#i would be writing anyway cos they’ve taken over my spirit

[wreckedandpolemic]

OH MY GOD????!?!?! NEW WHITE & GOLD IS INSANE

THEY are the insane ones i swear i get possessed by the spirit of girlie every time i open the google doc cos i did not plot half the things she said in that fic

[downn-in-flames]

‘tis the season (every season)

Every day is Christmas when you’re Lily Evans and James Potter. {sequel to bake my wish come true}

read it on: hpft | ao3 | ffnet

At twenty-five years of age, Lily Evans can best be described as fully ambivalent about Christmas.

She no longer holds the holiday with the same level of contempt as she did three and a half years ago, but it’s not her favorite holiday either.

So, with all that taken into consideration, it’s rather hard to believe that a random July day would find Lily in a red-and-white striped apron, turning on a Spotify playlist full of Christmas music. Almost completely unfathomable, in fact.

However, that unfathomability fails to account for her boyfriend of three and a half years, whose love for the December holiday is entirely unparalleled by anyone Lily has ever met - including most small children. His holiday spirit is something of a contagion, one that even the most stubborn, unfestive person in the world can’t fight off.

“We open in ten minutes, Lily!” James yells from another room, as if Lily hasn’t been watching a clock since the moment they arrived in the little bakery four hours ago. “Oh my god,” he repeats, this time more to himself than to her, “we open in ten minutes.”

She walks into the front room, where James is standing behind the counter, seemingly frozen. His hands are braced against the edge of the countertop, squeezing so tightly that his knuckles are turning white, and the way that his hair is sticking up, even wilder than usual, suggests that he’s just been frantically running his fingers through it - a trademark nervous habit of his.

She’s been in that position all too many times over the past few months, experiencing a moment of panic as it hits her that oh my god, they’re really doing this, so it’s only natural that James was due for one of his own as well. Starting a business doesn’t come without its share of risk, and the stakes are at an all-time high every single step of the way, so the past few months have been full of these little stressed-out moments. And James has been the one to calm her down all those times before, rubbing soothing circles into her back as he reassures her that everything’s going to be fine and that she’s doing great; it’s about time that she repays the favor.

She wraps her arms around his middle, leaning into him. “It’s going to be magical,” she says reassuringly.

And she’s not just saying that to placate him - after all these months of stress and heavy decisions, she knows that opening day at ‘Tis the Season is going to be brilliant. She’s watched their social media following blow up over the past few weeks, as word spread that a year-round Christmas-themed bakery was opening its doors in the heart of London.

Despite getting a business degree at uni that had nothing to do with photography or caption-writing, it seems that all those years of running the Instagram account at Just Desserts served as surprisingly effective training for creating a viable business social media presence.

“You’re sure?” James says, the vulnerability in his voice palpable.

Lily looks around the bakery, at all the confections James has been working hard to create since the crack of dawn. There’s a tray of croissants, golden and buttery, sitting on the top shelf of the display case, accompanied by a few fresh fruitcakes - a Christmas classic that Lily was sure even the most spirited of holiday lovers secretly hated until she tasted the version James had come up with, fluffy and sweet and not at all reminiscent of the dense brick-like versions of the confection that her grandmother used to make year after year.

On the shelf below that is every kind of cookie imaginable - gingerbread, sugar, double chocolate - all shaped like classic holiday icons and decorated to perfection. No two were made exactly alike; James took pride in giving each cookie a personality of its own, mixing up frosting in just about every color imaginable and piping thin details onto the desserts with the practiced grace of an artist in his element.

Lily’s taste-tested just about everything in this bakery at least once - hell, she played a pretty integral role in the creation of most of them - and there’s nothing in these display cases that she doesn’t absolutely love.

Not to mention, the bakery is decorated to the nines. The custom neon light fixture just behind the display cases, proudly declaring ‘ ‘Tis the Season, Every Season’ (a gift from Lily just this past Christmas, not long after they’d signed the papers to officially purchase this little space) is the bow on top of it all, proudly proclaiming that this is their place, this is their Christmas wish come true.

She nods, even though he can’t see her do it. “Even more magical than Christmas morning.”

His grip on the counter loosens, and Lily can feel the muscles in his back and shoulders release just a little of their tension. “That’s a pretty high standard to live up to.”

“And yet, I have faith that it will.”

As fun and magical as Christmas morning is - especially in the Potter household, which is where she’s spent the last two Christmases - this is James seeing his dream come to life, seeing all the hard work and business meetings that he abhorred sitting through but Lily had forced him to attend anyways (“I may be making all the financial decisions, but we’re co-owners and I’ll be damned if I have to sit through a meeting with Ragnok alone”) come to fruition.

You can’t tie up a massive brick and mortar building with silver wrapping paper and a bow (although James had certainly wanted to try on more than one occasion), but Lily knows that having his life’s goal come together in front of his eyes is going to be far better than anything he’s ever found under a Christmas tree.

James lets go of the countertop fully, turning around in Lily’s arms so that they’re face-to-face. “I love you so much. Have I told you that lately?”

She smirks up at him as one of his hands comes up to rest on the side of her face, thumb gently skimming along her cheekbone. “Once or twice.”

“Well it bears repeating,” he replies, a smile slowly taking the place of the panicked expression that he was wearing just a few minutes ago. “I love you, and you’re brilliant.”

He leans down to kiss her, and even though it’s just a brief little peck, it fills Lily with the sort of warmth that’s only accomplished with James’ affection or his homemade cinnamon buns. But as much as she’d like to stay here all day and bask in that feeling, they’ve got a bakery to open.

“I love you too,” she tells him. “Now let’s open a fucking bakery.”

* * *

The first few hours bring a steady stream of customers, almost all of whom end up cooing over the red garland wrapped around the edges of the display case, or the cash register decorated to look like Santa’s sleigh, or the floor designed to look like a fresh snowfall.

The cinnamon rolls are the first to sell out - the ones with the chai icing go first, and the eggnog-frosted ones quickly follow. Lily thanks her lucky stars that she’d managed to sneak one out of the display case before they opened this morning as her breakfast - James’ chai icing is maybe one of her favorite confections in the whole bakery; the first time she’d tried it on top of a fresh-out-the-oven cinnamon roll, she’d practically been brought to tears by the deliciousness of the combination.

James spends most of the morning bouncing between the kitchen and the storefront - he’s got a few more things baking in the back to prepare for the lunch rush, but he’s never one to miss out on socialising with the customers either.

“A year-round Christmas bakery… where’d you come up with that one?” a woman asks him, looking into the cases of baked goods with interest.

“My girlfriend came up with it, actually,” James answers.

“Oh, is she a big Christmas person? That’s so sweet that you’d do this for her.”

Lily hears James snort, and his eyes flash over to her for just a moment. “Not… exactly. More that she knows how much I love it and realised it’d be a bang-up business model as well. She’s the mastermind behind this whole operation, really.”

The woman looks over at Lily, who’s trying her best to act like she’s occupied with packing up goods for the couple waiting at the other end of the counter and not eavesdropping on their conversation.

“Beauty and brains, then,” the customer tells James. “You’d better lock that one down soon.”

James just laughs. “Oh, I intend to. Very soon.”

That’s not necessarily news to Lily - they’ve discussed this on more than one occasion and decided to wait on getting married until after they’d gotten the bakery up and running - but it’s still somewhat surprising to hear him say it out loud to a random customer.

But then again, he’s always been the type to say whatever he can to make the customer happy, and that includes promises to propose to his girlfriend, apparently.

Although in fairness, they’ve done this whole thing backwards anyways - starting a business together is honestly almost a bigger commitment than a marriage, at least in Lily’s mind. She’s locked into this venture with James through multiple contracts they’ve had to sign along the way, meaning that they are, for all intents and purposes, pretty much stuck together at this point.

Not that she minds that much, though. This place may be James’ dream come true, but it’s also kind of become hers along the way too, over-the-top Christmas decor be damned.

“Good,” the woman says to James. “I’ll have three snowflake cookies and a peppermint brownie, please.”

* * *

Marlene McKinnon, their sole employee for the time being, arrives just before noon, and it’s pretty damn good timing, if Lily says so herself. The line is only just becoming slightly unmanageable, and an extra set of hands is basically a godsend at this point.

Lily had predicted a fair bit of traffic on opening day, but at this rate, they’ll be fully sold out by 2 p.m. Which is far better than having excess stock at the end of the day, but still, it’s not ideal. She’ll probably need to massively recalibrate their supply orders if this keeps up.

“Lils, can you go back and take the bread out of the oven? And maybe start a new batch of cookies or two while you’re at it? I think Marlene and I have got it handled out here for now.”

“On it,” she tells her boyfriend, giving him a mock-salute as she walks back into the kitchen.

She follows his directions first, sliding on a set of oven mitts and taking the loaf of nissua bread out of the oven. The heady cardamom scent of the Finnish sweet bread fills her nostrils - it’s probably one of her favourites of the many types of bread James makes only just beat out by his sourdough.

She’s certain that James had gotten a little antsy this morning, spending almost all of his time in the back while Lily had tended to customers - something evidenced by the fact that he asked Lily to come back and bake some more cookies rather than doing it himself. It’s not as if he doesn’t trust Lily’s baking skills or anything - he’d worked with her at Just Desserts for long enough to have faith that she can, in fact, bake well - but he’s still the better baker by far between the two of them.

But he’s a social creature by design, so it seems fitting that he’d want to spend the afternoon out interacting with their new customers (and probably attempting to charm them into becoming regulars, because that’s just what he does best).

She settles on baking a batch of ginger molasses cookies first. They’re nowhere near as fancy as the gingerbread people James decorated this morning - much simpler and less Instagram-worthy, but they’re Lily’s favourites to make.

She goes about collecting the ingredients she’ll need; most of the standard ingredients are conveniently stored next to the mixing station, but some of the more unique spices, including the crystallised ginger that’s the piéce de resistance of this particular cookie varietal, are stored in their spice cabinet along the back wall.

So she opens the cabinet, rifling through for the things she knows she’ll need - ground ginger, cinnamon, cloves, and, of course, crystallised ginger.

She’s so devoted to this particular task - locating each of the spices in neat alphabetical order amongst the shelves - that she almost misses the small box tucked away amongst the spices. It catches her eye though, at the last possible minute as she’s about to shut the cabinet door.

“That’s not supposed to be there,” she mutters, entirely to herself. She’d looked through these shelves just a few hours while helping with the early morning baking, and it definitely wasn’t there then.

But she doesn’t exactly have time to ponder these sorts of things, so she chalks it up to James messing with her organizational system and turns her attention back to baking. She’ll ask him about it later.

This part, she can do automatically. From all her years working at Just Desserts to pay her way through uni, all the baking she and James got up to just for fun (because of course his favourite date ideas always involved a kitchen somehow), and all the experimenting they’d done to perfect the menu for ‘Tis the Season, baking has become something as natural to her as breathing.

And with these cookies in particular, she’s learned to trust her instincts over any predetermined recipe. It’s something the Lily of three years ago would’ve never even entertained - breaking from a recipe in favour of eyeballing everything - but here she is, sprinkling cinnamon into the mixing bowl with nary a measuring spoon in sight.

She’s hesitant to credit James entirely with her decreased rigidity over the years - she likes to think she would’ve learned to be a little more laidback even without his constant easygoing, playful vibe slowly working its way into her personality - but it’s certainly true that he’s probably played at least some role in it. They’ve both been good for each other in that way - Lily keeps James grounded, he keeps her calm. They’re each other’s rocks.

She puts the bowl of ingredients under the hand mixer, flipping it on and watching the machine fold the flour, sugar, butter, molasses, and spices into one cohesive mixture. The sugary molasses-and-ginger scent of the newly-combined dough starts to reach her nostrils, and with it comes the vivid memory of her first attempt at these cookies.

She’d been with James, naturally, and it was long before ‘Tis the Season had been even the tiniest inkling of an idea in either of their heads.

They’d been together for… maybe a year at that point, and she’d taken the X90 to visit him in Oxford. What she wasn’t expecting to find when she got there, however, was her normally unruffled boyfriend on the edge of a dissertation-related nervous breakdown.

So she’d done the only thing she knew to bring James back down to earth: stuck him in the kitchen with no laptop, where he could stress-bake to his heart’s content.

Which is precisely what he’d done, and they’d very quickly ended up with well over a hundred cookies taking over the small communal kitchen he’d shared with his three roommates. Of those many, many batches of cookies, only one of them was made by Lily: the ginger molasses ones.

She hadn’t had any sort of recipe going in, just combined ingredients in what seemed like vaguely-logical ratios and hoped for the best; the downside of banning all technology from the kitchen for James’ sake was that she hadn’t had a recipe to follow like usual.

And yet, when they’d come out of the oven, and James had taken a bite, he’d sworn up and down that they were probably the best batch of cookies to come out of that day.

The ginger has a talent for ginger cookies, he’d joked, smiling for the first time since Lily had arrived. If we ever open a bakery, these are definitely going on the menu.

It had been nothing but a joke back then, a comment casually thrown about, but now… well, now, they’d actually done it. They’d actually opened a bakery together, and these silly little ginger cookies she’d come up with out of nowhere were suddenly on the menu.

Lily’s memories fully occupy her as she lines the cookies on the baking sheet, each little ball of dough rolled in a bit of sugar for that extra touch of sweetness.

Almost every item in this bakery has a memory just like that attached to it - a memory of her and James - but, she thinks to herself, the memory associated with these ginger cookies might just be one of her favourites.

* * *

Not having any extra inventory at the end of the day is something of a success - selling out in their first day of business is certainly something to be proud of, but it kind of puts a bit of a damper on their plans to serve leftovers at the grand opening party they’ve invited all their friends and family to.

“Well, it’s a good thing I baked a separate cake, isn’t it?” James comments, as they both walk into the back room, away from where everyone is currently mingling in the front of the shop.

“Yeah, at least we’ve got something to feed people with now,” Lily replies, leaning against the counter as James opens up one of the industrial-size fridges. “Champagne is great and all, but throwing a bakery opening party without any baked goods would’ve been a tragedy.”

“I really think Sirius would throw a full-blown tantrum,” he jokes, emerging and holding the boxed-up cake, before launching into an incredibly accurate impression of his best friend. “ ‘I came to an opening party for a bakery and didn’t even get to eat anything? This is a travesty.’ ”

“Well, I suppose we should get this cake out there to avoid such dramatics.”

“Yeah, we should,” James agrees, but he sets the cake on a nearby counter as he’s talking, and turns back to the cabinets. “I just need to do one thing first.”

He opens up the spice cabinet, which serves to remind Lily of the thing she’d been meaning to ask him about.

“Oh, James?”

He looks over at her, fingers still brushing along the bottles inside. “Hmm?”

“There’s a random box sitting in the spices somewhere, I’m guessing it’s yours?” She crosses over to where he’s standing, with the intention of pointing it out to him, just in case he has no clue what she’s referring to. “It’s right…”

The place where she’d seen the little black box earlier is now vacated. “There,” she finishes lamely. “I… how did it just disappear? You and I have been the only people back here today.”

“Do you mean this?” James reaches into his pocket and pulls out the same box she’d seen earlier.

“Yes!” she replies. “I’d been meaning to ask you if you knew what the hell it was, but then we got busy again and I completely forgot about it, and - ”

She doesn’t get to finish that sentence, because James flicks the aforementioned random box open, and whatever comment was about to follow dies on her lips.

Because inside the box sits a diamond ring.

“We agreed to wait until we’d gotten the bakery up and running, and… well, the bakery’s up and running,” he says, and Lily looks back up at his face to see an expression that can really only be described as pure adoration.

She doesn’t even have time to think - much less process what’s happening - when James drops down onto one knee in front of her.

On one hand, she’s naturally pretty surprised by this development, but on the other hand… immediately seizing the very first possible moment to propose honestly sounds exactly like something James would do.

“I’ve never exactly been a paragon of patience, have I?” he jokes, and suddenly Lily is trying to commit every aspect of this moment to memory, from the way the dimmed kitchen lights seem to be casting a glow on James’ skin, to the way the hand holding the ring box is shaking ever-so-slightly, to the...

“You do realise you’re proposing to me while wearing reindeer antlers, yeah?” she can’t help but blurt out.

He reaches up to touch his head at that, almost as if confirming that yes, he does in fact have reindeer antlers on. One corner of his lip turns upwards in a half-smile. “Seems pretty fitting, don’t you think?”

She can’t help but giggle a little at that. Truly, given how consistently James donned a pair of reindeer antlers in the time between their first meeting and their first date (and every holiday season after that, really), it kind of is only fitting that he’d be on one knee in a pair of reindeer antlers too.

“Yeah, I’d say it is,” she replies, giving him the same sort of soft smile in return.

They stay like that for a heartbeat, neither of them saying anything, before James jolts a little. “Right, I’m supposed to make a speech now, aren’t I? Lily, you’re my best friend, my dream girl, and the most Christmassy non-Christmas person I’ve ever met. And I think it’s already pretty damn clear that I want to spend the rest of my life with you, given that we’ve already opened a bakery together and I’m pretty sure that’s a bigger step than marriage anyways, but I want you by my side forever, not only in this bakery but in every other part of our lives as well.”

He gets a mischievous look in his eye, before belting out a, “Make my wish come true, all I want for Christmas is to marry you!”

The makeshift lyrics don’t exactly fit within the flow of the song, and he’s as off-key as ever, but the gesture still makes Lily smile even more broadly than before. “Well, that’s one thing that hasn’t changed from when we first met,” she tells him. “You still can’t sing.”

He shrugs. “Yeah, yeah, I know that. But please don’t leave a bloke hanging on one knee forever.”

After all of the teasing, she finally gives him the answer he’s been waiting for - the answer he knew was coming, no matter how much he jokes that she’s leaving him hanging. “Of course I’ll marry you,” she says, because there’s not another answer she could possibly give, not a single other way that question could be answered - at least, not to her.

James lights up like Christmas morning has come for a second time today. He slides the ring onto her finger and, not even stopping to pay notice to his handiwork, stands up and brings his hands up to the sides of Lily’s face, kissing her like she’s the most wonderful gift he could’ve asked for.

She’s almost content to just stay in this moment, letting the pure joy fill her up until she feels as though she might burst, but another thought hits her, and she pulls back to look at James.

“So does everyone out there know what’s happening back here?” she asks, tilting her head in the direction of the door where, on the other side, all their family and friends are still gathered.

James shakes his head. “No, I didn’t tell anyone. Well, except my parents and your mum... and your dad too, I suppose.” When Lily gives him a questioning look, he continues. “I went to his grave a few weeks ago and had a nice long chat about how I was going to ask his daughter to marry me and while I wasn’t there to ask his permission because I knew his daughter would kill me for succumbing to such a patriarchal tradition, I figured he deserved to be the first to know nonetheless.”

Lily had successfully made it through his entire speech and proposal without crying, but the way he talks about her dad, and the way that he so clearly has come to love and respect a man he’s never even met purely because of the way Lily loves him… it definitely makes her start to tear up.

“He really would’ve loved you,” she chokes out, because even though she’s told him this about a hundred times before, it’s never been quite as true as it is in this moment.

“We would’ve had a hell of a time together, gradually getting you to love every single Christmas tradition there ever is or was,” he replies, lightening the moment between the two of them in typical fashion that only he can manage.

“I don’t doubt it for a moment,” she replies, giving him one more kiss before grabbing onto one of his hands and giving it a squeeze. “Now come on, we’ve got a whole bunch of guests who are probably wondering why the hell it’s taken us so long to get a damn cake out of the fridge.”

“You think they’ll accept getting engaged as an excuse for the delay?” James grins at her, but walks back over to where he’d set the cake on the counter.

“Everyone but Sirius,” Lily answers, finally looking back down at the ring James had put on her finger a couple minutes ago, a ring that she’d almost completely forgotten about in favour of the man who gave it to her. “But he’ll get over it.”

With the cake back in his arms again, James brings it up to the front of the bakery, leaning against the door with his shoulder to push it open, and Lily follows suit.

In the front of the shop, everyone is still gathered and holding plastic flutes of ten-pound champagne, but instead of socialising amongst themselves like they had been when the two of them had disappeared into the back, they’re all looking at Lily and James, as if they’ve been expecting the two of them to reappear for a while now.

“Speech!” a random voice demands - probably Peter, if Lily was putting money on it.

And if giving speeches on demand wasn’t something James Potter was literally born for. “Well, it’s been one hell of a big day for us,” he says, grinning and addressing them all as if he’d rehearsed this a million times.

“We had an amazingly successful first day here at the bakery,” he pauses and glances at Lily with a fully mischievous expression, almost as if to confirm that all hell is about to break loose, “and… we’re engaged.”

Sure enough, the entire bakery immediately bursts into chaos - a very different type of chaos than the lunch rush eight hours earlier but filling ‘Tis the Season with energy nonetheless - and Lily thinks to herself that this random day in July is definitely going to go down in history as better than any Christmas morning.

And that does mean something, because yeah, maybe she is a Christmas person after all.

[curiousdamage]

Cobra Kais Never Die

Day 11 of the Writing Challenge.  For @dream-beyond-the-fantasy

Fandom: Karate Kid/Mentions from China Beach- A Careless Man’s Careful Daughter Universe.

I own nothing.

Captian John Kreese meets a formidable nurse when he visits his injured soldiers.  

A/N: (I based Cara Sullivan Kreese on Dana Delany’s character Colleen McMurphy in China Beach, so some references, like the unit number, KC, and Jetset, are from that show.)  Also, the military rules are most likely not correct.

Captain John Kreese had been stationed at the 510th Evac station for over a year and had managed to avoid stepping foot in the hospital for all that time.  A pretty good record for someone in Viet Nam.   But today, he couldn’t avoid it anymore.  Two of his men were there.  They’d both been injured on the last mission they’d gone out on.  Both were serious.  So serious that he hadn’t even been able to see them for three days.  He’d just gotten word this morning that Silver was finally awake.

He walked into the hospital ward and located his men in the corner of the room. Racine was sitting up in his bed, talking to Silver who was laying very still and clenching his fist in pain.  His face was drained of color, except the flush from the fever, so much that even the blue of his eyes seemed to be washed out.  He could tell by the forced smile and overly dramatic movements that Racine was making in the story he was telling that he was trying to distract the younger man from the pain and maybe lift his spirits a bit.  

Silver, unlike himself and Racine, wasn’t a Green Beret.  He was just a dumb kid who had the misfortune of getting assigned to the Cobra Kai unit as a radio operator.  And now he was probably going to die for it.  John decided right then that if Silver made it through his injuries, they were going to make the young man a Green Beret.  Not only had he expressed interest in that, but he needed the training.  If he was going to be required to follow John into all the messes they had to go through, then he needed the same training the rest of the squadron had, even if the powers that be just saw him as a ‘radio man’.

“What are you two doing, screwing around in bed?” he asked, walking over to them, faking a bravado he didn’t feel.  “Don’t tell me you’ve convinced these nice nurses that you’re still hurt.”  He sat down on the chair between their beds, shaking hands with Racine and patting Silver’s shoulder.  He winced slightly at how hot the other man felt, even just to touch.  He’d been shot in the belly and had lost a lot of blood before John could get him back to the hospital and now, he’d taken an infection in the wound.  To top it off, it didn’t seem that the antibiotics were helping.  Racine, on the other hand, had taken a bullet to the leg and while serious, was going to recover after a few weeks in bed.  

“Shit,” John swore.  “Ain’t nothing wrong with you that a few hours with KC couldn’t cure.” He grinned, referring to a civilian typist who had decided to take up the world’s oldest profession to supplement her government pay.  “Besides,  Cobra Kais never die.”

Racine laughed and Silver smiled weakly.  

“Oh, come on, Johnny-Boy,” Racine teased.  “That’d finish him off for sure.  He couldn’t go more than a round with KC when he didn’t have a hole in his gut.”

Silver raised a hand in the one finger salute before letting it fall back to the bed.  Both men could see the effort that one gesture had cost the boy.

“Well, hell,” John said.  “We know he’s just faking this shit anyway.  The pretty boy just wanted to sleep in for a few days.”

At that, the dark-haired nurse, who had been working near them, slammed the chart she was holding down on the duty desk, making even John jump.

“Soldier, can I see you outside?” She demanded, addressing John.

“Yes, ma’am,” he smirked, looking her up and down. She was definitely the best-looking woman he’d seen in a long time, maybe even ever.  “Guess I’m getting sent to the principal’s office, boys.”  He winked at them as he followed her out.

“What the hell are you doing?” the nurse asked, turning on him as soon as they were off the ward.  Her name tag identified her as Sullivan.

“Talking to my friends,” he replied.

“Ridiculing them for being hurt?” she shot back.  “You do realize that Silver is dying, don’t you?  He doesn’t need you telling him that he’s faking and all he needs is a good roll in the hay!”

“Look, Lady,” he snapped.

“That’s Lieutenant, Soldier,” she interrupted, folding her arms over her chest.  

John smiled, showing his even white teeth. Had this nurse actually just tried to pull rank on him?  He imitated her stance, folding his arms across his chest as well.  “That’s Captain, Lieutenant.  And don’t you dare try to lecture me about how I treat my men.  I know them.  I care about them.  You don’t!”

She looked at him for, really, for the first time. He was a Captain?  He didn’t look any older than the boys he’d come to see. He was still just a kid himself, not that she wasn’t.   “I…, I.., well, be that as it may, I’m in charge in that hospital, and I won’t have anyone upsetting my patients.”

Kreese softened.  “Look, Lieutenant, I know how serious it is.  I know the kid may still die.  I’m the one who brought him here and quite frankly, I don’t know how you’ve kept him alive this long.  But I’m their CO.  They look to me for guidance.  If I go in there and act like he’s dying, he’s going to give up.  But if I go in there and act like it’s no big deal, like I think he’s faking, we will both know I’m lying, but maybe, just maybe, he won’t think its dire enough to give up just yet.  Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to see my men.”

Sullivan watched him walk back in the ward.  Well, he was their CO and he was there.  That was more than she could say for most.  

______________________________

Two days later she saw him again, in the JetSet, the R and R club on China Beach.

“Buy you a drink?” She offered.

He looked her up and down, then at the nearly empty shot glass in his hand.  “Sure, why not?”

She motioned to the bartender to bring over two more.

“Silver’s doing better,” she reported.

“I know,” he said.  “I’ve been checking in, even if I haven’t been over to see them.”

“I heard that,” she conceded.  “Look, we got off on the wrong foot.  I was angry that I was losing a patient.  I couldn’t yell at the germs that were killing him, but I could yell at the person I thought was being a jerk to him.  You were right that he needed you to act like it was no big deal. I’m sorry.”  She held out her hand.  “Cara Sullivan.”

He smiled again and shook her hand.  “John Kreese.”

“Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” he agreed.  “Thanks for taking good care of my men.”  He took a sip of the drink in front of him.  “And you should try that yelling at the germs thing sometime. You were pretty scary.  I think you could take a few out.”

Cara laughed and put her hand over his.  “Well, if that doesn’t do it, maybe the dirty joke playing cards you passed them will.”

“Yeah, well,” he shrugged, and Cara would have sworn he blushed.  “I had to do something to raise their spirits.”

“And the fact that they’ve caused quite the stir on my ward was just a bonus?”  She lifted an eyebrow.

“Something like that,” he laughed, turning his hand to hold hers.  “So, Lieutenant Sullivan.  Where are you from?”  

[mysmewiththatstraightshit]

angstangstangst. can i have headcanons of how the rfa + v would react to MC being brainwashed by rika and lead into mint eye?

Yes absolutely !! I know my writing on here so far has been super cuddly stuff, but I actually have a dark side to my writing too ;^) just ask Mod Fen.

Anyways, this will be taking place in the “Another Story” plot line, except MC assumedly gets even closer to the RFA members before MC ends up manipulated by Rika to join Mint Eye and, eventually, goes through the pain of the elixir and becomes completely devout and loses all sense of self. Onwards, yes? :^)

This got quite long and EXTREMELY angsty, so join me under the cut for tears!

Zen

Zen is known for attaching to the MC very quickly through pretty much any route. Zen adores the MC, feeling his face hurt from smiling so much as they’re always excited to see him and his selfies, and he feels like for once things are okay. He’s okay.

He’s used to being the bright and positive one, so it’s nice to get a break from that with the MC-they stay strong through it all and Zen just wants so badly to be strong and let MC take a break. They’ve done so much for everyone.

However, when the MC begins getting more and more distant, Zen grows more and more worried. He tries to hide it, but he’s obviously asking about MC more, asking how they are, if they visited the chatrooms…

As MC obviously grows more distant and distraught, and there’s obvious somethings wrong, Zen desperately tries to reach out to them more.

“MC….you dont have to go through all this alone. the RFA is here for you… im here for you. id drop everything for you.”

But the MC says everythings okay, and pushes Zen away, which just hurts the more they do it. Zen tries to act tough, but he’s working out, drinking, practicing, pushing himself in every way so he’s not wondering if MC is okay, because he knows the answer, and he knows they won’t talk about it

As the MC becomes more cryptic and more obvious about their beliefs, Zen becomes more panicked. He’s obviously trying to keep his calm, but this shit is starting to freak him the fuck out. There’s obviously way more to this than he originally thought.

“salvation…? what do you mean salvation? if theres something wrong, MC, please…you can reach out to us. it doesnt matter what time it is or what we’re doing. if youre struggling this much… please, talk to us. we’re here for you.”

His heart breaks when he offers to show a selfie jokingly and they flat out reject him.

But he tries to stay strong. He has to stay strong. If the MC is going to be okay, if he’s going to help them, he has to stay strong for them. Even when the MC is entirely on Mint Eye’s side, even when things are explained better by V, Zen still hangs onto the hope of that once bright and cheery MC. The MC he loves. If he can stay strong, he can bring them back.

But it’s when he talks to the MC again that he finally realizes that they’re gone. They’re distant, they’re hurt, they’re broken, what happened in Mint Eye had taken all the shine out of their eyes, the pep out of their talk, and Zen feels everything in him shrivel up, feels his chest tighten, feels both this overwhelming need to lie down and never get up, but also to scream and trash everything in the room.

He ends up drinking instead, and all he can do is go between his memories of the MC-bright and brilliant, always jumping for joy at the mention of his selfies, to now, where the MC feels nothing, nothing for the RFA, nothing for him, just believes in salvation and pain.

He considers it for a moment. Joining Mint Eye to be with them. But he knows it wouldn’t be the same anyways. He’d continue this fight on the right side, even if it meant going against them. But his spirit was broken. The once always positive Zen was gone.

He felt as if part of him had left and he’d never get that back. And so he just keeps drinking.

Yoosung

Yoosung had been struggling with college, his growing depression, and the loss of Rika, as well as the distrust of V. Yoosung felt torn and hopeless, and he felt like everyone around him was moving on and away without him.

So when the MC appeared, bright and smiling, willing to lend not only a hand but an ear as well, hearing out his concerns and his questions, understanding why he was stuck where he was, he was sure he’d met an angel. Someone sent by Rika, someone as brilliant, as beautiful, as wonderful as Rika.

For once in a while, he feels hope. True hope. Not the temporary distraction of LOLOL, not everyone’s attempts at trying to console him falling flat against the pain of his heart. No, true hope. He feels like if he can just reach out to MC, he can finally pull himself forward. He can be with everyone again.

But then that light in his life, only just beginning to warm his heart, begins to fade. Part of him panics, clutches to the MC, asking how they’re doing, if they’re okay, if they can call, if they can get on soon… he just desperately needs to know if they’re okay.

As they get more and more distant, he gets more and more panicky. He lashes out at V, knowing V knows more about the situation than anyone in the RFA and knowing V isn’t doing anything about it, knowing Seven isn’t pushing things, knowing everyone trusts V. He hates it. He likely ends up at Zen’s only to scream and cry while checking the chatroom again and again and again. If no one else cares, he will. Someone’s gotta listen to them, too.

As they begin to get more cryptic, more obvious, Yoosung is much more impulsive and bolder. Zen can barely get a grip on him and calm him down when it comes to V, and Yoosung never spends a moment outside the chatroom. He can’t lose them. He can’t lose them. It’d be losing her all over, and he can’t handle that. Not again.

“MC, whatever your talking about, whatevers going on…please!!! please, return to us, return to your happy self… we’re all so worried, im so worried…i cant stop visiting the chatroom, hoping youre there so maybe we could talk…ive been nagging V to tell us something, anything! please, stay strong… we’ll save you! i promise!”

But they do leave. They give in. They’re gone. Yoosung can feel it the last time they talk. In the moment he knows, but his body doesn’t. He’s just numb for a bit. Zen’s a bit shocked to see him finally calm. But it’s a scary calm. And part of that scares Zen even more.

Yoosung seeks out just about anything to feel better. He rushes out of the house constantly, middle of the night, when Zen’s in the bathroom, whenever he can to be alone and just scream or cry or slam his fists against a wall. He plays video games with fire in his eyes but nothing else. It’s all so painfully numb.

It takes everything the RFA has to keep Yoosung back from talking to Rika or the MC-they know he’d turn to Mint Eye’s side in an instant. Zen especially is in tears as he physically holds Yoosung, screaming and crying, trying to get him to calm down or stop himself from running off trying to find Rika or the MC. He sees the light gone from Yoosung’s eyes and it terrifies him.

Yoosung lost Rika. And now he’s lost MC. And finally, he loses himself.

Jaehee

Jaehee works and she works and she works and she just works. That’s her life, that’s her job, that’s her free time, that’s her pain. She focuses on work, even through everything happening in the RFA-hell, the RFA is part of her work as well.

So it brightens her up a lot to have the MC, who she once distrusted so much, be like her own little cheerleader. Always on her side, always cheering her on, always there to fangirl about Zen with, always there to make life a little less about work and a little more about…herself.

She works with a spring in her step, knowing that she’ll get to be greeted on the messenger by the MC, bright and shining, excited about the newest Zen selfie, or perhaps just glad to see Jaehee get a break. Either way, Jaehee finds a reason to laugh again while typing away reports.

So when Jaehee logs in one day to see that the MC has grown distant, Jaehee feels something drop in her chest. She tries not to jump to conclusions, instead, trying to urge the MC to open up more, to talk to the RFA, to trust in them…

“I understand you’re in a complicated situation right now. Even we’re not entirely sure what’s going on…but you should not lose hope. We are right here for you, and we’re ready to take action when the time comes. V would not let anything harm you, and I believe the rest of the RFA feels the same…”

As Jaehee visits whenever she can, the MC grows more and more distant and empty, and Jaehee feels everything in her grow cold and barren as the MC becomes cryptic as well. The word salvation echoes and bounces painfully in Jaehee’s head, and she’s terrified. She’s so fucking scared for the MC but all she can do is stare at the words on a screen.

She works double hard on the Intelligence Team. Jumin is somewhat impressed by the gusto in Jaehee’s work, but it’s not excitement, passion, or any of that. It’s hurry. It’s chugging down coffee knowing that any moments she doesn’t spend making this team perfect could mean losing MC.

But it’s useless. Like she had always felt, like it had always been, her efforts were useless. The MC was gone. The MC was no longer on the RFA’s side. V’s secrets come out into the open, but Jaehee feels no relief, no satisfaction. Just more pain and twists and drops in her chest as she pieces everything together.

She goes through everything like a robot. She feels empty. Zen can tell somethings up when Jaehee doesn’t even react to a selfie of him. However, Jaehee pushes everyone’s concerns away, reassuring them that she’s fine, and they must focus on Mint Eye and saving V, and if possible, the MC.

But she’s lost. She’s so lost. The one thing in her life to make her smile as she works was gone. No, not just gone. Jaehee saw them once they had turned over, the way they spoke. They were broken. They were beyond whatever concerns the RFA had. Something worse had happened to them.

And Jaehee could never forgive herself for that. She can’t forgive herself for letting someone so bright and beautiful break like that. And so she does what she’s always done best. She works, and she works, and she works.

If overtime and coffee can kill a person, Jaehee’s headed for Death’s Road like a paper to a shredder. And she can’t care enough anymore to stop it.

Jumin

Jumin doesn’t care much for feelings. He doesn’t care much for the fact that there aren’t a whole lot of people who understand him, who want to take the time to care about him.

At least, he thought he didn’t care.

But there’s something in that that changes as he gets to know the MC, opening up more and more entirely on accident, smiling more and more as the MC laughs at his jokes no one gets, as the two talk business, philosophy, politics-he could talk with them for days about anything.

And he feels some part of him loosen, feels that tangle in his head, that knot, loosen bit by bit as they care about him and ask how he’s doing, what he’s doing, what new project he has planned. It’s not like anything he’s ever felt before. Nothing like Rika, and similar to V. This comfort and security of trusting someone.

When the MC begins getting distant however, he inwardly panics. He doesn’t know what to do, what to say, what to feel. He just knows he’s feeling hell. His chest tightening, his head hurting. He offers what he can. Which are formal words, repeated phrases barely different from chats before. Believe in V. We will take action when the time calls for it.

But he wishes so badly he could say more. He doesn’t know what, but he wishes he could say something.

The point where he begins to let go of the iron grip he had on his emotions is when the MC becomes cryptic and empty. He begins getting somewhat harsh, very direct with them, asking them what the hell they were thinking, what got them into this, why they were so fucking obsessed with salvation

He gets terrified when they begin talking like Rika. He feels sick. He feels dizzy. He can’t focus. This can’t be happening.

But it is. And it does. Despite him hurrying the progress of the intelligence agency, despite his panicked calls to V, despite using every god damn inch of his brain to find the right thing to say or do, he loses them just as easily as he lost Rika, as he lost V. And it breaks him down, breaks him completely apart and wide open, emotions pouring out of a broken dam.

Everyone is shaken up seeing Jumin like this. In these situations, Jumin was always level headed. He was always calm. He was Jumin Han. He didn’t have emotions the way everyone else did. And yet Jaehee watched him drink wine like a motherfucker, Zen watched as his teasing did nothing to even provoke some dumb joke out of Jumin, and most of all, V is worried as he calls Jumin, hearing his best friend break down more and more with every call.

Jumin eventually tries to clean himself up. When V explains the situation more clearly, Jumin tries to go back to his old self, focusing on business, on leadership, on efficiency. But he slips up again, and again, and again, and he can’t stop. He can’t stop and he hates it. Why can’t it just stop like it did before. Why did it ever have to change in the first place if it was just going to end like this?

Jaehee can only watch Jumin in silence as he reads over the papers about Rika and Mint Eye. As he slowly pieces together what had happened to the MC to hurt them, to take away everything they were. All against their will. Innocent from the start, now broken. 

Jaehee sees Jumin break as well as he quietly asks for her to leave the room.

Seven

Seven was a mess from the start, and he accepted its what he deserved, what he needed, just a part of him, and that it didn’t matter so long as he got the job done and Saeran was safe as well as the RFA.

That is, that’s how it was until MC started caring about him.

His dumb ad’s, his exaggerated shenanigans, his moments of weakness-the MC embraced it all. And even in moments where he panicked, where he lashed out, over call or over text, sometimes even in the chatroom, the MC would only return with warmth and kindness.

They insisted that he mattered too, that he was a good person, that he did good things, that he was protecting good people. Good. Somehow, the MC thought he was good. He was baffled.

There was some point where he began believing them, too. He started to try and take care of himself, started trying to eat full meals, clean up a little, made all sorts of programs and alarms to get him focused. He hated letting anyone in, but he already found himself brightening because of the MC.

So of course he’s beyond worried when they begin to grow distant and the hacker’s patterns start changing. He’s questioning them, he’s questioning V, he’s doing all the god damn research he can. It’s only a bad feeling, but his bad feelings are never truly just a bad feeling.

But V won’t budge, and neither will the hacker. Seven feels the panic skyrocket as the MC grows empty and cryptic, and he feels like screaming every time secrets are brought up. He leaves a million calls for V as he messes around with something, anything, making things, breaking things, hacking, he just tries to find anything to occupy his mind that isn’t the MC being in danger.

He damn near strangles his phone talking to V once the MC is gone. Damn secrets to hell, what happened to them? Seven is beyond freaked out, he’s chewing his nails, his fingers, he’s typing up a storm, texting up a storm, he’s taking bites out of chips and cookies before throwing them out, he’s dropping cans carelessly onto the floor and he’s skipping meals.

All that progress he made is easily gone the moment MC is gone.

Even Vanderwood is concerned as Seven prepares himself without cracking a single joke, without any sort of rebuttal to Vanderwood’s complaints about the mess. “This isn’t for the agency,” Vanderwood can tell. “Maybe it’s for me for once,” Seven shrugs. “Depending on how this goes, you can kick my ass later.”

Seven can save V, but when he’s there, when he reaches out to MC, telling them to quietly come with him, to escape, he finds everything in him turn to stone and shatter as they refuse. They’ve found salvation. But they say it with such pain. They say it with nothing in their eyes.

They say it the way Seven would tell the RFA not to worry about him. And that hurts Seven more than anything.

Seven hauls ass to get him and V out there. But as he fights the hacker, he feels himself losing in everything. In fighting, in the agency, in protecting Saeran, in figuring all this out. What’s the point anymore? What’s the point when they’re gone?

After V explains the situation to Seven, Seven feels what little was left of himself crumble away. And V watches in pain as all traces of the hopeful little boy Seven once was fade away.

And Seven says, in such pain, with nothing in his eyes, “Don’t worry about me.”

V

V grows closest to the MC easily. He finds it odd, as he realizes that they’re nothing like Rika, that they don’t feel even the slightest bit similar to Rika, and yet he’s almost comforted by that fact.

He opens up, opens up what he once thought was locked up tight and shut closed, to the MC, and he feels like the dark parts of him can shine again. He feels the dead grass and flowers in his heart begin to try and bloom again.

As he tries to find out more and more about Mint Eye, about what Rika’s doing, he finds himself growing more and more protective of the MC. He hardly knows if he can actually trust them, but he feels like he can. He feels that they’re innocent. And if that’s the case, he has to save them. He has to protect them. He can’t let their light go out.

But that moment where Ray pulls the MC way, that moments where V has to run away, has to hide without them, he becomes so afraid. He saw the look in MC’s eyes. He hears their tone over calls. He can see the way they shake as they text. They’re afraid. They’re alone. They’re vulnerable. And V can’t be there.

V finds himself falling farther and farther into his depression and self blame as the MC grows darker and darker. He doesn’t want to give his all again, fearing what happened with Rika would happen again, but he uselessly watches the MC grow more and more distant, more and more apathetic

With great fear, with the biggest twist of his heart, he’s realizing that he’s watching them slowly become more and more like Rika.

He begs them to believe in him, trust him, to talk to him, even just leaving voice calls when he can’t answer. But the secrets are too much for the both of them, and V can see Rika’s influence dripping like a venom from each of MC’s words. He can see Rika tearing apart all the brightness they had. And it kills him to just watch.

When there’s finally the chance to escape, the chance to leave with Seven, and they reject, V refuses to leave as well. He didn’t want this to happen. He never wanted there to be an innocent as pure and as bright as MC to be dragged into this, never mind get so twisted and broken by Rika’s words and drugs. And the fact that he let this happen, the fact that he felt in his heart that this all began because of him in the first place. He couldn’t even sacrifice himself now to save them. No, he was too late. He wasn’t good enough again. He was a fool blinded by love.

and so V tells Seven with a heavy heart, “I don’t deserve an escape.”

- Mod Grim

[dfroza]

keep your lives simple and honest.

A point seen in Today’s reading of the Scriptures beginning with chapter #8 of Zechariah:

[Rebuilding the Temple]

And then these Messages from God-of-the-Angel-Armies:

A Message from God-of-the-Angel-Armies:

“I am zealous for Zion—I care!

I’m angry about Zion—I’m involved!”

God’s Message:

“I’ve come back to Zion,

I’ve moved back to Jerusalem.

Jerusalem’s new names will be Truth City,

and Mountain of God-of-the-Angel-Armies,

and Mount Holiness.”

A Message from God-of-the-Angel-Armies:

“Old men and old women will come back to Jerusalem, sit on benches on the streets and spin tales, move around safely with their canes—a good city to grow old in. And boys and girls will fill the public parks, laughing and playing—a good city to grow up in.”

A Message from God-of-the-Angel-Armies:

“Do the problems of returning and rebuilding by just a few survivors seem too much? But is anything too much for me? Not if I have my say.”

A Message from God-of-the-Angel-Armies:

“I’ll collect my people from countries to the east and countries to the west. I’ll bring them back and move them into Jerusalem. They’ll be my people and I’ll be their God. I’ll stick with them and do right by them.”

A Message from God-of-the-Angel-Armies:

“Get a grip on things. Hold tight, you who are listening to what I say through the preaching of the prophets. The Temple of God-of-the-Angel-Armies has been reestablished. The Temple is being rebuilt. We’ve come through a hard time: You worked for a pittance and were lucky to get that; the streets were dangerous; you could never let down your guard; I had turned the world into an armed camp.

“But things have changed. I’m taking the side of my core of surviving people:

Sowing and harvesting will resume,

Vines will grow grapes,

Gardens will flourish,

Dew and rain will make everything green.

“My core survivors will get everything they need—and more. You’ve gotten a reputation as a bad-news people, you people of Judah and Israel, but I’m coming to save you. From now on, you’re the good-news people. Don’t be afraid. Keep a firm grip on what I’m doing.”

[Keep Your Lives Simple and Honest]

A Message from God-of-the-Angel-Armies:

“In the same way that I decided to punish you when your ancestors made me angry, and didn’t pull my punches, at this time I’ve decided to bless Jerusalem and the country of Judah. Don’t be afraid. And now here’s what I want you to do: Tell the truth, the whole truth, when you speak. Do the right thing by one another, both personally and in your courts. Don’t cook up plans to take unfair advantage of others. Don’t do or say what isn’t so. I hate all that stuff. Keep your lives simple and honest.” Decree of God.

Again I received a Message from God-of-the-Angel-Armies:

“The days of mourning set for the fourth, fifth, seventh, and tenth months will be turned into days of feasting for Judah—celebration and holiday. Embrace truth! Love peace!”

A Message from God-of-the-Angel-Armies:

“People and their leaders will come from all over to see what’s going on. The leaders will confer with one another: ‘Shouldn’t we try to get in on this? Get in on God’s blessings? Pray to God-of-the-Angel-Armies? What’s keeping us? Let’s go!’

“Lots of people, powerful nations—they’ll come to Jerusalem looking for what they can get from God-of-the-Angel-Armies, looking to get a blessing from God.”

A Message from God-of-the-Angel-Armies:

“At that time, ten men speaking a variety of languages will grab the sleeve of one Jew, hold tight, and say, ‘Let us go with you. We’ve heard that God is with you.’”

The Book of Zechariah, Chapter 8 (The Message)

and Today’s paired chapter of the Testaments with Zechariah 8 is Acts 21 where we see how Paul intentionally went to Jerusalem after being warned that he would face arrest when doing so, although of course by being wrongfully accused. but he decided to go anyway to share his story, entwined with the grace of God to illuminate spiritual truth in the Son for others to see.

and in my dream i’ve done something similar by writing to share my heart and the True story of its seed, and by proceeding to meet someone face-to-face. and i did so gently, facing fear and its dragon, and cleansing it from the inside out to build trust.

from the ancient writing of the book of Acts in chapter 21:

[Tyre and Caesarea]

And so, with the tearful good-byes behind us, we were on our way. We made a straight run to Cos, the next day reached Rhodes, and then Patara. There we found a ship going direct to Phoenicia, got on board, and set sail. Cyprus came into view on our left, but was soon out of sight as we kept on course for Syria, and eventually docked in the port of Tyre. While the cargo was being unloaded, we looked up the local disciples and stayed with them seven days. Their message to Paul, from insight given by the Spirit, was “Don’t go to Jerusalem.”

When our time was up, they escorted us out of the city to the docks. Everyone came along—men, women, children. They made a farewell party of the occasion! We all kneeled together on the beach and prayed. Then, after another round of saying good-bye, we climbed on board the ship while they drifted back to their homes.

A short run from Tyre to Ptolemais completed the voyage. We greeted our Christian friends there and stayed with them a day. In the morning we went on to Caesarea and stayed with Philip the Evangelist, one of “the Seven.” Philip had four virgin daughters who prophesied.

After several days of visiting, a prophet from Judea by the name of Agabus came down to see us. He went right up to Paul, took Paul’s belt, and, in a dramatic gesture, tied himself up, hands and feet. He said, “This is what the Holy Spirit says: The Jews in Jerusalem are going to tie up the man who owns this belt just like this and hand him over to godless unbelievers.”

When we heard that, we and everyone there that day begged Paul not to be stubborn and persist in going to Jerusalem. But Paul wouldn’t budge: “Why all this hysteria? Why do you insist on making a scene and making it even harder for me? You’re looking at this backward. The issue in Jerusalem is not what they do to me, whether arrest or murder, but what the Master Jesus does through my obedience. Can’t you see that?”

We saw that we weren’t making even a dent in his resolve, and gave up. “It’s in God’s hands now,” we said. “Master, you handle it.”

It wasn’t long before we had our luggage together and were on our way to Jerusalem. Some of the disciples from Caesarea went with us and took us to the home of Mnason, who received us warmly as his guests. A native of Cyprus, he had been among the earliest disciples.

[Jerusalem]

In Jerusalem, our friends, glad to see us, received us with open arms. The first thing next morning, we took Paul to see James. All the church leaders were there. After a time of greeting and small talk, Paul told the story, detail by detail, of what God had done among the non-Jewish people through his ministry. They listened with delight and gave God the glory.

They had a story to tell, too: “And just look at what’s been happening here—thousands upon thousands of God-fearing Jews have become believers in Jesus! But there’s also a problem because they are more zealous than ever in observing the laws of Moses. They’ve been told that you advise believing Jews who live surrounded by unbelieving outsiders to go light on Moses, telling them that they don’t need to circumcise their children or keep up the old traditions. This isn’t sitting at all well with them.

“We’re worried about what will happen when they discover you’re in town. There’s bound to be trouble. So here is what we want you to do: There are four men from our company who have taken a vow involving ritual purification, but have no money to pay the expenses. Join these men in their vows and pay their expenses. Then it will become obvious to everyone that there is nothing to the rumors going around about you and that you are in fact scrupulous in your reverence for the laws of Moses.

“In asking you to do this, we’re not going back on our agreement regarding non-Jews who have become believers. We continue to hold fast to what we wrote in that letter, namely, to be careful not to get involved in activities connected with idols; to avoid serving food offensive to Jewish Christians; to guard the morality of sex and marriage.”

So Paul did it—took the men, joined them in their vows, and paid their way. The next day he went to the Temple to make it official and stay there until the proper sacrifices had been offered and completed for each of them.

[Paul Under Arrest]

When the seven days of their purification were nearly up, some Jews from around Ephesus spotted him in the Temple. At once they turned the place upside-down. They grabbed Paul and started yelling at the top of their lungs, “Help! You Israelites, help! This is the man who is going all over the world telling lies against us and our religion and this place. He’s even brought Greeks in here and defiled this holy place.” (What had happened was that they had seen Paul and Trophimus, the Ephesian Greek, walking together in the city and had just assumed that he had also taken him to the Temple and shown him around.)

Soon the whole city was in an uproar, people running from everywhere to the Temple to get in on the action. They grabbed Paul, dragged him outside, and locked the Temple gates so he couldn’t get back in and gain sanctuary.

As they were trying to kill him, word came to the captain of the guard, “A riot! The whole city’s boiling over!” He acted swiftly. His soldiers and centurions ran to the scene at once. As soon as the mob saw the captain and his soldiers, they quit beating Paul.

The captain came up and put Paul under arrest. He first ordered him handcuffed, and then asked who he was and what he had done. All he got from the crowd were shouts, one yelling this, another that. It was impossible to tell one word from another in the mob hysteria, so the captain ordered Paul taken to the military barracks. But when they got to the Temple steps, the mob became so violent that the soldiers had to carry Paul. As they carried him away, the crowd followed, shouting, “Kill him! Kill him!”

When they got to the barracks and were about to go in, Paul said to the captain, “Can I say something to you?”

He answered, “Oh, I didn’t know you spoke Greek. I thought you were the Egyptian who not long ago started a riot here, and then hid out in the desert with his four thousand thugs.”

Paul said, “No, I’m a Jew, born in Tarsus. And I’m a citizen still of that influential city. I have a simple request: Let me speak to the crowd.”

[Paul Tells His Story]

Standing on the barracks steps, Paul turned and held his arms up. A hush fell over the crowd as Paul began to speak. He spoke in Hebrew.

The Book of Acts, Chapter 21 (The Message)

A set of chapters accompanied by Today’s reading of the Psalms and Proverbs for january 17 (Psalm 17 and Proverbs 17) along with Psalm 28 for the 28th day of Winter

[Psalm 17]

A David Prayer

Listen while I build my case, God,

the most honest prayer you’ll ever hear.

Show the world I’m innocent—

in your heart you know I am.

Go ahead, examine me from inside out,

surprise me in the middle of the night—

You’ll find I’m just what I say I am.

My words don’t run loose.

I’m not trying to get my way

in the world’s way.

I’m trying to get your way,

your Word’s way.

I’m staying on your trail;

I’m putting one foot

In front of the other.

I’m not giving up.

I call to you, God, because I’m sure of an answer.

So—answer! bend your ear! listen sharp!

Paint grace-graffiti on the fences;

take in your frightened children who

Are running from the neighborhood bullies

straight to you.

Keep your eye on me;

hide me under your cool wing feathers

From the wicked who are out to get me,

from mortal enemies closing in.

Their hearts are hard as nails,

their mouths blast hot air.

They are after me, nipping my heels,

determined to bring me down,

Lions ready to rip me apart,

young lions poised to pounce.

Up, God: beard them! break them!

By your sword, free me from their clutches;

Barehanded, God, break these mortals,

these flat-earth people who can’t think beyond today.

I’d like to see their bellies

swollen with famine food,

The weeds they’ve sown

harvested and baked into famine bread,

With second helpings for their children

and crusts for their babies to chew on.

And me? I plan on looking

you full in the face. When I get up,

I’ll see your full stature

and live heaven on earth.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 17 (The Message)

[Psalm 28]

A David Psalm

Don’t turn a deaf ear

when I call you, God.

If all I get from you is

deafening silence,

I’d be better off

in the Black Hole.

I’m letting you know what I need,

calling out for help

And lifting my arms

toward your inner sanctum.

Don’t shove me into

the same jail cell with those crooks,

With those who are

full-time employees of evil.

They talk a good line of “peace,”

then moonlight for the Devil.

Pay them back for what they’ve done,

for how bad they’ve been.

Pay them back for their long hours

in the Devil’s workshop;

Then cap it with a huge bonus.

Because they have no idea how God works

or what he is up to,

God will smash them to smithereens

and walk away from the ruins.

Blessed be God—

he heard me praying.

He proved he’s on my side;

I’ve thrown my lot in with him.

Now I’m jumping for joy,

and shouting and singing my thanks to him.

God is all strength for his people,

ample refuge for his chosen leader;

Save your people

and bless your heritage.

Care for them;

carry them like a good shepherd.

The Book of Psalms, Poem 28 (The Message)

[Proverbs 17]

Wisdom’s Virtues

A simple, humble life with peace and quiet

is far better than an opulent lifestyle with nothing

but quarrels and strife at home.

A wise, intelligent servant will be honored above a shameful son.

He’ll even end up having a portion left to him in his master’s will.

In the same way that gold and silver are refined by fire,

the Lord purifies your heart by the tests and trials of life.

Those eager to embrace evil listen to slander,

for a liar loves to listen to lies.

Mock the poor, will you?

You insult your Creator every time you do!

If you make fun of others’ misfortune,

you’d better watch out—your punishment is on its way.

Grandparents have the crowning glory of life:

grandchildren!

And it’s only proper for children to take pride in their parents.

It is not proper for a leader to lie and deceive,

and don’t expect excellent words to be spoken by a fool.

Wise instruction is like a costly gem.

It turns the impossible into success.

Love overlooks the mistakes of others,

but dwelling on the failures of others devastates friendships.

One word of correction breaks open a teachable heart,

but a fool can be corrected a hundred times

and still not know what hit him.

Rebellion thrives in an evil man,

so a messenger of vengeance will be sent to punish him.

It’s safer to meet a grizzly bear robbed of her cubs

than to confront a reckless fool.

The one who returns evil for good

can expect to be treated the same way for the rest of his life.

Don’t be one who is quick to quarrel,

for an argument is hard to stop,

and you never know how it will end,

so don’t even start down that road!

There is nothing God hates more

than condemning the one who is innocent

and acquitting the one who is guilty.

Why pay tuition to educate a fool?

For he has no intention of acquiring true wisdom.

A dear friend will love you no matter what,

and a family sticks together through all kinds of trouble.

It’s stupid to run up bills you’ll never be able to pay

or to cosign for the loan of your friend.

Save yourself the trouble and don’t do either one.

If you love to argue,

then you must be in love with sin.

For the one who loves to boast is only asking for trouble.

The one with a perverse heart never has anything good to say,

and the chronic liar tumbles into constant trouble.

Parents of a numskull will have many sorrows,

for there’s nothing about his lifestyle that will make them proud.

A joyful, cheerful heart brings healing to both body and soul.

But the one whose heart is crushed

struggles with sickness and depression.

When you take a secret bribe,

your actions reveal your true character,

for you pervert the ways of justice.

Even the face of a wise man shows his intelligence.

But the wandering eyes of a fool will look for wisdom everywhere

except right in front of his nose.

A father grieves over the foolishness of his child,

and bitter sorrow fills his mother.

It’s horrible to persecute a holy lover of God

or to strike an honorable man for his integrity!

Can you bridle your tongue when your heart is under pressure?

That’s how you show that you are wise.

An understanding heart keeps you cool, calm, and collected,

no matter what you’re facing.

When even a fool bites his tongue

he’s considered wise.

So shut your mouth when you are provoked—

it will make you look smart.

The Book of Proverbs, Chapter 17 (The Passion Translation)

[isolationshepherd-blog]

May 21st 2148

What the hell? It’s 5am and I’ve just switched on my work tablet to find this (I’ve taken a screen capture for the record). I’ve contacted Sinclair and he’s on his way over. I’ve disconnected from the mainframe to be safe and I’m typing this on my personal tablet which doesn’t appear to be affected, thankfully. I’ll keep offline anyway just in case. I’m fairly sure it’s going to turn out to be a prank.

7am

It’s not a prank. Sinclair says the system has been hacked by persons unknown and there’s evidence they have been looking through files. They’ve left a trail behind them so they’re either incompetent or they want us to know what they are capable of. I suspect the latter. I’m less convinced about the genuineness of the motive, though. If you’re serious about gaining improved working conditions why would you also request moonshine? Also, they have misused the apostrophe with the plural noun. Smells like teenage spirit to me. I’ve commenced investigations.

7.30pm

This has turned out to be a long, nightmarish day. I’ve been all over the Ark interrogating a depressingly long list of likely suspects with no result. Sinclair is convinced it’s a legitimate group so I visited Factory Station and interviewed all the technicians. Nobody admitted knowing anything about it and I believed them. Sinclair has been through Engineering with a fine-tooth comb and doesn’t think the hacker is one of his staff. Tomorrow I’m going to follow my hunch of earlier and head to Farm Station where many of the teenage trouble-makers on this ship reside.

I have a big problem, personally, though, and I’m dubious about writing this down now but I may as well; the worst damage has already been done. I thought I was safe typing on my personal tablet because I never connect to the network on it but it turns out that all devices are backed up every night to the Ark’s mainframe computer. It’s automatic and it can’t be changed by the user. This means that every diary entry I’ve made so far is backed up somewhere in the system and not only could Sinclair or his team see it anytime but so could the hacker. I never deleted my dream about Abby. I forgot. OK, I didn’t forget, I may have read it through once or twice since I wrote it, but regardless. It’s out there. If anyone finds it and reads it I’m a dead man. It will be round the Ark quicker than a photon through space, and there’s nothing faster than that. I will never live it down and it’s not as though I can move to another country. Fuck.

May 22nd 2148 12.15pm

A quick update. My suspicions about Farm Station were proved right. I’ve caught the hacker and I’m waiting for him to be transferred to Prison Station for questioning. His name is John Mbege. He’s seventeen and a co-conspirator of that delinquent Pike’s always complaining about, John Murphy. I haven’t been able to prove Murphy’s involvement yet, but I’m sure it’s only a matter of time. I’m going to instigate a major investigation into Farm Station. They get too many free passes because they’re effectively the living heart of the Ark. If it weren’t for the work they do, and the things they produce, life in here would be even more intolerable than it already is at times. Some citizens are abusing this trust and privilege, though. Rebellion is rife amongst the young people and it needs nipping in the bud, as it were. First on my list are Green and Jordan. If they’re not in the Skybox before the end of this year I’ll eat my glue-covered boots.

1am

The day is finally over. It has been satisfying in one sense because the culprit is now locked up in the Skybox and it turns out it was a prank, some hair-brained scheme Mbege dreamed up in his tiny mind to wind up the authorities. On the other hand, I have been unable to find a way to delete the diary entries that are already in the system without drawing a huge amount of attention to myself. I questioned Raven Reyes about it subtly but she was very unhelpful and I don’t know enough about computer technology to be able to do it.

I guess this is the end of the diary. This thought depresses me. I’ve got used to writing in it; it’s been helpful, a way to order my thoughts, clear my mind. It’s been a way to share some truths, I suppose. I can’t continue to be honest in it if everything I say is at risk of being read by somebody else. There’s no one to trust on this ship, this orbiting prison of the body and mind. What’s that old war slogan from Earth History? “Loose lips sink ships”. The one who holds all the information holds the power and I’m not giving anyone else power over me. No one can know my true thoughts or plans; the security of the Ark depends on my complete discretion. On the other hand, the diary has become an essential tool as I mentioned before. I must find a solution.

3am

I’ve got it. The solution. This is probably not going to be a very coherent entry because I’ve just woken up after only two hours of sleep but that’s clearly all my brain needed to come up with an answer. If there’s one thing this hacking business has identified, it’s that keeping all our security information on the Ark’s mainframe is a bad idea. If that idiot Mbege can hack the network so easily then I shudder to think what someone with malicious intent could achieve. Sinclair may trust that Raven Reyes has now made the Ark leak-proof but I don’t. I’ll just tell him that at least one tablet should stay off the network and not get backed up, so that extremely sensitive information is less likely to get into the wrong hands. As Head of the Guard it is natural that the un-networked tablet should belong to me. Of course, the tablet could still get stolen but it could be encrypted. It would be easy for Reyes to secure one tablet I’m sure. Although would that look suspicious, if it were only my tablet that was unmonitored? Maybe it would be better if all the Councillor’s had access to private tablets. That would deflect Sinclair’s thoughts from me. I will action this first thing. There’s nothing I can do about the information that is already out there. My dream about Abby exists as a series of ones and zeros somewhere in the Ark mainframe and I’ll just have to live with that and hope no one ever looks. Time to sleep, if I can.

[sharknadoslutt]

Prompt: Talieh (My OC) and Cikatro Vizago run into Imperial trouble and are without a working hyperdrive. In the face of death what is left to do but confess ones feelings?

A/N: Have I mentioned how hopelessly in love Cikatro is with Talieh? Well it’s v much so expressed here. I shameless love these two with all my heart so excuse the cringe I actually started rambling at a lot of points but this was fun to write so I could care less

Setting: Somewhere in the Outer Rim, Lothal Sector, 6 BBY (Approximately 4 months before Rebels S1)

“Talieh, my sweet, if I didnt know any better...” Cikatro began with a big grin, his cheeks flushed slightly from the alcohol in his system. “I’d say you were drunk.”

His eyes were pinned on Talieh, who sat in the co-pilots chair. Per usual the Zygerrian woman leaned back comfortably in her seat, arms crossed against her chest while her boots were hiked up on the dash. The only thing out of the usual was this was the rare smile on her lips.  

“Good thing you do know better, right Cikatro?” She quickly responded, followed by the traces of an amused giggle. She wasn’t drunk.. but she wasn’t quite sober either. What was she exactly? 

Happy. She was simply happy. 

Talieh felt her feline ears twitch slightly before falling into their relaxed default position. Never had she imagined herself being so comfortable with anyone. Yet here she was actually enjoying Cikatro’s company, more so than she’d dare to admit out loud.

“We should be arriving back to Lothal in two days time. Late afternoon I’d say.” He said, moving his eyes to meet Talieh’s. 

For a moment the blonde Zygerrian looked back at him and felt her heart skip a beat. She blinked a few times before nonchalantly shifting her gaze to the view port. 

“Good.” She sighed.

“Would be sooner, but I’m pretty sure we’re going to have to manually pilot through an asteroid belt.” He continued, his soft gaze lingering on her face.

“Sounds like fun.” She remarked, finding her smile growing wider for a reason she couldn't quite figure out. The fact that he was looking at her like that? Maybe. 

“Yes.” He sighed contently and shifted his view to the stars. “Fun indeed.”

The past week had certainly been interesting. While Cikatro's ship, The Horn, was in the middle of some hefty remodeling, the crime boss got word of a huge shipment of Imperial weapons for sale on Plemarkens spot, a little space station at the edge of the Lothal Sector. 

It ran rapid with pirates and smugglers alike. Vizago had a few contacts there. Contacts that were willing to hold those weapons for a few extra days for the right price. Despite his main freighter being out of commission, Vizago was a man of business, and getting these weapons would be great for business! 

So as to not miss out on the Imperial shipment he purchased another smaller freighter; an investment, as he told Talieh. He shrugged it off to being a necessary business expensive, assuring himself that having a secondary smaller vessel was important for his rising smuggling operation. Albeit a fully functional YT-1696 light freighter, it was missing a lot of perks and functions that most folk would want in a ship. 

A working hyperdrive being one of those missing perks..

If Plemarkens Spot was anywhere else in the galaxy this would be out of the question. However it wasn’t terribly far, round trip the exchange should take an estimated week tops. Or so that’s what he had told Talieh anyways.

Before leaving Lothal, Vizago had assured Talieh traveling without a working hyperdrive wouldn’t be an issue. This was partly due to the mans hope that flying in real speed would allow him to spend time with the Zygerrian and potentially fulfill his desire to earn her affections.. but it also had to do with the fact that he was absolutely cheap and refused to fork up money for a new hyperdrive until after he’d sold this new shipment of Imperial goods..

Whereas Talieh was somewhat irritated with the whole ordeal, she would agree to almost any job if the price was right. Besides, relaxing on the ship for a few days out in open space wasn’t too bad a way to spend her time. Especially since she was getting paid for every minute of it.

Things had gone very good through the entire trip. They arrived at Plemarkens spot a day ahead of schedule and gotten all of the goods loaded up on Vizago’s new freighter. 

The two had honestly enjoyed each others company through it all. So much so, in fact, that upon finishing the transaction earlier than expected Cikatro had talked Talieh into stopping by the space ports cantina and enjoying a few drinks before they left. The Devaronian even purchased a few jugs of Corelian Whiskey for the trip back; deciding time might go by faster with a drink in his hand. And it had seemed to work thus far.

So far they had spent this day in the cockpit, flying in real time through space, each one with a drink in hand. High spirits, smiles, and even some flirting had taken place. This is exactly the atmosphere Cikatro had hoped for from this trip! 

Everything was perfect! Perfect, that is, until an Imperial Star Destroyer appeared out of hyperspace not terribly far from their current position.

The flash of light from the hyper jump made both Talieh and Cikatro about fall from their chairs. Considering how their freighter was fairly small it was doubtful the Imperials had spotted them visually. But if they were scanning for ships they’d certainly be found.

“Why would the Empire be here, Cikatro?” Talieh asked, placing her glass of whiskey on the ground before looking back at the Star Destroyer. 

He gave her a weird glance that expressed something along the lines of ‘How should I know? ' But Vizago instantly regretted this once he earned that angry growl from her.

It was easy for the man to forget that Talieh possessed little to no knowledge about the Empire. She’d always been very private about her past, never sharing too much information, which he respected. Everyone has a past, right?

She always explained her ignorance of anything Imperial off to the fact that she grew up ‘in a place where the Empire wasn’t around’. Cikatro assumed that meant Deep Deep Wild Space. But he really did not know. Now was certainly not the time to ask questions either.

“By the Moons of Gasgohl!” He adjusted the ships speed, directing full power to the thrusters. “I dont know, Talieh!” He blurted in frustration, his tone a little on the defensive side. 

The sound of the ships engine speeding up calmed him slightly but he still felt the need to go on. “It could just be a coincidence... Imperials are not uncommon in this sector, you know. The Mining Guild is all the rage. First Lothal, kriff, t-they could be looking for moons to deplete of natural resources.” He paused. “It could be as simple as that.. or..” 

Cikatro paused as he collected his thoughts. If he remembered correctly he had spotted a few civilian mining ships when they had first approached the large cluster. It wasn’t that uncommon for people to do unauthorized mining on asteroids in this sector; it was a good way to make a living if you knew what you were doing. With the increased Imperial presence on Lothal, Vizago wouldn’t be surprised if the Empire was trying to put a stop to it.

“Or what?!” She hissed, panic setting in.

“I dont know!” He reiterated, shooting her a stressed scowl. “Maybe they have every piece of merchandise in this ship suited up with trackers and this was a trick! Maybe they are just making a stop out here to monitor this asteroid belt for unauthorized mining.. I dont know, Talieh! It’s the Empire.. they do whatever they want even if it doesn’t make sense! But who cares about why, we need to get out of here!”

Talieh’s face easily expressed her irritation but she remained quiet. Her cat-like ears pointed down to further express her mood. 

The Star Destroyer stayed in place, a good distance away from their transports current position. Considering that the Imperials hadn’t taken action against their little freighter it was likely they’d not yet been spotted. But that wouldn’t last, not like this. Without being able to jump into hyperspace they were sitting ducks. 

“I dont think they’ve noticed us, yes?” Talieh grumbled in her accented basic. “Otherwise they’d have sent out a comm-message or ships to scan us?”

“It’s positive thinking.” Cikatro pursed his lips. “But I do think that’s probably the case.” He half chuckled, whether it was forced or not Talieh didn’t know. “Otherwise we’d be dead.” 

Talieh nodded and stood up, her brows knitted as she stared out the view port.  “Maybe if we pull off over there,” She gestured toward an especially large cluster of asteroids. “We power down everything on the ship.. They’ll think we are just floating junk.”

Though he didn’t say anything at first Talieh could feel the gears in his head turning into a confident direction. 

“That could work.” He agreed, leaning forward to look at the power distribution on the ship. “Yes, this could work.” He repeated, trying to convince himself. 

“It’s our best shot, Cikatro.” She headed out the cockpit. “I’m going to make sure all droids are shut down as well. Go ahead and pull over. I’ll be back.”

It took about eight tortuously long minutes to shut down all power to the ship. Fortunately in that time it appeared they still remained unnoticed by the Imperials. That was somewhat comforting..

Other than the starlight seeping in from the view port glass the ship was dark. Dark and quiet. Nothing but the sound of Talieh and Cikatro breathing and the occasional creak of metal of the ship. The silence was too intense for Cikatro so he decided to speak up.  

“We are still alive. So it’s safe to say that the buckets did not come here because our haul was tracked.” His tone was that of relief, though there was still stress in his red eyes. “Probably just, uhh, an unfortunate coincidence.”

There was another long moment of tense silence where they just stared at the Imperial station. After a while the hatch opened a few small surveying ships started to go around and scan some asteroids. Granted those were all far away from their ship and seemed to be going in the opposite direction. However one of them did head towards one of the civilian miner operations. 

A spark of hope emerged and the two glanced at one another. It seems all the Empire was doing was scanning the asteroids for valuable metals, at the very least perhaps intervening with the unauthorized miners. As long as they remained hidden they would make a clean get away!

“By the moons of Gosgolt, I think we will be fi-”

“Cikatro, no..” Talieh interrupted him, extending her arm to point back at the Star Destroyers ship port. “Look.”

A small ship exited the Star Destroyer and went in the direction of one of the civilian ships parked on a rather large asteroid. This new Imperial ship had a large blaster extended on the top of its point and seemed to be firing it up.

Within seconds the brilliant laser exited the canon and beamed out to the civilian ship. It erupted with light, blasting rubble in all different directions. 

Talieh and Cikatro watched in horror at the slaughter. The Empire had just murdered those civilians without warning, by the looks of it no warning had been given to evacuate the premise. They just acted out of hate. Without justice..

The survey ship started to gather pieces of the asteroid that subsequently exploded with the initial blast to the miners. Meanwhile the canon ship went into another direction, only to continue blasting other asteroids. Fortunately no additional civilian mining operations were taking place but the sounds of the blasts caused tension in their own ship.

Talieh and Cikatro glanced at one another again, neither one too sure what the make of their current predicament. The Imperials were obviously here scouting the area for minerals but there were well armed and ready for a fight. For the time being they were safe enough, but if they came over in the direction of their ship.. that would change very fast.

Their ship which was filled to the brim with illegally obtained Imperial weapons. If they murdered civilian miners without bating an eye, what would they do to known smugglers?

Talieh and Cikatro watched for a long time, both too anxious to really say anything. After a while the ships only seemed to come closer and closer to their own ship.

“What do you think they’d do if they found us?” Talieh asked in a quiet voice, her pink irises glazing over as she looked out the window. Though the sheer gravity of the situation had sobered her up significantly, the Zygerrian woman's body could still feel the effects of the alcohol. She sat back, laying her arms on the rest of her chair.

“Kill us.” Cikatro said gruffly and without hesitation, turning his head to look at Talieh. 

When their eyes met she didn't pull away but instead stared him right back in the face. A wave of warmth overcame her as she rested her gaze on his crimson eyes. She was silent but her feline ears twitched slightly, involuntarily expressing that she was deep in thought.

“But they wont.” The Devaronian finally added, reaching over to place a thoughtful hand on her wrist. Cikatro expected her to bat him away with a threatening response, as she usually did to his romantic gestures, but she surprisingly did not. “We are going to get back home and become rich off of this shipment. Talieh, my sweet-”  The strain in his voice was fairly evident but he still charaded a smile. “You have nothing to worry about.”

Talieh’s gaze fell to his large hand and she considered him, taking her time with figuring out exactly what to say.

“Your words are warm and assuring..”  She then placed her own hand over his, her small fingers barely even managing to cover his knuckles. “This is sweet. You are very sweet to me. But you do lie.. you do not know this is truth. Yet you sit here, lying to my face... but, you only lie for my benefit.” 

Talieh used her fingers to affectionately trace small circles on the skin of his hand. “It’s not unappreciated. Far from it. I take note of all these things you do for me, Cikatro.”

Shocked at her actions Vizago just watched her. She spoke so softly and seemed vulnerable. He had never seen her like this.

She continued. “I really do not understand the this new world. The Empire. They do not seem to have an moral way of doing things.”

“And we do?” The Devaronian interjected. He forced a pitiful snicker, trying to be somewhat humorous to help ease this tense situation.

“Yes.. I do.” She whispered, gripping onto Cikatro’s hand in a way that actually made him worry. “The Republic was never perfect but it was better than this world you live in. There was a system of checks and balances.. Here there’s no order. It’s all random and dark! The Galaxy is out of Balance. The Jedi were the morale back bone of our society and now they are g-gone." Silence followed for a moment before she let out a shaky breath. "And what’s left? Stormtroopers hardly mature enough to handle their own blasters! Purchased officials and an Emperor with no light inside his heart!”

Vizago arched a brow as he listened to her. He really had no idea what she was going on about. The Republic? The Jedi? She sounded so scared and so desperate. It seemed more than their current situation that caused her panic.

Talieh looked back up at Cikatro and calmed down a bit, realizing she was actually beginning to shake with anger. It was not so much that she was afraid of the situation at hand. Talieh had never been afraid of dying. However, she was absolutely terrified of this unfamiliar world and this unkind Empire. What it had done to the world she had once known...

Even now the Zygerrian Jedi had no idea what exactly had happened to The Republic or The Jedi Order. What had happened while she was trapped in Carbonite all those years was beyond her knowledge. She had just recently started to come to terms with the fact that she would possibly never know. 

Talieh told herself she didn't need to know those things. It was the past and she was still living. She needed to move on, right?

“Talieh?” Cikatro spoke up, giving her hand a squeeze. “You are shaking, please talk to me, my sweet..” His warm voice was soft and assuring. Despite his charade of calm Talieh could sense the fear within him. How he, too, was unsure on what would happen to either of them..

She heard him speak but could not seem to find her own voice. Instead her expression fell to a solemn one as she thought of Vizago, and what he meant to her. Cikatro had a life to get back to. His sweet little mother back on Lothal. His other employees.. They relied on him. All though he was not good in the way the Jedi had taught her to see, she sensed the good in him.  

Talieh took in a shaky breath, suddenly overcome with emotion. Anger and nostalgia. Longing and contentment. But most of all she felt sure of herself and what she needed to do. She may not have known what happened to the Jedi but she knew about her life right here, and right now.

Her life on Lothal. Her life with Cikatro Vizago. He’d given her a job and invited her into his life without hesitation. And though she had always rejected his advances she was fully aware that all she need do was say the word.. and this man would be hers. Until this moment, she had never really considered saying yes because that was simply not the Jedi way. 

But where were the Jedi now? Gone. 

Here and now, the only thing she knew was she needed to keep him safe at all costs.

“I’m sorry, Cikatro..” She whispered. With a final tender squeeze the woman then pulled both of her hands away from his grasp.

“N-No, Talieh, my sweet.. You have nothing to apologize for!” He forced a toothy smile. His long devilish ears drooped slightly, expressing his concern. “I just want to understand..” 

He really did. She knew that. But that didn't matter now. Not when his life was in danger.

“You do not need to understand.” She then stood up and reached forward to the ships dash. Talieh flipped the switch for partial power in the left port of the ship, where the escape pods were. “Just let me do this.” 

Utterly baffled the Devaronian stood up and immediately pulled the power switch back down, reversing what it was Talieh was trying to do. 

“Are you crazy?!” He hollered with panic, turning to face her. His brows knitted in a stern yet concerned way. “Do you want them to catch us?" 

“No, just me.” She hissed back, glaring up at the taller man. “I just need you to keep the power on long enough for me start up the escape pod. If I can pull their attention on the other side of the asteroid field you can make an escape!” By the end of that statement Talieh had tears swelling in the back of her eyes. Tears that had been welling for years but had never fallen. “Once you're past this asteroid belt, they cannot chase after you!” Her heart was beating faster than it ever had.

“You...? Wait, Talieh, no!” Cikatro’s eyes widened as he processed exactly what she had just intended. “That’s.. just out of the question..” He crinkled his nose and shook his head slightly, overcoming his confusion and joy all at once. He was truly touched at the gesture but what Talieh wanted to do was impossible. There was no way he would let her do something like this.

“As you know I am perfectly capable of handling myself.” She spat, taking a step closer to him. “But the fact is, this situation is not looking too good for either of us, Cikatro. I can not just idly sit by and wait to be murdered." The tears hot salty finally rolled down her cheeks. "I cannot wait for you to be murdered.”

Talieh tried stepped past him, reaching for the switch only to have Cikatro grab her wrist tightly and yank her in front of him. He wasn't sure how he was supposed to react to this! On one hand the woman he loved more or less just admitted her love for him through her actions, but on the other he was fairly certain she wanted to go out and get herself killed.

“So what? You plan to just take the tiny little escape pod over and take out an Imperial Star Destroyer?!” He forced out the most mocking laughter he could, thinking maybe embarrassment would calm her down from this half baked question of heroism. “Talieh, my love, it has no weapons! No shields! You will die before you even get within a blasters shot away from it! And what, you’re doing this for me? Why would you do something that rash for a man you do not love?”

The sounds of asteroids being pulverized fairly closely caught them both off guard. The surveying squad was getting closer. Though both Talieh and Cikatro were alarmed by the approaching sounds, they stayed right where they were, glaring the other in the eye.

“I will do what I must t-to get you home... because you have a life, C-Cikatro!” She bellowed, all the pent up emotion of the past year suddenly and uncontrollably flooding through. “However it is you think I see you must be wrong because I see you.. I see the real you. The man who takes care of his mother! The man who-”  

“-This is ridiculous, Talieh!” Vizago cut her off, his tone loud and commanding. “I will lock you in the brig if I need to. This is not negotiable!”

“You know that wont hold me.” She tried to wiggle her arm from his hand, but failed. Rolling his eyes Cikatro grabbed her free wrist with his other hand, holding her in place before him. 

“Then, as much as it breaks my heart, I’ll have to use my stun gun.”

“You’d never use that on me.” She huffed, finally gaining control of her tears. She took in a deep breath and looked up at him, still maintaining the look of determination but when in actuality she felt small and powerless. For the first time in her entire life, emotions had gotten the better of her. 

“You’re right.” He grumbled. Keeping the Zygerrian woman in place he stared at her helplessly. “So, this will have to do..”

Cikatro released both of Talieh’s wrist before taking a firm hold of her shoulders. The Devaronian took a leap of courage and ferociously pressed his lips against hers, hoping she wouldn't resist and would simply be carried away in the moment.

And she was.

Talieh was swept over by a sensation she was not familiar with. At first she just stayed still with shock and processed the gravity of the kiss. Her body felt cold and warm at the same time; but it was good. No, it was amazing. His lips were softer than she would have guessed..

After relaxing from what almost felt like an out of body experience Talieh closed her eyes and gave into her her feelings. Closing her wet eyes the Zygerrian leaned in, returning Cikatro's kiss with matching intensity.

Letting out a sharp breath from his nose, Vizago let his rough hands fall from her shoulders and down her arms. He took his time in letting the palm of his hands feel her fur and skin. Upon reaching her wrists he guided them to his head, and she wrapped them around his neck snuggly.

Talieh let out a soft purr as she let her hands caress the back of his head and the indentions of his horns.

Smirking into the kiss, Cikatro slipped his arms around the woman's waist. Reeling at touching of the indention of her hips with his own hands, he decided to be even bolder than he had already been.

He shoved his thick tongue into her mouth, rubbing against hers to create a friction he'd longed craved. Then he slammed her onto the dash, lifting her ass up to sit on the powered down buttons so that her legs were on either side of him. He leaned in close so their chests were touching and continued to kiss her.

Startled but willing, Talieh moaned loudly into his mouth. She let one of her arms trail down his shoulder to rub his muscular forearm. She'd long admired his muscles and being able feel them so intimately made her stomach feel tight and euphoric. Instinctively she wrapped her legs around his hips.

"Talieh.." He whispered in a husky tone, drawing his lips to her jawline to playfully nip. He bucked his hips into hers, his member hard against her stomach. He smirked at the sound of her desperate moans. Pressing his lips against the corner of her feline ears he continued. "I've dreamed of this for so long.."

The Zygerrian woman's face was flush with stimulation, her innocent body and mind feeling joyously overwhelmed with each new sensation. Her eyes fluttered open as Cikatro pressed his forehead to hers, a moment of genuine affection to gage her comfort level.

"Holding you in my arms.."

Talieh lifted her hand from his arm, to cup his cheek. She smiled softly but remained silent.

"Your legs wrapped around me.." He added, a dirty chuckle following his proclamation.

She averted his eyes, overcome with embarrassment, but her smile widened. She felt the same however lacked the bold confidence that Vizago had in abundant supply.

"I've held you in the most intimate place of my heart for a long time, Cikatro..." She whispered, daring to lock eyes with him.

With a dirty grin, the Devaronian pressed his lips back to hers.

For the next several moments the pair snogged deeply and let their desperate hands explore the others clothed body. That was until a sound could be heard.

Talieh's feline ears twitched and she felt her lust disconnect as her mind went into alert. She wiggled beneath him and tore away from the kiss.

"C-Cikatro, stop!" She cried, trying to get him off of her so she could look out of the viewport behind her.

"D-Did I go too far?" He inquired smugly, pulling away with a slanted grin. "It's hard to when I want to explore every bit of your bod-"

"Sshhhh.." She snapped, pressing her pointer finger over his lips to hush him up. Cikatro, albeit disappointed, stepped back and helped her off of the dash as she wished .

The pair then both gazed out the viewport to find that both survey and attack ships had returned to the Starcruiser.

"Talieh, I think they are leaving!" Cikatro exclaimed.

Blinking in disbelief, Talieh let a smile creep up on her swollen lips. He was right! With a flash of light the Imperial occupation of the sector was clear. After a moment of silently staring into empty space, the couple slowly looked at each other with big smiles, satisfied that they would indeed live to see another day.

Then, they both jumped into the tightest embrace as their lips met once more.

Talieh was the one to pull away first, bringing a hand to the back of his head to rub affectionately.

"We need to power up and maneuver our way out of here through that field, Cikatro. We can't possibly know if they will come back."

"That is the responsible thing to do." He agreed, however there was a hint of irritation there. As if he would rather be doing something else.

"It is." She stepped away and began to power up the ship. Business as usual. "Please get us back to Lothal in one piece. It seems... we have many things to discuss." The flush in her face turned brighter as she evaded eye contact.

"Yes, we do, my sweet." He plopped into the Captains chair and gestured for her to take her seat at his side. "So strap in."