortal even if she talked about it to no one.” Finan explains, his hand moving with the glass still in it.

Sophie gives a sort of gasp and she grabs Osferth's hand. “You think they could search for us too?” The monk frowns.

Finan shakes his head and presses his index on the table. “I don't know, but if they've found her, they can find y'all too. You need to warn Uhtred and Sihtric, to tell them to be careful.” 

“I can't warn them.” Osferth answers after a heart beat.

This time, it's Finan who frowns, letting go of the glass. “What?” He leans forward after a blink. “No, you must know where they-”

“I can't warn them, Finan.” He cuts across him. “Because Sihtric is gone and Uhtred… Uhtred is dead.”

The sudden silence is thick as Victoria falls breathless at Osferth's words. She can't believe what he said and she has to keep herself from asking him to repeat it. But the monk's tight expression, his jaw twitching and lips pinching, is enough to prove her that she heard him well. 

“What? How's that possible?” Finan asks, confused.

“We don't know, but it did happen.” Osferth answers, looking down.

“When?”

He opens his mouth, searching words and Sophie holds his hand tighter but still tenderly. “It was during the Second World War. We were going to save prisoners from German soldiers. We were just the three of us, but Uhtred was determined and sure it would go as we planned. But it was a trap, there were no prisoners. So we ran away, they were shooting at us and we got separated. It took me two hours to find Sihtric. We searched for Uhtred and when we found him, he still hadn't come back.” 

He makes a pause, taking a deep breath while tears roll down his cheeks, a reflection of those on Finan's face. But when Osferth struggles to speak through the deep sadness that his friend's loss provoked, Finan on the other hand still can't believe it, eyes wide and not even staring at the monk anymore. As Vicky blinks, she realises her eyes are wet too, of shock and compassion for her friend.

Osferth swallows before continuing his story. “We waited so long, under the rain, utterly wet and freezing like hell. But he never came back.” He wipes his tears with his sleeve. 

“Sihtric?” Finan asks under his breath. 

The monk sniffs and sighs regretfully. “We tried to stay together, but he was more and more distant. One day he just… He just left without a word.”

Finan nods but Victoria doubts he has accepted the information. He stands up, his hand flat on the table and his face dark, the chair squeaking as he does so. He is about to say something, the three others staring at him, but he just closes his mouth and leaves the house. 

“I'm so sorry.” Vicky stammers, torn apart between Finan's pain that affects her more than she expected and the shock of the revelation. She rises from her chair as well, her hand waving toward the door. “I should go with him, see if he's fine.”

Sophie walks around the table and rubs her arm in a kind attempt. “Sure, go.”

When she is outside, Victoria perceives Finan crouched, gripping his hair fiercely, his back to her. She steps carefully toward him but he doesn't react until she runs her hand between his shoulder blades.

“I'm such an idiot.” He whispers barely audibly before he stands up, towering one head over Victoria of one head. She bites her lip at how much hatred is burning in his eyes, but the anger is only towards himself. “I'm a fuckin' idiot!” He shouts, gripping his shirt over his chest. “If I wasn't so stubborn. If I had searched for them before, maybe it wouldn't have happened, maybe I could have helped, maybe-” 

“Finan that's enough.” She orders him, clasping her palms over his cheeks to force him to look at her. “Rewriting the past is useless, it will change nothing.”

“They were my brothers and I abandoned them.” He mutters guiltily. 

She brushes back the hair falling over his forehead, resting her hand then on the back of his neck. “You're not responsible for what happened.”

He lets out some sort of strangled sob before leaning down, seeking the comfort of her embrace and she doesn't reject him. For the second time in a few days, she lets him cry on her shoulder, holding him tight. Her heart squeezes, thinking about the new wound Uhtred's loss is creating in the middle of the Irishman's heart already full of scars. He spoke to her of his friend and his adventures with so much pride and joy, describing the strong bond between them. She can only imagine the pain through the one she would feel if she learned Rebecca's death.

When he has calmed down, after long minutes, she stays with him while he smokes a cigarette, sitting on the floor, back against the car. “It doesn't make sense.” He mutters, smoke escaping his mouth. 

Vicky glances at him. “Maybe we are just an anomaly?” She says, not really having thought about it before asking. “And our death has just been programmed in the wrong time.”

Finan huffs, closing his red and swollen eyes before raising his face to the now darkening sky. “That's crazy.”

“As if something hasn't been so far.” She shrugs before resting her head against his shoulder, closing her eyelids as well and remaining focused on Finan's slow breath.

“Thank ya.” He whispers, barely audible as the words mixed with his exhale. 

“For what?” 

“Bein' here.”

Tag :​ @for-bebbanburg @osferth ​ @maggiescarborough ​ @finansarms ​ @dumbledoreisnotmyhubby @solinarimoon

[downwiththeficness]

In the Bond-Chapter 23 (Final Chapter)

Summary: Lilah often wished she’d never said yes to working with the Gecko brothers—usually while dodging gunfire. At no time was she regretting that decision more than when she’s hanging upside down from the ceiling, staring down a group of hungry culebras and one (1) extremely powerful sun god.

Word Count: ~7,950

Warnings: Violence, blood, the use of explosives, a bad movie reference, death (kind of)

A/N: This is an AU of my Story In the Blood, which can be read here. Basically, this fic explores what would have happened if Lilah had met up with Geckos before she met Brasa.

Taglist: @symbiont13  

Start from the beginning   Previous Chapter 

Read on AO3   Masterlist

They were once again sitting around the conference table looking at a map. In this instance, the squabbling had, thankfully, been kept at a minimum. With a common enemy between them, all the anger and mistrust of each other had been redirected outwardly. There was no sense in fighting with one another when a greater peril threatened them all.

Lilah had marked several points all along an open space in the desert—possible hideouts Benny had used in the past. Javier was currently working with a small, trusted crew to root out where he might be through other means. While waiting for new information, they developed about five plans, all centered around obliterating the ever loving hell out of him.

She’d given up on steering the plan into less violent territory, settling for making things as quick and as efficient as possible. Lilah wanted no more incidents of near-death for the people in this room, herself included. If that meant others had to die, then so be it.

Seth leaned back in his chair, “We won’t be able to get any further on this until we know where he’s holed up. I say we get some food.”

They’d been at it for hours, and though Lilah wasn’t particularly hungry, she was glad for the prospect of a break.

“Pizza?” Seth asked, turning to the only other person in the room not on a liquid diet.

Lilah shrugged, “Long as its not from that place across from the grocery.”

“Oh, come on,” Seth groused, “Its not that bad.”

“The health inspection code is a ‘C’,” she countered, “They found rats.”

“Not in the pizza.”

She leveled a stern look at him, “They found them in the fryers.”

Seth rolled his eyes, but relented, “Alright. I’ll pick another place.”

Lilah leaned on her elbows with an indulgent expression as Seth took out a phone and pulled up the website to order. The phone wavering in her vision, the reminder of how she’d been captured, made her flinch. She covered it by running her hand over the map, but not before Brasa felt it.

Sitting to her right, he had been texting frequently with Javier, relaying the updates as he got them. Sensing her unease, his thumbs paused over the screen as he mentally reached out to her.

Lilah rolled her shoulders, taking the comfort he offered. She had a mission to accomplish. She could cry about being kidnapped later. Belatedly, Lilah realized that the ‘deal with later’ pile was pretty damn big and she would definitely have to take some time to actually deal with it.

Richie, who had been checking in on Kate, tossed his phone onto the table, “Much as I hate to ask, I haven’t eaten since yesterday.”

Brasa gave a curt nod, “I’ll have something brought to us.”

“Its appreciated,” Richie replied in a rare instance of sincere, professional gratitude.

She took in Richie’s appearance. He looked...tired. As a man of nearly unbounded energy, to see the glint in his eye diminished was unsettling.

“I’m sorry about Jackknife’s,” she said, catching his attention.

He lifted a shoulder in affected nonchalance, “Its good. We’ll rebuild.”

That boded well. Lilah half expected to hear that he was moving on to another high risk, high yield project. That he was sticking with the place hinted at Kate’s grounding presence.

“Did the bar top survive?”

Richie smiled, “Yeah. Its a bit singed.”

“That’ll just give it character.”

“Fair point,” he conceded, pushing his glasses further up his nose, “We got interviews with contractors in a few weeks.”

She made a soft sound of praise, “Look at you, doing interviews, being official.”

His eyes dropped, demure, “We figured we should actually follow the policies you wrote.”

“That’s probably a good idea.”

Richie’s attention was momentarily taken by a staff asking him about his blood type preferences, and Lilah found herself staring at the map. The ground cover was too wide, she didn’t have enough supplies. There were too many unknowns for her to be comfortable with moving forward. It frustrated her to no end that she couldn’t just make a decision and be done with it—execute.

The door to the conference room opened and Javier strolled in. Dressed in all white, a gleaming silver cane tapping along beside him, he was smiling wide. Cat and canary.

“I have brought some guests.”

Two staff were each dragging along a single, fighting person. Lilah didn’t recognize them, but she caught their fangs flashing as they grunted in pain. Clothing bloodstained and ripped, they looked like they’d been in a serious fight—which she guessed they had.

Brasa stood, gloved hand sliding along the wood of the table as he circled it, “Do they have the information we need.”

Javier’s smile held, “I believe they do.”

“Good. Bring them to my office.”

“As you wish.”

Brasa watched them go, then turned to the group, “I will need to question them. You may remain here for the time being. Rest. Eat. I will return when I have Benny’s location.”

Lilah cut in, “I’m going with you.”

He fixed her with a hard look, “This is not an easy thing to do. I will very likely need to hurt them.”

She blinked, “I’m sorry, who in this room just got kidnapped? I think I’m owed a little time to take out some aggression.”

From his perch on the tabletop, Richie drawled, “She’s got a point.”

Brasa glared at Richie, earning himself an amused laugh. Then, he gave a single, curt nod, and reached out for her. Lilah took his hand and followed him out of the conference room and to his public office. The two chairs that normally sat in front of his desk had been pulled out so that they faced the walkway dissecting the room. In each sat a battered culebra—one with his head hanging down, the other glaring defiantly at no one in particular.

Lilah let Brasa lead her to them. His step slowed several paces away and he squeezed her hand before letting go. Lilah stopped where he left her, folding her hands in front of her body as she took in the scene.

Javier was standing off to the side, the staff having left prior to their arrival. His expression was relaxed, but she sensed a hardness underneath it. They’d done this before. Possibly hundreds of times over their unimaginably long lives. She drew in a breath to steady herself.

Brasa pushed his hands into his pockets as he regarded them, “What are your names?”

“Up yours,” came from the glaring one.

Without hesitation, and seemingly without thought, Brasa kicked out. His foot landed on the knee of ‘up yours’, the bone crunching audibly. Lilah felt her hands clench at the sound, but she managed to keep the wince from her face. ‘Up yours’ screamed in pain, his chin tilted up to the ceiling. He let out another, softer sound, then visibly calmed himself. He’d been prepped for this.

Stepping forward, Lilah edged around Brasa, one hand brushing his arm. She leaned down and caught the eye of ‘up yours’, “This will go much easier for you if you answer our questions.”

His glare returned, more fierce than before, “We’re prepared to die for this.”

Lilah nodded, two fingers touching his temple, “We’ll grant you that. Death is much better than what he,” she jerked her head towards Brasa, “is going to do to you if you refuse to cooperate.”

“Luis,” came a small voice to her right.

Lilah glanced over at him, “Luis. Is that you?”

He nodded.

“And this one?”

A hesitation, then, “Rafe.”

“Rafe,” Lilah echoed, turning her attention forward once again. “Where is Benny?”

Rafe pulled away from her touch, “Nowhere. Everywhere.”

She very nearly rolled her eyes. They knew that Benny had created a kind of weird mystique around himself and his mission. They also knew that he had cast them as the villains in the story. The technique made a lot of sense—it was still annoying as fuck.

A scoff from Brasa, followed by, “Spare us your delusions.”

Lilah straightened to standing, “Benny failed you over and over. Why continue to protect him?”

Luis cast her a look that was edging on pathetic, “He saved us.”

“From what?”

“From you,” Rafe answered, something more than derision in his voice. Hatred, perhaps.

Brasa moved. Slow. Relaxed. “Why would you need to be saved from us?”

Another answer from Rafe, “You are Xibalban. We know what you do to our kind.”

There it was. They’d been told enough to keep them scared—little truths that were coated in a thin, thin lie. Easy to swallow. Easy to accept. Easy to break.

“It is true that my people once committed inconceivable atrocities against yours,” Brasa allowed with a congenial dip of his head, “But that is not what I intend, nor is it what I will allow. Not any longer.”

Rafe sneered, “Liar.”

“Sometimes,” Brasa admitted, “When the moment calls for it. But, this is not that moment. I am not lying.”

Luis spoke, his lips trembling, “We don’t know that. You’ve been hunting us down. Killing us.”

Again, Brasa acknowledged the truth for what it was, “Only those who put us all at risk.”

Lilah could see how this was going to play out, could already hear the back and forth that would take time that they just didn’t have. Benny could strike again at any time, possibly with more firepower. Every second they spent debating right and wrong, good and bad, was a second that could cost the life of someone she cared about. Lilah made a decision.

Reaching into the pocket of Brasa’s slacks, she pulled out his knife, flipping the blade open. With deliberate slowness, she showed each of them the weapon. Then, she started talking.

“I’m going to give you an opportunity. The offer is time limited, and it will be given to only one of you.  Tell us where Benny is, and you live. First come, first serve.”

The room was quiet, save for the near constant snarls coming from Rafe. Lilah waited. Knife in hand, she simply let the quiet hold, let the uncomfortable stillness of silence make them squirm. If they knew Benny’s whereabouts, they’d tell her, and soon.

Luis broke first, “He’s in the tunnels, about ten miles north of where he...found you.”

The last two words were halting, as if he knew he shouldn’t say it, but couldn’t quite help himself. Next to her, Brasa growled low and long. She could feel the heat of his anger build both physically and within the confines of the bond.

“We have a winner,” she rasped, affected by how viscerally Brasa was emoting. Knowing that the longer they sat there, the risk of blood spilling would rise exponentially, Lilah turned from Brasa, “Javier, if you would, take Luis to be questioned further.”

“As you wish, Lady Lilah.”

Brasa held up a hand, “I want details, Javier. I want to know what Benny is planning.”

With a flourish, Javier hauled Luis up, tossing him towards the door, “I will take care of this.”

Luis landed hard on his knees, grunting in pain. But, he got up and let Javier lead him, limping, out of the room. The door closed with a kind of hard finality that eased Lilah’s anxiety. She felt Brasa’s confidence in Javier’s ability to get more of what they needed from Luis.

That left Rafe.

Lilah’s fingers gripped the knife, her jaw set, “Were you there when Benny took me?”

She didn’t recognize him, but she’d been hit pretty hard and had been too preoccupied with playing possum to memorize the faces of the people hauling her away. Beside her, Brasa removed his gloves.

Rafe shook his head.

“You’re sure?”

Another shake.

“I believe you.”

He visibly relaxed.

“But,” she continued, “I did say the offer would only be given to one of you.”

Rafe, knowing that she wasn’t going to relent, let out a sound of rage, rising unsteadily from the chair, hands outstretched towards her. He was stopped by Brasa’s hand around his throat. There was an almost too soft to hear pop as his larynx was crushed, the sound of his anger cut off with a wheeze.

Lilah closed the knife and slipped it back into Brasa’s pocket. Then, deliberately, she took a step back and crossed her arms. She’d said that she wanted vengeance, but exacting it with her own hands felt somehow unnecessary. All the fire that had been there five minutes before dissipated, leaving her feeling deflated.

Brasa had no such issues. His fingers curled deeper into Rafe’s throat, pushing beneath his skin. Blood welled up, dripping down the back of his hand to the floor. Lilah didn’t have to look at his eyes to know that they were red with rage, the glow of his power burning ever brighter beneath his skin. Flame burst from Rafe’s eyes, smoke wafting from his pores. He seared from the inside out, his body cracking into dust from the top down.

Brasa’s arm dropped, and he wiped the dust from his hands, his attention on the pile at his feet, “I should get a broom.”

Lilah looked at the spread of particles, trying hard not to think about the fact that it had once been a person, “We might have more important things to do right now.”

His brows quirked, “You might be right.”

***

Lilah stood at her station, well away from where the action would go down. The night was deep and dark, the new moon casting no light to guide their way. She looked over her equipment, one hand brushing over the black metal box sitting innocently to her right. Her laptop was gently whirring, all comms connected. At her thigh, her pistol rested in its holster, her knife strapped to her arm. Lilah hoped she wouldn’t have to use them.

According to Javier, Luis had talked freely, answered question after question. All of this was relayed to Lilah in detail until she felt like she had a good grasp on Benny’s plan. Brasa had sent Javier to set up the final blow, refusing to allow Lilah to do it, herself, as was her preference. She was too tired to argue, never having fully rested since the bomb had gone off two days before.

It was hard to think about it, the breakneck pace she’d been going at over that time. Lilah couldn’t even nail down if she’d slept properly, couldn’t remember eating or showering. And so, when Brasa had firmly pulled her into their room, she hadn’t resisted.

Assured that her friends were being taken care of, she’d let Brasa strip her down and run her a bath, let him wash her with soothing motions, until the water cooled And then, they’d tumbled naked into bed, the full darkness of the room letting her fall into a deep sleep.

She wished that she could say that she felt fully rested. While Lilah had slept for a long time, she had awoken groggy. Her body ached with something that wasn’t quite injury. She sleep walked through getting ready for the day, reluctantly eating a meal next to Seth, who sat drinking coffee while he cleaned his gun.

It wasn’t until she began to set up for the job that Lilah’s brain kicked in. This was it. They could be done with this awful mess today. If they succeeded, Lilah vowed to herself that she was going to do something fun—maybe rob a museum.

As she was contemplating this, heat built at her back. She looked up to find Brasa and Javier standing not far away. Brasa was wearing the familiar uniform of leather, sunglasses perched on his nose. Next to him, Javier was very much out of uniform. Instead of a sharply tailored suit, her wore thick canvas pants and a long sleeved shirt. He’d forgone his usual cane, a literal sword strapped to his hip.

“Are we set up?” She asked Javier.

With a deferential nod, he answered, “We are.”

“And you made sure to ground the connection—its just that it could go early if you—.”

Brasa laid a gentle hand on her shoulder, “He was very thorough. This will work.”

Lilah’s jaw shut with an audible click. She pursed her lips, the effort to hold back further questions not inconsequential. She busied her hands and her mind with activating the comms.

“McNamara online,” she said evenly.

It took a few seconds to get a response, but eventually she heard the click of the mic turning on.

“Richie Gecko online.”

“Oh, shut up,” Seth groused, “We’re in place.”

“You’re the one who said we should take this seriously.”

“Yeah, but this isn’t the fucking movies.”

Lilah rolled her eyes, “Alright. Hang tight while we get a lock on him.”

Tapping her mouse pad, Lilah opened the tracking app, “You think he’ll go for it?”

Javier shifted on his feet, “I believe he will. He’s already proven that he’ll sacrifice anyone and anything to protect his own skin.”

She stared at the little dots on the screen, “And Luis?”

“Running back to daddy,” he intoned, derision tainting his voice.

“You’re sure.”

He sighed, “I’ve done this a thousand times over. I know fear. I made him very, very scared before I let him go.”

The intensity with which he spoke, the unsaid threat in his tone, was enough to make Lilah drop the subject. She turned her attention to the screen, taking note of her location and the pair of dots indicating Seth and Richie. At the bottom left corner was a renegade dot that was steadily moving towards them. She watched it shift across the screen, pixels lighting up along the path.

It stopped at a fair distance from where the other two were congregated. Lilah held her breath as she waited for it to either stay where it was or start moving again. It stayed.

“He’s back,” Lilah murmured.

A flash of headlights appeared, lighting her station. She turned around in her seat, squinting at the car coming towards them.

“Is that one of ours?”

Brasa touched her shoulder, “It is. I should have warned you. Richie insisted.”

The car pulled up, dust swirling around the tires as it came to a stop. The engine and lights cut off, the driver’s side door opened. A dark head popped up, hair pulled into a high pony tail. Kate was dressed for practicality—jeans, t shirt, jacket, boots, gun. She closed the door, and walked confidently towards them.

Lilah waved at her, “Welcome to the party.”

She smiled wryly, “Richie said I couldn’t go with him, so I thought I would go with you.”

To be honest, Lilah was grateful for the extra support. It was often the case that she was alone, running the logistics, while others were executing her plan. Today, when the stakes were high, she found that she didn’t like the thought of being by herself.

Brasa took her hand, saying lowly, “Keep the bond open.”

She nodded, “Absolutely.”

“Good,” he leaned down and kissed her temple.

With a nod to Kate, Brasa turned from them. Javier stood a moment longer, his eyes absorbing Kate in detail. Then, he stepped back and followed his lord into the darkness.

Kate sighed with an odd kind of relief, “Well, what’s the plan?”

Lilah lifted a brow, “Richie didn’t tell you?”

“He said that he would be, quote, ‘fucking shit up’, but that’s as far as I got.”

That made sense. As if he’d gotten a power up in a video game, Richie had gotten some of his energy back as they neared the start of the job. As he’d loaded up the car, he’d been fairly vibrating with energy, a wide smile wrapped around a cigarette. Seth, on the other hand, had been stone cold sober—both literally and figuratively. The seriousness of his expression, the cant of his shoulders, told her that he was determined to get this done.

“Okay,” Lilah said, sliding into her chair, “This is Seth and Richie. And this,” she pointed to the errant dot, “is Luis. We’re fairly certain that he is heading back to Benny to tell him that we know his plan.”

Kate peered at the screen, “What was his plan?”

“To nuke the entire cave system, causing a sinkhole that spans across our entire territory.”

Eyes narrowing, Kate said, “That doesn’t make sense.”

Lilah cut her a glance, “What about it doesn’t make sense?”

“Benny’s schtick is all about how Brasa is destroying their way of life, right? What does taking down the cave system do.”

Lilah hesitated, her mind running through it, “I...think its because Brasa said they built it.”

“They did what?”

Hand waving to the land in front of them, “They built it—the Xibalbans. Its this huge maze of tunnels that are carved deep into the rock. I’ve only seen some of it, but its huge and complex and had to have taken forever to accomplish.” She paused, eyes scanning the middle distance, “I think that he made the caves a physical representation of their rule.  I mean, right?”

Kate cocked her head to the side, “That could be right. Benny could also be batshit crazy.”

“Fair point.”

“Well, we can pretty much guarantee that he’s going to change his plan, knowing that we know.”

Lilah shook her head, “If you’re right and he is batshit, then we don’t know that. Crazy isn’t always predictable.”

“That is a fair point.”

“Which,” Lilah added, tapping out a few commands, “means that we need to get a little more inside information.”

She cued up the sound, activating the comm Javier had placed carefully into Luis’ pocket on the way out. For a few minutes, she had to screw around with the settings, trying to get the best sound quality.

We should keep to the plan—Benny. Make their land unlivable, give them no place to retreat. Then, we pick them off like the parasites they are.

What about the Xibalban? Came a voice she didn’t recognize.

They’ll protect their bondmate first. When they realize the danger, they’ll come running.

Lilah reflexively looked around, trying to discern if they were going to be attacked from the deep black of the landscape around them.

“Could they know where we are?”

“No,” Lilah answered, feeling her shoulders drop, “No, they couldn’t.”

“Then…?” Kate prompted, her head shaking from side to side in confusion. “Oh no… get your phone.’

“What? Why?”

“They’re gonna finish off the bars,” Kate’s voice cracked, “We have to get the staff out of there.”

With a long line of curses falling from her lips, Lilah sent off a barrage of texts to the floor manager, telling them to get themselves and everyone else out of the building. As she did that, the conversation coming from the ear piece continued.

We should cut and run—Naya.

We run now, and we’ll keep running. We have to hit them where it will hurt.

Didn’t we already do that? Benny, you burned down his lair, you bombed both their bars—every time you try to hit them, they just keep...coming for us.

That was not untrue, and Lilah hated that she agreed with Naya. Her mouth turned down as she listened, half her attention on the phone in her hands as she waited for confirmation that the staff had been taken to safety.

They aren’t invincible, Naya.

Neither are you. A sigh. Maybe we should leave. Maybe we should just leave them here and go find a place for ourselves.

And let them win? There was that voice she didn’t recognize.

If we don’t fight now, we’re gonna end up like Luis, over there.

A heavy silence landed in the middle of the conversation, and Lilah could only guess that Luis had been killed after he’d told Benny that he’d talked.

We just found each other, Benny. I don’t want to lose you so soon.

You won’t. We’ll handle this, and then we can start our lives together.

The sincerity of his tone, the way Lilah could hear every emotion steeping into his words...It helped her to understand how so many people could believe him when he told them that they could succeed.

Brasa’s voice sounded from over the bond, We’re in the caves. Where should we go?

Lilah relayed Benny’s location, telling him to be careful. She avoided details about the secondary plan, about how Benny had wanted to distract him. It wasn’t necessary. She’d taken care of it, and would fill him in later.

“They’re headed for Benny. If he wiggles out of it again, Seth and Richie will herd him to the back up plan.”

“What is the back up plan?”

“We got incoming!”

Lilah tapped the keyboard, “Seth, what’s going on?”

“Got a group of ‘em heading towards us. Richie and I will take care of it.”

“Yeah, nothing we can’t handle.”

Lilah nodded, even though they couldn’t see her, “Be safe. Don’t do anything stupid. If it gets too hairy, cut and run.”

There was a pause, then, from Seth, “Duly noted, boss.”

Unable to listen to the gunfire she knew was coming, Lilah cut the line. Next to her, Kate checked her phone, tapping on the screen a few times.

“What’s left of Jackknife’s is empty. The staff have gone to ground.”

“Good, good.”

Lilah’s phone had been silent, no response from the manager. She hoped that meant they were taking care of business and hadn’t been killed in the second wave. Her stomach rolled with regret that she hadn’t thought he’d attack there again, that she may have inadvertently put both her staff and the remaining injured culebras in danger.

We knew you’d be here—Benny.

Apparently, Brasa and Javier had arrived. She found herself leaning into the computer as she listened.

This needs to stop, Brasa’s voice was deceptively soft. She could feel how he was going to stop things, how much it took to say what came next, The two of you can go. We just want him.

Not a chance.

I can’t leave him.

This was said simultaneously, but Lilah could pick apart the variation in tone. The unknown man spitting the words out, Naya’s voice soft and weak and desperate. She resisted feeling sorry for either of them.

We will take him by force, Javier pronounced, and she could hear some rustling, then, We don’t want you, but we will go through you.

More rustling, I’m not afraid to die. And, if I get to take you out with me, that’s a bonus.

And then there was a bang that preceded the comm cutting off entirely. Lilah stared at the screen, one finger tapping on the keyboard to try to bring the sound back. No use. It was fried. Closing her eyes, Lilah reached across the bond to find that Brasa far away, further than he’d been since the beginning of all this.

She couldn’t tell if he was hurt, or if he was putting distance between them so that he could concentrate on doing what needed to be done, so that he could shield her from it.

“How fast is your car?”

Kate smiled, “Pretty damn.”

“Let’s go.”

It wasn’t until they were speeding away that Kate actually asked where they were going, “I’m literally hauling ass through the dark, here.”

Lilah pulled up her phone, opening the tracking app for the comms. She had the last location of Brasa, the little dot shining from somewhere below the ground. And then there were the two dots signifying the brothers. They were a little further South than they had been, but they were moving.

She opened the line, “Guys, you there?”

A click, “Yeah, we’re here. Kind of busy, though.”

Then, Seth cut in, “These fuckers just keep coming.”

Lilah swallowed down her rising nerves, “We’ve lost contact with Brasa and Javier. We’re gonna check it out.”

A few shots fired, the sound of it making Lilah wince. Seth’s voice followed, rough with exertion, “That’s a bad idea. He can handle himself.”

“I think,” Lilah croaked, “I think they had the same idea we did.”

There were more shots, intermittently cut through with unintelligible yelling. Lilah tried not to think about what was going on, knowing that her mind was far more creative than was typical of reality. Instead, she focused on directing Kate while she waited for a response that she might not get.

“Ah, fuck!”

“What happened?”

“Got clipped in the side,” Seth ground out, “Its not deep. I’m good.”

He wasn’t talking to her. She could tell. He was reassuring his brother.

“Quit getting hit,” Richie demanded, “We got people to kill.”

“Yes, Richie, that’s so helpful.”

Knowing that she wasn’t going to get them to focus, and the attempt might result in another injury, Lilah turned down the volume and pointed to the left of the car, “That’s about where they were.”

Kate pulled to a stop, shutting the car off, “What do you want to do?”

“I want to find him, and I want to ring his neck for leaving me in the dark.”

“Alright.”

Pull her gun from its holster, Lilah exited the car, using the headlights to peer around, “I don’t see anything.”

Kate had followed her example, a nine millimeter pointed towards the ground in front of her, “I don’t either.”

“They must still be in the caves, or—,” Lilah cut herself off as she spotted a plume of dust settling not too far away.

Kate followed her gaze, her mouth thin as she concentrated, “You think…?”

“Yeah,” Lilah breathed, “We need to be careful. The ground looks unstable.”

And indeed it did. Fissures cut through the rock below, the surface shattered in some places. Lilah eased forward, stepping back quickly when her foot sunk deep.

“Okay, what do we do?” Kate asked, taking a few steps back her eyes flicking back and forth.

“I don’t know.”

In the distance, something blew up. Another. And another. The sound came from all around them. Lilah could feel vibrations in her feet, in her chest, her hair standing on end.

“The fuck?”

Kate grabbed her arm, “The plan—they planned to blow the caves.”

Lilah stared at her, her mind slowly working to put the pieces together.

“He wasn’t going to hit the bars,” Kate said, her eyes shining with intensity, “He was going to bring us here. He knew you’d feel the hit to Brasa, knew you’d come here.”

Lilah looked down. Another bomb went off. There was no telling how many more there were, or when the ground beneath them would crumble. Angry and afraid, she reached out, slamming through the bond as it stretched thin.

I’m here. I’m fine. Javier is fine. We are near your post.

As relieved as she was to hear it, she cut through his reassurances, I already came to you. I followed the comm. Kate and I are standing on the caves.

She sensed his fear, sensed that he’d turned and was running back towards her, I’m coming.

No, no, that’s what he wants. You need to head towards Seth and Richie. They’re the next stop. Kate and I will get out of this.

Kate was already moving to the car, ushering Lilah along. Inside, she slammed the transmission into drive and they hauled ass away.

“We need to get to Seth and Richie,” Lilah said, pulling out her phone.

As she expected, their dots were moving towards the rendezvous points. Unexpectedly, the comm they’d planted on Luis was also moving. It had reconnected to the tracking system, and was flying in a twisting pattern towards the Geckos.

Lilah glared at it, flinching as a bomb went off a little too close for comfort. Kate was driving fast, the car eating up road as the engine roared. If it had been anyone else at the wheel, Lilah might have worried for her safety. As it was, Kate was a notoriously skilled getaway driver, having honed the talent over many jobs.  

She hesitated, her finger hovering over the connection button on the app. Her hunch could be wrong.

Mouth curling, Lilah connected to the comm, “You still alive?”

There was rustling along the line, a bit of feedback, then, “I am alive and well.”

“Wish I could say that I’m glad to hear it, Benny.”

He chuckled, the sound coming out forced, “Good thing I don’t give a fuck about your happiness.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“I’m guessing that you can see where I’m heading.”

“I can.”

“Good,” he bit out, “Then you’ll know when I’ve taken care of your friends.”

“You’re not going to make it that far, Benny.”

“We’ll see.”

The comm disconnected from his side. Lilah sighed and shut down the app. She pushed her phone into the pocket of her sweatshirt and fiddled with the edge of one of her sleeves.

“We almost there?”

Lilah nodded. Whatever she might have answered was cut off as a bomb went off too close to the car, the ground exploding outwards. Rocks shattered the windows on the driver’s side, the car swerving as Kate tried to keep control. A second bomb went off a moment later, the back side of the car lifting about ten feet. As it slammed back down, Lilah could hear the axle crack, knew instinctively that they had to get out, and fast.

“Out! Out!” Lilah cried as she threw off her seat belt.

Disoriented, Lilah stumbled as she got out of the car, looking over the body to see Kate slamming the door closed and rounding the hood.

“You alright?”

Lilah nodded, “I’m good. The car’s fucked, though.”

As if on cue, a bomb went off maybe a hundred yards away, and the ground shifted. Lilah felt it in a way that she couldn’t describe, an intangible feeling that scared her more than she’d ever been scared before. In between one second and the next, the ground sunk down, caving in on itself. The hole grew bigger, yawning ever wider as it worked to swallow them whole.

“Run!”

Lilah had never, never made her feet move so fast. The air whipped at her as each step slammed into the ground. The roaring in her ears was only tempered by the sound of her own breathing. A glance over her shoulder saw the car rear up before falling down into the depths, cutting off the light. Gritting her teeth, she dug into her pocket, her stride slowing as she keyed up the flashlight on her phone.

The path before them was illuminated, much good that it did them. On either side of them, the ground trembled. They weren’t going fast enough. They were going to fall.

Brasa…

He heard her, but his answer was overpowered by the way the ground fell out from under her. Lilah’s arm was caught by Kate, who dragged her to the side.

“Over there, the rock formation. That’s the safest bet.”

Not in a place to argue, Lilah followed Kate’s lead, pushing through the burn and strain of her muscles. As they neared, a tiny flicker of hope swelled, urging her to just keep moving. Lilah obeyed the feeling, arms pumping, breath punching in and out.

Another huge chunk of ground swelled up and dropped, the rumbling sound of crunching rock following. She veered, moving with Kate towards the only goal in sight.

Scrambling up, Lilah climbed as quickly as she could, digging her feet into the stone and scraping her palms. Behind her, in front of her, to her left and right, the earth roiled. She could hear more of the cave system crumble in on itself, taking whoever might be inside with it.

Near the top, with Kate huffing at her side, Lilah turned and watched the disaster unfold. It was a sight she would never forget. The whole world, as far as she could see it, rocked up and down, sinking and rising, turning over almost completely.

“He meant for us to be in that,” Kate said, the barest tremble in her voice.

“He did.”

“Fuck this guy.”

“Yeah,” Lilah said, when she could find her voice again. “Fuck this guy.”

Kate closed her eyes, and Lilah didn’t even have to guess at what she was doing. She drew in a breath to follow suit.

I’m okay. We got out.

Let me through.

Have you found Seth and Richie?

Let me through.

Tell me. Did you find them.

I...did.

And?

Seth’s hurt. We can’t stop the bleeding.

Horrified, Lilah opened her eyes, catching a similar expression on Kate’s face. She made a decision.

“Tell Richie to let you through.”

Not waiting for an answer, Lilah reached out to the bond, got a good grip, and pulled. The world tipped over, and Lilah landed hard on her knee, dry heaving.

“You could have just asked,” Brasa griped from not far away. Then, “Are you alright?”

She nodded, swallowing.  As she looked up, Lilah caught Kate landing next to Richie, who was already bending down to help her up. Next to Richie was an ashen Seth. He was leaning against their car, blood soaking clean through almost the entirely of the front of his button down. His suit jacket was crumbled a few feet away, along with his gun holsters. He looked like he was going to try to stand, took a single step, and crumpled down in a heap.

“You look like shit.”

Seth started to laugh, the sound cut off by a groan of pain, “Fuck you, too.”

Ambling over to him, Lilah sat on her heels, “We need to get you to a hospital.”

He shook his head, “I’m good here. Could use a drink, though.”

“Don’t need to thin your blood any more than it already is,” Lilah shot back, “You’re hurt. This isn’t just a flesh wound.”

“Benny got in a good shot, I’ll give him that.”

Lips sneering, Lilah said, “We’ll get him back for this. We still have an ace up our sleeve.”

Seth sucked his teeth, blood coating the enamel, “You need to be getting to that ace.”

“Not until I know you’re going to make it.”

He was already shaking his head, “This isn’t something you come back from.”

Seth lifted the hand that had been staunching the blood, a spurt shooting out with every beat of his heart until he covered it again.

Lilah to a moment to think, “You can. You can come back from this. Richie can help you.”

She knew the moment that he understood what she was saying. She also knew that he was going to refuse.

“I’m not having this asshole,” he pointed to his brother, “Hold it over me for eternity, thank you very much. I’ve had enough of that already.”

“Are you seriously arguing about this while you’re dying?”

Seth glared at her, though the effect was somewhat diminished by the fact that he was struggling to focus.

Lilah laid a hand over his, worried by the cool skin beneath her fingers, “Then, let me do it.” Surprised by her own words, she glanced up at Brasa, “I can do it, right?”

His mouth parted, closed, parted again, and then he nodded, “Yes. Your blood is my blood, and blood is the conduit.”

Turning her attention back to Seth, Lilah lifted her brows in question, “It’ll be better if its me, right?”

He was quiet for a long time, so long that Lilah began to feel the hope that had sparked while the earth trembled beneath her feet begin to fade. And then he nodded.

Hand digging into her sweatshirt, Lilah pulled out her knife. She rolled it into her other hand. And then, before she could question it, she dug the blade in. Carefully, Lilah dripped the steady stream into Seth’s mouth.

He took a deep gulp, then tried to pull away. Lilah cradled the back of his head, holding him to the wound, her eyes lifting once more to her bondmate.

“How much?”

Brasa’s eyes were fixed where Seth’s mouth met her skin, “A bit more.”

Lilah held her position for a minute or two more, focused enough on her task that she didn’t hear the conversation going on around her. Then, when she thought it might be enough, she pulled away. Seth, already weak, couldn’t keep his head up. His eyes were rolled back, forehead clammy.

“How long does it take?”

This time, Richie answered, “It depends, but not long. I’ll stay with him. You guys go after Benny.”

Kate moved to stand next to Richie, “I’ll stay with him, too. He’ll need someone here who won’t rib him for ‘coming to the dark side’.”

The last little bit of that sentence was said with heavy sarcasm and a pair of finger quotes.

Lilah sheathed her knife and stood, “You’ll let me know that he’s okay.”

With half a smile, Richie tapped the ear piece, “I’ll give you live updates.”

“Thanks.”

Brasa moved to her side, holding up the little metal box from her station, “I thought you might need this.”

Lilah took it gratefully, “I do. Thank you.” She rose up on her tip toes and kissed him lightly, “Let’s go kill this shithead.”

After settling Seth as comfortably as possible, Lilah took the keys to the car from Seth’s coat and hopped into the driver’s side. Brasa’s body dropped into the passenger’s side, Javier nimbly climbing into the back.

She rolled down the window, pointing at Richie, “Real time updates.”

He gave her a little salute and shooed her away, his focus turning to his brother.

It surprised Lilah how quickly they arrived at the rendezvous point, though it was nowhere near where they’d found Seth and Richie. Over the horizon, the sky was beginning to grow pink with the rising of the sun. She pulled to a stop a good distance away from where she knew Benny would be.

If all had gone to plan, they would have all been sitting here, watching this. Lilah comforted herself with the knowledge that they were at least unhurt, mostly. Seth would get better, would be healed before she got back.

Opening the door, Lilah got out, closing it behind her, the black box tucked beneath her arm. She didn’t bother looking for Brasa and Javier to follow, already moving around the huge boulder she’d parked behind. Pulling out her phone, she checked the dot representing Benny. He was right where she wanted him to be.

Below, the rock face sheered off, giving her the best view of the helipad just across a flowing river. Lilah breathed in the cool morning air, wind blowing gently.

Brasa leaned against the rock to her right, glasses reflecting the world below, “I can do it, if you want.”

Lilah looked at him.

“You don’t have to do it, if you don’t want to.”

She caught the glimmer of Javier as he stood at a respectable distance, felt the subtle change in light as the sun continued to rise. The night seemed far away already. The anxiety. The fear. The relief. It all felt as if it were a dream. And yet, here she stood, at the precipice of committing the final act in their plan. She felt no hesitation. She felt no fear. Lilah wasn’t quite sure she could feel much of anything.

“I got it,” she said finally.

And she did—have it.

Looking down, Lilah opened the box, her thumb flicking each of the toggles upwards until red turned green. In the distance, she heard the blades of the helicopter begin the turn. She looked down. Two figures ran for the craft.

“Is that him?” She asked Brasa, knowing that his eyes were infinitely better than hers.

He craned his neck, looking down his nose, “Yes.”

Without thinking, she tapped the comm, “You still alive?”

From across the distance, Benny laughed, “I am. Tell me, is Seth?”

She sneered, “He is.”

“Shame,” Benny replied, unrepentant. Then, with a light, conversational tone, “Hey, McNamara, looks like we’ll be seeing each other again sometimes.”

They wouldn’t.

“Hey, Benny,” she shot back, “looks like you’re on the wrong side of the river.”

Lilah waited a moment more, watching as the two figures climbed inside.

She pressed the button.

The explosion was small—or, perhaps it was only small because she’d seen so many up close not an hour before. From around the helipad, the explosives went off. In a succession of fifteen or so, they obliterated the ground beneath, until it began to crumble in on itself. And then, just for good measure, the helicopter, itself, detonated. Lilah watched until the whole thing fell into the hole the first blast had created, then closed the box and looked to Brasa.

“I want to go home.”

And that’s what they did. They found Seth, Richie, and Kate where they’d left them. Stuffing everyone into the car, they went back to the bar. Lilah was not ashamed to be relieved that the place was still standing. In their absence, the elevator had been fixed. It opened to workers still making repairs, a fine smattering of dust on every surface.

Tired, and half awake, the group filed into the conference room. Seth was laid out on the tabletop. As was his way, Javier was already arranging for food, liquor, and blood to be brought to them. As Lilah moved to sit, Brasa pulled her away from the chair she’d pulled out. With quiet care, he gathered her into his lap, holding her around the waist.

She wasn’t surprised to see Richie doing the same with Kate, though he was watching his brother very closely.

“When will he wake up?” she asked.

“Any minute,” Richie answered, his voice even and sure.

“How do you know?”

“Because Javier is bringing a bottle of shitty bourbon and you know he can’t resist.”

She laughed, some of the feeling coming back to her. Resting against Brasa, she watched as Seth laid on the table, unmoving.  He’d been asleep for so long that she was doubting her decision. Sensing her unease, Brasa ran a hand up her back. Up and down. Calming.

Her shoulders didn’t move from where she’d had them bunched up by her ears until Seth drew that first, ragged breath. The relief coursed through her, tears dotting her cheeks. Sniffing, she wiped them away, resting an elbow on the table as leaned forward.

Richie eased Kate to the side, rising. He took a few steps around the table, lifting a hip and sitting not far from Seth’s head.

“Welcome back, brother.”

“Fuck. You.”

Richie laughed, “Glad to see you’re going to still be cranky when you wake up.”

“I died, you asshole.”

“I know. I was there.”

Seth tried to sit up, dropping heavily back down, “Fuck.”

The door to the conference room swung open, Javier pulling a cart in behind him.

Richie smiled, “Breakfast is here.” Then, softer, “You need to feed, Seth.”

Lilah though he would fight, thought he would grumble and pout until the hunger took over. And yet, when Richie held the bag out to him, Seth took it. With ease that could only come from watching someone do it over and over, he tore into the plastic, and drank it down.

Standing hesitantly, Lilah crossed into his field of vision. He drew back from the bag, breathing hard, game face on.

“Hey.”

He swallowed hard, “Hey.”

“You feel ok?”

One shoulder lifted, “For having nearly died, I feel pretty good.”

“Cool.” Then, “You want to steal a Renoir with me later?”

[lyallblacklupin]

Don’t miss the Yule Ball.

Remus sorts out his feelings about Sirius. 

Tags: Post-Incident with Severus Snape, Angst with Happy Ending, Getting Back Together, Trust Issues.

Chapter 4

If someone had been there to witness what happened to Remus after Sirius had left the dorm, they would have had given him the longest hug to repress his teeming guilt that had gushed out of him so hard that he had collapsed on the floor, rocking back and forth for tears to come out, but they never came. He never wanted things to be turned this way between him and Sirius, which were completely unexpected. Sure, he did fantasize of being asked out by Sirius, but not in his right mind he had ever had any hopes for it to happen. He really underestimated Sirius. He was strongly reminded that the void in his chest was Sirius’ absence in his life which was expanding day by day, ripping his heart in the midst. He wanted Sirius. So much. He felt selfish—in fact he was selfish, and right now it didn’t seem like much of a sin.

He was again at the Gryffindor Table in the Great Hall, sipping coffee heedlessly, mind floating elsewhere in the crack of dawn. There were no classes today due to the Yule Ball in the evening. He had nothing to distract himself with. Surprisingly, he was greeted by a very unusual couple that he had to blink his eyes a little too much to believe he was seeing right.

“Oh, stop blinking! I know it’s hard to believe.” Lily Evans grumbled, with a slight amusement in her voice.

“Oh Evans, it’s not hard for me to believe. I am very much alive right now!” Yes, that was none other than James Potter, grinning his usual stupid, stupid smirk.

“For your information, we are not dating, Potter. We are just friends who happened to be going on a very casual event of our school.” Lily imitated a very elegant voice, smiling successfully that James couldn’t stop looking at her—or couldn’t stop swooning at her.

“Sure.” He shrugged, the smile not leaving his face for a second. They both slipped into their seats beside Remus, but they didn’t sit together. James and Lily were sitting on Remus’ sides. When the silence had prolonged for more than it was necessary, he found both of them staring at him.

“What?” He was utter confused.

“You think we are unable to see that long face of yours?” Lily commented, arching her brows like Mcgonacall. He shook his head slightly. He knew that he was not going to get away from this, “Tell us what happened?”

Remus was unable to gather words. He felt like he had no ounce of energy left in his body.

“I don’t know what to tell…” He trailed off.

“Okay, how about you tell us what are you feeling?” She put her hand on his.

“I don’t know that either.”

“Okay, okay…Umm. How about we ask you questions and you try to answer them?” Remus was not thrilled with her idea, so he stayed silent which she took it as his approval, “Did you have a fight with Sirius?”

“Not exactly a fight…” Remus was replaying the memory in his head for the infinith time, “Merlin, I wish it had been a fight.”

“Was it about…what he did with Snap—“ Lily was cut off by the shake of his head.

“No, it was not about that!” He said irritatingly, “We are way past that, okay?” He wasn’t asking but he was making it clear.

“Are you?” James interjected.

“Look, I have forgiven him long time ago. It’s just getting difficult to be, you know…normal?”

“Okay, let’s talk straight here, mate,” James put his arm around Remus—which was a typical ‘James Potter move’ when he was trying to convince someone, “You guys were dating before…all of that,” He did a vague hand gesture, “And right now, you guys are just these uncomfortable exes who are missing each other so much but have a tendency to ignore that.”

“Of course, I miss Sirius. He was my only best friend, James.” James gasped dramatically, making a show of how mocked he felt by his comment. Remus rolled his eyes at him.

“Yes, but James is trying to say that you guys miss being each other’s boyfriends.” Lily said those words with such gentleness that Remus felt heat creeping up on his neck. He was suddenly reminiscing the best memories of his life when he was dating Sirius.

“You are an ignorant, self-centered and a mean boyfriend, do you know that?” Remus replied blankly, his temper had reached the level of exhaustion because Sirius was right that Remus was never going to win any arguments with him. So he flopped on his bed but Sirius crawled from his behind to take him in his arms.

“But you love me.” He whispered, planting tiny kisses on Remus’ ear and jaw. Remus had turned into a mush, because it felt so good. He decided that he wasn’t unhappy on his position in their relationship. His mind made a mental note to himself that he’d rather let Sirius win all the arguments if it meant that he was never going to leave Remus.

“I do, I do love you.” He whispered back.

“Moony?”

“Remus?”

Remus jerked out of his ruminating to see James and Lily gawking at him.

“Sorry, just zoned out of the conversation.” He cleared his throat and Lily offered him her coffee.

“You’re a mess, Rem. You need to sort this out with yourself.” She was right, Remus knew, but he also wanted someone to tell him what to do.

“What do I do?”

“Go to the dance with him!” James piped up, and Remus flinched, “What?”

“Urgh. That was how it all started…”And then he told them what happened when Sirius asked him to be his date, how it turned out, and how infuriatingly he didn’t know what to do.

“You have a date!?” Lily scowled at him. Not only James was looking disappointed by the news, but Remus also felt sick of himself.

“I am the worst person in the world. I messed up. I messed everything! I knew that this was not what I wanted! I never wanted to date anyone. And yes, I admit, I haven’t moved on. Not even a little bit. I still think about him, and I can’t stop thinking about the fact that he had always been the one to calm me down whenever I’m angry or sad but then Snape happened, and I made a promise with myself that I will never let Sirius come near me. But I was this overconfident shit that I thought I will be able to handle all it. And then I wasn’t…and I can’t…”

His chest was thundering as the sobs began to cloud his throat, waiting for Remus to let go of himself. He didn’t want anyone to touch him otherwise, he’d never stop crying now that his heart was opening and becoming vulnerable.

“Moony…” James’ gentle voice was enough to bring his emotion at the brink of his eyes. He didn’t just underestimate Sirius, but also himself. That was very unlike Remus. He hated being the center of attention, he hated breaking down in public, and he hated people’s soft words—let alone the physical gestures.

“Don’t.” It was all he could manage to say when Lily had touched his arm. He was on his feet as he fled the hall, in desperate need to reach the lavatory.

So it was about what happened with Snape, came a voice in his head when he was inside the vacant bathroom. There was still mistrust, swimming with his judgments. His mind was telling him that he shouldn’t commit the same mistake of getting into relationship with Sirius but his heart was not helping at all. It was so in love. He was trying breathe properly.

Let love be your guide, his heart said.

And then get lost? His mind retorted.

Yes! Remus wanted to slap himself.

He had been pushing feelings all of his life. He had been very difficult with Sirius for straight two days when Sirius had confessed that he was in love with him. The most remarkable thing was that Sirius understood his struggle with feelings and emotions. He had the art to scoop them out of Remus’ system. Moony, this is the only way to calm yourself, he had said to him. And now, as Lily had said, he was a mess. Without him. Without Sirius.

After few hours—what felt like minutes—he washed his miserable face and walked to the courtyard. He didn’t want to go the Gryffindor Tower to face anyone. He was a wreck. He didn’t want to face Sirius either, so he just sat by the outdated fountain where the tree was protecting him from the sun. He decided that he was not going to the Ball. He just wanted to rehearse his future act of turning down Catherina Johnson gently. He relaxed himself there. It had been fifteen minutes, and he had been thinking of his DADA essay for Patronus charms, which was a win-win for him as a distraction.

However, it wasn’t long when he took out his wand and tried to cast a patronus.

“Expecto Patronum.” He whispered, thinking about the time when his friends had first time accompanied him to the moon as Animagus. A silver wisp glowed on the tip of his wand but then died out after a second, which made him eventually want to think about the moments that had made him genuinely happy. He thought about the time when Sirius had told him he was a good kisser, when he had told him that they should start dating, and a lot more but they were not strong enough to cast full patronus, just a silver light flickering. He was confused. He focused and focused, becoming impatient. He was also worrying if Sirius was not associated with his happiest memory then maybe Remus had been in an oblivion—or say, stupid in love. He knew that love was the most powerful element to do wonders, even in the wizarding world. But What if it was never love? What if it was just infatuation? Then why was his heart hammering so violently in his chest? But then he was suddenly reminded of a very bad day in his fifth year when he was walking by the dungeon where the sixth-years were taking their Potions class, and Slughorn had called him to volunteer.

“Mr Lupin here is a fifth year, and he has advanced enough to brew Veritaserum which is supposed to be taught in his next year. Uh—Mr Lupin please, come forth and—Mr Lupin?”

Remus was extremely annoyed by a certain scent saturating the room. He was sniffing, and whipping his head to follow it. He had completely forgotten that he was volunteering with Professor Slughorn because he is so concentrated on the scent which is filling his nostrils, making him quite dizzy.

“What is this smell, Professor?” He asked, still looking here and there. He knew that some of his senior students were making fun of him as the room was filled with faint sounds of sniggers and snorts.

“Mr Lupin, you are in a Potion classroom, there are numerous of potions sitting out…” Remus ignored his rambling because the scent is getting stronger. He couldn’t put a finger on it because it was reminding him of many things. Musk, which was making him lightheaded. Cigarettes. Damp hair after hot shower. The feeling of leather on skin, and also the forbidden forest. The scent had a strange sense of familiarization. It was vague but he was drawn to it. It was like he was sitting in the heart of someone—someone he knew, because he could feel their heart beat in his ears.

Remus’ whole day was a disaster because he couldn’t brew the Veritaserum properly, Slughorn had sent him back to his dorm, he was tackled by Peeves on his way, and he was also annoyed by some portraits which had made fun of his scars. After his prefect rounds, he entered the common room with a foul mood, and spotted Sirius Black sitting alone on the couch. He looked at his pocket watch and found that it was past midnight. Sirius stood up and held out his arms, smiling at him. Remus threw his satchel and books away, and fell into Sirius’ arms. He was embraced so tightly and warmly.

They both stayed quiet, and Remus nuzzled his face in the crook of his neck. That was when his eyes snapped both because he caught a whiff of the same scent that had been annoying him in the Potions.

“That scent.” Remus murmured, pulling away from Sirius.

“What scent?” Sirius asked, perplexed.

“Oh! Not you, now! I have had enough of it! This scent is driving me mad, Sirius!”

“Hey, hey, calm down, Moony, why are you crying?”

“What?”

“You are crying.”

“Oh.”

“Come here.”

He was embraced again, and then it hit him. That scent was Sirius. It was not coming from somewhere, it was just Sirius’ scent. Very natural, and very Sirius. The potion he had smelled in the dungeon was Amortentia. Sirius had always been the one to give Remus the physical interaction he shared with no one in his group. Due to his claustrophobia, he had always found hugging very uncomfortable, but not with Sirius, never with Sirius.

“I’m claustrophobic.”

“I know.” Sirius tightened his hold on Remus, pulling him impossibly closer, and he was not choking for breath. That made him cry, more and more. He was not embarrassed for the streaming tears, so he let them fall because it was just Sirius. His home.

“Expecto Patronum.”

A full grown silver dog shot out of his wand, running in circles around Remus enthusiastically. And suddenly, Remus realized why such an odd memory was his happiest and the most powerful one because it was the day when he was brought in front of the raw truth that he was in love with Sirius Black.

It was afternoon, and everyone was gathering for lunch a little earlier because the Great Hall was going to be sealed for the decorations of the Yule Ball until the evening. Remus looked around him, everyone was beaming and laughing with the exhilaration for tonight. He needed to find Sirius. He wanted to talk to him. He wanted to see him, at least. He walking quickly through the crowd, looking for him.

“Hey Remus!” He turned to find Catherina staring at him. Remus groaned internally.

“Hi, Catherina.” He tried to smile.

“Oh, call me Cathy. My friends calls me Cathy.” They fell into brief silence but she break it—to Remus’ horror, “So what’s the color of your robes tonight?” He frowned at her, “Oh, it’s okay if you don’t to tell but please don’t wear anything mustard. I have an extreme aversion to—“

“Catherina, I can’t go with you tonight.” He tried to ignore the hammering of his heart.

“What?” She looked distraught.

“I’m sorry—“

“Is this because of Black?”

“What does Sirius has to do with any of this?”

“Oh you bet your arse, it is! You guys think you are so subtle.” Remus is frozen in his place, “Who do you think you are? You thought I was just a bloody nobody to whom you’ll say yes without having to mean it—“

“Catherine, it’s not like that! I’m not feeling well, I can’t go—“

“Oh, save it, Lupin! You first agreed to be my date and broke Black’s heart, and now you’re going to his date by breaking mine?” She looked hurt, very hurt and Remus wanted to just die because her words were too true to be painful, “Can’t you see what you are doing?”

“I am so sorry, Cathy. Please. And I’m not going with anyone!” But she was shaking his head, “You have to believe me. And you are right, I did break your heart and you have no idea how pathetic I feel! I am a terrible person. I don’t deserve to be your date.”

“You are not,” She spoke after a brief silence, “You are not a terrible person. You are just stupid.”

“Same thing.”

“Look, you didn’t break my heart. You hurt my feelings, and I didn’t expect that from you. But you know what, people surprise you.” There is a very awkward silence between them and Remus couldn’t stop himself from apologizing. She gave him a long strange look, and then walked away.

Remus didn’t stand for any longer, he began walking. The thoughts, the guilt, the pain, the unjust things, the stupid acts, unfathomable love, all of that was dawning upon him at every step he was taking. His pace was becoming frantic as he reached closer to the Gryffindor Tower.

He entered the common room, his heart was racing abnormally. He paid no heed to the fourth-years standing in their robes and gowns. He ascended the staircase to his dormitory. For a second, he thought he was the same fifth-year student fleeing the Potions class because a certain scent had screwed up his day. He barged into the dorm just like he had on that day in the common room.

And once again, he found none other than Sirius Black, sitting alone in the room.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3

Chapter 5 is coming soon!

[makerkenzie]

Jaime Lannister, First of His Name: "He had no right to that throne."

As I said in my previous post, the "he had no right to that throne" conversation has three levels:

1. Top level, in which Ned is trying to convince Robert not to trust Jaime.

2. Middle level, in which Ned and Robert argue about the significance of symbolism.

3. Base level, in which Ned works himself into a lather about Jaime sitting on the throne.

But here's the thing: I don't say this as a critique of Ned. I have criticized Ned for being so quick to judge Jaime, and I will continue to do so, but this isn't one of those times.

Here's the full text of the conversation in question:

“Can you trust Jaime Lannister?”

“He is my wife’s twin, a Sworn Brother of the Kingsguard, his life and fortune and honor all bound to mine.”

“As they were bound to Aerys Targaryen’s,” Ned pointed out.

“Why should I mistrust him? He has done everything I have ever asked of him. His sword helped win the throne I sit on.”

His sword helped taint the throne you sit on, Ned thought, but he did not permit the words to pass his lips. “He swore a vow to protect his king’s life with his own. Then he opened that king’s throat with a sword.”

“Seven hells, someone had to kill Aerys!” Robert said, reining his mount to a sudden halt beside an ancient barrow. “If Jaime hadn’t done it, it would have been left for you or me.”

“We were not Sworn Brothers of the Kingsguard,” Ned said. The time had come for Robert to hear the whole truth, he decided then and there. “Do you remember the Trident, Your Grace?”

“I won my crown there. How should I forget it?”

“You took a wound from Rhaegar,” Ned reminded him. “So when the Targaryen host broke and ran, you gave the pursuit into my hands. The remnants of Rhaegar’s army fled back to King’s Landing. We followed. Aerys was in the Red Keep with several thousand loyalists. I expected to find the gates closed to us.”

Robert gave an impatient shake of his head. “Instead you found that our men had already taken the city. What of it?”

“Not our men,” Ned said patiently. “Lannister men. The lion of Lannister flew over the ramparts, not the crowned stag. And they had taken the city by treachery.” The war had raged for close to a year. Lords great and small had flocked to Robert’s banners; others had remained loyal to Targaryen. The mighty Lannisters of Casterly Rock, the Wardens of the West, had remained aloof from the struggle, ignoring calls to arms from both rebels and royalists. Aerys Targaryen must have thought that his gods had answered his prayers when Lord Tywin Lannister appeared before the gates of King’s Landing with an army twelve thousand strong, professing loyalty. So the mad king had ordered his last mad act. He had opened his city to the lions at the gate.

“Treachery was a coin the Targaryens knew well,” Robert said. The anger was building in him again. “Lannister paid them back in kind. It was no less than they deserved. I shall not trouble my sleep over it.”

“You were not there,” Ned said, bitterness in his voice. Troubled sleep was no stranger to him. He had lived his lies for fourteen years, yet they still haunted him at night. “There was no honor in that conquest.”

“The Others take your honor!” Robert swore. “What did any Targaryen ever know of honor? Go down into your crypt and ask Lyanna about the dragon’s honor!”

“You avenged Lyanna at the Trident,” Ned said, halting beside the king. Promise me, Ned, she had whispered.

“That did not bring her back.” Robert looked away, off into the grey distance. “The gods be damned. It was a hollow victory they gave me. A crown . . . it was the girl I prayed them for. Your sister, safe . . . and mine again, as she was meant to be. I ask you, Ned, what good is it to wear a crown? The gods mock the prayers of kings and cowherds alike.”

“I cannot answer for the gods, Your Grace . . . only for what I found when I rode into the throne room that day,” Ned said. “Aerys was dead on the floor, drowned in his own blood. His dragon skulls stared down from the walls. Lannister’s men were everywhere. Jaime wore the white cloak of the Kingsguard over his golden armor. I can see him still. Even his sword was gilded. He was seated on the Iron Throne, high above his knights, wearing a helm fashioned in the shape of a lion’s head. How he glittered!”

“This is well known,” the king complained.

“I was still mounted. I rode the length of the hall in silence, between the long rows of dragon skulls. It felt as though they were watching me, somehow. I stopped in front of the throne, looking up at him. His golden sword was across his legs, its edge red with a king’s blood. My men were filling the room behind me. Lannister’s men drew back. I never said a word. I looked at him seated there on the throne, and I waited. At last Jaime laughed and got up. He took off his helm, and he said to me, ‘Have no fear, Stark. I was only keeping it warm for our friend Robert. It’s not a very comfortable seat, I’m afraid.’ ”

The king threw back his head and roared. His laughter startled a flight of crows from the tall brown grass. They took to the air in a wild beating of wings. “You think I should mistrust Lannister because he sat on my throne for a few moments?” He shook with laughter again. “Jaime was all of seventeen, Ned. Scarce more than a boy.”

“Boy or man, he had no right to that throne.”

“Perhaps he was tired,” Robert suggested. “Killing kings is weary work. Gods know, there’s no place else to rest your ass in that damnable room. And he spoke truly, it is a monstrous uncomfortable chair. In more ways than one.” The king shook his head. “Well, now I know Jaime’s dark sin, and the matter can be forgotten.”

Right? Right. I've argued before that at the textual level, Jaime's own behavior in this flashback doesn't tell the story Ned thinks it does. Now I'm looking at the subtext and the sub-subtext. We've got Ned painting this picture of the Golden Lion of Lannister sat up on the throne, still holding the gilded sword with the king's blood on its edge, while his knights stand in service. Meanwhile the ghosts (or rather skulls) of all the past dragons stare down from the walls. And there's the last of the dragons, dead on the floor.

So then Bob's all like, look, Ned, the symbolism of the gilded sword and the lion-helm up on the throne don't matter nearly as much to me as Jaime being a good loyal Kingsguard knight for my entire reign.

Okay, that much is cute. Where it stops being about Ned having weird priorities, and starts being GRRM doing his Asshole Foreshadowing is where the focus changes from Jaime having killed the king to Jaime having the nerve to sit on the throne.

It's supposed to be about Jaime killing the king. At the beginning, the conversation is about Jaime killing the king.

But then look what happens when Jaime speaks to Ned: it's about the throne. Ned hasn't said anything! And surely Jaime knows Ned sees the Mad King's corpse on the floor. Yet the very first thing Jaime says to Ned is hey, don't worry, I know this is Robert's seat, I'd never claim it for myself.

This is a choice on GRRM's part. It's also a choice on GRRM's part when Ned says, "he had no right to that throne."

Sure, Jaime had no right to that throne...but he'll have a right to another throne, later. Someday, that'll be his court. Instead of a lion-helm, it'll be a crown. No dragon skulls glaring down from the walls. No bloody sword in his hand, but maybe a sword with rubies and gold hanging on the wall.

[gffa]

@ap-trash-compactor replied:

1/7 I wanna preface this by saying I agree with everything you’re saying here but I think there’s another layer to how Raffa’s story functions both textually and meta-textually, and to what it illustrates about how many people in the Galaxy /might/ perceive the Jedi, which I personally haven’t seen addressed yet. Sorry in advance if this is something you’ve heard/read/discussed ten million times already, but... 2/7 If you took Raffa’s story out of Star Wars and put it into a contemporary drama, changed the word “Jedi” to the word “police,” and made the particulars about a high-speed car chase? I think it would sound pretty believable. And I think this illustrates something Palpatine does through the mechanism of the Clone Wars to make the position of the Jedi especially vulnerable or precarious wrt to public opinion. 3/7 Even if every single Jedi engages w the power and authority of their military or police role only in the best intentioned, most good-faith way imaginable (which the Umbara arc tells us doesn’t always happen), any time you are in a role where you, even have without wanting or intending to, exercise the power of life and death other lives, you will cause pain and be a target for resentment. Someone will lose someone, and be angry. 4/7 No matter how good or how well-intentioned or how compassionate they are, during the Clone Wars the Jedi are forced into the role of a state authority exercising the power of life and death. They are not only a cultural minority during the Clone Wars. They are also a branch of the state, and in that role they sometimes either kill people, or are involved in events where people die and where, no matter their intentions, they are the face of the state and the voice of authority. 5/7 Many of the military and police actions shown in different episodes of this series leave destruction in their wake. The Jedi’s participation is barely by choice and almost never by preference— but if you are one of the Raffas of the galaxy and your parents just died, the distinction probably does not matter much. I think this is a corner Palpatine absolutely wanted to paint the Jedi into, because it absolutely serves his goals. 6/7 There are not many Jedi during the Clone Wars. Certainly there are not many compared to the problems they are trying to fix. I have no doubt Luminara tried her best, wanted a different outcome, and gave Raffa all the comfort she had the time and the opportunity to give... But if you are one of the Raffas of the galaxy and your only direct experience of the Jedi is like the one Raffa describes? You’re probably primed to consume all of Palpatine’s worst lies. 7/7 If you’re Palpatine, making the Jedi rush from violent crisis to violent crisis doesn’t just distract them from the fact that you’re a Sith Lord — it also makes the Jedi into the face of a lot of negative, hurtful interactions with the state, which is going to impact the way people see them.

I think you and I are very much on the same page!  I have discussed this before (the public’s turning on the Jedi), but I’m always down for discussing it again!  Especially when I love pretty much allllll of this. If you’re Palpatine, making the Jedi rush from violent crisis to violent crisis doesn’t just distract them from the fact that you’re a Sith Lord — it also makes the Jedi into the face of a lot of negative, hurtful interactions with the state, which is going to impact the way people see them. You are spot on with your summation, to the point it’s almost hard for me to respond with anything because I feel like all I can do is bang my fist on the table and go, “Yes!  This is what I’ve been talking about!”  Though, of course, there is a lot going on here that’s making it complicated. This post that you’re responding to is focused more specifically on the theme of unreliable narrators + the close associations this season has had with Revenge of the Sith (the moments that make us sit up and go, “Oh, that’s foreshadowing for stuff in ROTS!” like Padme’s pregnancy, Anakin’s advice to Rex, etc.), but there’s also what you’re talking about here--that it’s been a long-running theme in the GFFA that public sentiment turned against the Jedi and that the causes of that are fascinating. I said a bunch of times that Rafa’s hurt in this episode is valid, that there’s room for both the Jedi acting with honorable intentions and that people don’t trust them, don’t draw comfort from them, that these things are not mutually exclusive and you’re hitting on exactly why--because they were put into a situation where, if they’re not 100% perfect, then they’re going to fall off the pedestal they’ve been put onto.  That any flaw they have will then get magnified a hundred times. Luminara seems to have made a point to go back and try to talk to Rafa, to tell her a phrase that is narratively meaningful within Star Wars on a meta level, like, that says to me that she has really good intentions!  But that Rafa doesn’t draw any comfort from it, as a non-Force sensitive and someone who probably is left to the Republic’s shitty welfare services (which isn’t the Jedi’s jurisdiction, they’re not social workers and we can’t expect them to be), doesn’t undercut Luminara’s presumed good intentions, just as Luminara’s presumed good intentions don’t undercut Rafa’s hurt. And that it’s understandable--because, as the Maul arc in season 5 says, the Jedi aren’t doing the things that they used to do, that crime is flourishing because they’re being so busy with this war they’ve been drafted into.  Even Star Wars: Propaganda makes it clear that public sentiment turned against the Jedi because of a cultural absence, rather than anything they actively did. This is all by design from Palpatine, that he’s keeping them so busy putting out tire fires on Ryloth (who were being slaughtered by the Separatists), on Mon Calamari (who were being enslaved by the Separatists), on Kiros (who were being kidnapped and taken into the resumed Zygerrian slave empire), that they don’t have time to do the things they used to, like take care of a lot of the criminal elements or the outreach programs that we see hinted at in the supplementary material. The Jedi had to make a choice between fighting in a war where entire worlds were being enslaved, that there were only so many of them and they were dying, that they died in droves on Geonosis in Attack of the Clones and they’re dying every day in the war, that they were literally one out of six billion in the galaxy at their height, and that they had a million expectations placed on them.  They have very little political capital/power, yet they’re expected to solve all the problems in ways that will last.  They’re expected to police the Underworld, but also not police the Underworld because then they’re restricting people.  They’re expected to be social workers.  They’re expected to fight and die in a war that the public itself refuses to stand up in.  And when they don’t live up to those impossible perfections, they’re torn down. This is not to set aside that of course there are instances of people like Trace and Rafa, where the destruction wreaked by chasing down someone like Ziro is going to sometimes cause people to get hurt and, honestly, I don’t feel like Rafa really blamed Luminara for that, given the acknowledgement of the crowded platform she was trying to avoid.  But if she had?  That, too, would have been reasonable and understandable!  That it doesn’t matter if the Jedi were doing literally everything they could, that doesn’t mean there’s not also room for Rafa’s hurt.  And that, even if I think there was absolutely nothing that Luminara could say that would have given Rafa comfort, that doesn’t make Rafa’s hurt/viewpoint any less empathizable. My blog tends to focus on the Jedi side of things because those are the characters I’m interested in, not because they’re the only element that matters. In the meta we’re responding to, a lot of the focus is on Luminara and the Jedi because that’s my jam, that’s the part I thrive on, but we’re definitely in agreement that Rafa’s feelings are not wrong and it’s not hard to see where they come from! I do take issue with the idea of--whether it’s true or not, we can all argue about it all day long, but it doesn’t matter if it’s true or not--that if the Jedi are remote and distant from the galaxy, that that narratively is approved of how they then “kind of brought their downfall (aka, violent genocide) on themselves”.  That’s something I’ve seen skirted around in commentary from the creators and I’m wary of it leaking into the narrative in a more substantial way.  But that’s an entirely separate issue from the fact that anti-Jedi sentiments exist in the narrative and that they led to the Jedi Purge/Jedi genocide. As part of the propaganda and manipulations Palpatine did, yes, absolutely, that is one of the most fascinating things!  And that doesn’t mean that there’s not validity to those feelings, even if they’re rooted in propaganda and manipulation! But that, just as there’s room for Rafa’s hurt despite Luminara’s intentions, there’s room for the Jedi’s good intentions despite the public’s hurt and/or mistrust. My thing is that I tend to look at why the Jedi act the way they do and I usually come away with empathy for how they got into the situations they did.  Like, take their alignment with the Republic, which was an organization with corruption down to the roots by the time of the Twilight of the Republic, that that association absolutely led to their downfall/genocide.  But what else could they do?  Being part of the Republic in that way allowed them to actually help people, to have negotiating power, to form treaties that would be honored even when they were no longer on a given planet.  If they weren’t under the jurisdiction of the Senate, they could not have helped as many people as they did, especially because how would they even be able to afford starship fuel or housing costs?  Would they charge people for their services?  That’s a disaster waiting to happen! There’s room for both “the best option for the Jedi was to be part of the Republic and try to improve the system from the inside, which is what they did” AND “the being part of the Republic is what ultimately fucked them”, those things are both true! but if you are one of the Raffas of the galaxy and your parents just died, the distinction probably does not matter much. I think this is a corner Palpatine absolutely wanted to paint the Jedi into, because it absolutely serves his goals. Spot on!  I have fun looking at what Luminara’s intentions likely were and what the context of the structure of the show entails, that Rafa’s character doesn’t have to be a reliable narrator to be valuable (and I say this as someone who actually really loves the unreliable narrators of SW, which honestly is almost literally every single character, very few are ones you can take at face value without seeing the circumstances for yourself), but to Rafa it doesn’t really matter what Luminara did or didn’t say, because that’s not what she was looking for or what she got out of that conversation.  I can’t say I would act differently in her position! And that’s exactly what Palpatine did.  He pulled the Jedi in so many different directions, made them responsible for things that literally no group could possibly have survived with public sentiment intact, and even if the Jedi had been literally perfect (which they weren’t), it wouldn’t have mattered, given that the entire point of the prequels is that you gotta choose between Shitty Option A and Shitty Option B. It’s the galaxy’s worst ever version of, “Which would you rather?” except its real and you have to play the game, because not playing gets you fucked over even faster, like it did with Mandalore.

[sleep-i-ness]

Immortal (Part 1) (Maria Hill x Reader)

Synopsis: Y/N hasn’t quite told her girlfriend about her immortality and her past with Tony Stark; which causes a lot of tension whilst the Avengers is being formed. Set in 2012 during the first Avengers movie. (brief Loki x reader)

Immortal Masterlist

“Maria, darling, please explain to me your thinking behind chasing after a GOD instead of fleeing the explosion caused by the Tesseract.” Maria glanced at the tapping foot and folded arms before turning back to the files open on the screens in front of her, flicking through the latest stats on said god and the team Fury was expecting her to somehow pull together.

“I was doing my job. Something I am meant to be doing right now but you are distracting me.” 

The woman sighed, walking so close to Maria that she could almost feel their bodies touching. “Trust me, I can be a lot more distracting,” she breathed, pressing a soft kiss on Maria’s temple.

“Y/N, honey, please. Let me finish up on this. Then you can distract me all you like.” Maria’s head was aching and all she wanted to do was sit down for a bit, maybe have a rest and then deal with the situation. But being Deputy Director of SHIELD meant she could rarely have a break.

“Don’t change the subject. I was terrified when I heard you’d been trapped under a collapsed tunnel, what if you’d been seriously injured? What if...” Y/N trailed off, the unspoken question hanging in the air between them. What if you hadn’t made it back to me?

“I’m fine.”

“But what if you hadn’t been? Maria, love, please. Look at me.” Y/N placed two fingers on Maria’s chin, guiding her to make eye contact. “I don’t know what I would’ve done.”

“This is our job!” Maria finally exploded. “If you can’t handle the fact that one of us might get hurt, then this won’t work out. I am not going to neglect my duty for fear that I might get injured. There’s a bigger picture than just my life. You, of all people, know that.”

Y/N was silent and sat down opposite Maria, rubbing her neck.

“If that’s all, would you mind leaving me so I can actually get on with my job.” Maria’s tone was cold and she studiously avoided Y/N’s gaze.

“Let me help. I’ll go to ground, find the horned godling and show him what it’s like to be trapped under a pile of rubble.” Y/N joked, trying to lighten her girlfriend’s mood. She was worried for her, Maria looked absolutely exhausted and she’d barely gotten out of the rubble before plunging straight back into her work. It was futile to try and tear Maria from her work; her diligence was one of the qualities she admired so strongly.

“Y/N!” Maria scolded lightly, eyes never leaving the monitors in front of her. “You know that wouldn’t help; I’d spend the whole time being worried sick about you. Doing your job doesn’t mean putting yourself in danger unnecessarily. Plus, it would be nice to have you around when we’re dealing with the Avengers.”

Y/N bolted upright, eyes wide and face pale.

“Avengers? As in Tony Stark?”

“Well, yes. You were there when we were selecting the candidates, turned down a place on the Initiative but we’ve contacted the others. Will you reconsider?” Y/N winced at Maria’s words, knowing that her place on the team would only lead to mistrust and chaos.

“I’d love to, love, but I don’t think I’d play well with Tony Stark. His famed ego would brush me the wrong way and I’m sure extra tension will not be appreciated.” 

At that, Maria finally looked up, giving her a cold, dead stare.

“You managed to complete several missions by playing nice. Don’t think I haven’t heard of your reputation as the ‘Seductress’. It’s not too difficult for you to smile nicely and calm things down when the team gets in each other’s faces. Romanoff is on the team as well so you will have another agent to work with.”

Y/N groaned. “I don’t have a choice, do I?”

“No. Fury’s orders. Report at 9am on the Helicarrier tomorrow morning.”

~

“Nick, darling. Good to see you again,” Y/N greeted Director Fury effusively, grinning at the stoic man’s exasperation.

“It’s Director Fury to you, Agent Y/L/N. Please remember to be professional in a work environment. But I’m glad to see you arrived on time. I wasn’t sure you would, given previous meetings.” Director Fury walked over to the central monitors in the command room, clearly expecting her to follow. Y/N snapped to attention, schooling her features into a poker face.

“Yeah, well, Commander Hill is most effective in completing her orders,” complimented Y/N, a serene expression on her face as she scuttled after him. 

Y/N breathed an interjection of astonishment as she gazed out at the clouds stretching endlessly in front of them. The command room was abustle with agents as the Helicarrier prepared to take off and she could see a small team running facial recognition software internationally in one corner. 

“Now, as you can guess, you’re not here to ease tensions among the team. I know of your past with Stark and am not willing to risk the safety of the world on some petty spat you two had a few years back.” Director Fury pulled up various files, tapping hurriedly on the monitors.

“To be frank, sir, Mr Stark does not know of my work here at SHIELD and I would like to keep it that way. I feel it would jeopardise the Avengers if he knew.” 

Director Fury turned to face her, his one, beady eye boring into hers. “I was not planning for you to be working together.”

“Then what am I here for, sir?” 

“I need your skillset.” 

Y/N grimaced, she knew it was coming. She was good at her job, the best, maybe, and if you needed someone undercover, to be charmingly deceiving, she was your woman. However, her teamwork skills were lacking, to say the least. Her position on the Avengers team was therefore surprising and she had sensed an ulterior motive to Fury’s orders.

“Yes, sir. Who is my target?”

“We’ll be sending you into the mouth of the beast himself.” Fury pulled up Loki’s file, although there was little to show other than a couple of blurry images. “He has a team of SHIELD agents under mind control, including Agent Barton, which will make your job harder. But with your… condition, I think you can easily pretend to switch sides. Say you want information, a cure maybe.”

“Understood, sir. Where am I to encounter him?” Y/N tapped on one of the blurry images to enlarge it, zooming in on the long stick-thing with a glowing blue gem at one end. “And what the hell is that?”

“That is his sceptre. It has some kind of mind-controlling properties. Just keep away from the pointy end and you should be fine.”

“Sounds easier said than done if he got Barton,” muttered Y/N. Mouth of the beast. God, Fury did like to send her on the fun ones.

“I expect you to provide intel on his plans. His location is highly confidential, as we need to ensure that he comes to us. He will make his next move soon, so you will be deployed as soon as we get off the water.”

“Yes sir.” Y/N turned to leave and gather her gear, but paused as a thought came to mind. “Just wondering, Nick, if you could do a favour for me. Can you keep this off-record, or make sure Commander Hill doesn’t know about my mission?”

“It’s Director Fury. But, yes, of course. This was never going to be below Level 9 Clearance anyway, but I’ll make sure to put it with the rest of your files.”

Y/N nodded sharply, turning smartly to exit the command centre and head to the tactical gear room. As she walked towards the double doors, they slid open as Agent Coulson strode towards Director Fury.

“Phil.”

“Y/N.”

“I hope you took your chance in getting your cards signed.”

“Not yet, I didn’t have them on me.”

Y/N laughed at Phil’s regretful tone, before making her way out to get her gear.

:.

Y/N had parachuted down to the location Fury had given her; it was a nondescript, seemingly abandoned warehouse. However, the muffled bustle betrayed the movement behind the locked doors. Squeezing under the chain-link fence, she dusted herself off as she scanned the outside of the building for activity. It was completely still as she made her way across to the doors, squeezing her way through the slim gap left between them.

Only to be face with a pistol pressed against her head. This must be the muscle. Y/N smiled disarmingly sweetly at the two burly men in front of her.

“Hey boys. Don’t say you could point me in the direction of the Asgardian with horns?”

The thugs glanced at each other in confusion, giving Y/N enough time to kick upwards, knocking the pistol out of his hand. It scattered across the floor, out of reach and Y/N groaned. She’d actually have to fight these men.

One man attempted to swing a punch at her, while the other grabbed her in a headlock. The resulting right hook to the jaw left her seeing stars as pain shot through her jawbone and down her neck. He swung again and Y/N blocked his arm, grabbing and using his own momentum to push him down.

The thug behind her tightened the headlock and black spots clustered at the edge of her vision as he constricted her air supply. Y/N locked her leg round his and threw him down, ducking as the second man sent a lumbering punch towards her head. She elbowed sharply back into his gut and he doubled over, air pushed out of him.

The first man clambered to his feet and she grabbed him by his shirt, pushing away. Y/N pulled him towards her, her head colliding with his nose. He collapsed to the floor in a heap. The second thug, seeing his friend fall, kicked Y/N’s legs out from under her. He straddled her, repeatedly striking blows across her face. Reaching her left hand up, she blindly pressed her fingers into his eyes.

The man howled, sending footsteps running their way. Fuck.

:.

“We found a SHIELD agent trying to break in and she demanded to come see you,” Barton’s voice was monotonous as he pushed Y/N onto her knees in front of Loki.

“SHIELD, huh? They only sent one of you? At least you too will become free,” Loki crooned, lifting her head to meet his eyes with the tip of his sceptre.

“They didn’t send me,” Y/N mumbled, voice muffled by the blood in her mouth.

“Pardon me?”

She spat on the floor next to her and looked him dead in the eyes.

“SHIELD didn’t send me. If they knew where you were, trust me they would be here by now.” There was a bitter edge to the tone of her voice as he smiled coldly at her.

“Then why did you come? What do you want?” Loki appeared bored, fiddling with his sceptre. “Did you come to beg for mercy for your pitiful little planet?”

Y/N scoffed, shaking her hair out of her face.

“I came for your help.”

“My help?” A smirk grew on Loki’s face as he gazed into her pleading eyes. “What makes you think I’d be so generous as to offer you any?”

“Because there’s no one like me. And I have willingly come to you, unlike these minions that you’ve brainwashed.” One of the men behind her grunted, knocking the back of her head forward and Y/N grinned savagely.

Loki stood up and Y/N froze, expecting him to turn her into one of his mindless slaves. However, he just tapped his fingers against the sceptre, an amused twinkle dancing in his eyes.

“And what would make you so… special?”

Y/N stretched out her hand, palm upturned to show she wasn’t holding anything.

“Surely you can sense it. What they made me into.”

Loki gently placed his fingertips against hers and felt the strange force that flowed beneath her veins. She didn’t carry the same weakness that all the other mortals did. He grabbed her wrist to take a closer look beneath the translucent skin as she hissed in pain. Interesting. Her blood was sky-blue, similar to the colour of the Tesseract.

“You’ve become immortal.”

“Not willingly.”

Read Part 2 here

[jennymanrique]

How communities can heal post-pandemic

Experts warn that even if the United States reaches the elusive herd immunity, closing the growing inequality gaps separating low-income communities of color from the rest of the country will require more work.

Health care and education disparities. Lack of affordable housing. Racism and police abuse. Job loss. These are just a few of the inequity gaps — exacerbated by the COVID-19 pandemic — that face low-income communities of color. Professionals who work with them directly say closing those gaps will require a complicated healing process.

“We know COVID is the disease that has revealed our illness as a society: the valleys of inequality that pre-existed COVID have been flooded with the tsunami of the disease,” said Manuel Pastor, University of Southern California Distinguished Professor of Sociology and American Studies & Ethnicity and Turpanjian Chair in Civil Society and Social Change, speaking at a May 7 briefing hosted by Ethnic Media Services.

Many mixed-status families that included undocumented immigrants were locked out of federal assistance until the March 2021 passage of the American Rescue Act, Pastor said. Now they are “kind of reluctant to tap in, because they’re worried that may count against them if there’s eventually a route to legalization in the future.”

Two-thirds of California’s undocumented immigrants have been in the country for more than a decade and are waiting for Congress to work out their path to citizenship. COVID has affected them like no other population because lack of insurance, mistrust and fear have prevented them from accessing health services.

“Every state relief program should try to think about what it can do to be fully accessible to undocumented Californians,” said Pastor, who also sits on the Governor’s Council of Economic Advisers.

Last summer, the California Healthy Places Index indicated that the virus was going to devastate Blacks, Latinos and Asians, but the state did not bring COVID tests to those communities. Without data on positivity rates, counties couldn’t determine how safe it would be to reopen.

California decided to allocate 40% of vaccines to the 25% of communities that scoring worst on this index. Local mobile clinics receive doses, mobilize trusted messengers and run campaigns to encourage vaccination.

Still, the initial vaccine rollout was “a recipe for racial inequality,” added Pastor. Doses were available to anyone of a certain age category or occupation, but the older populations are overwhelmingly white while younger populations belong to communities of color.

“It could be argued that everyone in that age category had an equal shot at getting the vaccine, as long as they had a computer (to make the appointment), high-speed Internet, a job where they could take three hours off in the middle of the day to chase down a vaccine, and access to a car, rather than mass transit,” said Pastor.

Education is another gap area for communities of color. They’ve experienced a tremendous loss in learning and, despite the reopening of schools, are the most reluctant to come back. Black and brown families who suffered from the virus in their homes are afraid to send their children to places where they may be infected, and the digital divide has accentuated students’ difficulties in keeping up with their homework.

In Los Angeles County, 13% of K through 12 white children lacked a computer with high-speed Internet, but for black and Latino children, the figure was around 40%, Pastor said.

He added that the pandemic also has disproportionately affected the incomes of communities of color. While it has not caused a 2008-like recession, which hit the economy evenly, we’re facing a “micro recession.” Stock markets and property are up, so the wallets of people with annual incomes of more than $100,000 are unaffected, but those at the bottom of the labor market have lost income, employment and wages.

Mental health is yet another area of disparity, Pastor said. “The level of mental health trauma is high and we need to have culturally sensitive mental health resources available. We need to destigmatize the issue, make it be seen as something that is social and at the community level, not just your individual failing, so people feel confident accessing those resources.”

The Community Coalition, founded in South Los Angeles by Congresswoman Karen Bass, is one example of fostering post-pandemic healing by having multiracial, multigenerational communities generate the solutions they need.

Leslie Johnson, Vice President of Organizational Development at Community Coalition, told the briefing that it launched a website in English and Spanish that allows residents to check on their emotional health, instituted a teletherapy program with licensed therapists of color, and held healing circles in local parks to address “the devastating impact (of COVID) all around on physical, financial and mental health.”

She added that targeted funding and having elected officials understand these kinds of interventions are essential: “Racism is the true pandemic that we are fighting against. COVID-19 has exacerbated a lot of pre-existing conditions in our community that are fostered by institutional racism and white supremacy. We must call for solutions that are bold, not just at the individual level but at the systems level.”

Community Coalition has raised funds to buy personal protective equipment, made direct cash payments to families to help cover rent and utilities, provided laptops and hardware to students and installed Internet hotspots. It also offered Pfizer vaccinations in a local park, including nighttime appointments so people wouldn’t have to miss work.

Los Angeles will receive about $1.3 billion from the federal government from the American Rescue Plan. With its share of those resources, The Community Coalition will make loans to women business owners, help people with rent and mortgage payments and utilities, and increase youth employment opportunities.

Originally published here

Want to read this piece in Spanish? Click here

[thetrailofyourbloodinthesnow]

for the prompt Joanna and children

for @incurablescribbler

The song of steel lures Joanna to her window. In the distance she can see the large figure of the Master-at-arms, looking over two boys clashing swords: a tall one with dark brown hair and a smaller one with golden curls whose back is turned to Joanna. The swords they use have dull edges, fit for practice, yet, the sight of them still makes Joanna nervous. Perhaps she’s being overprotective, but she can’t shake the feeling than her son is too young for steel and that he’ll should be sticking to wooden swords. But Jaime had insisted – and the Master-at-arms had backed him – that he was ready for them, and seeing him practicing, she admits that he was right; the boy he’s fighting with is older and already a squire, and yet he’s getting bested by her son.

He’ll make a great knight one day. Usually that thought makes her chest swell with pride. Instead, right now, it makes her sad and she can’t understand why. Is it because she can feel him slipping away from his mother’s arms into a world of swords and horses, jousts and mêlées, blood and sweat, a world in which his mother has no place?

It’s a somber thought, that kind of which have crossed her mind more often lately. Is this room. I'm not made to be locked in here. She’s used to roam the castle, giving orders and making sure they are followed through, or holding court in the audience chamber, or greeting guests in the courtyard, anything but staying in her chambers staring at the ceiling all day. She wishes terribly to go back to her routine, but the Master had been firm in his orders that she keeps to her chambers resting; for her own sake and the sake of the child she carries. I wouldn’t be able to do much anyway, she thinks resigned. My belly is so swollen that even a small walk would leave me gasping for air.

Even then, the boredom of her enclosure doesn’t weight on her as much of the loneliness does. If only her husband was at her side. But Tywin is away at King’s Landing, handling the realm in the name of a king that mistrust him more every day. At times like this she wants to ask him to renounce his post, to stay with her ruling Casterly Rock together as it’s meant to be. But she knows it’s a lost cause, that he trusts her to rule alone over their lands. As well as over their household, their family and over herself. So, she never lets her desires show on the letters she sends him regularly, and resigns herself to keep missing her son and her husband.

At least she has her daughter. Her Cersei comes to visit her every day and Joanna tries to teach her the business of being a lady. It was easier before, when she could teach her by example – she would go about her duties with her daughter trailing behind, following her mother into a world of dresses and ornaments, balls and drawing room gatherings, courtesies and good manners, and blood and sweat too, but of a different kind. She would set a small chair besides her High Seat so Cersei could accompany her while she listened to the petitioners that came to the Rock. She would announce her verdicts and explained the reasoning behind them to the girl, who was quick to understand. The memory of her daughter sitting next to her – her back straight and chin up, trying to look imposing at eight years old – brings a smile to Joanna’s face. She will make a fine lady one day.

Or a queen. Tywin hasn’t said it yet, but Joanna is not blind to her husband’s ambition. She knows he would like to see his daughter wed to young prince Rhaegar, and one day his grandson on the Iron Throne. It was that type of ambition that draw her to him in the first place; that impulse of climbing higher and having the guts and the cunning to reach the top. It was his ambition that brought back the prestige of their house after Lord Tytos made them the laughing stock of the realm. But Joanna worries that her husband might be overreaching. For another King, a daughter of House Lannister would make a fine match for the Prince of Dragonstone, but is Aerys they are talking about – capricious, envious, prideful Aerys – who would likely reject the alliance just to slight her husband, as he so delights in doing.

She can’t forget how he humiliated her at the Anniversary Tourney. Remembering it still makes her teeth grind. He had asked her (with his wine-stinking breath) if giving suck to her twins had ruined her breasts, “which were so high and proud." Tywin was so angry that he presented his renounce, but the King refused to accept it. And, to Joanna’s frustration, he stayed in his post to this day.  But she knows he hasn’t forgotten either, not that nor any other slight. He remembers them all and will remember to pay them back twofold. A Lannister always pays his debts. 

Yet, even knowing that, to think of her daughter being in the vicinity of that man sickens her. A crown is no less than Cersei deserves, but if to have it she must go to the wolf’s den then Joanna would prefer that she stayed crownless in Casterly Rock forever.

Crown in her future of not, there’s still a lot that she must teach Cersei, and it seems she should start with how to keep one’s temper. She’s pleasantly surprised when the groom announces – hours before she expected them – that Cersei and her Septa request entrance to my lady’s chamber for their daily visit. Her smile disappears, however, when Septa Lynora enters her chamber with a sour expression, carrying her daughter by the wrist, who looks at the septa as if she wants to grind her to sand. Oh, now what?

"My lady, forgive me for bothering you by coming here early. But I’m afraid your daughter needs to be disciplined.”

“And why don’t you discipline her yourself, septa?” Joanna asks, irritated. “Isn’t that your job?”

“I...” Septa Lynora seems to lose her voice. And Joanna catches Cersei trying to hide her smile at the older woman’s plight.

“What did she do?” Joanna nods at Cersei who immediately loses her glee.

“She pushed Ella Marbrand into a mud puddle,” the septa replies. Ella Marbrand was the newest of Cersei’s companions. She and her brother Addam had arrived at Casterly Rock barely a fortnight earlier. And while his brother (who served as a page) and Jaime had become fast friends, she and Cersei were having more of a rough start.

“She deserved it!” Cersei stomps her feet in the ground. “She was being such a pretentious moron.” Her daughter then goes on a long rant about the girl; how she’d been bragging all day about the things she’d brought with her from Ashemark: fine dresses, rare jewelry, exquisite perfumes, and so on and so forth. She also presumed of her relatives; their position at court, their ancient and exalted lineage, and their connections with other Houses. Especially with the Lannister themselves. Who could forget that lord Tywin’s mother was born a Marbrand? “She even said that we should strengthen the ties between our families by having the heir of Casterly Rock married to a Marbrand again,” Cersei sounds outraged. “She meant she should marry Jaime!” she crinkles her nose at the idea.

Joanna lets her rant, resisting the urge to roll her eyes. Petty fights between girls were the least of her concerns. And really, her daughter should learn to ignore silly comments from a girl who clearly has more ambition than brain.

“And you know what else she said?” Cersei doesn’t seem to notice her mother’s lack of interest and continues unrestrained. “She said that father seems to be getting too full of himself, thinking he is the king instead of Aerys. That, as capable as he is, someone needs to remind him that he is really just a servant to the Iron Throne.”

“She said that?” That does piques Joanna’s interest. The words of a child are of little importance, but children often repeat the words of their elders. House Marbrand had been a loyal vassal to the Lannister in the past, but loyalties could change like the weather. She makes a mental note to mention it to Tywin in her next letter. “Did she mention hearing that from someone else?”

“Yes, she said she heard it from her cousin who lives at court, and that many others agree. Such a liar.” She lets out a huff. “That was when I pushed her into the mud.”

Joanna can’t help feeling a certain pride at her daughter’s fierceness in defending her father – a true lioness – but she knows she can’t let that behavior carry on.

“You are a lady, Cersei. You can’t toss your friends in the mud. No matter what they say”

“She’s not my friend! She’s a horrid little airhead. I don’t like her at all, can’t you send her home?” Joanna knows her daughter is truly upset, but her little pout is rather adorable. It does a lot to ease her annoyance at her childishness. After all, she is a child. She just needs to be taught better.

Joanna asks the septa to leave them alone and gestures Cersei to sit next to her.

“I cannot send her home; it would be considered an insult by the Marbrands.” She explains calmly. “Furthermore, there’s something you need to understand: whether you like her or not plays no role in her being your companion.” Cersei starts to protest that, but Joanna carries on, “She is your lady because is critical for our House that we foster good relationships with our vassals. Is important that you are her friend, or at least that you’re cordial to her. Chances are, you will know ladies that you like even less than Ella Marbrand, but you must always be courteous no matter what. You, my love, are a daughter of House Lannister. You carry our reputation on your shoulders. You must never lower to the level of any ‘little airhead’, understand?”

 “I guess…” Cersei admits reluctantly.

“And more importantly,” Joanna continues, “The maidens that you befriend today will one day become the wives of your brother’s Bannermen and the mothers to their heirs, and they will have influence over their husbands and sons. You will find that the connections you form now will come very handy once you’ve grown.” She thinks of her friend the Princess of Dorne; how they had met as young girls serving as ladies to princess Raella, and how beneficial that connection was turning out to be. Tywin wasn’t the only one who had plans for their children’s future. “So, you must make peace with Ella Marbrand.”

“But mother…”

“No buts. You will apologize to her before the day is done. That’s an order, Cersei.”

Her daughter’s jaw clenches tightly for a moment before begrudgingly saying: “Yes, mother.” 

“Good girl.” Joanna runs her fingers through Cersei’s golden locks, but she stays stiff, unacknowledging her mother’s caress. “I know you’ll become a great lady. You’ll make your father proud.” That manages to bring a smile to her lips, and she lets Joanna pull her closer and place her arm around her little shoulders. “Now, tell me what else happened to you today.”

Cersei leans her head upon Joanna’s shoulders and begins describing her lessons with the Maester, her horse ride through Lannisport, her games with Jaime, and all her other activities, while Joanna listens attentively and feels glad that her daughter’s life is full of joy and innocence, where the only thing that can bother her are petty fights with other girls than can be easily resolved. Spending those moments with her daughter, talking and laughing with her, is enough to wash away the gloomy mood that had taken over her earlier. She bids goodbye to Cersei for the afternoon with a kiss in her forehead and an exhortation to apologize to Ella Marbrand before the day is done.

Alone again, Joanna rests upon her comfiest couch and begins going through the account books that the Steward had left her. Then, a sudden drowsiness assails her, the numbers begin to blend before her eyes and her eyelids close on their own accord.

A tapping on her door awakes her. She doesn’t know how long she slept, but a quick look at the window reveals her that is beginning to dusk. She allows the caller to enter, and it’s the groom, who announce her that Septa Lynora once again request entrance in her chambers.

Joanna’s first thought is that Cersei’s apology must not have gone as well as she had expected. The septa’s face is ashen and somehow seems more winkled than earlier (something Joanna wouldn’t have thought possible). But the girl who accompanies her is not Cersei. Rather, is a scrawny girl who wears a handmaid’s attire. She’s casting nervous glances upon every place in the room except for Joanna’s face.

“My lady, forgive me for bothering you again,” begins the old septa. “But there’s a grave matter that I must inform you of.” She beckons the reluctant girl to stand next to her and continues: “This maid came to speak to me about something she saw today.”  Septa Lynora swallows audibly as she struggles with her speech. “She says that she surprised my lady’s twins doing some… unspeakable acts.”

Unspeakable acts? Joanna knows that the septa has an inclination to dramatics and might use that term for any childish misdeed. But something tells her that wherever Jaime and Cersei were doing was grave indeed. Though she cannot imagine what it could have been. “What did she saw them do?” she asks.

“It’s better if you explain it yourself,” Septa Lynora tells the girl who answers her with a look of dismay. “Speak, child,” the Septa commands the servant, and speak she does… 

Joanna listens incredulous to the girl’s tell. Her mind struggles to even imagine it. Cersei and Jaime… But they are just children… No, they couldn’t have been doing that… Impossible, no!...

After the servant finishes speaking, Joanna stays sitting there, unmoving, staring at the distance. After a few uncomfortable moments, Septa Lynora clears her throat and inquires, “My lady, are you all right?”

Joanna turns her eyes to the older woman. “Do you believe this? Did you speak to them?” she asks in a taut voice.

“I did speak to them, my lady,” the septa replies, while fidgeting with her woven belt. “They denied it at first, but I saw the fault in their faces, especially in young Jaime’s. It was only after I promised that I wouldn’t tell you that they confessed,” she looks into Joanna’s eyes. “Their confession matched this handmaid’s story. It’s true.”

It’s true. It’s true. It’s true. Those words keep echoing in Joanna’s head as the world begins to whirl around her. Shock, horror and disgust battle for dominance inside of her. Her stomach flips. She gets up abruptly – startling the two other women – and staggers to reach the chamber pot at the side of her bed. She falls heavily to her knees and empties her stomach into the pot.

“My lady!” she hears the septa shriek, and a moment later she feels someone sinking next to her and holding her shoulders, and someone else holding her hair back from her face. Joanna’s stomach keeps on contracting violently and choking her with vomit until everything is finally out.

When she’s able to breathe again, she looks to her right and sees that is the girl who is holding her. Joanna shakes her hands off and turns her eyes from her. She can’t even look at her; that dark raven, bringer of dark words. Her eyes swarm up with tears. “Leave,” she orders. She once told Cersei that tears were a woman’s weapons, but she doesn’t feel protected by them now. In fact, she only feels the humiliation of being seen so vulnerable. “The two of you leave now!”

The girl doesn’t need to be told twice, she rises from the floor and after curtsying practically runs out of the room. The septa stays where she is, thought. “My lady, shouldn’t I call the Maester? You’re not well…”

“No!” She can’t stand someone else seeing her like this. “Just leave me alone!” After a final look of concern, Septa Lynora curtsies and turns to leave as well. “Wait!” Joanna stops her right before she closes the door. “The children. You must separate them. Place Jaime’s room far from Cersei’s.” The septa nods and finally leaves.

Even after they had left the nursery, the twins couldn’t stand to be apart. So, Joanna had placed their rooms across from each other, and they had the custom of staying in each other’s bed at night. And she had allowed that, thinking they were still too young for it to be inappropriate. She feels sick thinking about it.

Her twins. Her precious babies. They had always been so alike that only their clothes told them apart. Together everywhere they went. Seeming to understand each other without the need of words. Their connection had always seemed so sweet to Joanna. She’d been glad that, despite their difference in gender and personality, they always got along so well.

Now, she didn’t know what to think. How couldn’t she have noticed it? Had she unknowingly allowed it or even encouraged it? She doesn’t know and that’s the worst part. This revelation makes her doubt herself and her motherhood at the worst possible time: when she’s about to bring another child into the world.

Joanna stays curled up on the floor of her chambers, pressing her head against the side of her bed as the sobs bust up through her throat. A long while after, when her crying has subdued, she gets up with great difficulty and sits upon the bed, drying her tear-stained face. Her breakdown passed; she takes a decision. She couldn’t prevent what happened, but she can still fix it.

It’s past sunset when she has the maid brought back to her presence. Joanna is the image of composure and pose as she politely thanks her for her services to house Lannister, and informs her that said services will be no longer needed. The girl protests at losing her job, saying she has done nothing to deserve being dismissed, that she was only warning m’lady of what she saw. Joanna interrupts her; she doesn’t want to hear again about what the girl had seen. She would rather forget that she ever heard it.

She hands the maid a leather pouch. The girl opens it; there’s a pause and then her lips curl at its content.

Joanna hates that smile. She imagines the wench in a filthy tavern, presuming of her gold, telling everyone within an earshot how the Lady of Casterly Rock had given it to her to keep her children’s dirty secrets.

She yanks the maid’s arm and lowers her to her face. The girl cries out as Joanna’s nails dig into her flesh.

“You won’t say a word of it,” she orders. “You understand? Not a word, or I will have your head!”

“Y-yes m’lady,” the girl’s eyes are wide with terror. “I won’t say anything.”

Joanna lets her go and the girl scurries off the room without looking back.

When she’s alone again, Joanna shrinks in her chair with a sigh, it has been a long day and she feels dreadfully tired. What she wants more in the world right now is to lay in her coverts and sleep – hopefully she will awake to find out that it has all been a nightmare – but there’s still something she must do before the night is over.

Joanna makes her way to Cersei’s chambers; a guard has been posted at her door to make sure her twin doesn’t get in or – more likely – that she gets out. Inside, it looks as if a tornado has rampaged the room. Tables have been turned and curtains have been ripped, the articles of Cersei’s vanity have been tossed around and her garments sprawled across the floor. Even her favorite dolls have not survived her fit.  Finding nothing else to target her anger at, Cersei finally resigned to sit by her window, frowning at the glass as if trying to break it with the sheer force of her glare. Septa Lynora is standing at her side chastising her, but Cersei simply ignores her. Until she sees Joanna's reflection in the glass and rushes to her.

“Mother!”  She tries to wrap her little arms around Joanna’s middle, – something made difficult by her protruding belly – sure that her salvation has finally arrived. “Mother, Septa Lynora has looked me in my room. She doesn’t want to let me see Jaime. Mother, tell her to let me out.”

But she is left cold when Joanna doesn’t immediately return her embrace to comfort her, bad mouthing the Septa for mistreating her child. Instead Joanna looks hard at her and crosses her arms. “Septa Lynora has only done what I order her to do.”

Cersei steps back as if she’s been struck. “But, why?” she whines outraged.

“Don’t play fool, Cersei. You know exactly why.”

“I’ve been trying to lecture her on the grievous sin she has committed,” Septa Lynora intervenes. “But she resorted to storm her room in a rage, as my Lady can see,” she gestures at the surrounding mess. “Even when I told her that we could pray for her forgiveness…”

“I don’t need to pray for forgiveness, you old hag!” Cersei snaps. “I already told you, we did nothing wrong!”

“That’s not what the servant girl saw. Nor what you admitted to Septa Lynora earlier.”

“I lied, mother. Septa Lynora was yelling at me to admit to whatever that girl said she saw. I got scared. I only said what she wanted me to say.” With her watery eyes and lip trembling, Cersei is rather convincing. Joanna wants to believe her, but she knows her daughter; Cersei has sufficient stubbornness in her to look at the blue sky and claim it is green. She can’t have suddenly become so afraid of her Septa – who never had much power to intimidate her before – that she would admit to something she hadn’t done.

“Really?” Joanna asks in a sarcasm-soaked voice. “Or was it that you believed the Septa’s words that she wouldn’t tell your mother if you admitted to her what you did?”

“N-no, mother,” Cersei stutters. “She said that? She lied to you. They both did.”

“So, everyone always lies except for you, Cersei. Is that’s how it is?”

“Yes! I mean, no. I mean…” she’s babbling in a way she rarely does. Except when she knows she has been caught.

“And tell me, why Septa Lynora would want to inculpate you with something like this?” Joanna can feel the anger building up inside her, forming a tight burning ball in her guts. But she wills herself to keep her voice calm. She doesn’t want to scream at her child. She only wants the truth. “What will she gain from it?”

“I-I don’t know. Why don’t you ask her? She’s…”

“Enough!” Joanna snaps and immediately regrets it when Cersei recoils from her. She breathes deeply and says evenly: “Cersei, you already are in a truly serious problem. If you don’t want to make it worse, you must be honest. Don’t try to deviate from the subject or blame others. Just tell me the full truth.”

Her daughter stays quiet, her face turning pink and her eyes cast down, unable to bear the burden of her mother’s stare.

“Won’t you say anything?” there’s an edge of desperation in Joanna voice. Because she truly wants Cersei to deny what she’s been accused of, and for her denial to make sense, so she can believe her. She wants none of this to be true. But Cersei is silent as a grave. Joanna sights again, “Very well, since you won’t speak to me, I will go. I’ll come back tomorrow and see if you’re willing to tell the truth. You are not allowed to leave your chambers till then.”

Cersei’s rage reawakens: “That’s not fair!” tears of frustration start to stream down her flushed cheeks. “Why don’t you believe me, mother? That serving wench lied to you. We did nothing wrong!”

Joanna is not listening anymore. She turns back and leaves the chambers without another word. Once outside, she begins her trek to the other end of the Rock, where her son has been housed. She has to stop several times on the way to catch her breath and give some relief to her swollen feet that makes every step feel like she’s walking on spikes. After what feels like an eternity, she reaches her son’s door.

Unlike his sister, Jaime receives her without objection. He doesn’t say much, and keeps his head lowered, seemingly unable to meet his mother’s eyes. Seeing him thus makes Joanna’s heart ache even more than Cersei’s harsh words, for she sees an admission of guilt.

“Jaime, look at me,” she keeps her tone calm, but firm, she wants him to know she’s not there to scream and rage at him. Her son looks up tentatively from beneath his eyelashes. “I’m going to ask you a question and I want you to be fully honest with me. Were you and Cersei doing what that maid said she saw you do?”

Jaime averts his eyes again and nods. “But we were just playing,” he explains. “We saw the dogs in the kennels doing it, and the horses too. We were trying to imitate them, and it felt good, so…”

“Those aren’t games, Jaime.” Although she feels relieved to hear him describing it as such. They were just children plays; misguided but innocent. Not the unnatural sinful tendencies that Septa Lynora had made them out to be. They are children; they just need to be taught better. “You are not dogs or horses. Children should never do those things, especially if they are siblings.”

“W-we didn’t know that,” he murmurs meekly.

“I believe you,” she says, and Jaime sights relieved. “But, remember what your father said to you the last time you saw him?”

“He said that I was the Lord of Casterly Rock in his absence, and that I had to protect my mother and sister,” he recalls solemnly.

“Precisely. But you did the exact opposite of that today.” Confusion and dismay are plain in Jaime’s face. He knew that he had done wrong, but he hadn’t realized how he had failed his father. “If these were to be known, her reputation would be ruined. She wouldn’t be able to find a good husband.”

“Does she have to get married?”

“Yes,” Joanna’s tone leaves no room for debate. She remembers Cersei’s outrage at the idea of Jaime marring Ella Marbrand; it doesn’t seem so innocent anymore. “It’s inevitable. When she’s of age, she will marry and start a family. And so will you. Or would you have your sister be a spinster?” She makes it sound like a fate worse than death.

Jaime shakes his head. “No, I don’t want that.” His lip trembles and tears began to flow from his emerald eyes. “I’m sorry,” he sobs.

“I forgive you.” Joanna draws her handkerchief and wipes away her son’s tears. “Wrongs done in ignorance can be forgiven. As long as you don’t repeat them. Listen, I know you love your sister. I understand that you feel like you’re two parts of a whole. It makes sense; you’ve been together since before you were born. But there are things that you cannot share with her. Your bond has a limit, and today you have crossed it.” She gently lifts Jaime’s chin with her hand, looking him straight in the eyes. “Promise me, Jaime, that you will never do that again. Or I will have no choice but to tell your father.”

“I promise,” he’s so serious when he says it that Joanna believes him hole-heartily. She draws him to her arms, tucking him under her chin. She begins to rock him gently, letting the warmth of his body permeate her own, overturning all the doubts and fears that besiege her. She feels assured again.

Jaime will be a great knight one day. Cersei will be a great lady. And the child that is coming will follow their lead. 

As long as the Gods give her breath, she’ll make sure of that.