#trying to balance being on here and also wanting to be invisible and blend in with the masses and work my 9-5 and act like i dont have like

[mueritos]

quick lil post about coming back to art full-time while also being a full time MSW student….it can be possible 0.0

anyway ty to everyone who has supported me over the years i wouldnt be able to go back to art without you all

[labyrinth-runner]

Become the Beast

Alright! So, No Content November is officially over. To break the spell, I am posting this.

Huge Thank you to @thepanakinanakin​ and @the-mandalorian-clone-lover​ for reading this every day when I wrote more for it. Seriously. This would not be here without your support and spitballing.

Summary: A Suitless!Vader x Reader fan fiction based off the song Become the Beast by Karliene. It takes place after the fall of the Order as Reader struggles to carve out a life without the guidance of the Order. It’s a discussion of fate versus the will of man, and whether we can run from our destiny. It’s got love, it’s got an unlikely friendship, it’s got angst, and a lot of OCs and adventures. It’s essentially like I took one-sided pining to enemies to lovers and dosed it with crack.

Word Count: almost 23k. I’ve literally been working on this the entire month of November.

Main Ship: Suitless! Vader x g/n Reader (truly Gender Neutral). 

Warnings: Um. Violence/fighting. It’s got a lot more action in it than I originally planned. But it’s not like its anything that SWs HASN’T done before. 

With one order, the world was in shambles. The balance was shifting. Where once there was light, there was now an all-consuming darkness like hundreds of candles that once burned brighter than the sun were snuffed out with precision and without mercy. Cries of agony could be felt like a ripple through the force, washing over you with an intensity that sent you to your knees. You held your head with one hand as your heart hammered in your chest. Kenobi and Skywalker must have failed. Your men called out for you, but you knew you couldn’t trust them. Hot tears stung your eyes as you felt that in your bones. The Order was over, your Master was dead, and you would be, too, if you didn’t get out of there. 

Placing a hand on the dusty ground, you slowed your breathing and listened, letting the force tell you all you needed to know. They were coming for you, but there was a city ahead with a spaceport. Rising to your feet, you took your braid in your hand. Your trials were to commence soon, but that didn’t matter now. You were no longer a Jedi, and no longer a Padawan. Taking your lightsaber from your hip, it felt heavy in your hand. Heavy with the knowledge that this war had destroyed everything the Order stood for. How many things had been destroyed with this saber? You mused as you turned it over in your hand. It didn’t matter. None of it mattered. It ignited with a flash of light and with one fell swoop, it severed the last tie you had to the Order. To your Master. It barely made a sound as it landed on the scorched earth. Deactivating your weapon for what might be the last time, you replaced it on your hip before running, never looking back.

By the time the clones arrived to your last known position, it was too late. You were gone. The only thing left was the severed Padawan braid lying forgotten in the dirt.

You had ran that day, and in a sense, you never stopped. You were running from the Empire, from your past, afraid it would catch up to you. From world to world, you ran, taking the odd job here or there to afford fuel for your next adventure. If you could call it that. You never stayed in one place too long, too afraid you’d get attached. Attachments were bad, but not in the way the Jedi had taught you. Attachments meant you’d care about what happened when you were gone. You’d hear the boots of the stormtroopers on the ground as they ran their drills in the morning and you’d worry about the locals if you stayed too long. A few rotations here, a sabbatical there... never a full revolution on a planet. Your mind was always ten steps ahead of your feet, trying to stay under the radar. It was a game you played with the Empire, not that they knew you were playing. A wry smile crossed your face as you realized this. After all, wasn't that what the Clone Wars were? A game that the Jedi were pawns in, not even realizing they were playing. Not even the Chosen One had been spared, having fallen on Mustafar. 

You didn’t mind running, after all, you had gotten good at it. However, the ache for a home was apparent every now and then. A glimpse of a family here, or a group of friends there would send you into a deep reverie. You had had that once. Now, it was a luxury you couldn’t afford. It was an isolating life, but it was your life, running like a scared animal separated from its pack. Possibly the last of its kind. No, you weren’t the last. Somehow you could feel that much. There were still flames out there, but like yours they were muted, masking themselves from the Empire the best they could. Although there was strength in numbers, there was also safety in solitude. It was an unspoken law amongst the survivors. Worlds were not big enough for two, not when there was a target on your back. Still, looking at the families you’d seen along the way made you miss your own. Deep down you longed for the safety of the Temple and the support of a Master to guide you. Without both you felt like you were drifting in space, running blindly into the night in the hopes that you’d make it to dawn without being hunted by the predators that thrived in the dark. 

Your latest planet was quiet. Almost too quiet. The air was charged with anticipation, like they knew something you didn’t as you walked around the open air market. The citizens were tense, which put you on edge. Tension settled into your back, pulling taut across your shoulders as you pulled your hood further down your face to obscure you. You quickly placed your credits in the outstretched hand before taking your fruit and placing it in your pack. You were too exposed out here. Something told you that you should hide, like warning bells going off in your head. The hair on the nape of your neck stood up. That was when you heard it.

Footsteps.

They resounded in the distance, steadily drawing closer. Multiple feet in time with each other as they pounded the ground in a march. You could hear the unmistakable whines overhead.

TIE fighters.

Kriff. 

Taking a settling breath, you analyzed your surroundings. Fighting your way out of this was not something you were prepared to do. You’d just make your way towards the spaceport as quickly as you could. It would be fine. Pressing your back against the building, you prepared to blend into your surroundings. 

That was when you felt it. A dark, coldness creeping into your bones. It was a presence larger than life that you had never felt before. It was overwhelming, debilitating almost. Your hand reached out for the stone wall behind you, grabbing it to catch yourself as the force signature of this being almost sent you to your knees. Never had you felt such power. Never had you felt such anger. There was a rage in that presence that threatened to consume. 

Shots rang out. You glanced up to catch blaster fire being traded between the local pocket of rebels and the imperial stormtroopers, their uniforms so tauntingly white, like they weren’t created with the blood of the people. With the blood of the galaxy. Blood that was going to be spilled now. Right here. In front of your eyes as you watched normal citizens getting caught in the crossfire. A father and a child ran from one booth to another, trying to make it back to the arms of the mother in the doorway across the square. You turned to the side as you heard him get gunned down, dropping the child to the dusty ground. 

A familiar sound came next, a sound you hadn’t heard in years, but recognized instantly. The hum of the blade was steady and red, bleeding rage. You could feel it coming off the blade in waves. The blade was drawing closer to the child.

“Give him to me,” the man instructed. Turning your attention back to the child, you noticed the mother had come out of the sanctuary of their home to hold the crying child close to her. A mother’s first instinct was always to protect.

“Never,” she rasped out, staring at him with an unwavering gaze. Her courage was formidable, but you knew what would happen next, what always happened next.

Letting out a shaking breath, you straightened, prepared to run. You were always running. Scrunching your eyes shut, you remembered your teachings. You remembered the younglings at the Temple that you had helped train. Invisible tendrils from the past tugging at you, guiding your motions like a marionette. Feet moved on instinct, arms swung on their own accord until the hiss of a connection could be heard.

Your eyes focused on the feet in front of you as the heat from the interlocked blades warmed your face, casting you in a dangerous red glow. Your eyes trailed up the body of the opponent in front of you until you locked eyes. He was handsome, in a distracting way. His hair whipped around in the breeze as a twisted smirk settled on his face. He was as ferocious as a lion, drawing you in, yet holding you in place as he stared into your soul. Forbidden, yet wanted.

“Padawan,” he purred, “Where’s your braid?”

“I cut it off. I had nothing left to learn,” you ground out through gritted teeth, pushing back with all your might. He had the upper hand without effort.

“Nothing left to learn, or no one left to learn from?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly. He was testing you. The heat in his gaze stirred something within you, like a spark turning into a flame. You couldn’t hold his gaze any longer, or you’d be defenseless. Blinking rapidly to clear your vision, you conceded that match. He was still much too close for comfort. You needed to remedy that.

“Same difference!” You replied before using the force to push him back, knocking him a few feet back. How dare he? You thought indignantly. What right did this Sith have to mock the Order?

“Good,” he grinned, dropping his saber to his side. He looked at you with great interest. You were his prey and he was going to play. It had been so long since he’d had a formidable opponent. The way he stood exuded power, raw and crackling. You could almost feel the charge in the air, but that’s all it was, right? His power, nothing more. The way he stood, to any onlooker it would seem defenseless, but in truth he was setting a trap. “Get angry. It’ll make this more fun.”

He was goading you, and you knew it. You tried to breathe, exhaling all the anger bubbling in you threatening to spill over. A tenuous control over your emotions started to build, forcing your inner anger back into the rickety cage it was struggling against. 

“Give in,” he murmured, watching your turmoil with great interest. “Feel the power.”

“Like you did?” you ground out. You knew exactly who this man was. You’d seen him in the Temple. You had even admired him, having had countless conversations with him at the Temple. He was just as captivating now as he was back then. His presence had always drawn you in, made you want more than you knew you should have. This man was everything you had wanted to be. You’d looked up to him. He had it all, but he had thrown it away. An irrational part of your mind added, threw you away. “You betrayed your own.”

“They were never my own,” he spat. “I was their savior, reluctantly.”

“Some savior you were. You killed them all,” you seethed before attacking. Your control was gone as the lives of your friends flashed before your eyes. His life flashed before your eyes. He could have been so much more than this. You could have been so much more than this, but this was what he had reduced you to: a lonely wanderer who lived hand-to-mouth. Your anger made you sloppy, but you managed to catch him off guard at first.

Trading blows, he was barely breaking a sweat while your chest was heaving from exertion. He was magnificent, and that was not lost on you. It was impressive, watching him move gracefully. His hair flowed like a mane around him. A wry smile crossed your face at the realization, a lion among man. 

“You’re weak,” he taunted, pinning you with the force to a wall. “You have power, but you don’t know how to use it. How to control it. You’re unbalanced.”

“No, you’re wrong!” You called out, straining against his power. Memories flashed in your head to when he’d first pinned you against the wall during training so many years ago, but this was not the same. Your eyes locked with his as you swallowed. It wouldn’t end. Not like this. You lunged at him, swinging wildly with your arms. You weren’t unbalanced. You were one a Jedi. You were one with the force. Your swing missed, but his didn’t. The sting of the blade as it singed your shoulder made you grit your teeth as your knees gave out. You wouldn’t let this man see you cry out. You would not beg for mercy that you knew he would not give. His saber was lifted.

“Pity,” he murmured, reaching down to tip your chin up towards him. Locking eyes, you came to the realization that you were to die at the hands of the most handsome beast you’d ever met. Yet, all he could do was offer you a sad smile, and something else: a flicker of remorse in his eyes, but not at what he was about to do. “You could have been something.”

Blaster fire lit up the square, interrupting your battle. His face contorted into a grimace as he had to move his lightsaber to block the shots. Using the distraction, you scuffled back towards a building. Your hand blindly searched for a hold on the rough stone to push yourself up, staring back at him. Even when he was at a disadvantage, he was captivating. The way he moved as if the world were his to control was breathtaking. A pang of regret hit your heart. The two of you together could have been unstoppable. The brick cut your skin, but you didn’t care. It brought you back to reality. The reality that he was a monster, and most of all, he could never be yours. 

“Come on,” a woman called out, wrapping a hand around your arm. “You can’t stay here.”

You looked up into the face of the mother you had saved. “I have nowhere to go.”

“I know a place,” she murmured, clutching her child to her chest.

You stared at her for a moment, listening to the sound of the skirmish outside. Then, you nodded. Anywhere was better than here. She led you to the spaceport. Rebels provided cover fire as they engaged with stormtroopers outside the hanger bay. You clamored up the ramp into the ship.

A woman with short red hair looked at the mother.

“You’ve brought a friend,” she murmured. “We were told it was just your family we were extracting.”

“I lost my husband,” the mother replied. “The amount of passengers is the same.”

The woman looked at you, studying you. Measuring you. But to what, you didn’t know. Her eyes settled on your lightsaber at your hip, widening slightly.

“Well, come on. We can’t stay on this world anymore,” the woman replied before pressing her comm link. “Pilot, get us out of here.”

“Right away, Senator,” a response came before the woman and the mother walked further down the corridor.

You looked down at the ramp as it closed. Although you couldn’t see the fighting anymore, you could feel it. You could feel his wrath as he lashed out at the rebels like a cornered animal, using his rage as fuel. They would all die. Their blasters were nothing in comparison to his power. He’d snuff out their lives like a shrine of candles in a rainstorm. Leaning against the wall, you slowly slid down to the floor. Your legs could no longer hold you now that the adrenaline had worn off. You were tired, so tired. Your shoulder cried out in pain, but worst of all was the knowledge of what was happening below on the planet as you felt the ship rise from the ground. Tears flowed freely at all that was lost today.

You had run for so long.

You had avoided the Empire for so long.

Now they knew you were out there, and you knew they would come looking for you. Your anonymity was gone. In the back of your mind, you heard his voice over and over again.

Weak.

You were weak. You’d gone soft. You were out of practice. Unbalanced. He was right.

Swiping the tears from your face with the back of your hand, a resolve etched itself on your face. Not for much longer, you thought. Placing your hands on your knees, you pushed yourself back to your feet, a phoenix rising from the ashes.

You ignited your saber, feeling its weight in your hand. The hum of the blade in tune with your soul as you closed your eyes. The next time you faced that beast of a man, you would be ready. There was a fire in your eyes as you deactivated the saber, placing it back on your hip. Your footsteps resounded, sure and deliberate as you followed the path the rebels had taken.

Rounding the corner towards where the mother and her child were seated with the senator before, you felt a watchful set of eyes on your entrance.

“I haven’t seen a Jedi in some time,” the woman said, as much to the mother as to you.

“They protected us after my husband was...” the mother trailed off as her eyes rimmed red, the words getting caught in the emotion in her throat.

“There was nothing you could have done,” the Senator told her, placing a hand on top of hers. “You and your child have had a long day. We’ll be arriving on Chandrila in a few hours. You should rest, Jynna. You’ll need your strength.”

Jynna nodded, sliding out of the booth with her child in her arms. She stopped in front of you, placing a heavy hand on your shoulder. “I could never thank you enough, Jedi.”

You swallowed the awkward lump in your throat at the praise, especially since you hadn’t planned on stepping in, and especially because you were not a Jedi. Not anymore. “Of course.”

Jynna gave you a sad smile, letting her hand drop to her side before leaving down the corridor.

After a moment of silence, listening to the woman’s retreating steps, the other woman cleared her throat. “Please, have a seat.”

You slipped into the booth across from her. 

“Finding a Jedi in this current climate is like finding a kyber crystal on Tatooine,” the woman remarked.

“The Jedi no longer exist,” you replied, looking at the dirt under your nails from your fight.

“That’s what the Emperor wants us to think,” the woman replied leaning in. “I’m sure there are more of you than you know. You’re all in hiding.”

“What do you want us to do?” you shot back, “Come out into the open to be executed?”

“From what I understand, you were almost executed today due to your recklessness,” she replied.

Your cheeks reddened in embarrassment. 

“Yet you live,” she added. She appraised you for not the first time that day. “We could use someone like you.”

“Who’s ‘we’?” you asked, leaning back.

“The rebellion,” she clarified.

“I already have a target on my back,” you sighed. “Why would I push my luck further?”

“Exactly,” she replied. “You already are a target, might as well give them a run for their credits. What else are you going to do? Go back into hiding on some back water world? The Empire’s presence is growing every day. Nowhere is safe.”

“Do you think I don’t know that?” you asked. “Look, Senator, I’m not sure what you want me to be.”

“Just yourself,” she said, patting your hand. “You have so much potential, and you can make a difference.”

“Senator Mothma, we’ll be dropping out of hyperspace to refuel,” a crew member said, coming back from the cockpit.

She nodded to them. “Good.”

Then, she turned back to you, a bright fiery look in her eyes that rivaled her hair. “Think about it. You can no more run from who you are than night can resist the dawn. I’ll leave the ramp unlocked when we dock to fuel. The choice is yours.”

You watched as she slipped from the booth, heading back, presumably to where her chambers were on the ship. You stared at the table in front of you. You’d already decided you weren’t going to run anymore, and here you had an opportunity to help. The way she looked at you... it wasn’t as if you were just a Jedi. It was as if you were more than that. You were hope. Hope that, try as the Empire might, they could not erase every ounce of opposition in the galaxy. Join or perish. That was what you’d felt more than once today. First, with Skywalker on that dust ball, and now with Mon Mothma. The only difference was that the Empire would kill you for not joining, whereas the Rebellion would just leave you to your own devices. You’d learned today that those were not enough. At least, not right now. 

You were being given a choice, a choice to make something of yourself, or the choice to fade away into oblivion. Earlier, your body had acted on its own accord, pulling you into the fray. Fading was no longer an option. To fade was to be complacent with an overlord taking over a galaxy and enslaving the very people you had once fought to protect. No, you were going to fight. You’d lend your hand to this Rebellion, and in doing so, it would make you stronger. It would make the people stronger to know that the Force was no longer wielded by just the dark side. Your destiny and the Rebellion’s would be entwined, feeding each other and making you both strong until the light could burn out the darkness. 

A rumble could be felt through the ship as it landed on the fueling platform. You didn’t even get up from your seat.

“Welcome aboard, Jedi,” Mon Mothma said as she walked by the booth to talk to the pilot. “You, too, should rest. I’m sure you’ll have plenty to do once we land.”

You nodded, stalking back towards the cabins. 

You found the room that Jynna had entered. Her child was asleep, curled into her. Jynna herself seemed to be having a fitful rest. A small sigh passed through your lips as you walked further into the room. Holding a hand out above her forehead, you concentrated on smoothing her furrowed brow. She’d have enough time to deal with the horrors of the day during her waking hours. There was no reason for her to suffer in her sleep as well. As her face settled into a smooth serenity, you let your hand drop back to your side before sitting on the bunk across from them.

Fatigue from the day hit you like a pod racer on Tatooine running into a canyon wall. 

Weak.

A wry smirk settled on your face. Well, sleep will give me strength, you thought in amusement.

Flattening yourself against the mattress, the weight of your body settled into your bones. With each breath you expelled yourself until you were one with the Force. it was something you hadn’t done in a long time, unable to afford this level of vulnerability. It was in this moment that you realized you hadn’t rested in so long. Too long, your body cried out. 

The Force gives strength. The Force restores. All are reborn in the Force if they learn to let go of their corporeal form. Like a bacta tank heals, so too does the Force. You allowed yourself to submerge in its icy depths, awakening in you a sensation that you had almost forgotten. Your eyes were open wide to the world, now, no longer content to just float along. You were prepared to swim. The pain in your shoulder faded the closer you got to the surface. 

When you emerged from the Force, your eyes opened to the dimly lit cabin. Jynna was awake on her cot, cuddling her child as she watched you with great interest.

“Where did you go?” she asked.

“What do you mean?” you replied.

“When you became one with the Force,” she clarified, “What is it like?”

“It’s different for all,” you sighed, turning on your side to face her. “Just now it was cold.”

“Like a bath that you’ve left for too long?” she asked.

A genuine smile grew on your face, “In a way.”

She looked down at her son like she didn’t know him. “He has a gift. That’s why they want him.”

“The Order is no more,” you replied. 

“That doesn’t mean he isn’t sought after,” she shot back, meeting your eyes.

“They won’t lay a hand on your son,” you stated, but it was more like a promise.

She nodded, brushing a dark brown curl out of her son’s face. “They’ll have to go through me first.”

You didn’t want to tell her that they had already gone through her husband. You didn’t want to point out that going through her would be child’s play. Instead, you made an actual promise. Turning your back to her, you murmured, “It won’t come to that.”

“You don’t like being called a Jedi,” she murmured.

“Because I’m not,” you sighed.

She let your truth hang in the air, but you knew it fell on deaf ears.

You stared at the wall of your bunk, listening as her breathing evened out and she fell back asleep. Closing your eyes, you did something you hadn’t wanted to do before. You began to remember. Not too much, no. That would be like ripping a scab off of a wound that barely healed. No, you remembered just enough, letting the wound breath before bundling it back up in bandages again.

The Temple had been a wonderful place to grow up- not that you remembered any other. You were sure that you had a family somewhere. A mother. A father. After all, how else would you have come to be? But, you didn’t know them. They were shadows in your mind, like they were backlit from the sun. Hazy. No, the people you remembered most from your childhood were the Masters. They were the ones who raised you, taught you everything you knew. Would you have been better off with a family? It was something you had wondered about after the Republic fell, but then you came to the realization that you had had a family, just not in the normal sense. Your lips tilted up slightly as you remembered the day you were chosen to be a Padawan. That had been the happiest day of your life. Your thoughts drifted to what your Master would think if they could see you now. Would they be proud? Or would they be disappointed? You didn’t know, and that bothered you. 

Swallowing the lump in your throat, you closed your eyes tight, willing the Force to take you over again into that sea of bliss and belonging. When it finally did, it was warmer this time, more familiar as it washed over you, wrapping you in reassurance.

When you woke next, the ship was touching down on Chandrila. The sky was a myriad of colors as the planet awoke from the night. As you walked down the ramp, you looked up at the yellow, pink, and purple that swathed the sky in an inviting glow. Your gaze felt the gravitational pull, taking in your immediate surroundings now. The planet reminded you a bit of Naboo and Alderaan in the sense that it had a significant amount of water and greenery. The architecture was white. A wry smile crossed your face. Pure. Untouched. If only the rest of the galaxy were as lucky.

Footsteps sounded behind you as Senator Mothma disembarked. She walked swiftly towards a nearby building. When the rest of the party followed, so did you. 

Soon, you found yourself crowded into a lift and descending. 

The doors opened onto a bustling operations center. Screens were alight with data points. Everyone had a mission, and idleness was not tolerated. After all, if the Empire never stopped, then why should they? It was like a swimming beast. If it stopped, it could die. 

Jynna and her son were ushered off down a hallway. You moved to follow them, but Senator Mothma placed a hand on your shoulder.

“Not yet,” she murmured.

You turned your head to look at her. “What will happen to them?”

“We’ll keep them safe. The Empire will not get ahold of that child, or it’s mother,” she assured you. “Now, come. There is someone who will be eager to meet you.”

Your brow furrowed as you tried to decipher who she could be talking about as you followed her into a war conference room. The door shut behind you, leaving just you, the Senator, and a man looking down at a hologram projected up from the table.

“You’re late, Senator,” the man said, but there wasn’t a hint of animosity or annoyance in his tone.

“Yes, well, there were complications,” Mothma replied.

“Complications or complication?” the man asked, turning to look at her. His eyes settled on you with express interest.

Senator Mothma looked between you and the man before speaking. “Complications. Of the Sith variety.”

“Vader,” he muttered in disgust.

“They knew of the child,” Mothma informed him.

“How? Only the Jedi had this information,” the man replied.

“You know where they made their headquarters,” Mothma said pointedly. “Who’s to say they haven’t entered the archives and gained access to the information.”

“I was with Kenobi on that Sith planet. Only a Jedi can open one of their holocrons, just as only a Sith can open their devices.”

Kenobi? Your eyes widened. Now there was a name you hadn’t heard in a long, long time, and it was usually accompanied by...

“Skywalker was a Jedi before this. He could have opened it,” Mothma added. 

The man looked down. “No. He’s too far gone.” When he picked his head up again, he looked straight at you. “What’s your story?”

“They’re a Jedi, Bail,” Mothma said, with a glint in her eyes.

“Is this true?” Bail asked, studying you.

You wanted to say no, but you could no longer run from that title anymore than you could run from yourself. “I was, before the fall.”

A wry smirk settled on Bail’s face. “The fall of Skywalker, or the fall of the Order?”

“Are they not the same?” you asked quietly. After all, losing Anakin had led to losing the Order, and to the rise of Vader.

He sighed, “I suppose they are. Are you here to help?”

“I’m here to train,” you replied. “I’ll help in any way I can while I do that. Vader bested me once. That won’t happen again.”

Bail nodded, admiring your determination. “Sometimes the best teacher is experience. Although, I’m not quite sure that hunting the galaxy’s boogeyman is the way to go about this.”

“You have your mission, and I have mine,” you replied. “If they both achieve the same goal, then does it matter how we get there?”

His brow furrowed, “In my experience, it is a thin line between that line of thinking and tyranny.” He looked back at Mothma, “I don’t need another Saw Gerrera.”

You looked at Bail. You couldn’t lose this opportunity. You felt it in your bones. This was the will of the force. You were meant to be here. You were meant to help. “Look, I just want peace in the galaxy. In order to do that, you have to stop Vader and the Emperor. I’ll do whatever else you want me to do. I’ll help in whatever way I can, but I need to stop him.”

Bail locked eyes with you for a charged moment before letting out a breath. “Alright, but our missions come first. If they just happen to coincide with your search for Vader, then so be it. I will not allow you to jeopardize the resistance by leading him to our door. If you poke the beast enough, he’ll attack. This is the only warning you’ll get from me.”

You nodded. “Yes, Senator Organa.”

“So you know who I am,” he said with an amused smirk.

“How could I forget?” you winked. “We never would have been allowed use of Toydaria without you and representative Binks.”

He nodded, “Well, Jedi, I think you better start training. I’m sure you’ll have an assignment soon enough.”

You smiled, turning to leave the two Senators to their plotting. 

The base was bustling. Everywhere you stepped, you felt as though you were in the way. Eventually, you stuck to creeping around the walls until you were in a hall that was deserted. A look of curiosity came over your face as you started to open the doors that lined the hall. An empty bedroom here. A storage closet there. But then... then you found a wide open room, swathed in white. A control panel was set into the wall. 

Your breath caught in your chest. You were familiar with rooms like this. In fact, you’d often trained in rooms like this. If you closed your eyes, you could almost hear your Master coaching you from the sidelines as the room moved around you. There was a glint of mischief in your eyes as you engaged the training program, dropping your bag on the ground and taking off your cloak you grinned as the room awoke around you.

It was like getting back on a speeder bike. You were rusty, but you were slowly reawakening your abilities. The more you moved, the more sure of yourself you became. You deflected the blasts that the training droids shot, trying not to destroy them. You didn’t want the Senators to get mad at you for busting their things. What you hadn’t noticed were the viewports that lined the tall walls at the top.

An audience had gathered as the members in the war room watched you. A ripple of murmurs went through the crowd.

“I thought they were all gone,” said one.

“My mother said they were legends,” whispered another.

“Maybe we have a chance now,” another dared to say.

Your hair stuck to your forehead from exertion as you bounded from moving platform to platform. When you closed your eyes, you could sense where they were going to be next. The force guided you. The prodigal child returning home to be welcomed with open arms. 

Eventually, you reached the top platform, thus beating that simulator as your hand pressed the buzzer. You opened your eyes to find the members of the Rebellion staring at you. Your chest heaved as you caught your breath. Wide eyes looked at you. 

Mon Mothma and Bail Organa exited their room to see the group staring at their new friend.

“Looks like the Lothcat is out of the bag,” Mothma smirked.

“So it seems,” Organa replied. “But, is the loth cat ready?”

“Why don’t you ask?” Mothma asked with a twinkle in her eyes.

Senator Organa wandered over to the intercom system and engaged it into the training arena.

“I have a mission for you,” he informed you. “Think you’re up for it?”

You swiped the sweat off your brow with your sleeve. “When do I leave?”

“Now.”

A grin broke across your face. “Good.”

Bail slapped a data card up against the transparisteel. You gave him a slight salute before jumping down to the ground. Once back on your own two feet, you picked up your bag and went back up to retrieve your mission.

“I’ll need a ship,” you told him after inspecting the data card. 

“You speak as if you’re going alone,” Bail said in amusement.

“I’m not?” you asked in confusion.

“No. You’ll be a part of a team,” he replied.

“I can do this on my own,” you said adamantly. “If it’s a stealth mission, less is more.”

“And if you get captured for being a Jedi? Then who will bring the information home?” he countered.

“That’s not what this is about,” you said, stopping in your tracks. “You don’t trust me.”

“Trust is earned,” he shot back.

“You knew my people. You know what they stood for,” you replied softly.

“Skywalker stood for that, too, once. Now look at us,” he said with his back to you.

Point, Organa.

You let out a sigh, “Fine. I’ll go with a team.”

“They’ll meet you in the hangar bay,” he said as he started to walk away, but then he paused. “And, Jedi, may the force be with you.”

You clenched the data card in your fist before making your way to meet this new team. 

The group that was waiting for you didn’t seem like much. You saw a human man in a flight suit, a blue astromech droid, a blue-skinned Twi’lek, and a Wookie. 

“You’re the Jedi?” the Twi’lek woman commented. 

“Can you be a member of something that’s disbanded?” the man asked.

You shot them a look. 

“Fiesty for a Jedi,” the Twi’lek smirked. “Seems like your type, Gavyn.”

“Knock it off, Oon’sara,” Gavyn sighed. He thumbed towards the Wookie and astromech. “That’s Chitca, and the droid’s on loan from Senator Organa.”

“Droids are not property. He’s doing this because he wants to,” you murmured as you looked at the droid, studying him. Almost as if sensing your judgment, the mech came forward to meet you and tootled. A spark of recognition settled onto your face as you watched the rest of the team head up the ship. You, however, hung back with the astromech.

“Is your new home treating you well, little droid?” you murmured.

Artoo looked up at you before letting out a sad noise.

Resting a hand on his dome, you gave him a sad smile. “I know. I miss the old days, too.”

Artoo looked down and started up the ramp. You followed him before settling into a seat in the cargo hold to go over the data again. If trust was something that had to be earned, then, maker, you were going to earn it.

Once in hyperspace, the crew trickled back to where you were, sitting on their own makeshift seats. You could feel their gaze on you as you rested your arms on your knees.

“Credit for your thoughts,” you eventually ventured.

“You’re injured,” Gavyn murmured, pointing at the burn on your arm. “It looks fresh.”

“It’s a lightsaber, isn’t it,” Oon’sara said, but it wasn’t a question. “He did it.”

“What do you know of him?” You asked as your eyes flicked up to hers.

“We all have our score to settle with the Empire,” Gavyn replied. “The Emperor’s shadow is infamous. Few see him and survive. He’s a harbinger of death.”

“He’s just a man,” you replied, thinking of his face, so close to yours as you had locked sabers.

“Tell that to the people of Ryloth,” Oon’sara sneered. “If you even mention the possibility of him coming, the Imperials crack down on us.”

“Is that your ‘score’ then?” you asked.

“If I free the galaxy, then I can free my people,” she said.

You turned to look at the others. “And you?”

“The Empire killed my parents,” Gavyn replied. “They tried to stop them from roughing up the local civilian market. I was seventeen. Barely a man, but no longer a kid. I ended up on the streets relying on the goodness of strangers. That was how Senator Organa found me.”

“Where’d you learn to fly?” you asked out of curiosity.

“My mom. She was a cargo pilot,” he grinned. “Best at maneuvering out of a sticky situation.”

You turned to the Wookie who blinked in surprise. “You?”

She tilted her head before responding. You were glad you’d grown up in the Temple at that moment, being able to understand other languages always came in handy. “You should know about Kashyyk. When Master Yoda escaped at the end of the war, the rest of us were not so lucky.”

“He’s alive?” you asked softly.

She shrugged. “He was when he left Kashyyk.”

Artoo bumped your leg where it hung over the side of the crate.

“I already know your story, little droid,” you murmured, patting his head. He’d lost just as much as you had that day. Part of you wondered if he knew what his old master was up to. It was odd, having Anakin’s droid here. This might be the only piece of him you’d have left.

“But we don’t know yours,” Gavyn said, folding his arms.

“It’s simple, really. I was a Jedi on the run after the Order fell. I piqued the interest of some undesirable people, and now I’m helping the Rebellion while I look for them,” you shrugged.

“I’ve never heard someone refer to Vader as an ‘undesirable’ person,” Oon’sara smirked.

“He took everything from me,” you replied. Including Anakin, you thought. “I’d call that undesirable.”

“So you’re hunting him,” Gavyn said thoughtfully. “Revenge doesn’t sound like the Jedi way.”

“It isn’t revenge,” you replied. “It’s justice. It’s for freedom and peace. If we get rid of Vader, the Emperor loses his ace. It’ll be over then.”

“The Emperor will still exist,” Oon’sara pointed out.

“The Emperor is an old man,” you spat. The Emperor was nothing compared to the man you’d sparred with. Vader was a formidable match in battle, but the Emperor was weak, having to rely upon someone else to fight his battles for him.

“He’s a Sith Lord,” Gavyn countered.

“Do you know how to defeat darkness?” You asked, looking out a viewport as you reverted back to real space. The Lothal System’s sun came into view, warming your face. You turned back to them with a smirk on your face. “You turn a light on.”

The crew started to disperse, but Gavyn hung back for a moment, looking at you over his shoulder. 

“You know, I always respected the Jedi. When things seemed bleak, they’d show up and save the day like heroes. It seemed inevitable that they would always win,” he admitted.

“Like the sun ending the night,” you murmured.

“Exactly,” he replied. “A spark of hope lights a flame. If you’re going to turn a light on, you’ll need a lot more of it.”

“A lot more of what?” you asked.

“Hope. One spark is a start, but it’s not enough on its own.”

Somehow you didn’t think he was talking about fires anymore. He turned and went back up to the cockpit to land the ship on world. 

You looked down at the droid beside you who shuffled in anticipation. “You ready for some action, friend?”

He tootled an affirmative.

The landing went smoothly. Even sneaking onto the base went well. You and Gavyn stole some armor to maneuver Chitca like a prisoner with Artoo bringing up the rear. Oon’sara stayed with the ship, ready to take off at a moment’s notice. 

Walking in the white armor felt wrong. How many clones had died wearing this flimsy armor? Too many for you to count. Bile rose in your throat as you pushed that thought from your mind. 

“Do you know where we’re going?” you asked Gavyn.

“Vaguely,” he replied.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” you murmured as you entered a control room. “Artoo, plug in and see if you can find where the TIE schematics are.”

Artoo rolled forward, extending his arm until he connected to the interface. You peered down the hall, watching for troopers in order to cover the droid. You had no doubt in his capabilities. After all, you knew who he had once belonged to.

“We need to get going,” Gavyn whispered.

“Don’t rush him,” you murmured absentmindedly. 

Soon enough, Artoo had the information you were looking for. It was located several floors below your current location. You opened the door and started down the hall with Artoo. Halfway down, you realized the others weren’t following. 

“Where are you going?” you asked them.

“Chitca says there’s some Wookies in the detention level. We’re going to free them,” he said with a grin.

“Gavyn, there’s no time. This is our mission!” you replied, having been used to making hard decisions during the clone wars. You knew all too well that you couldn’t save everybody.

“Take Artoo and get the schematics. We’re going to free them. We’ll meet back up in orbit if we get separated,” he said with a reassuring nod, like everything would be fine.

You couldn’t fight the feeling of dread knotting in your stomach, but you knew you couldn’t stop this. You gave him a curt nod before continuing to run down the hall towards the schematics with Artoo rolling beside you to keep up.

Artoo let out a worried whistle.

“They’ll be fine, Artoo,” you told the droid. Silently, you added, I hope.

The base was a maze. You knew you’d be fine with Artoo and the force to guide you, but you were worried for the others. You found yourself down a hallway that looked just like the ones you’d been running through since you arrived. 

“It’s a wonder they can find anything here with how uniform it is,” you muttered as you rounded a corner. You skidded to a stop in front of the door that Artoo said housed the information you needed. 

After shooting a dubious look at Artoo, you reached out your hand towards the door. Closing your eyes, you concentrated on feeling the lock with the force, reaching into the circuitry to flip the switch and open it.

The door slid open, revealing a group of surprised imperial workers. They blinked at you.

“You’re not authorized to be here,” one of the officers said.

You raised a hand to try a mind trick that you hadn’t done in years.

“That’s not an imperial paint job,” another officer pointed out, hand poised over an alarm button. You had to act quickly.

“I am allowed to be here,” you murmured.

“You are allowed to be here,” One of the officers repeated.

“I am taking the TIE schematics,” you said, pushing your luck.

“You are taking the TIE schematics,” they repeated.

You shot a furtive glance at Artoo before going over to take the data pad from the holo-projector displaying the plans. 

Tossing it to Artoo, you instructed him, “Keep it safe.”

He tootled an affirmative before you left. You weren’t going to kill them. It wasn’t necessary since you were able to trick them into helping.

“Come on, Artoo, let’s get going. We have to find the others,” you murmured as you ran towards where you felt they were. A sigh passed through your lips. “They better be okay.”

As you made your way back towards the flight deck, you saw a commotion up ahead. Gavyn’s ship was firing at the ground turrets as the Wookie prisoners were being led out into the open.

“Gavyn, this was supposed to be a stealth mission!” You shouted at the man as you caught sight of him on the platform below.

“Change of plans!” He yelled back.

“Oon’sara isn’t going to be able to land unless we take out the towers, Artoo,” you said to the little droid beside you. 

Artoo rolled over to the port to plug in, giving you a sad whimper.

“Manual controls, huh?” you sighed. “That’s what I was worried about.” 

Jumping down from the platform and onto the flight deck below, you skirted the fray, with your back to the wall, the imperial troopers barely noticed you as you blended into the shadows. Making your way over to the turrets, you listened to Artoo in your commlink telling you how to disable the guns. 

“You’re free and clear to land,” you informed Oon’sara.

“Copy that, Jedi. Coming in hot for a landing!” she shouted back as the ship started to land. 

On the opposite side of the flight deck, you watched the crew and the Wookies load onto the ship with Gavyn providing cover fire. There was a stretch between you and the ship that was rapidly filling with storm troopers as they called for reinforcements.

“Gavyn, there’s too many of them!” Oon’sara called over the comm as she did her best to shoot at them with the ship.

“We’re almost done,” Gavyn said, but they were surrounded by troopers who were picking them off one by one.

In his haste, Gavyn got clipped on the shoulder by blaster fire and doubled over in pain.

“Gavyn!” You called out as he reached up to hold his arm, limping back towards the ramp.

“We’ve got to go now, there are too many of them!” Gavyn told you over the comm, locking eyes with you as he backed up the ramp, barely being missed by the shots as the ramp started to close. “Get to a ship and rendezvous with us in orbit. There’s no time to argue.”

Your mouth was in a grim line as you nodded. Artoo rocketed down to the space next to you.

The troopers turned and spotted you.

“Look, there’s another one!” one called out as they opened fire. You engaged your lightsaber to deflect the bolts anywhere but where you were.

“Come on, Artoo,” you said, racing off towards an open transport ship. It was small, but it would do. The two of you got in and started up the ship. “Disable the tracking, buddy. We can’t risk bringing the Imps back to base.”

Artoo zoomed over to do as he was told as you started flight sequence, picking up from the ground. A voice came over the radio.

“Transport H359, you do not have clearance to leave base. On who’s authority are you flying?” the base command asked.

“Kriff your clearance,” you shot back, pulling back on the throttle to lift the ship off the ground.

“Engage tractor beam,” the radio voice announced.

You didn’t much like their news, so you shut the radio off. “Hold on, Artoo. Time for some evasive maneuvers.”

Leaning your body into it, becoming one with the craft, you rolled the ship through the air, avoiding the beam. They were so focused on you that it made for an easy escape for the team. Soon you were out in the space above the planet.

Artoo tootled something you could have sworn sounded like, ‘Now this is pod racing!’

“Well, so much for stealth,” Oon’sara snorted over the radio.

“At least we got what we came for,” you replied.

“And then some,” Gavyn added. You could hear the smile in his voice at the Wookie chatter behind him.

“Let’s just get back to base,” you said, but you had a smile on your face as well.

Setting the coordinates for the hyperspace jump, you were ready to go when a group of ships reverted out of hyperspace in front of you. A pit formed in your stomach as a familiar feeling of apprehension and darkness washed over you. He’s here, you realized. 

“We’ve got to go, now!” you informed them hurriedly as a group of TIE fighters flew out of the hangar bay of the star destroyer in front of you. 

“They’re blocking the path!” Oon’sara pointed out.

You scanned the field of view around you. “Move to quadrant 6. You’ll be free and clear there.”

Watching as the ship started to evade the TIE fighters, you realized you were powerless. Your transport was unarmed. It was dangerous for you to stay, but you also couldn’t leave without knowing they were okay.

Artoo bumped your chair.

“I can’t just leave them, Artoo,” you said, starting to fly towards their ship to offer them a distraction and a chance to escape. You trusted your flying skills enough, even if you were a little unfamiliar with the current craft.

One of the TIE fighters stopped abruptly and turned to follow you, and so you started flying across the space, zooming out of his firing range and employing evasive maneuvers you hadn’t used in years. It had to be him. Only Anakin Skywalker could keep up with flying like this... because he had been the one who had taught you based off his pod-racing adventures. A thrill rushed through you, at the moment feeling like it was just like old times, two people practicing flying drills between campaigns. You barrel rolled, but your smile faltered when witty banter didn’t come over the comms. It wasn’t like old times.

Artoo let out an alarmed scream as a blast shot past the wing of your ship. Then, he let out a series of beeps, holding the data pad out to you before letting out a sad whimper.

“You’re right,” you sighed. “We have a mission.”

You shot one last look towards their ship, seeing it get hit by one of the TIE fighters who stuck with them. Regretfully, you spun out, flying into clear space and shooting off into hyperspace. “May the force be with them.”

A smile tugged at Lord Vader’s lips as he watched your ship leave real space. His TIE fighter hovered in space as his hands tightened on the controls. The sound of leather being stretched was faintly heard before the sound of a nearby explosion took over. “So the lamb has made some friends.”

As you broke into hyperspace, your let your head fall back against your chair. It was a quiet ride back, neither you nor Artoo wanting to acknowledge what just happened. Not the fact that you had lost your team, and also not the fact that you had almost let yourself get captured in the name of nostalgia. Your memories seeped in from the box you’d so carefully locked them away in.

“No brother gets left behind,” your clone commander said when your Master suggested moving forward.

“We have to continue the mission,” your Master pointed out.

“You go ahead, Master. I’ll stay here until the transport arrives,” you smiled.

The commander nodded thanks as the group moved on. 

You looked down at the trooper who's head laid in your lap. “You’ll be alright. I promise.”

“I know,” the clone smiled weakly. “We clones have a saying. ‘If a Jedi is here, we have no need to fear.’”

“We aren’t always successful,” you murmured, thinking about the siege you’d just lost.

“No, but we know you’ll do your best and take care of your own,” the clone corrected as the transport landed nearby. The medic hopped down with a few other clones to transport the fallen soldier onto a stretcher. You squeezed his hand before they loaded him up on the ship.

“May the force be with you, trooper,” you said.

“And with you, always, General,” he nodded.

You opened your eyes to see Chandrilla coming into sight. It was time to face the music.

The ship touched down in the hangar bay. It was quiet with the realization that this was not the ship you had left on. As you walked down the ramp with Artoo at your side, Senator Organa parted the crowd as he walked to the front. There was a question in his eyes as he looked at you. You shook your head. He looked down at the ground. 

Turning on his heel, he started to exit the hangar. “Debrief me in the conference room.”

You looked down at Artoo before following. The data pad felt heavy in your hands as you ran your thumb along it. All that had just happened was for the sake of this. A snarl of disgust settled on your face as you entered the conference room. Was it really worth it?

Chucking the pad on the table, you looked at Organa. “Here’s your schematics.”

“What the kriff happened out there?” he demanded. “You left with a team.”

“They found another opportunity and took it,” you explained.

“I didn’t ask that. I asked what happened,” he repeated.

You closed your eyes and exhaled before answering. “They found out that the base was holding Wookies hostage. They went to free them. We split up. When we got back together, we were on opposite sides of the flight deck. Artoo and I stole a transport with the plan for us to rendezvous in orbit. When we got there, an Imperial Star Destroyer reverted to real space, unleashing a set of TIE fighters.”

“Was he one of them?” he asked softly.

“Yes,” you whispered, opening your eyes to finally look at him. 

Slowly, Senator Organa picked up the schematics from the table. He looked down at it before looking up at you. “This Empire was built on blood and bone. But the rebellion.... that’s not what we’re built on.”

“What do you mean?” you asked, brow furrowing in confusion.

“We may be made mostly of blood and bone, but we are also made of souls. Where they sow fear, we grow hope. We create dreams.”

“Dreams don’t come for free,” you murmured.

“There’s a price for everything these days,” he replied sadly. “I think you’re just learning yours.”

“I was never meant to survive,” you said softly. After all, the life of a survivor is a lonely one. Sometimes you wondered if it would have been easier if you had blinked out of existence when the rest of the Order was snuffed out. 

“I thought everything was the will of the force,” he said, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Do you really believe that?” 

“Sometimes, but I think it limits the fact that we have choices. We are not destined to one thing or another. It is the choices we make, and the steps we take that get us from one place to another. They said that Skywalker was the chosen one, meant to bring balance,” he let out a huff, “if he was destined for that and didn’t have the freedom to make his own choices, we may not be having this conversation. I’d like to think that the force wouldn’t condemn the galaxy to servitude under a tyrant. That being said... I think you were meant to be here, and the choices you made brought you here.”

“The force and my own will working in tandem,” you replied.

“Precisely. We can always fight our destiny, but we will always have to live with the choices we make,” he said. 

“I left them,” you said, looking down.

“You finished the mission. They knew the risks. Their loss will be felt, but we will move on. We must,” he said pointedly. “Do you know what I’ve noticed about the Jedi?”

“What’s that, Senator?”

“The good ones have a tendency to survive,” he said.

You knew he was trying to comfort you, but in a way, his comment was a slap to the Order. There were hundreds of Jedi who died during the end of the war. It wasn’t because they weren’t good Jedi. It was the fact that the people they trusted turned on them. In fact, in a way, they were the last good Jedi, you thought. They never had to worry about looking the other way to survive. They lived the ideals to the end. 

You raised your head to look back at him, a fire in your eyes. If you couldn’t protect a team, then you wouldn’t work with one. You’d let down your troopers by letting the Empire take control of them. You’d lost your team today because you’d allowed for distractions that split you up in a way you couldn’t protect them. Never again. You’d been on your own for so long that now you knew the only person you could protect is yourself. Anyone else would just be a liability and another hard choice on your conscience.

“What are you planning to do with those schematics?” you asked.

“Find out who’s supplying the materials,” he admitted. “There’s been a lot of movement of durasteel across the rims, but it doesn’t make sense when compared to the ship manufacturing logs. We learned they were building a new form of TIE. Our analysts are going to look into seeing if that’s the cause. Otherwise, we’re back to square one.”

“When’s my next mission?” 

“Easy, Jedi,” he said with a perplexed smile. “You just got back. Rest a bit. I’ll have something for you soon enough, don’t worry.”

“Alright, Senator,” you nodded. “But... next time, I work alone.”

He sighed, the smile dripping from his face. “Understood.”

Artoo whistled beside you.

You looked down at him and rested a hand on his dome. “Make that, me and Artoo.”

“Commandeering my droid now, are you?” Senator Organa asked in amusement.

“What can I say? He gets me,” you smirked, patting the droid before going off to find a refresher. You needed a shower.

Making your way through the barracks of the underground base, you finally found what you were looking for.

Turning the water on to the highest pressure, and to as hot as your body could handle, you stepped into the column of steam. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d had a good shower like this. The water beat at the knots in your back as days of grime sloughed off your skin. Placing your splayed hands on the wall opposite the shower head, you let your head hang down. Your hair stuck to your forehead and cheeks as you let the water wash over you, blocking out any sounds other than the water over your ears. You clenched your fist against the cool tile, replaying the mission in your head to see if there was anything you could have done differently. If you had just stuck together? If you had gone to them on the flight deck? If you had taken a different ship? If.

You slammed your fist against the wall, the sharp spike of pain bringing you back to reality.

Master Yoda’s voice played in your head, an old Jedi adage about letting go. Letting people flow in and out of your life like the force. Taking a deep breath, you unclenched your fist.

There was nothing you could have done.

This was not your fault.

Order Sixty-Six was not your fault.

You picked your head back up.

It wasn’t your fault. It was the Empire’s. It was Vader’s. 

Their deaths wouldn’t be in vain. Your Master’s death wouldn’t be in vain. You’d do whatever it takes to be able to match him. To take him down. You were a Jedi. You protected the galaxy, protected it from beautiful monsters like Vader. You’d do what you had to do to bring peace back to the galaxy. 

Shutting the water off, you let the water drip down your body as you reached for a towel. Your skin was an angry tinge of pink-ish red from the heat as you wrapped it around yourself, stepping out of the refresher. Swiping your hand along the mirror, you saw your face in the cleared streak. Your eyes glinted in the light for a moment. 

Using the streak, you got dressed and prepared to face the barracks, free and on a mission of your own devising.

Going on your way, you started towards the barracks. A little droid sped up and fell in line with you.

“Hello, Artoo. Organa letting you explore?” you asked.

The droid let out a series of beeps that you took to mean, I do what I want.

“So I’ve been told,” you winked. 

Artoo rolled with you until you ran into Jynna.

“I see you’ve made a friend,” she teased.

You looked down at Artoo and smiled. “We’re getting reacquainted.”

“I heard about your mission,” she murmured, placing a hand on your shoulder. “I’m so sorry.”

You shrugged her arm off. Organa’s words flowed freely from your mouth, “They knew what they signed up for.”  

“Knowing the risks doesn’t make the loss any easier,” she pointed out. “I thought you’d know that from the Clone Wars.”

A sad smile appeared on your face. “After a while, you learn to let go.”

“Letting go may make living easier, but we can also use their memories to give us strength,” she murmured. “Moving on without my husband will be hard, but I can look at his sacrifice and remember it whenever I feel lost and want to give up. That way, I wouldn’t want his sacrifice to be in vain and I can keep going. I lost half of my heart, yet the world keeps turning.”

“You’ll be together again,” you reassured her, “And he is with you now.”

“One with the force, right?” she asked with a wry smile.

“Something like that,” you sighed.

“Same thing goes for your friends, then.”

“I don’t know if I’d call them friends. We only just met,” you murmured, looking down.

“Sometimes lost potential is worse, because you’ll never know what could have been.” She paused for a moment as though struggling to ask her next question.

“What is it?” you asked, pressing slightly.

“Was it him?” she asked, chewing her lip. “You know, Lord Vader?”

You nodded, face heating up a bit. 

“You still want to take him down,” she stated.

“And you don’t?” you asked.

“He’s out of our league,” she replied. “He’s too powerful.”

“Right now, yes,” you admitted. “But, someday... maybe not.”

Artoo bumped your leg at that.

“It’s a shame, really,” Jynna murmured.

“What is?” you asked curiously.

“That someone so horrid can be so handsome,” she said with slight disgust.

“Even a beast can be majestic,” you replied, looking through her. You could see his golden hair like a halo around his head, and that smirk. You hated that smirk. It was self-assurance. It was confidence. It made your stomach turn, but gave you butterflies at the same time. Someday... Someday you would wipe that smirk right off his face. 

“I suppose you’re right,” she replied, breaking you from your reverie. “Have you found your room yet?”

“No. I was looking for it when I ran into you,” you admitted.

“It’s right near mine. I’ll show you,” she said, nodding for you to follow her. 

You nodded, falling in line.

The room was sparse, clinical almost. You hadn’t had four walls to call your own in so long, but you still couldn’t help compare it to the home you once had. Your room at the temple had been colorful, with trinkets from all the planets you visited. You had wanted to remember how diverse the galaxy was, and to remind yourself why you wanted to be a Jedi. Now, you had nothing to your name except the few things in your bag and the clothes on your back.

Dropping your bag on the work desk, you ran your hand along the metal desk. It wasn’t the Temple, but it’d do just fine. You’d been drifting for so long, it would be nice to just plant roots somewhere. After all, in order for anything to truly grow, it needed a strong base to stand on. 

You popped up on the desk, sitting on it as you looked around the room with a critical eye. It was plain now, but you’d make it your own. Yes, this would do nicely.

Acclimating to the base took some time, months had passed before you finally decided that it was home. You had gone from being a nameless face in a crowd, fading into the surroundings to being someone that was sought out. When there was a mission that seemed impossible, Organa and Mothma called on you. You quickly raised through the ranks, making a name for yourself.   While you were once a nobody, now you were a somebody. They whispered Vader’s name in fear, but yours in awe.

In the back of your mind, you wondered if this is what it was like to be Anakin Skywalker back during the Clone Wars. A golden child of the resistance. You’d freed entire prison garrisons on your own with Artoo, stolen a myriad of information that had helped the Rebellion grow. The mere mention of you had swaying power. Those who thought the feat impossible, saw you and knew hope.

Then, one day as you were training, finding that your body was getting stronger, faster even, you began to recognize the power you were harnessing. The simulator run you were currently doing felt effortless. Jumps were as simple as willing your body from one point to another. Every fibre of your being was charged with the force, feeling alive. It was intoxicating. 

You let the force take over, giving you strength. You could close your eyes and still see, cover your ears and still hear, stand completely still and still feel. You were one with the force and the force was with you, and you felt whole. 

Now, this... This was where the fun begins, you realized as you landed on the ground when you finished. You were ready to take him on. It was time to track him down.

It was time to hunt Vader.

Tossing a towel over your shoulder, you started back towards your chambers. You were waiting on an informant to transmit you information on Vader’s current location. Working alone had given you the benefit of being able to make friends with locals who saw you as their savior, and a few of them had decided to pay it back by feeding you information that could prove useful for the Rebellion. Most information was passed on to Mothma and Organa, but the information about Vader... that was saved. You kept track of it all, looking at it when you couldn’t sleep to try and piece together what he was up to. You were studying him, trying to find ways to understand him, if only to know how better to best him. After all, that was the only reason you were doing this, wasn’t it?

Your Master’s voice played in your head, “Know your opponent as well as yourself. The best offense is a good understanding of their defense.”

A wry smirk crossed your face as you walked into your room.

“You’ve gotten faster,” Jynna stated from your desk.

“And you’ve learned to pick locks,” you shot back teasingly. “How is the little one today?”

“He’s sleeping. I’ve been trying to teach him the little things you told me about,” she admitted.

“Is he taking to it?” you asked curiously.

“Like a Mon Calamari to water,” she grinned as you moved to sit on your bed.

“So, what brings you to my humble abode?” you asked as you leaned back against the wall.

“You’re going after him, aren’t you?” she murmured.

“I have to,” you replied. 

“You don’t have to,” she replied adamantly. “Look at all the good you’ve done just since you’ve gotten here! You’ve helped people on multiple worlds!”

“But, Jynna, I could help the whole galaxy!” you said emphatically. 

“But who will help you?” she asked softly.

“Jynna, you talk as if I won’t come back,” you chuckled.

She looked at you, appraising you like a mother who could see the truth about the dreams of her child. “You barely made it out alive the last time you fought him.”

“That was months ago!” you said incredulously. “I’m stronger now! I’ve learned and trained so much. I’m ready.”

“If you don’t come back, I won’t have anyone to train him,” she said sadly. “No one to protect him should the Empire come looking.”

“That’s not true,” you said, “You’d have this whole base to protect you.”

“They’re not you!” she cried. “What’s a blaster against a lightsaber if not a weapon of suicide?”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “I’ll come back. I promise. Besides, I don’t know where he is yet. All I know is that he’s been hanging around the banking system lately.”

She looked down at her shaking hands, clasping them in her lap. “Is he worth all this?”

“To rid the galaxy of a beast like that? That’s worth my life,” you said honestly. He was worth all this effort. In a way, he’d always been. You’d been bending over backwards to catch Anakin Skywalker’s attention for years. Only, now it was more important than ever.

She bit her lip and nodded. “I’ll see myself out.”

You watched her leave, a feeling of regret blossoming in your chest. Maybe she was right. Maybe you shouldn’t go after Vader. But, then you remembered all the people you’d lost because of his actions. His hands were as red with blood as the color of his lightsaber. If he wouldn’t wash them himself, then you’d cleanse them for him.

Laying back on your cot, you looked up at the ceiling. You’d tell Organa in the morning about the banking system and see if there was a mission for you there. After all, you were a member of this rebellion. You weren’t about to abandon them while they were in the thick of it. Not when your goals were in line and you could work in tandem. You'd follow Vader across the galaxy in the name of the rebellion. People feared the shadows in case he lurked there, but not you. You knew the truth. You were to be his shadow. If anything, it should be he who feared you. 

And so the predator would become the prey.

Closing your eyes, you exhaled, letting yourself fall into the force and giving yourself over to sleep.

When you woke the next morning, you felt ready to conquer the galaxy. Taking your data pad from your desk, you made your way to the war room to brief Organa on the banking clan. They’d been working with the Empire to bankrupt systems that weren’t submitting to Imperial rule. People were starving and local governments were having to raise taxes just to get through it. It was unacceptable. All the while, the Empire was stockpiling those credits in the bank to build more ships as well as some monstrosity surrounded in mystery. The project was a secret that even your informants couldn’t find out about, and that made you want to know more about it. Surely, the Senator would, too.

“You’ve got that face on,” Senator Organa commented. You’d noticed he’d gotten relaxed around you, lately. He wasn’t as stoic, and he actually smiled at you every once in a while.

“What face?” you asked with an amused smirk.

“That face.”

“That’s just my face, Senator.”

“No, it’s the face of a Jedi who’s about to say they have an idea and want to pursue it,” he sighed.

“And how do you know that face, specifically?” you asked with a raised brow.

“I’ve known my fair share of Jedi,” he said with a nostalgic smile, “And my fair share of people who should have been Jedi.”

“Well, you’re correct on that part, at least,” you admitted. “I do have an idea.”

He gestured for you to continue.

You held up your data pad for him to take. “The Banking Clan is hoarding funds for the Empire at the expense of systems who are resisting. They’re lending at higher percentages that’s leading to the bankruptcy of multiple systems.”

“The people are starving and the Empire isn’t even giving them a dime of the money that’s rightfully theirs,” he commented gravely. “What do you want to do?”

“I want to go and investigate the claim. Word on the ground is that the Empire is using those funds to fuel a secret project,” you said pointedly.

“What kind of secret project?” he asked with narrowed eyes.

“Senator, if I knew then it wouldn’t be a secret,” you deadpanned.

“Right,” he said sheepishly. “What do you need?”

“Just a ship,” you said, “I’m going alone.”

A droid tootled from nearby before rolling through the crowd towards you.

“Tell that to your friend, here,” Organa said with a smirk. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say he was your droid.”

You looked down at Artoo with a fond smile. “Nonsense. Artoo doesn’t belong to anyone.”

“He just happens to go on all your missions with you,” Organa pointed out with a raised brow.

“What can I say? We’re friends and he likes me,” you shrugged. “Besides, he saves the day more often than I can count.”

Artoo wobbled back and forth.

“Come on, Artoo. We’ve got a conspiracy to uncover.”

The droid beeped an affirmative and started to follow you.

“May the force be with you,” Organa called after you.

You gave him a slight salute with two fingers, “Always, Senator.”

A human and a droid boarding a ship on their own seems like the start of a good joke, but everyone knew that that human and that droid were who the rebellion sent when no one else would do. That human and that droid could accomplish more than most.

As you slipped into the pilot’s seat, you nodded towards an open interface. “Plug in, little buddy,” you smiled. 

Artoo rolled over and connected with the ship, taking control of the co-pilot controls.

You took a deep breath before pulling off into the atmosphere. In the back of your head, you felt guilty. Sure, the rebellion had a legitimate reason to be interested in the banks, but the fact that you had an ulterior motive wasn’t lost on you. You hadn’t lied. Nor had you actively tried to deceive Senator Organa. Yet, you still felt bad for not disclosing the real reason you wanted to investigate to him.

Once in hyperspace, you pulled out your data pad with your notes on them to look over the intel that had been passed onto you.

“He was last spotted here, Artoo,” you murmured, scrolling through the log of information. “I doubt he’ll still be there. He doesn’t seem to stay in one place for too long. But, we should still be able to get some valuable information from the planet.”

Artoo let out a series of beeps.

“You know why I’m doing this,” you sighed.

He bumped your chair.

“No, there’s no other reason than this. The galaxy needs to be a safer place. There’s no other reason than protecting the galaxy,” you murmured as you looked up at the streaks out your viewport. 

Except, you weren’t seeing the vast expanse of the hyperspace lane. No, in your mind, you were looking into those amber eyes that glinted like the sun. You were seeing a man who’s heart had led him astray as his face glowed from the light of two interlocked lightsabers. That fight you had had was something you replayed so often in your mind. At first, it had been to analyze your own weaknesses in order to train and overcome them. Then, it had been to look for Vader’s weak points in how he fought. But, now... now, you’d replay the fight in your mind just to analyze him. He’d been a brilliant Jedi once. The brightest star of the Order. Some stars were constant, like Master Kenobi or Master Yoda. Some still shone blue at their newness, like most young Padawan learners who had the galaxy at their feet as they grew into their powers. But, Anakin Skywalker had been the brightest star. He was going to be the true north that guided the force into balance. Instead, he had become a supernova, burning brightly before burning out. 

When you looked at Vader, it was hard not to still see Skywalker. Part of you had to wonder if he was still in there, but that part was quickly squelched by the part that saw what atrocities he committed every day. No Jedi could ever condone such violence. No, what you were looking at was a man who made a series of mistakes and owned them as if they were the right thing to do. What you saw was a man who was compensating for his actions by adopting a moral depravity that explained them. Yet... that was the problem. It was easy to look at the man now and see that he was obviously always a terrible person. But it was harder to look at Anakin Skywalker during the Clone Wars and predict that this was what he was to become. He had had everything and he threw it away, and for what? An old man that just put him into another form of slavery not that different from his life on Tatooine. He may walk free, but his life was not his own. Not anymore. Part of that made you feel for him, since he didn’t even notice the cage he was trapped in. You’d free him soon enough.

You looked down at the controls in your hands. Perhaps none of your lives were your own anymore. You hadn’t planned on this path, and you’d even avoided it, yet here you were trudging back down it.

The will of the force.

That’s what this was, wasn’t it?

The inevitable path that would lead to a head-on collision with a handsome beast of a man that at one point could have been your friend. A small voice in the back of your mind made the mistake of suggesting: perhaps more than that. But you knew where this path would take you: to another fight where only one of you would walk away intact.

Your ship pulled out of hyperspace and Mygeeto came into view. From the closet, you pulled out a warm cloak to protect you from the snow on the planet as well as it’s harsh winds. Then, you settled back in your seat and took the ship down for a landing farther away from the settlement than you’d have liked. However, this was a mission for gathering intelligence. You were hoping that a quick getaway wouldn’t be necessary.

“Well, Artoo, let’s go try to blend in,” you said with a hint of a smile. 

The two of you made your way down the ramp and towards the outskirts of the city. The hood of your cloak was pulled down over your forehead, and you kept your head down, surveilling your surroundings out of your peripherals.

It was a cold world, in both climate and architecture. Although, that wasn’t surprising given the relationship that the Banking Clan had had with the Separatists. The snow quickly covered your tracks as you walked further into the city. 

“We’re almost there, Artoo,” you murmured as you maneuvered through buildings that all had the same metallic façade. 

He let out a series of sounds that sounded an awful lot like, ‘Well, how do you know?’

“I’ve been here before,” you replied. “Back in the Clone Wars. That’s how I know my contact. The Republic fought here off and on for three years. Once, my soldiers were wounded, and a local took them in while we were stuck in a snow storm. If it hadn’t been for her, we all would have died.”

Someone walking by bumped your shoulder.

A smirk crossed your face. “Doma.”

You saw the figure go down an alleyway and followed, seeing them disappear around the corner.

Artoo let out a concerned whimper as you noticed a slit of light spilling out onto the snow.

“Don’t worry. We’re safe here,” you murmured, pulling your hood off as you entered through a doorway that had been propped open.

“I didn’t expect you to come,” a woman said. “I’ve been sending you information for months now.”

“I had to get permission first,” you replied, hanging your cloak up on a hook and shutting the door.

“Even without a Master you have a Master,” she teased.

“The force is my Master.”

“I thought the Jedi mastered the force,” she shot back.

You rolled your eyes. “It’s been too long, my friend.”

“You’re a sight for sore eyes, alright,” she winked, walking further into her small apartment. “Care for a hot drink to warm you up? I’m sure not everyone is used to the Mygeeto Chill.”

“Depends. Will it be that terrible tea you served during the war?” you chuckled as you sat at her table.

“That’s a delicacy here,” she deflected.

“That’s because no one wants it elsewhere,” you teased. “I’ll take a caf if you have it.”

Doma nodded and went to her kitchenette to prepare it. “That droid looks familiar.”

You looked at Artoo sideways. “He’s a friend.”

“You always had weird friends,” she replied.

“You’re my friend.”

“Exactly.” She placed the caf down in front of you. 

You took the mug and held it in your hands to warm you. 

“So, why are you here?” she asked, sliding into the seat across from you.

“Looking into your intel about the banks colluding with the Empire at the expense of planets who are sympathetic to the cause,” you replied as you lightly blew on the caf.

“Is that the only reason?” she asked with a raised brow.

“I’m looking to get information about Vader’s whereabouts,” you added before taking a sip.

“And?” she asked with a smirk.

You rolled your eyes. “And I missed you.”

“I knew it!” She grinned.

“Doma, can you get me into the bank?” you asked seriously. “I’ll need actual proof.”

“I can sneak you in. I’ll say you’re an intern. You’ll need a change of clothes, though,” she said thoughtfully. “They don’t trust Non-Muuns since the Clovis situation.”

“I’ll do what I have to,” you nodded.

“Good. Now, get some sleep. You’ve had a long journey, and you need to be wide awake and have no signs of lag if you’re to do this,” she said, poking you in the shoulder.

“Alright, alright,” you chuckled, going to settle on her couch.

“Good night, Jedi,” she smirked, going towards where her room was.

“Good night, Doma.”

You spent a bit of the night looking up at her ceiling as your thoughts drifted to Vader. Absentmindedly, you wondered what he was up to. Deep down, you wondered if he was maybe thinking about you, too. Eventually, you decided that was unlikely and turned over to fall asleep, letting yourself slip into a deep sleep.

While you slept, you did something you hadn’t done in a while. You dreamed. 

The temple surroundings appeared vibrant behind your eyelids. It took a moment, but you recognized that you were back in your room. When you went to get out of bed, you couldn’t. You were being held back. Looking down, you noticed an arm wrapped around your waist. Turning to peek over your shoulder, you saw a mop of golden hair. Now, you could feel the heartbeat of the person behind you. You could feel their breath on the crook of your neck.

“Stay,” a voice murmured. They were pleading in a way that made you want to melt back into them and acquiesce to the simple request, especially since it had been so long since you were held like this. Like you mattered.

You stiffened as you realized who that voice belonged to.

The owner of the voice picked their head up from where it had been buried in your back. You locked eyes with a pair of amber gems that bore into your soul.

“Ready to go so soon?  And here I thought you were coming for me,” he smirked. “You lack conviction.”

You shoved him away. This was only a dream. You backed away from the bed, but he followed, getting up and staring you down as he advanced. Soon, your back was against the wall. His metallic hand reached out to tip your chin up to look into his eyes. Your heart was hammering in your chest, and it wasn’t entirely out of fear as his thumb grazed your chin.

“You’re different, Jedi,” he smirked, making your heart skip a beat. “How interesting.”

You sat up on the couch in a cold sweat. Artoo let out a concerned murmur.

“I’m okay,” you gasped, settling your racing heart. “I’m okay.”

The droid came over next to the couch and you rested a hand on him.

“It was just a bad dream,” you murmured.

Artoo backed away slightly from you. The last time his friend had bad dreams, that didn’t end well.

You let out a sigh and laid back down. “I’ll be fine. Good night, Artoo.”

Turning to face the cushions, your brow furrowed. Why was Vader in your dream, and more importantly, why had he been holding you close like that? Some voice deep within you murmured, and why did I like it? 

Scrunching your eyes shut, you could still feel the phantom warmth at your back. It unnerved you slightly, but you didn’t have time to focus on that. You needed rest so that you would be at your best when you infiltrated the banking clan in the morning. Sleep didn’t come easily, but it came eventually. This time it was dreamless, which was a blessing. 

When you woke in the morning, it was to streaks of light across your face as they slipped in from the transparisteel. Rubbing your eyes with the heels of your hand, you stretched on the couch. It wasn’t the best night of sleep in your life, and you definitely slept on your neck at a weird angle for half the night, but it wasn’t anything a hot shower couldn’t fix. 

Swinging your legs over the side of the couch, you sat up and took in a deep breath. The air in your lungs was cold, sending a shiver down your spine. If you ever had the option of staying on one world when this was all over, it would be a warm planet, because you hated the cold. 

Going towards the refresher, you noticed that Doma had laid out an outfit for you. It was a jumpsuit with an outer skirt and a weird vest. The only good thing about it was that you could hide your weapon with the skirt. Other than that, you weren’t a fan. It clung in places that you hadn’t had clothing cling before. After showering and changing into it, you were already starting to miss your own clothes. With one disapproving glance at yourself in Doma’s bathroom mirror, you went back out towards the kitchen.

“I see you found the outfit I lent you,” Doma commented.

“Thanks, I hate it,” you smirked.

“Careful, Jedi. Hate leads to the dark side,” she teased.

You waved her off and grabbed your cloak off the hook. “Ready when you are.”

She nodded, “Alright. But, the droid stays here.”

Casting a glance at Artoo, you responded, “Where he goes, I go.”

“It’ll be easier to just sneak you in,” Doma pointed out.

That was a reasonable explanation. You sighed. “Sorry, Artoo. Looks like you’ll have to stay here.”

Artoo nudged you towards the door. You started to head out with Doma, casting him a worried glance when the door closed behind the two of you.

“You’re really attached to that droid,” Doma murmured as the two of you started walking towards the main building.

“He’s my friend.”

“I thought Jedi weren’t supposed to have attachments.”

“We’re allowed to have friends. We just have to be able to let go when the time is right,” you replied.

“You’d be able to let go of one of the only ties to your old life that you have?” she asked.

“If I had to,” you replied.

“But you don’t want to.”

“Does anyone ever want to let go of someone?” you countered.

“We’re here,” she murmured, taking her badge out to get into the building. “Don’t draw unnecessary attention.”

You nodded, pulling your hood down as you followed her into the building. People barely spared you a glance as you made your way down the main hall towards her office.

“Where are we going?” you asked. “According to the schematics you sent me, the vault is in the other direction.”

“You can’t just waltz into the vault,” she hissed, closing the door to her office behind the two of you. Then, she gestured to a hatch in the ceiling. “You’re going to have to go through the vent.”

“Great. Crawling through meters of air ducts. Feels just like I’m back in the Order,” you frowned as you reached up to open the duct.

“Do you have the schematics on you?” she asked, settling into her chair.

You tapped your wrist band. “I’ve got the map if I need, but I’m sure if I just follow the sound of thievery and corruption I’ll find my way just fine.”

Doma rolled her eyes at you as you jumped up into the duct. “Be safe, Jedi. May the Force be with you.”

You gave her a wink before shimmying down the vent. Jedi didn’t have claustrophobia, but you did feel like the vents were getting smaller as you went along. Eventually, you were crawling along on your hands and knees instead of being slightly crouched.

Looking down through the grate in front of you, you could see the vault. Carefully, you opened it to peer down into the space. Consulting your schematics, you realized that the data you were looking for was stored a few rows over from where you would drop down. Taking a deep breath, you closed your eyes and steeled yourself for what would happen next.

The drop to the floor was long, and it would put you in a maze of shelves holding data. Instead, you dropped onto a shelving unit to keep a good view of the ground around you as you crept along. The data you sought was a few columns over. The room wasn’t crowded, but there were the occasional workers and droids. You’d have to be fast if you wanted to get out undetected. When you found the column you needed, you rolled off the shelf and landed soundlessly on the floor.

Casting a furtive glance around you, you pulled out a datapad from under your skirt and plugged into the mainframe. The damage was so much worse than you thought as you scanned the information. They were bankrupting more than half the galaxy while the Empire was rolling in credits. It made your stomach sick as you thought of all those people dying from hunger and living in poverty. Poverty that the Empire could have prevented, but people can’t fight back if they’re too weak from hunger. It was despicable, and the banking clan was complacent in making it happen. Footsteps resounded in the room around you, but you kept yourself as cool as a dead star. You watched the screen with interest as it loaded the data you needed. It was almost done when the footsteps got closer. 

95 percent. The footsteps sounded like they were a few rows away. 

97 percent. They were two rows away. 

99 percent. They were around the corner. 

100 percent. You unplugged and jumped up onto the shelf, holding your breath. The Muun on the floor kept walking right past you. Looking up at the ceiling, you thanked the force before starting to head back to the air vent. Jumping up from the shelf wasn’t difficult, and you had the hatch closed and were crawling along the vent again in no time. 

Alone with your thoughts, you began to think of what you would have done if you were still a Jedi in the Order. Your Master would have taken down this entire operation in the name of justice and freedom, wouldn’t they? All you had on you was your saber and one charge, but with the right plan, that was all you’d need. Gravity would take care of the rest. A plan started to form the further from the vault you got. Soon enough, you were jumping back down into Doma’s office.

“Took you long enough,” she smirked.

“Yeah, well, it’s a maze,” you shot back.

“Did you have any trouble?” she asked with a raised brow.

“It was like taking clams from a Gungan,” you smirked, holding up the data pad. 

“Good, now you can go.”

“I can’t just leave,” you said adamantly. 

“You have the information. What else do you need?” she asked in confusion.

“I need to know where he is, and I need the Empire to know they’re being watched,” you replied seriously.

“Do you have a death wish?” she asked incredulously.

“No, but they need to know that people won’t turn a blind eye anymore,” you replied. 

“How are you going to achieve that?” Doma asked skeptically.

“I’m going to get my information. Then I’m going to set charges and destroy the building.”

“You can’t destroy the banking clan. Imagine what that would do to the intergalactic economy!”

“I wouldn’t be destroying the bank. We all know they keep the money elsewhere, if they have it at all. I’d just be destroying the symbol of it,” you said, pulling your cloak back on.

“I’ve got a bad feeling about this,” she sighed.

“Just get Artoo and go back to the ship. There won’t be anything left for you here when I’m done,” you replied.

Doma shook her head. “You’re going to get me a new job!”

“I’m sure the resistance can find something,” you shot back before heading back out into the hall. 

The vault was in the middle of the building. if you weakened along the support beams, it would all come crashing down with one charge. After all, you only had one emergency charge. Making your way towards Vice Chairman Anolo’s office, you used your saber to weaken the support beams. His office was on the top floor, overlooking the city below. You didn’t care if someone figured out what you were at this point. Your work was mostly done. Doma was going to be safe. You could take these risks, because you were only risking yourself. Using the force, you opened the door to a startled Anolo at his desk.

“Who are you?” he asked incredulously.

You ignited your saber. You had no intent to harm him, but he didn’t know that.

“Focus less on who I am, and more on telling me what I want to know,” you shot back. “Where’s Vader?”

“He’s not here!” Anolo replied as you walked closer to him.

You swung and cut off a corner of his desk. “That’s not a real answer!”

“H-he’s on Eadu! Left a few rotations ago!” 

You let your saber fall to your side. “Now, was that so hard?”

Anolo cowered behind his desk as you started to leave. You paused at the doorway. 

“Oh, and you may want to evacuate. Rumor has it the economy is about to crash,” you smirked, throwing your charge on the last support beam. 

You cut a hole in the wall before jumping onto a nearby cliff face. With a satisfied grin, you pressed the button on your commlink that detonated the charge. The explosion came first, followed by a lurch to the side. Then, the building started to cave in on itself. 

Pulling your hood over your face, you turned and made your way into the forest behind you. Your work here was done.

The snow crunched under your feet as you made your way back to the ship. You could see your breath in the air and you were quite glad when you saw the outline of your vessel through the trees. Doma was sitting on the ramp wrapped in a blanket. Artoo was next to her. They had been waiting for you. You felt slightly guilty.

“Did you get the answer you were looking for?” she asked.

You looked down. “Eadu.”

She nodded, getting up from the ramp to head back inside. “I assume you’re dropping me off, first.”

“That’s the plan,” you replied.

“Was this the plan?” she asked at the top of the ramp, back towards you.

You didn’t have an answer for her. Originally, you were just collecting information. It wasn’t until you saw how deep the corruption was that you had decided to do this, but your silence was all the answer she needed.

“That’s what I thought,” she sighed before disappearing inside.

Artoo let out an admonishing set of beeps.

“Hey, you’re one to talk! You’re an agent of chaos,” you shot back.

Artoo let out a whistle of outrage.

“You heard me,” you smirked.

He bumped you.

“But, you’re right,” you sighed. “Organa isn’t going to be pleased.”

The droid looked up at you and let out some softer sounds.

“Yeah, Mothma will probably give me a promotion,” you chuckled softly. “Come on, let’s go home.”

The two of you made your way up the ramp and settled in for the trip home. It was a decidedly quiet trip, with Doma questioning leaving all that she had known for the unknown life of the rebellion, and you questioning yourself.

You caught yourself drifting back to the dream you had. Domesticity with Vader. The idea was almost laughable, as if anyone could ever tame that beast. He was wild. Unhinged. Unpredictable. Your mind briefly thought about the events of today, and for the shortest moment thinking about how maybe the same could have been said of you.

But, you were nothing like Vader. You weren’t the beast. You were the hunter protecting the village from him. Yet, just like the hunter, you could see the beauty in your quarry. He was fearless. Powerful. His gaze held a certain hunger that kept you in your place for fear of being eaten. Those amber eyes lit a flame in you, but you didn’t want to admit it. After all, how could someone who lives in the dark ignite a flame? It didn’t make sense. You had the same need to possess him as you had to defeat him. He had taken everything away from you, and continued to rampage across the galaxy, which warranted his defeat, but the way he carried himself entranced you. He was a man with nothing left to lose. You figured it must be lonely, but a part of you envied him, to have that sense of freedom was something you would never have.

Taking a deep breath, you landed the craft back at base, preparing yourself for the inevitable.

No sooner had you disembarked, you were getting yelled at.

“Conference room. Now,” Organa barked.

You looked at Artoo and Doma before following him into the room. 

“You destroyed the banking clan?” Organa asked incredulously after the door closed.

“Free markets are supposed to be a good thing,” you shrugged.

“That is not even close to what this is about. You were supposed to gather intel!”

“And I did!” you said, chucking him the data. “It’s all there.”

“But the bank isn’t.”

“I had to send a message.”

“Do you know what the retaliation for that will be?” he asked, leaning forward on the table.

“Enlighten me, Senator,” you shot back.

“You just put yourself on the radar.”

“Good. He should know I’m coming for him,” you smirked.

“Well, what about the rest of us? You just put the rebellion in danger with that stunt.”

“They don’t know who I’m working for. I could just be a standalone vigilante,” you shrugged.

“You better hope that’s the case,” he said darkly. “Dismissed.”

You sighed, folding your arms across your chest and leaving.

“Well, that went well,” you said to Artoo who had been listening outside the door.

He tootled something akin to: ‘I told you so.’

“Yeah, yeah. Maybe I’ll start listening to you.”

He beeped back, ‘Yeah, maybe you should.’

You playfully toed him. “Come on, little buddy. Let’s get Doma settled in.”

After showing Doma to her new quarters and introducing her to the people she’d be working with to take care of the rebellion’s expenses, you went back to your own room. Flopping on your bed, you pulled out a holomap of Eadu.

“What are you doing here, Ani?” you murmured to yourself as you tried to figure out what could possibly be of use to the Empire on Eadu. The planet was an insurance claim waiting to happen with the amount of storms they had there. Flying there wasn’t easy, but that would make it a decent base, you supposed. Chewing your lip, you thought about what Organa had said. Had you drawn attention to the rebellion? Then again, the Emperor had to know about the rebellion by now. It was always a shock to you that Organa and Mothma could continue to work in the Senate while still doing all this. They covered their tracks nicely, but they weren’t above suspicion. However, the Emperor probably assumed they were afraid of him, and fear was a good enough motivator to keep people in line.

With a sigh, you closed your map. You’d take a day to regroup and dig up more information. Then, you’d go to Eadu.

There was a tentative knock on your door.

“It’s unlocked,” you called out.

Jynna entered.

“I heard about your mission,” she murmured as she sat on the edge of your bed.

“It didn’t go according to plan,” you replied.

“So you didn’t intend to destroy a building when you set out yesterday?” she asked with a raised brow.

“Not particularly. Sometimes things just crop up.”

“Were there people in there?” she asked softly.

“Does it matter?” you replied. “I gave them a warning to leave. I assumed that most people would see a Jedi cutting the support beams and get out of the building.”

She shot you a look. “The day we stop thinking it matters is the day we become more like them.”

“Its a war, Jynna. There’s always a sacrifice to be made,” you sighed, thinking back on the many clones you had lost that way.

“When we sacrifice our values, that’s the day we lose,” she replied, getting up.

“Jynna, wait,” you said, sitting up. “I had to show the Empire that someone’s watching.”

“No, you had to show Vader that someone’s watching.”

“Isn’t that the same thing?”

“One man is not a whole institution, Jedi.”

“Cut off the head of the dragon and the serpent dies.”

“Where there’s a void in power, another will seize it,” she countered. “Look at the Emperor. That’s how he came to power.”

You sighed and looked down. “I didn’t set out to kill anyone. I just wanted to destroy the building.”

“Our actions have consequences that we may not always see at the time,” she replied.

“You sound like Master Yoda.”

“Was Master Yoda a mother?” she asked in amusement.

“Not exactly,” you chuckled.

She caught sight of your map on the table. “You’re leaving again.”

“Anolo told me where Vader was heading.”

“So the hunt resumes,” she said hollowly as she went towards the door. “When will it end?”

“When one of us is gone.”

“That doesn’t sound very Jedi-like,” she paused with her back to you.

“He’s a Sith, and I am a Jedi. This is just how it is.”

“I thought only a Sith dealt in absolutes,” she said.

Your eyes narrowed. “I don’t appreciate that insinuation.”

“He was like you once. Are you sure there’s no hope for him?” she asked seriously, turning to face you.

“After all that he’s done, and the lack of remorse he has for it all, I think he’s too far gone,” you admitted.

She studied you for a moment. “I suppose you’ll do what you must. Wear a jacket. Eadu’s weather is unpredictable.”

You stared after her long after she had disappeared from view. 

She couldn’t have been right. If the Sith could be reasoned with, then the council wouldn’t have been hunting them down. Were they two sides of the same credit? No, that wasn’t right either. After all, the Sith were not the exact opposite of the Jedi. The force was a spectrum of light and dark. That much you knew.

Not even Vader was the exact opposite of Skywalker. You could see that in the way he carried himself. Anakin had always had confidence. Now, he just had arrogance as well. He always walked like he owned the galaxy, but now he almost did. His grin was still mischievous, and he still was trying to prove himself, never content that he was enough. Except, he had been enough. He just never realized it. That’s what made his fall hurt the most. 

Those months after the fall, you spent your time analyzing everything, wondering if you could have done anything different. Yet, as you thought back on what Organa had told you, perhaps this had happened for a reason. Perhaps this was the will of the force. You were meant for this confrontation. You were meant for this growth. He was your catalyst. In a way, you supposed you should be grateful. You never could have become strong like this without the exact set up that brought you to the rebellion. Yet, strength was nothing but a measure of endurance. Looking over at the map of Eadu, you smirked. You had endurance for the long haul.

Swinging your legs over the side of your bed, you got up to train. In truth, part of it was because you wanted to stay sharp for the fight ahead, but part of it was also the fact that you didn’t want to sleep. You were worried that you’d dream of him again.

Your arms moved on their own accord, blocking with your lightsaber. You were on autopilot, letting the force guide you. All the while, you were thinking about Mygeeto. You’d killed those people. Not on purpose, but you’d done it. What did that say about you? It certainly told the Empire that someone was onto them, and it would spark fear in the next person to cheat the galaxy out of their own credits at the expense of the people. It had to be done. You’d given them fair warning. It wasn’t cruel. 

The training droid landed a blast that stung your shoulder. You reached out with the force and shoved it into a wall. Wiping your brow with the back of your hand, you thought back to Vader. He didn’t give warnings when he did things like that. He just did them, consequences be damned. You were nothing like him.

You kept training well into the night, watching as everyone upstairs started to wrap up for the night, leaving a sparse night shift. Eventually, you saw Organa looking down at you training. Mothma came up next to him before pressing a button on the panel. The training room shut down.

“Get some sleep,” Mothma said over the loudspeaker.

“I need to train,” you shot back.

“No, you need to not drive yourself into the ground,” Organa ground out. “That’s an order, Jedi.”

Your chest puffed up in annoyance before you exhaled. “Fine.”

The two of them nodded down at you before moving on. You deactivated your saber and showered before going to bed. Blinking, the map of Eadu burned itself into your brain as you slowly succumbed to sleep.

“You just can’t stay away, can you?” a voice teased.

“You’re not real,” you replied, clenching your jaw.

A feather-light touch grazed up and down your arm. It was cold. Metallic. It sent a shiver down your spine. “But you wish I was.”

“I will destroy you,” you huffed.

“Oh? Will you destroy me, or will you destroy yourself?” Vader purred into your ear.

“You know nothing.”

“I am you. I know everything,” he countered.

You took several deep breaths, willing the dream away. Your mind was playing tricks on you. Eventually, you found yourself in the force and left the dream behind you.

When you woke the next morning, you decided to leave a day early. You told no one where you were going. You didn’t like the fact that Organa felt like he could order you about. With the Order gone, you answered to no man. Slinging your bag over your shoulder, you walked towards your small ship. A slight smile toyed at your lips as you heard the familiar sound of a motor following you.

“This isn’t an official mission,” you told the droid.

He tootled back a reply.

“It’s a wonder you’ve lasted as long as you have with your penchant for danger and utter disregard for the rules,” you teased.

He bumped you as if to say, ‘Look who’s talking.’

“Yeah, yeah,” you murmured, smile dripping from your face. You had become reckless, hadn’t you? The two of you made your way into the ship and started the take off sequence. Soon, you were coasting through hyperspace on your way to Eadu. Soon, you found yourself thinking about what could possibly happen when you got there.

Going to Mygeeto, you had known that Vader would probably not have been there. The intel was recent enough, but it had also reported that he had left. There was a very real possibility that you would see him on Eadu, and you didn’t know how to feel about that.

“Have you seen him, Artoo?” you asked quietly as you stared out into space. “Since...” you trailed off, knowing the droid knew the rest.

He shook his head.

“He hasn’t changed much, physically,” you murmured. “Except his eyes... Before they were blue like an ocean threatening to drown you. Now, they’re golden, like an ember in a hearth. At first glance, it seems warm and inviting, but it still has the potential to burn down a home. His clothes are darker. Before he just looked like Obi-Wan’s shadow, but now it’s like he’s embraced the darkness, becoming one with it.”

Artoo let out a murmur.

“I’ll stop talking about him,” you assured the droid. “We have to figure out a safe place to land, anyway.”

The droid projected his own map up before zooming in on an area between a couple of crags.

“Are you sure we’ll be protected from the wind when we go to take off again? We can’t risk getting cut up on those cliffs,” you pointed out.

Artoo let out an indignant set of beeps.

“Okay, okay. I trust you. We’ll land there,” you said, holding up your hands placatingly.

Artoo tootled and closed out the map. If he had a face, you were sure he’d have a smug grin on it. 

“Coming out of hyperspace,” you chuckled as you reverted back to real space.

Eadu loomed in the space in front of you. You didn’t know if it was the landing, or the prospect of what you’d find on the planet, but you felt a rush of nerves flutter through your stomach. Stretching your hand before flourishing your fingers on the controls, you started to bring the ship into the atmosphere.

You clenched the controls in your hands as you struggled against the rough winds of the planet, threatening to careen your ship into the cliffs. This would not be a happy landing. Gritting your teeth, you followed Artoo’s instructions, listing slightly to the side to get to your landing zone. Wind howled on either side of the craft as you battled the wind to land, being pushed forward all the while. You took a centering breath before extending the landing gear, hoping the added drag would help slow you down enough to land. The gambit worked and you roughly touched down on the ground.

Artoo let our a series of beeps, ‘Well, I’ve seen worse.’

“They’re not good flying conditions. As much as I hate it, it makes sense for a secret base. No one’s going to want to come here if they don’t have to,” you muttered as you got out of your seat. You tugged on your jacket and started to head out when you heard your friend follow you.

“No, Artoo. I think you should stay here. The weather is nasty. I wouldn’t want you to get damaged,” you told him softly.

He let out a whine.

“I’ll be back soon,” you promised with a soft smile on your face. You gave him a small salute before heading down the side of the cliff towards the secret Imperial base. 

Wind and rain whipped your hair around and stuck your clothes to your body. Halfway down the cliff, a chill set in, but you blocked it out as you saw yourself getting closer and closer to the base. Someday, you’d go some place warm, you promised yourself.

Gently landing on top of the base, you walked carefully so as not to slip on the slick, wet, durasteel. You found the access hatch and quietly opened it before slipping into the building to find yourself in another ventilation system.

You rolled your eyes, grumbling about how you always found yourself in ventilation ducts and how the Imperials are bad at security as you started to crawl along.

Eventually, you came to a deserted hall and decided to drop down. Now you understood.

You understood why the base was hidden so well.

It was because of what the base was.

It was a lab.

Looking around, you saw odd animals you’d never seen before. In cages there were hybrids that were so unnatural that their mere existence pained them, the feeling radiating off them in waves. With horror, the truth hit you like a ton of durasteel. These were experiments. Unethical experiments where the Imperials were so caught up on whether or not they could do it, that they didn’t ask whether or not they should. These were the workings of a being with no moral compass. 

You bit your lip as you continued on your way, sick to your stomach. That was when you heard a small noise.

It sounded like crying.

Following the noise, you found yourself looking into a dark cell. There was a balled shadow figure on the ground cradling something- no, someone- to its chest. The crouched figure looked up at you, a spark of recognition in their eyes.

“J-Jedi?” the figure whimpered.

You knew that voice.

It was a voice you didn’t think you’d hear again.

“Gavyn?” you asked, quickly working at the door to free him. “Gavyn, what have they done to you?”

“O-oon’sara’s dead,” he sobbed, holding her limp body to his chest. “When we fled with the Wookies, they destroyed our hyperdrive so we couldn’t jump. The Empire assumed Chitca was an escaped prisoner and took her back to the base.”

“How did you get here?” you asked, gently extracting his fallen crew mate from his arms.

“Tarkin,” he whispered. “When we were brought aboard, he said that he might as well find a use for the ‘rebel scum.’”

“What use?” you asked, but you were afraid of the answer. “Gavyn, we’ve got to get out of here.

“No,” he said adamantly, pushing you out of the cell and into the light. “I’m too- I’m too damaged.”

“Gavyn, you’re not making sense!” you said as you held his arms.

He finally stepped into the light and you understood. Gavyn wasn’t the same. He had burns all over his body that looked like he had been marred with pocks. Hesitantly, you reached up to touch hardware that had been wired into his head.

“They did this to you?” you asked, eyes welling with tears.

“They wanted to know what we knew,” he replied like it made sense. “To take the information for their own use.”

Your eyes widened in horror, “Did they get it?”

“No,” he said, shaking his head dismissively. “During implantation, they botched it and ended up destroying the memory. I think it was done on purpose. There are some sympathetic to our cause here.”

“Gavyn, anyone who would do this to another being is not sympathetic,” you said in disgust.

“This isn’t the real reason for the base,” he murmured. “They’re building a super weapon. The likes of which haven’t been seen before. They want to destroy whole planets.”

“That’s not possible,” you said, shaking your head in denial.

“That’s what the small scale experiments are for. They’re trying to perfect a smaller version of the ray gun before they start working on a larger one,” he explained. 

“What do they consider a successful test?” you asked in horror.

“One that disintegrates the target. Or at least part of it,” he said, holding up his hand. He was missing a finger.

You heard footsteps marching towards the corridor.

“I’m getting you out of here,” you said as you started towards the door.

“No. I’ll never make it out. I’ll only slow you down,” he said seriously.

“Then we’ll fight,” you said, taking your lightsaber from your side.

“Go and leave me,” he said adamantly.

“If I leave you here, they’ll torture you,” you said, feeling hot tears stream down your face. You knew what he would ask next, but force, did you wish you didn’t. A pit formed in your stomach.

“Kill me,” he said sadly.

“Jedi don’t kill needlessly,” you said adamantly.

“It’s not needless. It’s mercy. Please, Jedi. I’m begging you,” he said, grabbing your hand with your weapon and aiming it towards his chest.

The footsteps got closer. 

You closed your eyes tight, listening to the sound of your saber ignite. 

His body was heavy against yours as his head fell against your shoulder.

“Thank... you,” he murmured into you.

Gently, you lowered him to the ground, closing his eyes. You looked down at the weapon in your hand, and then at your fallen crew. The Empire had done this. They had caused this pain. The pit in your stomach started to boil. Your skin felt hot and started to flush as the footsteps got closer. The troopers rounded the corner and you unleashed a battle cry of hurt and rage before you began to slice your way through them and towards the room where the scientists worked. 

They raised their unarmed hands to the ceiling and begged for mercy, but you didn’t listen. You prepared to cut them down, not paying attention to the body count as you stepped over your fallen foes.

“Mercy? Like the kind of mercy you showed my friends?” you asked in your rage. “You don’t deserve mercy!”

You made quick work of the scientists before going onto the command deck.

Your chest heaved as you stood off against the last crew member alive, some captain or admiral. You didn’t care enough to bother with rank. Dropping your saber to your side, your other hand came up and reach out before clenching into a fist. The man clawed at his throat as his feet dangled inches above the floor.

“Tell me about this weapon,” you demanded. You released just enough for him to answer.

“I-it’s a planet destroyer. The Death Star. Moff Tarkin is in charge of the project.”

“And Vader?” you asked.

“Wants nothing to do with it! He’s only involved because the Emperor makes him be,” they gasped.

“Were you aware of the experiments on living beings?” you asked incredulously.

“It was in the name of progress!”

You tightened your grip.

“Where is he?” you asked through gritted teeth. 

“Moff Tarkin is on the Carrion Spike,” he gasped.

“Try again.”

“V-Vader?” he asked, wide eyed. “He’s on Mustafar. Y-you’re h-hunting the Sith Lord?”

You raised a brow, a slight smirk tugging at your lips. You clenched your fist before turning on your heel. A thud could be heard behind you.

“I’m a Jedi. Sith Lords are our specialty,” you huffed as you put your saber back on its clip. You wouldn’t be needing it anymore right now.

Your footsteps echoed through the building as you made your way out to the landing deck.

“Artoo, can you pick me up?”

The droid beeped emphatically.

“No, it’s safe. Trust me. We won’t have any issues,” you said darkly as you walked out onto the landing platform.

Wind whipped your cloak behind you, exposing your face to the weather. The rain poured harder, chilling you to the bone. There was a wild fire in your eyes as you took in the storm around you. Closing your eyes and exhaling, a slight puff of air formed in front of your lips as the world melted away. The storm didn’t bother you anymore because you were the storm.

Artoo pulled the ship up and landed next to you. Your steps were measured as you made your way to the ship. 

Sliding into the pilot’s seat, you were silent as you pulled up into the updraft, surging towards the upper atmosphere. 

Your little droid cautiously rolled next to you as you started to set the navigational system.

He let out a concerned whimper.

“That’s where they said he is,” you replied with resolve as you punched the ship into hyperspace.

Artoo slowly rolled away from you, but you didn’t notice. You were too lost in your own thoughts.

After all these years, you’d finally have him. You’d have your chance to avenge the Order, to avenge the countless lives that died by his hand, to avenge Anakin. You’d be the one to tame the beast.

A flash of a smile broke through your thoughts. His smile. Anakin’s smile that Vader wore on his face, a mocking mask. The smile that had the power to restore the sun to the sky and warm your heart on the coldest night. Vader didn’t deserve that smile. But, a part of you had to wonder if the beast that was Vader was always inside of Anakin all along, if he had just released what was already his inner truth, or if it were like the old proverb about Loth wolves. There were two in every man, one good, one bad, and the one who is in control is the one you feed. Did that mean that Vader and Anakin were the same?

You were shivering, but you hadn’t noticed. Not until Artoo gave up on distancing himself to place a blanket in your lap. 

“I loved him,” you admitted. You chewed your cheek for a moment, tears unshed. “He was my hero, and now he’s my enemy.”

A single tear slipped down your cheek. 

Artoo emitted soft beeps.

“I know,” you murmured. “You loved him, too. That’s why you understand. Letting Vader live would be a foolish decision based off hope. Hope that he could come back. Hope that Anakin is still in there.” You swiped your face. “We both know he’s not. If we really loved Anakin, then we’d set him free.”

Artoo turned his head away from you.

You were resigned to the fact that this was your fate. Yours and his were always intertwined. The Force had made it so. You knew about all he was, and yet, you still admired him. You still loved him. It was the beast on exhibit that you watched with admiration. It was the natural predator you watched with awe that escaped and was wreaking havoc. It was the inexplicable pull to want what you shouldn’t have. The need to test fate to see if he’d destroy you, too, but the knowledge to know that if you got the chance, you should destroy him first for the good of the galaxy. 

Mustafar came into view, and you let out a slight sigh. Finally, a warm planet. 

Artoo rattled beside you, photoreceptor locked in on the planet as it came further and further into view.

As you got closer, you noticed him staring at you.

“What is it?” you asked, not turning to look at him.

He beeped sadly, ‘I have a bad feeling about this.’

You took the ship in for a landing, finding a landing platform to a fortress left unguarded. “He’s in there. I can feel it.”

Getting up, you peeled off your rain gear and grabbed your saber before heading towards the door.

Reaching up his arm, Artoo grabbed ahold of your shirt.

“Artoo, let go,” you said in slight annoyance.

He started to roll back to pull you into the ship.

“Artoo!” you exclaimed. “Stop!”

The droid stopped and looked down. He let go.

You took a knee in front of him, a glint in your eye. Placing your hand on his dome, you looked at him seriously. “Artoo, I have to do this. It’s the will of the force. If...” you trailed off with a sigh. “If I don’t come back within a standard hour, leave without me.”

Artoo affectionately bumped you. 

“May the force be with you, too, little droid,” you said with a lopsided smile before heading down the ramp.

Artoo rolled out to the top of the ramp to watch you disappear into the fortress. He hated it here. Mustafar. He’d lost too many Masters here.

Taking a deep breath, you pushed open the heavy doors into the fortress. It was dark, with obsidian walls and floors that echoed your steps down the long hall. The magma through the viewports cast the fortress in an eerie glow. Your hand clenched the hilt of your lightsaber as you made your way down the hall. It was unnerving, hearing only the sounds of yourself amongst the silence. 

Crossing through a threshold, you saw ornate sconces lining the walls of a throne room. There, seated on a throne of stone was Vader.

An amused smile settled onto his face as he took in your presence. His eyes trailed your body as his gaze turned from amusement to appreciation. You knew you had to look like a hot mess, yet he still regarded you as if you were the most attractive being in the galaxy. 

“I was wrong to underestimate you, Padawan,” he smirked, crossing his legs and leaning back in his chair. “So you’ve come here to kill me?”

You ignited your saber, feeling your face heat up. It’s surely from the heat outside, though, you reassured yourself. It certainly wasn’t from the man who’s presence washed over you even from meters away, threatening to sweep you off your feet.

“Fight me,” you said with your teeth bared, “I won’t strike an unarmed man.”

His grin widened as he got up from his throne, leaving his cloak behind on the seat. He didn’t need it. His broad shoulders casted a shadow longer than the fabric did, anyway. “Oh, won’t you? I’ve been following your trail of destruction with great interest, little lamb.”

“Don’t call me that,” you spat.

“Of course not. You’re not a lamb anymore, are you?” he purred as he reached forward to drag a gloved finger down your cheek to your chin, hooking it under to look in your eyes. His pupils dilated as he took in your gaze. “No, you’ve become the hunter now.”

Vader stepped back and held his arms open towards you. “Do it. Strike me down.”

“I told you,” you repeated. “I won’t strike an unarmed man.”

“But, you already have,” he grinned. “Those platoons? Your missions in the outer rim for that band of rebels you call friends? Your little show of power on Mygeeto?” His voice dropped lower as his gaze turned serious. “Eadu.”

“No,” you said with a shake of your head, but your voice was shaking. “That was for the rebellion. It was justice. I am working towards freedom! Towards peace for all those families that the Empire has destroyed!”

“Did those men not have families? Did some of them even want to be there? Or were they just pawns in the greater scheme of things?” he asked with a raised brow. “I’m sure you of all people know what that feels like.”

His words stung, but the truth cut deep, like shrapnel from a bomb that you weren’t aware you were standing next to. You let your saber fall to your side, aimed at the ground.

Vader walked towards a wall of mirrors across the room that reflected the light from the lava. With the bend of his fingers towards his palm, your feet slid across the smooth stone floor until you stood next to him. His figure towered over you.

“Look in the mirror, little beast. Tell me, what do you see? Is it still you, or is it me?” he purred.

You looked at the reflections of the two of you. He was devoid of color. Devoid of life. A shadow in the night. You looked like a smuggler. A criminal. That was still a far cry from the truth, but it wasn’t hard for you to answer his question. “I’m nothing like you,” you ground out.

“Oh?” he asked softly, pushing you closer to the mirror. His hands rested on your shoulders as he forced you to look into your face. His lips grazed your ear, sending a shiver down your spine. “Look again. Do you see it?”

Your mouth fell open as you noticed it, finally. All those glints over the course of months. The specks of gold that flickered in and out of your reflections had come to stay. Your eyes were no longer your own. They were just like his. A prickle of fear started to turn your blood cold, but not at the knowledge that your actions had done this. No, you felt fear at the fact that you wouldn’t take any of it back even if you could, because they had made you stronger, and you liked being strong.

“You are magnificent,” Vader breathed. “Ruthless. Passionate. Powerful.”

His eyes met yours in the mirror and for once you didn’t see anger or hatred. You saw admiration. Want. And it shook you to your core.

“No,” you said softly, trying to hold onto the teachings of your Master, but you could no longer recall their words of wisdom.

“Embrace the darkness,” he said emphatically, hands tightening on your shoulders. His words grew frantic as his hands slid down your arms to your wrists. “I will help you see that you could be limitless, fearless, if you follow me.” His voice grew softer as his nose dragged up your neck. “You’ve already had a taste of what you could have. You felt it on Eadu, didn’t you? Wasn’t it worth it?”

You shook him off and stepped away, rubbing your wrists where his residual warmth was. Eadu was wrong, but it felt so right. Your blade had decimated, but never had you felt more powerful, more in tune with the force. The force was lightning, and you were its rod, directing its fury onto the deserving who would subvert morality for their own gain.

“Are you still going to kill me?” he asked quietly.

“No,” you said dejectedly as you looked at the saber in your hand. It felt heavier than before. You couldn’t kill him. Not now. Not when you were the same.

“Don’t you see?” he asked, brushing your hair out of your face before cupping your cheek. “We are the lions in a world of lambs. We are the predators-the hunters. We don’t have to hide. You don’t have to hide. Not anymore. Join me.”

You leaned into his touch for a moment before you caught yourself and pushed his hand away. 

Slowly, he started to circle you, but you didn’t feel like his prey. You felt like his equal. You didn’t cower. When he noticed you weren’t afraid, he came to a stop in front of you.

“Do you feel the hunger for more? More than a Jedi should? You could feel everything. You wouldn’t need to restrain yourself to the rules of a fallen order that left you to die alone. With power like yours, we could be unstoppable. We could rule- together,” Vader pleaded as he held his hand out to you.

“I thought the Emperor was your Master. There can only be two,” you murmured.

“Your point?” he asked as his eyes softened. 

You took a step towards him.

His lip pulled up slightly at the corner.

As you locked eyes, you felt your heart slow to a steady rhythm. This was the most peace you’d felt in months. Here you were on equal footing- for now. Here you were no longer a Padawan. Here you were no longer a Jedi. You were just you, and that’s how he saw you. It was just like when you’d first met Anakin Skywalker. While others saw a lowly Padawan, he hadn’t seen rank. He’d seen you. And now... now you truly saw him. You saw a man who was willing to topple everything he knew for you. You saw a man who wasn’t afraid to feel. You saw a man that had taught you to not be ashamed to feel. Most of all, you saw a man you had never stopped loving.

You swallowed a lump in your throat.

Decision made.

You placed your hand on his shoulder. Your other hand came up to cup his face.

His smile turned genuine as he covered your hand with his.

Leaning in, you pressed a kiss to his lips. He started to kiss back as your eyes fluttered closed.

And then you pushed him down to his knees.

Finally, you were free.

[deprecavi]

Following Aether up the path toward the Dawn Winery, Kaeya couldn’t help wondering how the blonde had convinced his brother to allow use of the property for a game that involved people running about with little concern for their surroundings. It was well past nightfall as well, indicating Diluc would likely not be around, considering his usual nighttime activities. Aether’s power of persuasion was indeed formidable. Kaeya was not surprised to see Zhongli had also agreed to another round, the other man giving him a small nod of greeting as he, Eula, and Aether joined him. The fourth player was nowhere in sight, but Aether went inside for a moment and returned with Diluc, much to Kaeya’s surprise. Maybe Diluc’s stipulation for use of the winery grounds was that he would be a player and supervise the event. 

“It seems we will be on the same team after all,” Kaeya commented to Zhongli as Aether instructed Diluc on the expectations of a hunter. “I hope you’ll do a bit better hiding than you did in Springvale, hm? You too Eula,” he added, nudging his fellow captain with his elbow. She rolled her eyes at him but gave him a small smirk of challenge. Zhongli also smiled and nodded. Kaeya observed the vineyard, noting the numerous barrels scattered among the grapevines as potential hiding places. 

Aether had also come up with something new for this round, similar to the invisibility token but without the limited application. It would allow them to, for all intents and purposes, appear as one of the lanterns Diluc had around the winery. Kaeya was looking forward to testing that one out and was already considering potential hiding places, though as he glanced up at the sky he realized the illusionary lantern’s light would potentially give them away with how late it was.

Satisfied that Diluc was ready, Aether climbed into a good vantage point and signaled for the rebels to head into the field to hide. The trio split up, all heading in different directions. Kaeya rounded the manor, ignoring Moco and Hillie trying to catch his attention, though he made a mental note to see what they needed after the game. Activating the lantern token, Kaeya wished he had a mirror to see the effect as he scaled the side of the building and positioned himself in front of one of the lit windows to blend in with the lights from inside the manor. He realized almost immediately that if he had to hang here for the entire duration of the game, his fingers were going to cramp, but he carefully balanced on the window ledge anyway.

He heard Aether give the signal for Diluc to start the hunt and saw his brother making methodical checks of the low perimeter wall around the winery, verifying that each lantern was in fact a true lantern. He went right under Kaeya without noticing him, absorbed in his task. Neither Eula or Zhongli were in the area of the wall either, as Kaeya didn’t hear any announcements for them getting captured even when Diluc was out of sight. Diluc was back on this side of the building again, now checking with the sensor Aether had given him. It pinged under Kaeya and Diluc looked around in confusion. 

“Is this thing broken?” he heard Diluc muttering, shaking the device once and trying it again, prompting another ping. Kaeya suppressed the urge to laugh as Diluc looked under the tables and around the barrels, never once looking up at the window or walls. A third ping with no discernable rebel made Diluc stuff the sensor in his pocket in annoyance and head out into the vineyard. Kaeya’s fingers were indeed starting to cramp now, but he stayed put. If Diluc never looked up, he’d never notice Kaeya.

Aether announced the arrival of the usual favor and Kaeya saw Diluc change directions out in the vineyard and go for it. A beam of light marked Kaeya seconds later and he swore under his breath, dropping from the window immediately and releasing the guise of a lantern in preparation to run. Of course his brother would target him specifically. Diluc rounded the corner of the building, victory in his eyes as he came toward Kaeya, who took off at a dead sprint, leaping the low stone wall into the vineyard. 

“Kaeya, if you crush my grapes I will fucking kill you,” he heard Diluc holler after him, but he didn’t waste the breath on a reply, hurdling two rows and dashing up a third, the irritating light above his head still giving Diluc a clear view of where he was even if he wasn’t in direct line of sight. He hadn’t even stirred the leaves in his leaps, though it had been years since he’d gone jumping over grape vines. He and Diluc had used to chase crystal flies in the vineyard, competing to see who could catch the most. One flitted past Kaeya as he ran, a reminder of those long ago pastimes. 

Kaeya glanced back over his shoulder and saw Diluc still chasing him, though he’d lost some ground by going around the first two rows of grapes rather than leaping over them as Kaeya had. With this bright beacon illuminating him, it was unlikely Diluc would leave him alone to search for the other two rebels. Kaeya caught a glimpse of them both up on the winery roof, looking down at him as he leapt over another row of grapes, neither in disguise at the moment while Diluc was so clearly focused on him. He clambered back over the low wall onto the winery’s patio area, eager for more level ground to sprint on. Diluc followed suit, though he veered the other way, clearly trying to circle the building and cut Kaeya off. Kaeya had always been faster than Diluc, but Diluc had learned some tricks to catch him in other ways, though they didn’t always work.

Kaeya realized Diluc’s current plan almost too late, seeing Diluc round the corner of the building ahead of him as he circled it himself. He quickly changed directions, nearly skidding and falling but barely managed to keep his balance. The pillar of light marking him thankfully dissipated and he leapt back over the wall into the vineyard, triggering the invisibility token Aether had given him. He ducked behind a barrel directly next to the low wall, crouched with his heart pounding in his ears, breathing hard from the exertion of his sprint. The token wore off quickly, as usual, but it had done its job. Diluc had lost track of him, if the muttered swearing from a few feet away was any indication. 

Kaeya realized he wasn’t the only one who had noticed Zhongli and Eula on the roof as Diluc turned back to the winery and began to scale the building. He moved at a crouch, keeping the wall between him and Diluc until the building was between them instead, heading back toward his original hiding place. The capture notices for Zhongli and Eula were fairly close together, indicating the two hadn’t gotten far when Diluc joined them on the roof. Diluc was surveying the grounds from the roof now as Kaeya inched his way back up onto the window, lantern guise back in place. He knew the time limit was getting close, he just had to slip under Diluc’s radar for a little bit longer.

Diluc jumped from the roof on the same side of the building Kaeya was clinging to, glider wings spread. Kaeya realized Diluc had spotted him from the new vantage point and groaned inwardly at the thought of another round of sprinting through the vineyard, but prepared to drop as Diluc clambered onto the small deck railing that put him at nearly the same level as Kaeya’s window. 

“Oh no you don’t,” Diluc growled as Kaeya dropped, and he took a flying leap from the railing, tackling Kaeya to the ground with such force that the wind was knocked out of both of them and Kaeya wouldn't have been surprised if he cracked a rib on impact with the ground. Kaeya wheezed as Diluc pinned him in place with a triumphant expression, trying to catch his breath. Aether joined them with a laugh, displaying the remaining time as less than ten seconds.

“That was a close round!” he announced. “Victory goes to the hunter!”

“You can let me up now” Kaeya grumbled, struggling for air with Diluc’s weight still mostly on his chest. Diluc stood and dusted himself off, not bothering to offer a hand to help Kaeya up, but at least Aether had the courtesy to do so. Zhongli and Eula joined the trio as Aether began to pass out the special coins he’d created for his game, though Kaeya had yet to discern any real purpose for them aside from potential bragging rights for having a lot of them.

“That was impressive,” Zhongli commented, though he was complimenting Kaeya, not Diluc’s victory. “I did not expect you to evade him for so long with the beacon marking you.”

“Neither did I,” Kaeya admitted with a pained laugh, wincing as he checked himself over for bruises. “Though I couldn’t help notice you two just watching instead of hiding.” Zhongli had the grace to look momentarily abashed, but Eula just shrugged.

“Your skilled evasion drew the hunter’s attention and I confess I was caught up watching the pair of you to the point of forgetting my own objective temporarily,” Zhongli stated. Kaeya chuckled.

“My ‘skilled evasion’ seems to have earned more ire than warranted, my ribs will be sore all week.” Diluc pointedly ignored the remark, thanking Aether for his time and heading into the vineyard to check for damage to his precious grapes, though Kaeya hadn’t really seen Eula or Zhongli go into the fields. Diluc wasn’t likely to take his word that he hadn’t done any damage himself in his frantic leaps to get away. He still didn’t understand what had prompted Diluc to accept Aether’s game being hosted here at all, but supposed it wasn’t really his place to ask, not any more. 

Kaeya excused himself and headed back toward Mondstadt, fully intending to pay a visit to the cathedral for his sore ribs. If he was going to accept another invitation to Aether’s game in the future, he wanted to be able to run without wincing. Still, it had been kind of amusing to see Diluc tearing around after him, a nostalgic moment that let him forget the walls that lay between them now for a bit. It was worth a little pain for that brief return to happier times.

[hen-of-letters]

Series 15 gives all of the characters you could ever care about their worst possible endings, but presents these endings as somehow good or satisfying or acceptable.  Here's a list.

The short version: they're Chuck's endings, and Chuck is a bad writer.  

None of the characters can escape the fate set out for them or break the cycle of trauma begun by Chuck.  The show itself doesn't even realise how truly awful these endings are - it dresses up a tragedy in pie gags and pretty colours and calls it a happy ending.  And in order to inflict these worst possible endings on its characters, the narrative has to be twisted and contorted in the most absurd of ways.

So, onto the list:

Adam: Forgotten and left to languish in the pit, he's finally freed, only to suffer an anticlimactic offscreen death and be forgotten again.  Michael, his only companion for so long, is also killed off.  In the finale, blood family seems to be all that matters - and yet he isn't mentioned.

Alternate Kaia: She helps rescue Kaia from the Bad Place, but chooses to remain there to face certain destruction rather than return to earth with Kaia, Dean and Sam.  This world is so hostile to her that death is preferable.  Her horrible, pointless death stands as a powerful statement about the real harm caused by exclusion, but the text doesn't seem to acknowledge the full horror of this.  Her death isn't remarked upon; it seems to suggest that both Kaia and her double are returned to their rightful places.  It's just one example of the show creating awful endings without seeming to understand how awful they truly are.  (I rant a lot more about Alternate Kaia here.)

Amara: After being betrayed and locked away for millennia, we see Amara's initial impulse for revenge and destruction transform into an admiration for creation.  She becomes an advocate for humanity and the world.  And yet she ends up being betrayed (by both the Winchesters and Chuck) and locked away again.  She's absorbed by Chuck in a way that doesn't fit within the logic of the show.  Chuck and Amara are equals - it doesn't make any sense that Chuck could overpower her.  Wouldn't they become a blend of the two of them?  And, since their separation caused the Big Bang, wouldn't their unity end the world?  Anyway, having the cosmic feminine be voiceless and invisible is the worst way for Amara's story to end.  Having Jack speak for her, saying that they are 'in harmony' tries to make this an acceptable fate for her, but only makes it worse.

Benny:  Another offscreen death, and this one feels particularly spiteful.  It really seems like he was killed just to be a conversation-starter for Cas and Dean.  However, if his fate can be sealed by a line of dialogue, then it only proves that confirmation of the fates of Eileen, AU Charlie and the other hunters could have been given in the same way.  Just one line could have done it - "I just spoke to Eileen, everyone's back."  Instead, at the end of 15.19 we're in the absurd position of having Sam and Dean toast the people they've lost without them even bothering to check who that may or not be.

Billie: The bizarre thing about Billie being revealed as a villain at the end of Season 15 was that she was supposed to be acting in self-interest - that she wanted to be the new God.  It made no sense.  What would make sense to me, though, would be if Chuck was controlling her (as Lucifer bound Death in Season 5).  Season 15 has strong echoes of Season 4 - and Billie took on both the role of Ruby (feeding Jack hearts rather than demon blood, but nevertheless making him into a weapon, with the price being the loss of his sense of self and ultimately his life) and Heaven (persuading Dean that it had to be this way, and telling him to go along with the plan).  We only have the Shadow's word for Billie's motivation, and we know she wasn't responsible for the deaths of the AU hunters, so in the end her status is ambiguous - she really seems to be a victim of Chuck's bad writing.  She's erased from the narrative along with Castiel, when really she should have been freed from Chuck's control and fighting on the side of nature and free will alongside the Winchesters.  Supernatural also concludes with nobody in the role of Death, which is a crazy loose thread left dangling.

Castiel: His confession was a thing of beauty, perfectly summing up the truth of both his and Dean's characters.  Both of them are made of and motivated by love.  And yet after speaking his truth, he is silenced.  He never gets to hear that he is loved in return (when the previous twelve seasons have made it abundantly clear to the audience that Dean loves Cas just as much as Cas loves Dean).  His capacity for love made him the only thing that Chuck could not control; as an agent of free will, he should have had a central role in Chuck's defeat.  

In 15x13, when Cas is in the Empty to see Ruby, the Shadow says: "funny thing about [Death's] plan, though... she didn't say anything about needing you. Baby, you can't just traipse in and out of here. It upsets the order of things."  To me, this sounded so much like 4x22's "you're not in this story" that I saw it as a pretty clear indication that Cas would play an important part in Chuck's defeat.  Because Team Free Will wouldn't follow the plan, would they?  They would find another way, wouldn't they?  Wouldn't they?

However, after the confession, he's never seen on screen again.  He's barely mentioned.  Eventually we're told he "helped" Jack, so he ends up where he started: as a servant of heaven.  He deserved to complete his fall, to become human, to live as well as speak his truth.  Making him a silent, unseen instrument of heaven undoes his entire arc.  Erasing him from the narrative requires the extraordinary warping of that narrative: nothing about his death suggests that it should be accepted as a permanent 'sacrifice', when we know that there is a spell that can return angels from the Empty (and, thanks to the handprint, we have his blood for it) and that Lucifer was brought back by Chuck in 15x19.  And the idea that Sam, Jack and Dean wouldn't try everything in their power to bring him back is utterly ludicrous.

Cas' confession scene to so closely mirrors 4x01's barn scene that the narrative is crying out for the parallel to be completed by Dean rescuing Cas from the Empty just as Cas rescued Dean from hell.  However, we're never given that narrative closure - just like we are never given the reunions demanded by the scenes of Sam losing Eileen and Charlie losing Stevie.

Chuck:  Okay, so he might not make your list of characters you could ever care about, but my point about his ending is that while it's fitting, for it to really work we also needed Cas to become human, too.  For Chuck, being human is a punishment, but for Cas it would be a reward.  We really needed this balance, otherwise all we have is humanity as the worst thing that could happen to you, which is not exactly a great parting message for the show.  (Also, how precisely is it possible to make him human?)  Not only is being human the worst fate possible, but, specifically, so is growing old and being forgotten.  Again, this is a punishment for Chuck, but it would have been a reward for Dean: growing old when the story (and his own self-loathing) constantly told him that he would die young; and being forgotten, not in a negative sense, but in terms of not being a character in a story any more: remembered fondly by his friends but no longer a legend, just a man living an insignificant little life exactly the way he chooses.  

Dean: Where do I even start.  Let's be clear: ending the story with his death (by any means and in any scenario) was always going to be the absolute worst possible ending for him and for the show.

In 15x19 we have the glorious moment when Chuck calls him the ultimate killer, and Dean (heeding Cas' words from 15x18) says "that's not who I am".  Now, I mean no disrespect to Dean here (because he is, canonically, a genius) but I don't think that he was in any way necessary to the Michael double-cross plot that eventually saw the defeat of Chuck.  Honestly, if he had died in 15x18, then 15x19 could still have played out in exactly the same way.  It's as if he wasn't saved so that he could save the world - he was saved so that he could have this moment of self-realisation.  He was saved so that he could stand up to Chuck (God, and the author, and parallelled with John) and tell him that he's not the person that he tried to force him to be.  

And yet by the next episode, this revelation is entirely forgotten.  He doesn't get to continue his self-actualisation by speaking his truth to Cas.  Instead, 15x20 presents Dean as almost a caricature of himself.  Dean loves pie.  Dean loves his brother.  Dean loves his car.  All of his complexity (present right from Season 1) is stripped away.

Finally free to write his own story, he ends up giving Chuck the ending he always wanted: one dead Winchester - killed, you could argue, by his brother (Sam fails to call for help and instead tells Dean to "go".)  Told by Cas that he's not "Daddy's blunt instrument" and accepting that he's not "the ultimate killer", Dean goes right back to killing (even threatening torture) and following his father's words (in the form of the journal).  

For Dean to die exactly as the story has always told him, and as he's always told himself in his worst moments of self loathing, is brutal and tragic.  What makes it truly appalling is the way in which both Dean and Sam accept his death and say it's "okay".  For Dean to say "always keep fighting" at the very moment when he gives up and when Sam gives up on him is bitterly ironic.  (Interestingly, when Cas said "you have to keep fighting" in his 12x12 death speech, exhorting Sam and Dean to save themselves and leave him behind, Sam replied with "we are fighting.  We're fighting for you, Cas" and Dean followed with "and like you said, you're family.  And we don't leave family behind".)   

Dean has always been the symbol of humanity in Supernatural: he stood for earth against the forces of heaven and hell.  He'd rather live with pain and guilt than exist as a "Stepford bitch in paradise", and yet that's exactly what he becomes, driving mindlessly through Jack's new heaven where everyone is "happy".  Dean previously dismissed heaven's happiness as "Memorex", and after Mary's death he was the only one not consoled by the confirmation that she was in heaven and happy.  Having Dean being content in heaven is utterly out of character.  He's always fought for free will, and in heaven - where there's no agency, where he's cut off from the world - this is the one thing that he does not have.

Eileen: An interesting, complex, kickass character, Eileen deserved so much better than being erased from the storyline.  A Men of Letters legacy, I imagine her working with Sam to share the knowledge contained within the bunker whilst also dismantling the patriarchy, elitism and colonialism of its past.  Her disappearance from the narrative makes absolutely no sense - 15x09, 15x17 and 15x18 confirm just how significant she is to Sam, and yet we never see them reunited or see Sam mourning her death.  The audience's love for Eileen is totally disregarded, too - she's ripped away from us with no further explanation.

Emma: Okay, so she wasn't actually in season 15, but that's sort of my point.  I have a lot to say about Emma, but here I'll just say that her significance has grown massively since Season 7.  The narrative has shifted from Team Free Will being sons to being fathers.  Even if she wasn't brought back, just a mention of her would have been significant.  (I can't stop thinking about the massive potential of a conversation about Emma between Dean and Jack.)  She didn't deserve to be forgotten.  

Season 15 was Supernatural's last opportunity to bring back characters from the past - such as Meg, original Charlie, Crowley, and Bela Talbot - and give them better endings.  Sadly this opportunity was wasted.

Garth: He actually seems to get his happy ending, on several levels.  He finds a family; he finds happiness; he's acknowledged as a hero by the Winchesters, who had previously mocked him.  Dean's words to him about embracing happiness are powerful.  Garth lives as his full, authentic self - monstrosity now included.  It's that monstrosity that's the issue here, though - as werewolves, Garth, Bess and little Sam and Castiel are doomed to go to purgatory when they die.  Mia Vallens said to Jack that "it doesn't matter what you are - it matters what you do", but in this case the opposite is true.  It's hideously unfair, but again the show never acknowledges this.  It would have been simple to change in a line or two - just a quick mention about how purgatory has been fixed, so that only truly monstrous beasts like the leviathan are kept trapped there - but the injustice remains.

Jack:  From his birth, his destiny was either to be the monstrous destroyer or the divine saviour of the world, which is precisely why he should have side-stepped it and found another way.  He deserved to live without the weight of the world on his shoulders.  Instead, he was forced to take on the power of God - and since when has someone suddenly taking on a huge amount of power ever ended well for Team Free Will?  Then, he repeats the exact same pattern set up by Chuck.  First, he abandons his creation by walking away and disappearing off to, in the words of Bobby, "wherever he went".  Like Chuck, he ignores earthly suffering: if he's now omniscient and omnipotent, is he in fact complicit in Dean's death?  Secondly, he's controlling: he remodels Heaven as he sees fit, making it a place where everyone's together and everyone's happy, with its inhabitants given absolutely no choice in the matter.  There's also no reason why Jack had to vanish from the story - Chuck was capable of spending time on Earth.

The mechanics of the bomb plot also irks me no end.  We're told by Death that the bomb will kill Jack.  However, their plan fails, and Jack survives the blast.  In 15x19, Dean tells Chuck that all the work done to turn Jack into a "cosmic bomb" has turned him instead into a "power vacuum."  It makes it seem like a side-effect, and also that "sucking up bits of power" has been charging him up to the point where he's "unstoppable".  He's able to both absorb and appropriate Chuck's power.  However, in 15x17 Adam and Serafina explain that the bomb will create a "metaphysical supernova" that will make Jack into "a living black hole for divine energy" - which suggests that, actually, the bomb worked as intended.  

But if the plan worked, why is Jack still alive?  Billie made it clear that Jack wouldn't survive.  And "nothing can escape" a black hole - so how is Jack able to use Chuck's powers to bring back Earth's population? Besides which, didn't 15x17 reveal that Chuck himself had "orchestrated" the entire thing?  Which makes the theory that Chuck possessed Jack really the only outcome that makes sense.  (Particularly as Serafina talks about Jack making his "vessel" strong.  Jack is a nephil, not an angel - he has a body, not a vessel.  Also, the bomb is made by fusing his soul with his grace - so, the two things that make up Jack, his humanity and his divinity, are annihilated.)  Deliberately making Chuck win, however (with no tease at the end that this might be the case), makes no sense either.  My head hurts.

Kevin: As if he hadn't been treated badly enough by the story already, we find that Kevin hasn't been in Heaven since we last saw him, but rather hell.  He ends up as an untethered ghost, presumably just wandering about for all eternity.  His fate comes courtesy of a bizarre new rule that souls from hell can't go to heaven - when previously both Bobby and John have done exactly that.  Again, just one line telling us that he's now in heaven could have changed his ending.

Michael: Bringing back Adam and Michael was a brilliant move, and this version of Michael was utterly compelling - struggling with his faith in his father after being abandoned, torn between his loyalty to Heaven and his relationship with Adam.  I thought that his handing over of the spell was very similar to Cas' "just so you understand … why I can't help" moment, and it seemed the precursor to Michael becoming an advocate for humanity, even a member of Team Free Will.  However, instead Michael was doomed to play out his father's narrative: killing his brother and repeating the cycle of sibling conflict and trauma that Chuck began when he betrayed Amara.  (And we'll credit Chuck's bad writing with the fact that the battle between Michael and Lucifer that was once predicted to wipe out millions and scorch the globe can now happen in the bunker without so much as a chair being knocked over - and without wires as well.)

Rowena: She seems to be relishing her reign as Queen of Hell, but the way she's so casually condemned is jarring.  Surely her previous good deeds and her final act of self sacrifice would be enough to tip the scales in a heavenly direction?  (It worked for Lily Sunder - another woman who vowed never to be powerless again.)  They could easily have said it was Chuck's fault that she had to remain in hell - but instead it just seems like a foregone conclusion.  She deserved better.

Sam: If we're supposed to believe that having a "normal" life is Sam's idea of writing his own story, why doesn't he do it as soon as Chuck is defeated?   Instead, his suburban "apple pie" life only happens after Dean dies, which makes it seem more of a grief arc than a happy ending.  (Just as he escaped into a self-professed "fantasy" life with Amelia after Dean's death, or when he succumbed to the comfort of a fake married life in Charming Acres after the trauma of losing all the AU hunters).  

The idea that he'd keep hunting for Dean doesn't ring true - Dean had been the one openly craving retirement and domesticity for several seasons.  After all, the idea of Dean as a hunter and Sam as the brother who wants to be normal is Chuck's story.  Dean wasn't the "ultimate killer" that Chuck wanted him to be, and Sam too had been forging his own identity as a leader, a Man of Letters, and a powerful witch.  He'd also found love - and with Eileen, he could be his full, authentic self.  The idea that he would leave her is absurd, as is the idea that he would abandon his entire extended found family, who seem to have no part in his new life.  When Dean returned from purgatory, he was furious that Sam had failed to help Kevin.  Would Sam really do the exact same thing again - walk away from Jody and the girls when they are mourning both Cas and Dean and need his support?  Would he just abandon Rowena's entire witchy collection and leave the huge store of knowledge in the Bunker locked up in the dark?

The Shadow: again, dubious on a list of characters you care about, but hey - all they ever really wanted was to go back to sleep, and can't we all relate to that?  Anyway, they made the list for being one of the most frustrating open endings of the show.  What did it mean for the Empty to be "loud"?  Who is the Shadow, anyway?  Just how did this cosmic entity fit in with the mythology of Chuck and Amara?  It's maddening that the Shadow and the Empty were made central to several seasons only to be suddenly dropped.

The Wayward Sisters: my beloveds. Such a brilliant cast of characters and such wasted potential.  They're an important part of the Winchesters' family and Team Free Will, but, in the end, they're forgotten.  Claire may have gotten her happy ending with the return of Kaia, but this happens off screen.  We never see her reaction to the deaths of Castiel or Dean.

The final few episodes seem to be about stripping away all of the characters except Sam and Dean, so they are completely alone by 15x20. Phrases such as "just us" and "just you and me" and "it's always been you and me" seem to suggest that this is a good thing, but previously the idea of them being isolated and alone has seemed like the worst case scenario (for example in Season 8, when Sam and Dean are forced to give up Amelia and Benny, respectively, or in Chuck's vision of a future in which the brothers lose Eileen and Cas along with Jody and the girls, give up hope, and end up as vampires, killed by their remaining friends). 

Anyway, the whole idea of just Sam and Dean going wherever the road takes them is Chuck's story.  It's on the cover of his books.  By making Chuck the villain, Season 15 itself makes it impossible for a return to this idea to be a satisfying conclusion to the story.

In fact, Supernatural was never about just Sam and Dean.  It was always about family.  Season 1 was about Sam, Dean and John.  Bobby introduced the phrase "family don't end with blood" in Season 3 and Dean coined the phrase "Team Free Will" in Season 4.  It's an ethos that has spread into the fandom, too.  Didn't the SPN Family deserve a finale that celebrated that idea, of banding together, of caring about the whole world, of love being the ultimate expression of free will?

You can't help but pick up on a theme: characters that were forgotten are forgotten again.  Characters who were locked away are locked away again.  The same narratives and the same traumas play out again and again.  No-one escapes their miserable, predestined fate.  It's Chuck's ending.  And it's Chuck's spiteful ending.

It's the ending that kills off its beloved characters, and also destroys their whole world.  The bunker is left in darkness.  Time has moved forward by so much in order to accommodate Sam's natural death that we can't even imagine the ongoing stories of other characters like Garth or the Sioux Falls family (ironic, given the episode's title).

It's the kind of ending you get when a show is cancelled and the writer decides to kill off their characters and wreck their world so that there's no possibility of another network or another writer taking over their story.  (And yet outside of the show, there's no evidence to suggest this - you would think that the ending had been designed to make a reboot impossible, but it has already been talked about.)

If we were not going to get a sense of the world continuing, then we could have been given a more radical and satisfying ending.  We could have had Death collect on their promise to one day reap God.  We could have had a world freed from the supernatural entirely: heaven, hell and purgatory obliterated, and Team Free Will finding peace in life on earth.

Because Chuck has been the author and the narrator the entire time, it makes no sense for the story to continue past the point of his defeat.  (It makes even less sense for that story to revert back to Chuck's ideal narrative.)  So, really we should have been given a more open ending: Team Free Will triumphant over Chuck and their future left open, the author dead and the characters' stories entrusted to the audience.

Instead, in the end, it's a bizarre mix of needlessly closed-down endings (killing off Cas, Sam and Dean, and vanishing Jack) and frustrating open ones (the loud Empty, there being no Death, Kevin wandering, the ambiguous fate of Eileen, Adam, Donna and the AU hunters).  

And the final two episodes are also objectively bad.  The double-cross plot in 15x19 is lame when the resolution of the Chuck storyline should have been profound. (It invites comparisons with the Season 11 finale, which was excellent.) 15x20 feels weirdly empty and flat.  Dean's death is unrealistic; it echoes Sam's death in Season 2 and Dean's in Season 9 (which, if you think about it, would only be possible if Chuck was still writing it), but lacks the emotional punch of either.  Dean's "I'm proud of us," in his Season 9 death scene is so much more powerful than his "I'm proud of you" in the finale.  And let's not even mention that wig.

In conclusion: every single character deserved better.  The actors deserved better.  The audience deserved better.  Because the ending we were given was not the ending that the season, or the entire series, had been building towards.

The ending tries to destroy every good thing that Supernatural has ever given us - vibrant characters, the fight for free will, the value of found family, the power of love - but it fails. Ultimately the characters and themes are too powerful to be contained by that terrible, flimsy ending. So now I've gotten all of that off my chest, I'm going right back to finale denialism.

[koelnhbf]

bump into you (knj)

part twelve: you broke the child

genre: fluff!

warnings: nothing we just really, really love namjoon in this house. this is going to be a long one 

“Thanks for the pictures,” you told Namjoon as he handed you back your phone. You looked at your pink cheeks, unsure whether the colouring was caused by the new blush you tried out or because of your date’s devoted picture taking. Although he had told you he’d come pick you up at 7, he had texted you that morning that he’d come pick you up right after classes, so you could be ready by then.

“No problem at all, Yn,” he said and, by the way laughter lines formed around his eyes, you knew he was smiling beneath the mask. 

“Do you want me to take one of you, too?” You asked, switching over to your phone’s camera app, ready to snap a few shots of the guy who just bought you a pre-dinner drink. 

“Not yet, there’s a nice spot I’d like to take you to before we have dinner. Let’s go?” You nodded and settled down on your bike, thankful that the sky had decided to stop snowing that day. One-handed (so you could hold the drink he got you) you rode beside Namjoon through the streets of Seoul and to a park with a hill, where, the moment the two of you arrived, you secured the bikes and made your view to the panoramic view. 

“This is really nice,” you sighed, astonished, taking in the view in front of you. Skyscraper upon Skyscraper blended into a grey array of buildings and contrasted against the warm tones of the greenery beneath you. Namjoon leaned against the wooden railing after taking off his mask and sighed.

“It’s one of my favourite places to come to,” he said and looked down at you. “I come here to think, read, relax, listen to music… it’s one of the best places in the whole city.” 

“And you’re sharing it with me?” You blushed when he looked at you intensely, his eyes being the most beautiful pair you’ve ever seen.

“I’d like to take you here more often.”

“Are you hungry yet?” Namjoon asked as the two of you started walking back to your bikes. You had spent the last two hours on the hill, talking about his job and your masters degree, with the occasional anecdotes about both of your friends.

You nodded, having felt your stomach rumble for some time now but not having had the heart to interrupt Namjoon’s rant about mint chocolate ice cream. 

“We better get going, then.” The ride to the restaurant was partially spent laughing at his jokes and talking about books, whenever the two of you were silent, you thought about how easy it was to speak to him, forgetting several times that it wasn’t just Namu you were speaking to but Kim Namjoon, as the regular phone calls reminded you. 

“I’m sorry, it’s work,” he had said the first time they had called and you had kindly offered to step back from where you were sitting so he could talk freely but he declined. The call hadn’t lasted long anyway and you had only understood half of what was said. By the time the fourth call had rolled in you were chasing squirrels around the park, not really minding his absence but rather buying some nuts off an old woman and offering them to two children that had wanted to play with the animals.

The thought of the kids aggressively throwing the nuts at the squirrels had you laughing when you arrived at the restaurant. While Namjoon followed the waiter to your table you checked out the portions of the dishes of the neighbouring tables and made a silent note to get ramen from the convenience store when you got back home because you were sure that you wouldn’t get full from whatever they served.

“Don’t worry about the dishes, I just wanted us to get something savoury before we go for churros later,” Namjoon whispered in your ear as he noticed you staring at the food. A shiver ran down your spine at his voice close to you and you prayed to whatever deity was listening that he hadn’t noticed. 

“Ch-churros?” You asked, rather dumbly, as if it was too hard to understand.

“An ice skating date isn’t complete without churros and hot cocoa, Yn.” He laughed and guided you to your seat before sitting down in front of you. 

“Choose whatever you’d like.”

“Slowly Yn!” Namjoon called out but it was too late, you ended up falling on your butt again before he could catch you. 

“Are you hurt?” You shook your head and laughed, grateful that he had told you to pack an extra pair of clothes before you left your house in the afternoon. He pulled you up and balanced you before pulling you with him.

“Just try to slide with your feet. Don’t pretend to run. And hold onto me.” His dimples showed as he smiled at you and the clenching sensation around your stomach showed itself for the thousandth time that day. 

“Good job, see? You can do it. I’m going to let you go now, okay? In 3, 2,” without finishing the countdown he let you go, which was a big mistake because you were still unprepared and fell again, pulling him down with you. 

“Ouch!” You cried out before noticing the weight on you. You held your breath as you looked into Namjoon’s eyes, the same you had only been able to admire from afar until now.

“I’m sorry,” you whispered, your breath visible in the cold air.

“It’s okay, Yn,” he said, his voice strangely low but still loud enough for you to hear, as if he was right next to your ear.

Then the two of you stayed silent, merely stared at each other without moving once. And, as if pulled by an invisible thread, your lips clashed, reunited in a short but sweet kiss, but as quick as it happened it also ended and you were quickly on your feet again, being pulled by Namjoon’s strong arms around the rink. 

“It’s really okay if I post this?” You asked for the third time as you flicked through the pictures, finding a picture of Namjoon ice skating that you took while you were resting. You laughed at it as you went back to the one you were talking about.

“You can’t see my face so sure, Yn-ie.” You smiled warmly as you saved it in your favourites.

You were leaning against your bikes in front of your apartment complex, Namjoon’s face being covered again, in case you walked past other people. 

“It’s a shame I can’t follow you with my main account. The kpop drama accounts would have a field trip.” He sighed and looked up at the cloudy night sky. 

“It’s okay, Joonie.”

“Joonie?”

“Well, I can’t keep on calling you tree!” You called out and laughed as realisation struck him.

“I need to go now, thanks for today. I loved it,” you spoke, though your voice came out as silent as a whisper as you remembered your kiss. 

“Me too, Yn.” You turned around to walk towards your door but got pulled back by his strong grasp around your wrist. With a swift motion, he pulled down his mask and lifted your chin so your mouth could meet his. Contrary to your first kiss, this one was longer and deeper, carrying a longing for each other you couldn’t quite understand. It was only when you noticed something cold falling onto your forehead that you parted. 

“Better get in, Yn, it just started snowing.” He smiled, pulled the mask up again and waited for you to make your way into the building, though it took all of your willpower for you to not stay with him.

— as a high-achieving student from a poor background at SNU, your life has been all about studies. apart from your three friends, your time was divided between your dissertation and the independent bookshop you worked at after class. looking forward to buying the most sought-after book you desperately need for your thesis you notice the only way to keep it is to stash away a copy. what happens when your bookshop is a stranger’s last resort of buying the book? and what if your copy was the last one in all of seoul?

A/N hello my lovelies! i hope you’re enjoying it so far, let me know under the posts and in my inbox. you can also private message me anytime! <3 if you want to be added to the taglist you can ask under each post and i’ll make sure to add you! i’m really always up for a chat, so you can hit me up :) x

⟸ m.list ⟹

taglist: @aquaalanah @cuddlemety​ @detectivejjkie​ @lettersfromsalome @poutyoongiiii @secretlycrazyhummingbird

[dragonleesupporter]

The Many Sides of Murder Part I

A/N: Eyy I’m not dead, I promise. I’ve just been smacked around by life a bit. Anyway, this a fanfiction based off of an rp between me and some good homies, shout out to good homies! I’ve been wanting to write this for a very long time.

WARNING: Not for the faint of heart! Also, no t-community stuff in here!

Patton was walking out of the office building after a long day at work. He was exhausted, but he’d have his beautiful rose bush to look forward to when he got home.

            “Rosebud…” He said to himself jokingly, shivering in the cold.

          One of the first to come to work, and one of the last to leave… Patton looked across the vast parking lot and saw his grey, rusty car sitting on the far end.

            Sigh.

            As he continued walking, he heard what sounded like scuffling behind the ginormous square garbage bins to his left. He had gotten used to the noises the critters made at night, working the closing shift. Raccoons, possums, skunks, hell- sometimes the homeless stopped by to check the garbage for valuable items.

          After several moments of listening to the sound, Patton started to pick up on small alterations, like heavy breathing and shushing of sort. Yep, a homeless or drunk. No doubt about it. Suddenly, a shape leaped out in front of him, running in the same direction as his car. Patton froze, his voice caught in his throat. There was no way he could break into-

          “Your efforts are futile.” He heard a monotone voice call out from behind the garbage bins. He then saw what he could only perceive as a living knife launch from the same place the other shape had come from. In mere moments, the man who had started running, was now motionless on the asphalt. The other shape looked down at the body before looking up at Patton.

          Patton’s instincts finally kicked in and he turned tail to run in the opposite direction. Even in the dim light of the widely-spaced street lamps, he could tell he had made direct eye contact with whoever just attacked that other person. The sooner he made himself invisible, the better!

            “The tree line!” He thought to himself. “There! If I can make it there, then maybe- “

 Too late. He felt a harsh shove from behind has he lost his balance mid-stride, falling onto his chest. He then felt a hand grasp his face, some kind of cloth covering his mouth. He took in a deep breath to scream for help, but as soon as he did, his consciousness faded into an almost peaceful oblivion.

 “That was close.” Logan silently scolded himself as he carried Patton on his shoulders back to the body of Orlando. “How could I have let a witness run so far away from the execution site? Utterly useless. I must increase my intake, it seems.”

 He lit the body ablaze and covered his tracks. Every grain of sand out of place was corrected. He was never there. The only thing now was to decide what to do with the witness he had captured. He adjusted his glasses, sighing. It would slow down his current plan, but in order to make it more secure, he would just have to be patient and take the witness into his care. Perhaps he could reason with him, or at least keep him in a place that he wouldn’t cause any trouble.

 …

 Patton woke up in a very awkward position. Both his hands and his ankles were restrained, and he immediately noticed that the hearing on the right side of his head had gone blank.

“N-no… this can’t be real.” He started to feel tears well up in his eyes. “This is just a bad dream… I’m at home safe w-with my rosebush… please, please let it be a dream.”

 “Ah, you’re finally awake.” A chillingly monotone voice sounded from the other side of the room.

 “Wh-what do you want from me?!” Patton blurted out, making an attempt to sound brave and failing somewhat.

 “I don’t want anything from you, good sir… in fact, it’s rather a shame that you had to bear witness to my execution. I do not enjoy this situation any more than you do.” Logan stayed sitting on the opposite side of the room.

 As Patton’s eyes adjusted, he saw a lean, tall figure sat against the few steps that lined the entrance to a hallway just behind him leading into the room. He had milky white skin and clear blue veins running along his arms and legs. Despite the hostility he had seen at his hand, Logan’s face was strangely calm, his eyes grey behind his glasses. The rest of his attire was simply a black suit and pants, fitting his body as tight was possible. No part of his clothing was loose on him. Just as jet black as his attire, his hair was neatly combed back.

 “That being said, I hope we can come to an agreement that benefits both parties.” His grey eyes pierced into Patton’s, reflecting all the apathy the rest of Patton’s left drew to him.

 No one really cared about him… he had no friends… no family other than his brother who hardly visited… no one was coming to save him… he was going to die here.

Logan’s posture stiffened at the sound coming out of Patton.

 “Like heck! I’m not trusting a word you say!” Patton screamed, tears streaming down his face.

 Logan sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I knew this would be an issue… I probably should explain myself…”  

 “No! I am not listening to ANYTHING you have to stay!” Patton’s heart burned with the knowledge that this man could do whatever he wanted to him. He started pulling on his restraints.

 “You know that’s not going to work… I wish I could’ve avoided the restraints, but how else am I supposed to keep her here safely?” Logan got up, slowly walking toward the struggling man before him.

 It was almost hard for Logan to look into his prisoner’s eyes. They were so bright and full of passion and emotion, even behind his contact lenses. His bright blue eyes kindly reflected off of his matching blue t-shirt, also blending well with his worn-out jeans. His bright blonde hair nearly blinded the criminal as he approached, wavy and tangled.

 “Why not just let me go then?! S-stay away from me! Don’t get any closer!” Patton struggled harder as Logan got closer.

 “Calm your nerves, you wiggling worm… I need to ask you a question.” Logan sat down next to the bed Patton was tied to.

“Well, I have nothing better to do. Ask away!” Patton called sarcastically. A small hope inside him told him that if he kept acting tough and hiding just how scared he was, he might be able to find a way out.

 “Is this correct?” Logan held up an ear aid.

 “What do you mean is it correct?” Patton scoffed.

 “Is it the right model? After cleaning up, I realized an ear aid had been knocked out of your head. However, when I found it, it had been broken. I did my best to judge what model it was so I could get another for you. Is this the correct model?” Logan’s monotone voice didn’t help Patton’s mood, however his question did puzzle him.

 “Th-that is the correct model, yes. Why?” Patton looked up at the figure who almost had to look away from his bright cyan blue eyes.

 “Good. I will momentarily untie one of your restraints so you can manually place the ear aid in. As well as take out your contacts. I’m aware they can be painful if you sleep in them.” Logan’s voice changed just a little bit in that moment, and that little bit was all it took.

 “O-okay…” Patton’s body went limp as Logan undid one of his restraints.

 “And no trying to escape, or I’ll knock you out again.” Logan watched him closely as Patton adjusted both his hearing aids and took out his contacts, relaxing significantly from the lack of pain. Afterwards, Logan tied him up again.

“So, are there any bathroom breaks here?” Patton asked sheepishly.

 “Yes. But I’ll only release you if we can gain a mutual sense trust… You see I only restrained you to keep you safe. This is the only place I could keep you from spreading knowledge of my existence. All of these hallways behind me are open to the front door, but they’re all rigged with traps that only I know how to navigate around. This was only set up for defensive measures, but I cannot turn them off now, so they also act a hinderance to your escape. If you were to try and escape, many of those traps would cause you extreme pain, and, in full honesty, I don’t want that.” Logan tapped his chin in thought.

 “Something’s not making sense here.” Patton finally spoke after a long silence. “How come you don’t want to hurt me when you hurt that other person?”

 “That low-life scum can barely be considered a person…” Logan’s voice grew heavy with anger. “Sh-shit!”

 Patton turned to look at his captor to find a surprising sight. Logan, was bent over with a hand firmly pressed to his head. “Damn, it’s wearing off faster!” The criminal rushed over to the opposite side of the room, taking out a syringe.

 Patton watched in horror as Logan plunged the needle into his skin and quickly injected himself, his tenses muscles going lax again. Patton saw, for a brief moment, color in Logan’s eyes before it changed back to the grey he had know for the past fifteen minutes.

 “I apologize for the interruption. But unbeknownst to you, there’s a great difference between you and the man I killed. I would go into detail, but I have an inkling it might disturb you, so until we are better acquainted, I see no reason to explain.” Logan’s posture loosened further. “I should probably start with my name. My name is Logan, and I’ve been on the hunt for a specific group of individuals. The one you saw me take out was one of those individuals.”

 Patton felt odd staring at this man… could even call him that? This THING?

 “Well, my name is Patton, and I’ve been on the hunt for a meaningful life.” He chuckled sadly.

 “What’s funny?” Logan cocked his head.

 “Oh, it was a joke! I like to tell them a lot…”

 “A… joke…” Logan appeared to be lost on what Patton was describing.

 “Yeah. You tell it to people you care about to make them laugh and smile…” Patton looked away from Logan’s eyes, afraid he would become equally apathetic if he continued to stare.

 “And what about searching for a meaningful life is funny?” Logan tapped his chin in thought with a perplexed expression, looking at the ceiling.

 “Oh wait… of course this guy’s not going to understand jokes! He’s a complete psychopath! I need to figure out how to get out of here! He said he would give me access to a bathroom once we gained mutual trust for each other. So, if I pretend to trust him, he might trust me and warrant me access to the bathroom. But the bathroom probably doesn’t have any escape routes. If there isn’t a window or a vent… I might be stuck… unless… he’s lying about the hallways! He must think I’m stupid… if there’s no chance of escape in the bathroom, I’ll abide by his rules until he gets sleepy or needs another one of those needles. Yes! Flawless plan!”

 “I realized that you’re smiling. Is something funny? Did I unknowingly… tell a… joke?” It took Logan a moment to think of the word again.

 “Oh no… I was just thinking about a joke one of my friends told me a couple days ago…” Patton lied.

 “Oh? A memory can make you smile… I forgot that…” Logan looked down at the floor. “Thank you for reminding me.”

 After a few more moments of awkward silence and Patton trying to avoid the gaze of the mad man, his stomach growled loudly.

 “Dammit stomach! This is not the time to be complaining!”

 “Ah, I assumed you would need sustenance before long… luckily I was able to grab some ramen from the store. I know from experience that it’s very filling, if not a little bland in taste. I’ll prepare some…” Logan turned his back to Patton getting a stove heated up.

 “Oh no! I can’t eat anything that monster gives me! It could be poisoned, or laced with something to make me be truthful with him! But if I don’t eat soon, I might start thinking illogically… m-maybe I already am! Dammit, Patton why did you skip your last break last night??”

“To put all doubts to rest, I will also eat from the same brewed pot of ramen… I apologize for the lack of nutrients in this specific dish. But hopefully, if everything goes according to plan, one meal is all you’ll need…” Logan turned around, giving full view of the pot of ramen, stirring it around.

 “Oh Jesus, he’s going to kill me! According to plan?? Only one meal?? That has to be it!”

 “A-and what plan would that be?” The captive muttered nervously, eyeing the noodles like he would a loaded gun.

 “Ah, my apologies. Allow me to explain after I’ve finished undoing your cuffs.” Patton violently flinched away from the criminal as he undid all of his bonds. “Come sit with me, Patton…”

 There was… a hitch in his voice for some reason. Patton couldn’t tell why, but Logan’s perfectly monotone dialogue had broken, just for a second, but he noticed…

 He sat down stiffly on the other side of the pot as Logan poured each half of the brew into their bowls. He took the first bite, fully knowing that Patton wouldn’t eat unless he was certain that the food was safe.

 “Maybe he built up an immunity a poison he put in the brew… ahhh but it smells so good! I can’t get distracted! Think, Patton! Think…”

 Logan continued to eat as Patton played with his food, his thoughts racing. After he had finished the whole bowl, he just sat and stared at Patton, waiting patiently for him to trust the noodles. Eventually, after what seemed like an eternity to Patton, he finally took a bite. He had no way of telling time, but from his judgement, Logan would’ve shown some signs of discomfort if the noodles had been poisoned. It was just a risk he’d have to take, considering, just how badly he needed the food. But he also needed something else.

 “M-may I use the restroom?” He asked, looking away from Logan’s piercing eyes.

 “I suppose I have no reason not to trust you in this moment, and you trusted me enough to eat what I made for you. How about a compromise? My original offer was to free you of your cuffs without feeling the need to restrain you again… while also giving you free access to the bathroom… but since I can’t fully trust you in moments to come, even if I can trust you now, I’ll give you access to the restroom but restrain you afterwards, though I’ll make sure your restraints aren’t as tight this time…” Logan explained, eyeing the bruises on Patton’s hands.

 “O-okay… and where is the bathroom?” He was shaking a little.

 “Just to your left. It’s not the most luxurious, but is serves its purpose.” Logan hadn’t even finished his sentence, before the door to the restroom was slammed shut. “I suppose I should clean up this mess…”

 “Dammit! No windows or vents! This room is an oven!” Patton thought to himself while doing his business. “It certainly isn’t a good restroom, but it’s a clean one… and right now, I’m in no place to complain… these walls are pretty thick, he probably can’t hear what I’m doing… meaning, if I hurry, he might not be prepared for me to make an escape. The longer I wait, the more he’ll expect me to come out. Better make this quick!”

 Patton slowly opened the door and peeked out at Logan, who was occupied washing the dishes they had just eaten from. He had blue eyes again… why did he look so… sad? Patton felt the smallest pang of sympathy for his kidnapper, despite everything. He’d soon need another syringe that made his eyes turn grey again. Some kind of drug. His posture was looser and his normally expressionless face was bent in a look of grief.

 “I- is he shaking?” Patton squinted. He could see long-range distance just fine, but movement was a little hard, but he swore, he could see his captor, shaking in place uncontrollably. Enough, he had to get out of there, NOW.

 Patton dashed for the hallway entrance just next to the kitchen, side closest to him. Logan noticed the movement right away, and try as he might, he couldn’t move fast to block the blonde from what he knew was going to happen.

 “AHHHH!!!” Patton screamed bloody murder as an improvised bear trap snapped around his right leg, dragging him down to the ground. He laid there, whimpering on the ground.

 “You stupid son of a bitch!” Logan ran up to him, quickly carrying him back to the main room. “What made you think I was lying about my traps?? Damn you, I was trying to do something good for once and you had to go and make such a stupid move!” He laid Patton down as he cried openly, unable to take the pain.

 He quickly ripped off the bear trap and started to examine his leg.

 “D-don’t touch me! It hurts! It hurts…” Patton sobbed, unable to move as Logan pressed different parts of his leg.

“Okay, it didn’t break any bones, but your muscle and tissue are severely damaged… I didn’t design that thing to break through bone, but I never tested it before, so that’s a relief… Now all that’s there to do is bandage your poor leg…” Logan quickly wrapped up the wound, adding on several straps of ice to help ease the pain. He then laid Patton back in the bed. “You just made things ten times harder for both you AND me!”

            Patton looked up fearfully to see Logan’s bold, indigo eyes starting back at him, his booming voice scolding him. Yet, strangely enough, Patton felt an odd sense of relief. Logan’s colorful eyes and evidently angry voice gave the criminal emotion. The blonde would rather have his kidnapper yell at him, than stare at him coldly from across the room. Logan then cried out in pain, grabbing his head again.

            “DAMN! This is YOUR fault! Now I’m even having problems with my CURE!” He hurried back to his cabinet to take another syringe, wincing harshly as the drug made its way into his body, before taking a deep exhale, relaxing significantly, as his eyes started to turn back to the void-ish grey that Patton had come to hate.

 “I apologize for my outburst… there will need to be a change of plan due to your foolish refusal to heed my warning about my security system…” Aaaand there’s that awful monotone voice again.

 Just then a figure burst into the room from the hallway, several bruises and scratches on him.

 “EVERYONE FREEZE!” He held up his gun at both Logan and Patton, who put their hands up. It was a police officer!

 As Roman pointed the barrel toward the uninjured suspect, he nearly dropped it.

 “L-Logan…? What happened to you?”

To be continued...

 @imflynn  @boba-and-doughnuts @tottalynotgayatall

[dicedungeons-and-dragons]

Scales

Note: As most of you know my campaign has well as truly taken over my life and I’ve been writing little (and not so little) stories based around it. And I’ve decided to post them from time to time, they’re going to be tagged ‘cotd fics’ if you want to blacklist them, I’m also sticking them under a ‘read more’ but I know they glitch a lot so sorry if it doesn’t take. Here’s a little one because I’ve been plagued by the fact that dragon bloodline sorcerers canonically have scales. 

His mother noticed when he was five. 

She found little patches of pebbled skin on his shoulders, along his elbows and knees, and running along his spine. The skin wasn’t red, or itchy, or like any rash she’d seen but she’d been worried and taken him to the local physician anyway. The older man hadn’t known what to make of the tough little bumps either and had given them a special lotion. Waylan got in the habit of putting it on the patches every night and morning, but the pebbled skin never went away. 

***

His father takes notice of it when he’s nine. 

His mother has been dead for eleven months and things are different now. There’s no more music constantly drifting through their home, his father works longer hours, and Waylan is silently expected to care for himself. The expectation is distant. His father doesn’t call him a burden, doesn’t scoff or roll his eyes when he asks for something, but he makes a point of showing Waylan how things are done in the house and where things are so that he doesn’t have to ask for them again. So Waylan learns how to make and tend fires around the house, for warmth and cooking, how to do his laundry, and eventually, where the first-aid kit is. 

He burns his hand on the fire poker, not having realized that he’d left it resting too close to the roaring flame he’d brought to life. His father heard his scream from across the house and he’d come running. The sharp red line already had two blisters bubbling up inside of it and his father had picked him up and taken him straight to the bathroom, setting him on the edge of the tub before rooting around in the small dresser that sat beside the door. He’d put a thick cream on the raw skin, wrapped it, and warned Waylan to be more careful. 

When he’d taken the bandages off a few days later the blisters were gone, but a distinct line of that pebbled skin had risen in their place. 

***

Waylan figures it out when he’s fourteen. 

After his hands catch fire, after he can suddenly hold a piece of wire and talk to someone over a hundred feet away, after he realizes he has magic. And once he realizes it he starts to research, finding scant moments to slip away from his father when they’re in Creta so that he can buy as many books as his bag can hold about the arcane. And when they’re home he reads. He learns about the different sources people have for their abilities. There are people who use words and songs to pull their magic from the strings of the universe, people who through their own means and study are able to learn the craft like a science, people who draw power from the natural world, and people who are just born with arcane magic. Though his mother had taught him to play piano when he was still little he doubts his fumblings there are the source of the fire he can feel burning under his skin. So he figures he must have just been born like this. 

And there are plenty of records of other born sorcerers. There are some who can’t contain their magic and strange, sometimes destructive, things happen around them. But he understands what Sabroth and Dojhan say when they speak draconic and he’s never been taught. And he thinks that maybe he should be more surprised to find out that there’s dragon blood somewhere in his family line. But he’s more relieved just to find some answers. He reads the chapter on mages with dragon blood four times that night. And when he goes to bed he traces his fingers lightly over the raised rough skin along his shoulders and the backs of his forearms. 

Scales. Thin and flesh colored, not the metallic (or dare he think, chromatic) color of his ancestor, but another remnant of them. Something left behind to protect him. 

He stops using the strange lotions from his childhood. 

***

Gadreel doesn’t notice them until after they start to date. 

That’s not a surprise really. The protective patches blend in with his skin, they’re pretty nondescript until they’re felt. Gad’s fingers twitch where they’re curled around his hips, his calloused fingers taking note of the unexpected tough texture. 

“Scales,” Waylan mutters against his throat. He wants to try and press himself closer into Gad’s lap, but he’s still unsure and off balance. The stump of his arm aches and it would really kill the mood if he fell over because he couldn’t catch himself. 

“Scales?” 

“Dragon blood.” He says in draconic, nipping sharply along the edge of his jaw. He taught Gadreel the tongue he’d been given by birthright. “Now fuck me.” Waylan adds in the orcish Gad had taught him. 

He doesn’t comment on the patches of scales he finds as he runs his hands along the rest of his body. 

***

Ray finds out shortly after. 

She is their resident healer, though both Lugh and Vani can make due in a pinch, and he is the resident torture victim. He’s got a lot of healing to do. Ray chatters away at him when he seeks her out to take a look at his arm. She healed a lot of the damaged, closed the bone over the marrow and stopped the bleeding when they’d found him. But the damage to the muscles and nerves required a check-up. So he lets her chatter and waits patiently as she finishes unwrapping the bandages to get a better look. 

“Oh,” he doesn’t look at her or at the rough stump of his arm. His stomach twists and sinks. That wasn’t a bad sound necessarily, but he doesn’t like the idea that she’s surprised by some new development with the injury. “Does this always happen when you’re hurt?” Teeth clenched, he finally glances down at the stump. 

The scales are thicker, thicker then he’s ever seen them anywhere on his body, almost as defined as Dojhan’s. They’re an unhappy, flushed raw color where they’re swelling around the stitches Ray’s supposed to be removing. 

“Never been hurt like this before.” He grunts in response. Ray mulls that over for a second. He wonders what inane thing she’ll come up with this time and half wants to yank away from her touch. He’s not half bad with a medical kit himself, he could probably take care of this on his own the slow way. 

But instead Ray just says, “Tell me if anything hurts.” And starts trimming away the black thread. When she checks the bandages on his chest as well they find a similar line of rough thick scales. 

***

He notices after a few more months of traveling with the party that the scales don’t go back to the way they were before. 

The ones around the stump of his left arm are still thick and rigid, a protective insulation against the potential discomfort of his mechanical prosthetic when he manages to procure one. As are the ones tracing the wound left by Gadreel’s axe. But he starts to notice the scales growing thicker in other places. Along his other arm, down the front of his chest and thighs, spider webbing out from the slash the Crimson Sign left across the hollow of his throat. The more they fight, the more his magic grows, the more scales he feels on his skin. They’re still invisible save for the pink tinged ones that line his scars, but Waylan can’t help but note the changes. 

The scales are for protection and the gods know he could use as much as he can get traveling with this lot. And when he leaves them, leaves Gadreel, only a few days after the winter solstice to travel to one of the most isolated and dangerous places in the world, he's grateful to carry that protection on his skin.

***

He tells Corzaren. 

They’re in the ruined castle, and after weeks he’s finally persuaded the undead creature to remove his armor. Seeing what two hundred years of decay has done to the knight is strange, but in a different way than he’d expected it to be. Waylan had known that Corzaren would be nightmarish. But the skeleton in front of him with red coal bright pinpricks of light burning in its eye sockets isn’t frightening really. Though he wonders if he’d feel differently if he didn’t know Corzaren as well as he does. 

“Can I?” He raises his flesh hand. 

“Of course.” Corzaren leans forward, still far taller than him even without his thick armored boots and helmet, and lets Waylan carefully cup his fingers over the bones of his face. It is strange to see the mandible part and hear the words slip out with no assistance from lips or tongue. The bones are rough under his fingers and the heavy thrum of necrotic energy that keeps the knight’s soul bound and animating his corpse makes Waylan’s hand start to go cold and numb after a few moments. 

“Can you feel this?” He asks, drops his fingers down to the creature’s neck so he can carefully touch the interlocking pieces of his spine. 

“Vaguely. I mostly note the pressure. I imagine I feel your touch as much as you can feel this.” He reaches out and runs his fingers along the metal arm. And the magic and machinery that keep the prosthetic going does transmit some of that sensation to him. Mainly a whisper of pressure, and a slight twinge that he suspects is the arm’s magic reacting to Corzaren’s necrotic energies. But no registration of texture or temperature. 

“Do you want me to stop?” 

“I am content being as close to you as I am able.” That makes his heart do a funny thing behind his ribs so Waylan just settles for tracing careful fingers along the thin bones of Corzaren’s instead. They feel brittle, like even he could break them without much effort, but when he does press a little more roughly he finds them solid as steel under his hand. Corzaren doesn’t even acknowledge the attempt, and to be honest Waylan wouldn’t have even tried if he thought for a second he’d actually do the other man harm. 

When Corzaren’s touch moves from his prosthetic to his cheek he doesn’t say anything, just leans in to the touch slightly as he continues his inspection of the knight’s skeleton. There’s no flesh left on him, and Waylan’s a little grateful for that. He thinks this would be a lot more unpleasant if Cor looked like some of the bodies mouldering away on the lawn. Instead the old bones are clean, and scarred. A deep gouge in his rib here, a nick along his vertebrae there, and notably a crack, long and thin a few centimeters from his sternum on the left side of his ribcage. When Way’s fingers hesitate there Corzaren says, 

“When Westly finished the ritual he asked me to fall on his blade. He was too far gone to sever his own soul from his body, but if I was willing then he could sever mine. Spare me the fate that was coming for everyone in the castle.” 

“And avenge him and his mother?” 

“No, Westly was a kind man, I don’t think revenge would have ever crossed his mind.” 

Waylan doesn’t say anything when Crozaren’s fingers drop to his throat. He’s not wearing his necklace, and the pale pink scar smiles along his throat. “Same person who did almost all the rest of it.” Is all he offers in explanation. He hasn’t told Corzaren about the Sign yet. He’ll get around to it eventually. He doesn’t flinch as the thin bones run over the scar, but they make a loud rough sound in the quiet room despite the soft touch. The undead creature pauses and then does it again, as if he doesn’t know quite what to make of the discordant and unfamiliar sound. “I grow scales over my deepest scars.” 

“Were you anyone else I would think that was a metaphor.” 

“Good thing I’m not then.”

***

Terran knows he has scales after the first five minutes they speak. 

Which is fair, he supposes, considering the man is a real dragon and an old one at that. He’s been around long enough to have seen other sorcerers. 

(“Do you have any kids?” He asked one day when the thought crossed his mind. 

“Absolutely not.” The other had replied with such an air of disgust Waylan couldn’t be sure it wasn’t intentionally exaggerated as a joke. “I have far more important things to do than contend with offspring or run around spreading my seed like a base animal, unlike some.”) 

Waylan doesn’t realize how nice it is not to have to explain himself until he suddenly doesn’t have to. When they start sleeping together and Terran’s hands find the patch of scales running along his sternum, Waylan's mouth automatically opens to speak. But Terran doesn’t hesitate, just scrapes the whisper of claws between the interlocking pattern before continuing on. He doesn’t even blink. And the thing is Waylan never thought he was particularly self-conscious about the patches, but having them treated as if they are no more interesting than any other piece of skin loosens a coil of tension that he hadn’t even realized was taut in him. Terran neither pays them special attention nor ignores them. And that bland acceptance is something Waylan didn’t even know he wanted. 

Over the course of the next few months that treatment has Waylan not thinking about them as if they’re anything strange or special either. It’s just his skin. Not his skin and the patches of scales. It’s all just him, and it’s no more worth acknowledgement than his eyelashes or fingernails. 

So maybe that’s why he’s so confused when Terran starts muttering, voice low and angry, one rare sunny afternoon as they’re laying tangled in a pile of furs together. He feels the dragon’s fingers on his spine, pressing and pulling at his skin, it’s not painful, but the skin is still tight. The draconic letters he’d had Terran carve into his skin finished healing a few weeks ago, but it’s still tender. 

“What’s got your tail in a twist?” He mumbles into the cradle of his flesh arm, reaching back with the metal one to push Terran’s probing fingers away. “If you wrote it wrong I’m going to kill you.” 

“Oh no pet, it’s worse than branding you incorrectly.” He hisses, smacking Waylan’s hand away in response and putting his fingers back on his skin. “You’re marked correctly, and I’m afraid I’m debating the merits of killing you.” 

A few months ago a statement like that would have actually frightened him. Now, “If you’re going to break up with me at least wait until Corzaren comes back so he can sooth my heartbreak.” 

Terran swats him on the ass. “I’m being quite serious, brat.” 

“Sure, why are you dumping me?” 

“Because your scales are coming in.” Terran half snarls. 

And that does give him pause. “My scales? You’ve already seen my scales.” 

“Not these,” to accentuate his point he grinds his thumbs along the inner curve of his shoulder blades. Waylan makes a surprised sound in the back of his throat, the scales there must have gotten more pronounced because Terran puts a fair amount of pressure when he touches them and they ache as he draws his hand back. 

“Ow.” 

“Suck it up I have bigger problems.” 

“You know what, you’re a jackass, I’m dumping you.” He makes precisely no move to extract himself from the furs and go find his scattered clothes. 

“Your wing plates are starting to grow.” Terran finally says. 

“What?” 

“They serve as a place for you to focus your magic and manifest your wings once you’re able to sustain that kind of power.” Waylan considers this for a moment. He knew that sorcerers like him could eventually learn how to create wings and fly, he didn’t know there would be a physical change to accompany the magical one. 

“Okay, so why are you mad?” 

“Because your skin is pink.” 

“Yes. Sorry I can’t be as sallow and pale as you.” 

Terran pinches the back of his neck this time and Way yelps. “You are my blood,” he hisses in draconic. “And we do not come in pink.” 

Ah. So that's it. “So you’re saying you won’t love me anymore if we clash colors?” 

“I should have known from your affinity with fire.” He laments. “But with your eyes and hair I had hoped. A metallic would be better than--” He lets out a string of curses, mostly in draconic, but Waylan thinks he hears the rough incomprehensible sounds of abyssal thrown in as well. 

“Would you rather I be green?” Like you. 

“That was never a possibility, pet,” Terran finally says, huffing out a sigh before pressing a kiss to the back of his neck. “You’re far too terrible at manipulation and subterfuge for starters.” He doesn’t bother taking it as an insult. “But really? Couldn’t you have been gold? Brass even?” 

“I can’t control my blood.” 

“Have you tried?” They’re quiet for a few minutes. And eventually Terran’s hands return to his shoulder blades and he runs his fingers over the scales again and again. 

“When do you think I’ll be able to fly?” Waylan finally asks. 

“I’m not sure, it’ll depend on how quickly you develop your gifts. But I think you’ll enjoy it.” He makes a soft sound of agreement in the back of his throat. “It will be torture to fly that slowly, but when you can perhaps I can teach you a thing or two.” 

“You’re going to still want to be seen with me if I am red?” 

“I suppose, and if I change my mind swatting you out of the sky will be a very efficient way of solving that problem.” Waylan huffs, but doesn’t say anything. After all, Terran doesn’t stop pressing soft reverent touches to the forming wing plates. 

He’s twenty-one when he learns he’s going to have true scales and the wings to match. And he’s greatly looking forward to showing them off. 

[zenonaa]

Fandom: Dangan Ronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc, Dangan Ronpa - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Fukawa Touko/Togami Byakuya Characters: Fukawa Touko, Togami Byakuya Additional Tags: plus the rest of the cast post chapter 3, togafukaweek2020 Series: Part 1 of TogaFuka Week 2020

Comments: Day 1 for TogaFuka Week! I tried to hit both prompts with this (Pining and Enclosed Spaces). Enjoy! :-)

***

‘Stir-crazy’ is an informal term referring to when a person becomes restless or distraught due to prolonged confinement or routine. For example, to use the term in a sentence, ‘being trapped in Hope’s Peak made several students go stir-crazy’.

Alternatively, ‘Celes went stir-crazy because she couldn’t stand having the same routine every day, so she orchestrated the murders of two of her classmates’.

And, for a final example, ‘Byakuya was absolutely not going stir-crazy, but that would explain some thoughts he began to have’.

After the third trial, the fourth floor of the school opened up, which one would have thought would help. Maybe not the classrooms, not without actual lessons going on, but the chemistry lab proved a little more interesting, offering vitamins to make one healthy and chemicals to make one dead. Potted flowers sat on desks in the faculty room where computers used to be - Monobear once quipped ‘plants are way better examples of how to grow up than computers’ - and the music room housed a stage, a piano and other instruments Byakuya knew how to play.

Makoto even found a strange photograph of three of their deceased friends messing about with a camera. Yet, those pieces of excitement didn’t stop the strange, intrusive thoughts scratching at the walls of Byakuya’s mind.

In the faculty room, Byakuya rubbed a silky petal of a sunflower between his thumb and forefinger, a shadow carved into his brow in thought. The flowers seemed out of place. No, they were out of place, and not just because of their location. No matter how many times he came here, they didn’t blend into their grey surroundings. They stood out. Seemed perky. Bright. Healthy.

Did they regularly get exposed to sunlight...?

He released the petal. Within seconds, a chill pattered down his neck. When he turned around, a solitary figure in the doorway confronted his view. His lips pursed.

“Fukawa,” he acknowledged in monotone.

By now, he had become accustomed to her following him like his shadow, to the point where he thought he could sense her whenever she lurked nearby. Touko jolted and stood to attention. The blank look in her eyes cleared, an invisible hand smearing away the condensation in her clouded gaze.

“Y-Yes, Byakuya-sama?” she said, licking her lips and prompting him to grimace. She had been drooling.

His mouth remained condensed as he watched Touko’s tongue sweep over her lips, lips that caressed each other, and when she gulped, sheening saliva, a weight in his gut was knocked out of place, like the lights in a dark room suddenly flicked on.

When they first became acquainted with each other, he nearly always sent Touko on her way after exchanging only a few sentences, but more recently, Byakuya permitted Touko to be in his presence for greater lengths of time, so long as she was on standby in case he wanted something, or at least didn’t disturb him too much. They even had sane conversations sometimes. Interesting ones, in fact. Byakuya even let her feed him candy once at his bedside while he read.

However, that had been then, and even more recently than that, just her existence crept onto his nerves. Inevitable, what with them all having to spend so much time around each other. Inevitable, what with her doing things like this in front of him.

Like now, that stupid grin of hers had returned to her face, and he had to clench his fists to distract heat away from his face. He adjusted his glasses. Stuck up his chin. Pushed his shoulders back.

“Instead of loitering, why don’t you make yourself useful?” he asked her in an authoritative tone. She stirred.

“Use... ful?” repeated Touko, still partly submerged in whatever thoughts had her entranced.

“Yes, the word, not a random noise that sounds like it,” he said. He placed one hand on his hip and slightly jutted out his hips to that side. “There might be something lying around the school that could prove beneficial to me. Who knows, maybe you’ll prove yourself useful.”

For many, his remark would have got under the recipient’s skin, or pierced them in the eye and caused it to twitch, but Touko nodded and clasped her hands together. Her twitching didn’t stem from annoyance. Something quite the opposite.

“Of course!” she said, and her lips stretched out to create a nauseating-sized crescent. She cupped her cheeks with both hands. “I won’t disappoint you. I’ll prove I’m not a piece of coal, but a diamond in the rough. I’ll-”

As she spoke, her lips sprung from one extreme to another, from wide like the wingspan of a bird of prey to puckered together like a rose and back again, and Byakuya felt motion sick just watching her. Like he was losing his balance, like the ground would slip from underneath him and he might lean forward, fall into her, land his hands on her shoulders, land his chest against hers and land his mouth on her chapped pink petals of lips, even though he was standing very, very still.

Suddenly, one of his feet lurched forward, but he stopped himself from overbalancing. Something akin to pain shot up that leg to his chest. He tore his eyes off her writhing mouth and glared. Apparently, she hadn’t noticed the flicker in his demeanour, continuing to gush at him.

“Today, preferably!” he demanded, with a slight crack halfway through that he hoped she wouldn’t notice.

Touko squawked, and after a bow, she sped out of the room. Byakuya strode over to the door. He could no longer see her, and as he shut it, he let out a breath he hadn’t realised he had been holding.

Honestly, that girl was a pest. Creeping on his nerves like that...

The next time he saw Touko in the cafeteria at dinnertime. For a while, he had avoided joining the other students to eat, and though he ate with them more regularly now, he didn’t do so because he felt any sense of camaraderie with them, but so he could check on the remaining competition.

Sakura wasn’t in the cafeteria, to his approval. Monobear had recently outed her as his mole, and Byakuya had no interest in spending time around her. Whenever he was outside of his room, he had to keep checking the map on his Electronic Student ID Card to make sure she wasn’t too close by.

Aoi, Sakura’s close friend, was in the cafeteria though, and when Byakuya entered, she glared but said nothing. He needed to monitor her too, someone so easily swayed by emotion, but with the others present, she couldn’t do anything he needed to worry about. Makoto and Kyouko offered glances at him that he rebuffed, Yasuhiro chirped his name, which he ignored, and the gloomy cloud over Touko’s face parted as her smile beamed through.

Byakuya didn’t greet any of them, obtaining his dinner from the kitchen and walking straight back into the cafeteria where he seated himself at a neighbouring table to the others.

“Togami-chi!” Yasuhiro called out, even though they weren’t that far apart. “Back me up here.”

When Byakuya just continued to frown, Makoto spoke instead, raising a crooked finger.

“Hagakure-kun, I don’t think your idea will work. You’re more likely to harm yourself than corrode through anything.”

“Yeah,” went Aoi, her brows knitted together. “Why would Monobear leave us chemicals that can help us escape?”

“Because he doesn’t know the makeup of certain corrosives,” replied Yasuhiro, flapping his hand. “The mastermind probably thinks it’s not possible, ‘right? But if we get the right chemicals, we can melt through the plates covering the windows and escape.”

Touko glowered. “If you really believed that, why haven’t you already done it?”

Byakuya’s attention drifted over to Touko. Her eyes were narrowed, but he could still catch their colour - grey, tinged with violet. As she gestured with her hands, her head bobbed about, and light bounced off the lenses of her glasses, sometimes hiding her eyes from view for a moment. For such a mopey girl, she sure could flaunt a range of expressions in such a small amount of time. Then there were the times she didn’t mope. When she was with Byakuya. Those smiles. Those blushes. Those laughs, like nails down a chalkboard.

“Anyway, I looked at the contents myself,” said Touko. She wrinkled her nose. “There are supplements and poisons, none that can damage thick sheets of metal. Of course, you’re entitled to try...”

“Aw, thanks, Fukawa-chi!” said Yasuhiro brightly. Aoi growled, but it sounded a lot like a whine.

“Don’t thank her!” Aoi scolded. She angled herself toward Touko, looking annoyed. “As usual, Fukawa-chan, you’re being a big downer. At least Hagakure’s trying to help.”

Yasuhiro’s grin wavered. He hesitated. “... Um... Am I supposed to thank you, Asahina-chi?”

Touko snorted.

“Thank you?” Touko repeated with scorn.

“Wait, you’re thanking me now? Okay, I’m officially confused,” mumbled Yasuhiro, scratching his head.

“Hagakure wants praise for having this idea but doesn’t have the balls to try it,” she explained. She rolled her eyes and shifted her weight on her chair. “In fact, could it be he’s discussing it here where there are surveillance cameras because he desperately wants Monobear to overhear and stop it? Then he can think to himself, ‘my idea would have worked’ and no one would be able to dispute it.”

Everyone considered what she suggested. Touko finished up her rant by shooting a chilly look at Yasuhiro, who cowered.

Kyouko inclined her head, resting her chin in her hand. “I’ve also browsed the stock in the chemistry lab and though I’m not a scientist, I don’t think there is anything that can help us there. If anything, Monobear would want us to try for its own amusement.”

Up to this point, Byakuya had stayed out of the conversation, but now he turned his gaze to Kyouko.

“You say that, but none of us know what you are,” he said. No one knew her title. For all they knew, she could have been another mole. Kyouko glanced at him and gave a vague shrug.

After that, the conversation seemed to draw to a close. Yasuhiro pouted and resumed eating, deflated. The rest of the group followed suit. Touko huffed, and Byakuya’s eyes drifted back over to her again. She picked up her chopsticks but rather than pick at any of the rice, she twitched them in her grip, staring into space. Byakuya, holding his own chopsticks, pinched a tofu block, but he didn’t eat it, hovering it in front of his mouth while his other hand propped up his cheek. Instead of eating it, he surveyed Touko’s features. Rather than investigate what she might have been looking at for himself, he tried to figure out what she was stewing over by looking at her.

Not out of concern, of course. Curiosity. And he had a good reason for it. When he first met Touko, he dismissed her as a stuttering high school girl with a persecution complex, who wrote frivolous romance novels that many people lapped up. But there was more to her. She had an alter called Genocider Syo, who murdered various men without getting caught, but even then there was more. Much more. Despite her strange ramblings, Touko was intelligent and could even be insightful, and he had to admit she had to have talent - her novels could and did make society fall in love with fishermen, for one thing. Not everyone could create a trend like that with written words.

“Togami-chi?” said Yasuhiro.

Touko picked up a piece of tofu with her chopsticks, popped it between her lips, and returned her chopsticks to her bowl. Today, dinner was mapo tofu, a simple dish to make that could be served in one bowl. She chewed, unfocused. The sight wasn’t a pleasant one - he reasoned that was why his stomach knotted the more he studied Touko. Her lips rubbed together, her cheeks bulged and caved in at intervals, and she didn’t always close her mouth completely.

“Togami-kun?” said Makoto.

It was a disgusting sight. Disgusting, from her mole to her fluttering lashes around her grey eyes, to the grain of rice abandoned next to her lips, to -

“Togami-kun?” said Makoto again, and this time, Byakuya tensed. He looked around.

Everyone else in the cafeteria stared at him, includingTouko.

“What?” said Byakuya. 

Yasuhiro draped his hand across the back of his neck.

“I think you zoned out there,” remarked Yasuhiro with a lop-sided smile as he scratched at his neck. “We were asking if you’ve been through the chemistry lab yet.”

“Is something on your mind?” Kyouko chimed in, flashing a smirk.

Heat rose to Byakuya’s face. He gritted his teeth, told them he was trying to tune out their idiocy, and resumed his dinner, contributing no more to any conversation.

Though Byakuya had Sakura and to a lesser extent Aoi to be aware of, if he hid in his room all the time, they would think they scared him and consider him an easy target. If he showed them he wasn’t afraid, then they would be wary that he was prepared for an attack.

In theory.

Byakuya planned to spend the rest of the evening in the library, but first, he took a cold shower to rejuvenate himself after getting so distracted during dinner. When he arrived at the library, he saw Touko at one of the desks. Both were avid readers, so her presence didn’t surprise him, but he paused for a few seconds.

She seemed not to have noticed him, focused on the notebook she was writing fervently in. He shut the door quietly behind himself and walked over to a bookcase, careful of his footfalls, and soon found the book he had started on his last visit, the back half of the dust jacket tucked between the pages to mark where he had last read up to. Taking it off the shelf, he seated himself at a different table where Touko lay just outside his field of vision.

However, even though he positioned himself to hide her from his view, that didn’t mean he couldn’t hear her.

One would think Touko of all people would know how to behave in a library, but she mumbled unintelligibly under her breath. Her mutterings would warble, in pitch, or volume, or both, grating like the squeak of fingers down a window. He tried to concentrate on the shallow detective novel in his possession, but his mind kept resurfacing. Peppered in were coughs, and as time wore on, each noise throbbed in the back of his head. Sometimes, she sniffed or gulped and he could visualise her lips twisting, see her stubby-nailed hand nudging up her glasses and her face scrunching up for seconds at a time.

At one point, she panted, and his mind conjured an image of Touko, pink and sweaty, licking her lips before leaning over the desk toward him, their eyes shutting slowly...

Byakuya set down his book. With his shoulders slightly slouched forward, he wiped the heel of his palm up his forehead, trying to scrape off the mental image manifesting in his mind. Touko released a whine, low, bubbling. Bubbling in her throat, bubbling in his chest. The noise coiled around him. Gripped his neck and tightened, and then he realised his thighs were clenched together. Had been. Still were.

He soared to his feet. His chair rasped and fell backward. She shrieked and popped into view.

“B-Byakuya-sama!” she said, a pen clasped tightly in her fist. Fear dissolved into elation. “I t-thought I smelled you...!”

“You obviously knew I was here,” he snapped. “That’s why you were making those disgusting noises.”

She clapped her hands over her mouth. Whacked herself in the face with her pen by doing so. “I-If I’d known you were here, I would have controlled myself!”

Byakuya jutted out his chin. The back of his eyes burned.

“You knew what you were doing the whole time. I’m telling you, you won’t get to me so... so just give up!” he snarled.

And with that, he trounced out of the library. Trying to concentrate in such a dusty, dim environment was hard enough without her spluttering and snivelling too. Those noises disgusted him. Still did. As they should.

As he approached his room, he slowed down. Almost stopped halfway down the last corridor.

Touko’s noises hadn’t always provoked such vivid imagery.

For the next few days, Byakuya did his best to avoid her, but that proved difficult with everyone forced to share the same facility, the same space. The only places he could be sure to avoid her were in his dorm and in the male changing room, but he could only spend so long sitting on his bed or a wooden bench in a tiled room. Therefore, every day, they both bumped into each other in the same dining room, where she contorted her face and slurped on her own saliva, they met in the same classrooms where she cooed his name and drooled, and they sat in the same library, where she licked her lips and giggled to herself. Him getting distracted by her was bad enough, but the situation worsened when she realised he was watching her. When that happened, she would set her eyes on him and grin widely and babble and squeeze her hands together.

One night, he went to the sauna to unwind after finishing a book in his room, but when he passed through the noren and emerged into the locker room, feeling sure he would be alone here, he halted and lost all thought.

Across the room stood Touko, her hair freed from her practical braids, now a dark, shimmering sheet hugging her skinny frame.  

Her hair, right now, was not straw-like, not wild or tamed into braids, but smooth and unrestrained. He could run his fingers through them with ease. Curl a lock around his finger, if he wanted.

The room was properly lit, and he stiffened as he noticed Touko was in just a towel. Touko lacked her glasses and seemed to squint as she fiddled with the top of the towel that covered her chest. He stared, frozen, silent. Blank.

She lifted her head a smidgen, though she still didn’t appear to have perceived him despite her previous boasts about her sense of smell, and the movement, to his horror, made her towel shift. Drop slightly. Thankfully, not enough to show anything.

Byakuya swallowed. Correction. All this was mostly to his horror. To a certain part of his body, it seemed to be to the opposite of that. Horror.

He backed out. All throughout this, she didn’t indicate that she had detected him, and he wanted to keep it that way. On his way back to his room, striding as fast as he could without running, he didn’t cross paths with anyone, and he closed the door behind himself as soon as he got inside.

At least now he could be by himself. Be somewhere she couldn’t get to. Byakuya took his glasses off and lay down on the bed, facing upward, not bothering to change out of his uniform. He shut his eyes. His chest heaved like the sea before a storm.

Here, in the dark, alone, he could rid himself of Touko. Touko... with her long, mahogany hair, styled in twin braids that together with her owl-eye glasses and dark purple sailor uniform, was entirely fitting for someone enrolled at the school with the title of Super High School Level Literary Girl. Not only that, but she smelled like an old, damp book too, now that he was thinking about it. He had found her stench putrid at first, and his insistence that she washed herself was not unjustified, but, he thought, he had since become used to her aroma, a consequence of them being in close quarters for so long. One had to adapt to survive.

So while before he spurned her smell, though it still made him wince, he could stand it. Even if it was still just as disgusting, musty...!

Byakuya paused. Her trip to the sauna would have stripped that smell from Touko’s body, and as he lay in bed, he thought about her standing in the locker room, clad only in a... a towel. Even now, he could see her, with her furrowed brow and trembling lips. Could see her hair cascade forward, pile either side of him. See her face light up as her gaze fell on him, as she drank in his presence. He reached up but his hands phased through where she was, because she wasn’t there. The apparition of her relaxed and smirked, straddling him, and stooped her head.

The towel slipped. Byakuya flinched.

Too much. He imagined her back in her uniform. Even slapped on her braids. And yet, that didn’t deter her. Him. She smiled coyly, drawing a circle on his chest. Smiled that disgusting smile of hers, that oozed saliva, and laughed a low and throaty laugh.

Byakuya swallowed. Shivered. She glided her hand lower.

With a sigh, he pushed the back of his head deeper into his pillow, then froze. The saliva from Touko’s ghost receded from his face and she disappeared from over him. Byakuya jerked his hand away from his crotch. Revulsion dug its claws into the back of his throat. He stumbled out of bed and went to the adjoined bathroom where he splashed water on his face.

This couldn’t go on. Something had to be done. Byakuya couldn’t let himself fall victim to any more of her ploys.

Even after he gulped in air and steadied himself, grasping the edge of the sink, his heart still hammered away. And because he was locked up inside this place, he couldn’t go out for fresh air or even open a window.

He tried the corridor, but it felt almost as oppressive as his room.

Everyone would probably be in their rooms now. Byakuya decided to prepare himself a cup of tea. That would at least give him something to focus on, if only temporarily. The cafeteria was shut, but he knew there were tea bags in the storage room. His footsteps echoed a bit, but he didn’t falter. Kept his eyes forward.

When he arrived outside of the storage room, he squared his shoulders, trying to flake off the tension in his body, and opened the door.

Any hopes of distracting himself were quashed when his gaze fell on Touko.

Fortunately, she was fully dressed in her sailor uniform.

She rose sharply out of her crouched form and turned toward the door, eyes wide. Frightened. Relief flooded through her features as she realised who had made the door creak.

“Byakuya-sama?” she said, some surprise still lingering on her face. Apparently, she wasn’t completely put at ease.

Of all the spots she could have stood in, she had stationed herself at the shelving unit where he recalled there to be boxes of rose hip tea bags. His eyes stayed on her as he sauntered over. Touko didn’t retreat, dodge to the side or cower, watching him just as closely, even as he stopped in front of her. She tipped back her head to fit his face in her vision. Had the audacity to blush.

“It’s late, isn’t it?” she said, loosening up enough for a smirk. “Everyone else will be asleep... unaware of what transpires here...”

He breathed in. Her usual smell of books was gone. Of course it was. Touko had been at the public bath. In its place, he picked up a faint scent of lilac, mixed with a creamy, vanilla and almond-like fragrance.

Now, in theory this should have been an improvement. People preferred a fresh, floral smell to an old, worn book left out on a rainy day. Yet, when her new smell wafted up his nose, it felt acidic. Wrong.

“Are you okay, Byakuya-sama?” she asked, losing the smirk. She kneaded her fingers. “Y-Your face... You look unwell...! Do I need to nurse you?”

The double entendre must have been intended because her lips squirmed with pleasure, curling up at the ends. Byakuya’s face tensed. Touko always had some quip or remark ready for him that often left him at a loss for words. Also, she was in no position to comment on his face when she had hers, with wide, bulging eyes, chapped lips and a twitching nose. She even had the nerve to chuckle and continue twiddling her fingers.

“What about your face?” he sneered. “Your wide, bulging eyes... chapped lips... and twitching nose.”

That knocked her grin off. Concern troubled her features now.

“S-Should I get plastic surgery?” she asked, fidgeting more.

“It’s not just your face, it’s your personality too.” Byakuya raised his voice slightly. “You think you’re clever, trying to seduce me. And stop playing with your fingers like that!”

He grabbed her wrists. Touko jumped. The skin under her wide eyes was stained the colour of milk tea, shadows that stood out on her pale face. His hold on her arms slackened, but she didn’t even attempt to shake him off. A shred of teeth peeked out between her lips, and that familiar sensation of nausea rolled in the pit of his stomach. Fogged his head. Made his nerves vibrate with electricity.

She was disgusting. Vile. Sickening, and absolutely irresistible.

Acting on impulse, he leaned in.

Byakuya led with his tongue and slipped it into her mouth, and it was perhaps luck that she didn’t bite down in surprise. Touko gasped. The inside of her mouth tasted sour: her tongue, her teeth and her hot breath, yet though he shuddered, he didn’t withdraw. She didn’t shy away either despite the painfully amateur kiss, rooted in place.

Their glasses unceremoniously clacked together and remained askew afterwards. He wrapped an arm around her, pulling her closer and knocking their glasses even more out of place. From the onset of the kiss, his skin crawled at how bits of plaque fell loose from her teeth, how already too much saliva crashed together in their mouths and how everything was warm and moist, but rather than deter him, he melted into her. She hugged him back, breathing noisily. For a third time, their glasses got in the way, but this time, Byakuya had enough sense to remove his glasses, then hers, placing them on a shelf while maintaining the kiss, and he eagerly returned his hands to her body.

Touko adjusted her angle. Her nose bumped against his but they took it in stride. Panting, she shifted more, pulling back a little to give them a second to breathe. His tongue receded from her mouth.

A second was all that both allowed.

Their lips reunited within moments, slobbering over each other. Revolting. Incredible. He could only taste saliva. A lot of it. As they kissed harder, they grew clumsy, and their lips fell in and out of place. At one point, some of her hair slipped between them. To remove it, he licked and scratched lightly at her face with his hand, all while continuing to kiss her, and once he could no longer feel it tangling on his tongue, he pushed his lips more firmly into hers.

Touko’s lips stayed shut, and his tongue remained in his mouth. This way seemed to work better, without the tongue. Both of them groaned, clinging to the other. He opened his eyes briefly, but he couldn’t see anything in particular, just her face within a haze, so he shut them again. Besides, he didn’t need to use his eyes for this. His eyes being closed didn’t prevent him from feeling her hands slither up and cup his cheeks. Didn’t stop him from rolling his lips over hers.

They stood still, barely moving, just breathing, existing, with Touko’s back pressing against the shelving unit behind her, but after a while, the buildup of saliva became too much and he withdrew. He rather ungraciously released her and swallowed without thinking, cringing immediately at all the saliva.

Opposite him, Touko placed her fingers lightly against her lips.

“What...?” she mumbled, dazed.

Byakuya’s breaths racked through his body, and he wanted to say that he had slipped and fallen for her. Into her. Fallen into her.

He really needed to get some sleep.

“There. Are you satisfied now?” he asked curtly, and he grabbed his glasses off the shelf. Then he seized a box of tea bags. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it?”

His footfalls barked as he stomped away. The door creaked as he opened it.

“W-Well...” Touko went, and he made the mistake of hesitating. “If... I wanted to just kiss you... I’d have asked, got rejected and picked up the pieces… or j-just stayed in my room and imagined it. B-But I just want to be with you... really... even if we don’t kiss...”

Byakuya shuddered. She just had to go say something gross like that.

“Shut up,” he said, and he left.

He kept a kettle in his room and after half a cup of tea, he lay on his bed again, staring at the ceiling in thought. After getting all of that out of the way, he had thought he would be satisfied. That maybe the uneasy feelings in him would subside.

But after a sleepless night, he realised his feelings had just got worse.

[lucidpantone]

I know this is a controversial question so i would totally understand if you choose not want to answer, but im curious enough to ask anyway. Can you rank your fav remakes in order? Maybe add a comment about what you most appreciate about each remake (to soften the blow of any sensitive readers). Ofc if you couldnt connect with a remake you might wanna totally leave it out of the ranking...

Disclaimer this is gonna be long asf. So I like all the remakes so this is gonna be hard because of that. I don’t like one remake in its entirety I can find one season in each remake I wasn’t super stoked about and if you’re skamfr I can find 3 seasons hahah. So I am actually gonna do this by fav original 1-4 seasons and original seasons (OG excluded).

Season 1: Eva Skam Espana (Isa SkamNL is a super close 2nd)

I am gonna be frank my least fav season is Eva’s season in the original seasons. I don't dislike the plot its more like I just find the other plots of the other seasons way more interesting. However if I am gonna pick my fav adaptation its gonna be Eva from Espana. Mainly because some remakes take their jonas to far and they don’t know how to balance being inexperienced and immature with just being a plain dick (am looking at you wtfock and Austin). I hate when remakes take it to far and make the couple completely irredeemable. Also Jorge is just the best man. He tries so hard for Eva he tries to make things right and its just timing, immaturity on both parts. Also I love that above all Eva and Jorge are friends. Alongside with Lucas they are just like family and they can push aside their personal issues to be their for one another and I just think thats such a beautiful quality in Jorge and Eva.They both have good souls and I am happy they ended up together but I also feel like if they didn't they would be genuinely be happy for the other if they found someone else and fell in love and thats why I love them so much.

Season 2: Zoe Wtfock (but Nora Skam Espana is a close 2nd)

Here is what I love about Zoe’s season is that we see the pov of not just how Zoe was changing because she was opening herself to love but also how much Senne was changing as well and trying to address some issues he had been ignoring because he wanted to be a better man for Zoenne. For me Zoenne and Norandro are so amazing for this reason. We not only saw the girl processing how love was effecting her development but we got to experience Senne and Alejandro trying to become better men and really transitioning from boyhood to manhood via this self assessment period of themselves. I adore these two couples for this because I am so heavily invested in both the outcome of the girl and the guy. I guess with love stories there is that saying there is two sides to a story and then there is the truth and I feel like the noorhelm storyline has always been about hard truths. About young women challenging their perspectives on feminism, about young women acknowledging when they have been a victim of a crime/emotional abuse and not blaming themselves for it but knowing that they did nothing wrong and were undeserving of the act that took place. Also s2 plays on the concepts of manhood too. How approaching situations through the lens of rage and violence can develop into harmful and even predatory tendencies. Overall these two remakes stand out to me because they really speak to the lesson of how does one define themself in the whirlwind of love and what boundaries do you need to set so you don’t lose yourself in the process. Season 3: IT’S SO HARD PICKING JUST ONE!! (Am going to base this selection entirely off my fav Isak and their narrative arc versus the evak pairing because ultimately this season is about the Isak character not Isak & Even) Matteo Druck

Let me tell you no other Skam character has haunted me as much as Matteo. I think with Matteo his story was just so raw and unfiltered. Here was this boy he was so lonely, isolated, lost and really just didn’t think he was worthy of much. Matteo was approaching life expecting the bare minimum because he in many ways didn’t think he was deserving of much more. Matteo hid himself so deeply in what I refer to as the wall paper of life. Trying to blend in and stay invisible even tho this way of thinking was seriously effecting his mental health. I don't think he realized how far from shore he was before David slammed into his life and drag him out of the grip of the ocean’s current. Matteo was on the verge of drowning he just didn’t know it. And then came David and he just loved Matteo as is and I think a big reason for that is because no one had ever told either boy that they were perfect just as they were until they said it to one another. Both boys were going through life just accepting the bare minimum one because of societal barricades around gender and the other societal stigma concerning asking for help when suffering from mental health issues. In the end they found one another and said fuck it and fuck society as long as we have one another then we’re gonna get through this. However... having said that davenzi is not my fav evak pairing but Matteo is my fav standalone Isak. The prize for fav evak tho would go to Sobbe because I literally can’t picture two more in love people. Man the day Sobbe met I feel like inertia collapsed in on itself in their respective worlds. It really was the case that time stopped and that they were destined to find one another. They are so in love it just radiates off them. Also random note my fav Even is Joana. Hence why choosing an s3 is so hard because I like different components of s3 seasons.

Season 4: Sana Skam Italia

(this is a copy/paste my original why I love Italia s4 rant)

Say what you want about the casting(this is a fair argument) but I am really happy that SKAMIT gave us a love story centered around two muslim individuals and their differing approaches and interpretations of Islam. I think for me its that we are always trying to dilute Sana’s season with this western need to educate non-muslims and though I appreciate that I also want to see a love story that’s purely about the journey of young muslims and the issues they experience themselves and not via a western glazing. The thing that stood out for me in SKAMIT is how many different perspective of how Islam is practiced came to the forefront. Sana’s journey to understand and come to defend queerness. Muslim men (Sana’s brother) being offended because she assumed he was homophobic. Laui being in a healthy relationship as a muslim queer man. Malik openly talking about Islam and his separation from it but still a believer in a greater power(and not because he wants to drink and party). For me this was what the Sana season was suppose to be about putting the muslim experience front and center and unapologetically so.

Original Season: Nora Druck

I mean what a fantastic take on building new and improved squads with more diversity in race, sexual preferences and perspectives. I will say that I also do like the new squad from Skamfr. Its nice to see newgens that am truly excited about getting to know. Like I need to know everything about Ava pronto she is bae. I do have one random surprise about my next fav original season which for me would be Arthur for Skamfr. Honestly if we would have gutted the cheating plot we would have had a really interesting season about a young adult’s life being rocked by disability and trying to find themselves in this new landscape. Similar to Nora in Druck with MI and also the long term effects of experiencing violence in the household in Skamfr but yea so far Druck has been the only one to get a sound original season out and they should be commended for that.

[darks-ink]

Absurdism Chapter 14

You ever discover that your half-ghost mentor was a complete disaster all along? also look i finally added first/previous/next chapter links hooray

Rating: Teen/K+ (a lil swearing, because teenagers, man) Warnings: - Genre: Family, Hurt/Comfort Additional Tags: Sibling Bonding, Family Bonding, Alternate Universe - Halfa Jazz AU, Jazz makes friends

[AO3] [FFN] [more Absurdism on Tumblr] First Chapter | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

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Chapter 14: Pirate Radio

“You’re the worst little sister in the history of little sisters,” Danny grumbled without heat. He moved, slumping further into the cushions of the couch.

Jazz snorted. “I can’t possibly be that bad.”

“No, you are.” He somehow buried himself even further. “I bet no one else has to worry about their little sister finding and befriending an alternate universe of themselves, the older sibling.”

“That’s just an inherent risk of being a Fenton, Danny,” Jazz pointed out, quirking an eyebrow at him even if he couldn’t see it. “You’ll have to blame our parents for that, not me.”

“Counter-argument. The befriending part is definitely a you thing.”

She blew a raspberry at him. “Like you wouldn’t have made friendly with an alternate universe version of me, given the chance.”

Danny hummed. “Not if she was as annoying as you.”

“Rude.” She reached over to swat at his shoulder. “I’m stronger than you, you know?”

He made a derisive noise.

“You suck,” she told him, sitting down properly again. “I’m leaving.”

Just as she shifted to the edge of the couch, however, their parents appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.

“Hey kids,” her dad boomed, pushing his way in first. “We have talk to you two.”

Jazz’ core whirred nervously. Uh oh. That didn’t sound good.

Her mom stepped in after Dad, holding… oh no, was that the Ghost Finder? Shoot, she didn’t realize that they had built another one.

“Jack,” Maddie said, softly, holding up the invention. He leaned over to look on the screen and frowned.

Danny, next to her, had pushed himself into a sitting position again. He nudged her, gently, in a rather sad attempt at comfort.

It helped, though.

“Huh.” Jack turned to frown at her and Danny, but he was clearly still looking at the Finder from his peripherals. “That’s strange.”

Maddie clicked her tongue, then nodded. She lowered the invention again, and looked at Jazz and Danny directly. “What we wanted to talk about, kids, were the events of a few days ago.”

“That weird ghost sickness slash contamination thing?” Danny asked, his confusion not sounding quite genuine enough. “Why? What about it?”

“It… opened our eyes, I suppose you could say.” Her mom moved, perching on the arm of the armchair in front of her and Danny. “For years, we believed that humans and ghosts were entirely separate entities. Even if a human could become a ghost, it was a binary process. You were either fully human, or fully ghost. Those two states couldn’t be blended, not in the least. Or so we thought.”

“But those kids at the school, they all had ghost-like powers because of their contamination,” Jack continued. “But they hadn’t gone through the entire process, hadn’t made the full transition to a ghost. Which made us realize… If they could be humans with ghost-like abilities, caused by some sort of ectoplasmic contamination… Anyone else could be, too.”

“And I don’t think anyone could deny the similarities between Phantom and Specter and our children,” Maddie finished off. “In hindsight, it was glaringly obvious. Only…”

Jazz huffed out a laugh. “But only one of us shows up on the scanner, huh?”

“It makes no sense!” Jack blurted out, waving a hand at the invention. “By that logic, I could imagine that Specter’s core is too young, not mature enough, to show up, assuming it gets muted by her… human form? But, no, it’s Danny who appears fully human! Only minor ecto-contamination.”

“Which is obviously the fault of him not wearing proper protection when in the lab, young man,” Maddie chided.

Danny made a face. “Everything in this house is contaminated anyway. What’s the point of protecting yourself in the lab if the kitchen is almost as bad? Never mind all the food.”

Jazz swatted at him. “Danny, can we please focus on the serious conversation?” She turned to their parents. “Look, it’s… complicated.”

“God, did he train you to use that as an answer or do you two just spend that much time together?” Danny complained, pushing her with his shoulder. To their parents, he said, “Your scanner is right, I’m no more ghostly than you two. Jazz has a core, but she’s more human than ghost, I think. She defaults back to human when she falls asleep, anyway.”

“It’s his go-to answer for everything,” she explained with a roll of her eyes. “But, yes. I’m half-ghost. I think that it’s a pretty even balance, but, well. While human—alive—is my standard state of being, my core never goes away entirely. It gets… what did you call it, muted? I guess that that’s a good word for it. It’s weaker in human form, which makes it harder to use my powers, but it’s not impossible. I’m always a little ghostly in human form, and a little human in ghost form.”

Maddie nodded, slowly, her brow creased in thought. “So then… who is Phantom? He looks…” She trailed off, looking at Danny.

“Yeah, it’s complicated.” Jazz bit her lip, looking between her three family members. The conversation seemed to be going alright, but… having someone with more experience with this present would be a help. A comfort, if nothing else. “I can go get him? He can probably explain it better than I can.”

Her parents frowned, but nodded their permission anyway. Jazz stood up, then hesitated.

“I, uh. Do you mind if I shift into my ghost form here, or should I leave first?”

They shared a look—more like a silent conversation—before Maddie licked her lips and said, carefully, “No, go ahead. It would be… good. To see, I mean.”

“Right.” Jazz nodded back, then tugged on her core, ignoring her racing heartbeat. The transformation washed over her in a brief flash of light, and she grinned at her parents, unsure. “Tah-dah?”

“Wow,” Jack breathed. Both of them were clearly stunned. “Years of research disproven, just like that.”

She hesitated, and Maddie must’ve realized why, because she waved a hand. “Go find Phantom, honey. We just… It’s one thing to know, and another to see.”

Of course. She knew that, didn’t she? That was why she was so thrown off whenever she saw Phantom in his human form.

“Yeah,” she said, letting herself float a little. “I’ll be right back, then.”

Jazz turned herself invisible—ignoring their startled noises—and phased out of FentonWorks. Look, she had nothing to hide to them, but it would be suspicious if people saw her!

Luckily Phantom hadn’t left for patrol yet, lounging on a nearby rooftop. He jerked upright when he saw Jazz, immediately shifting into his ghost form. “Jazz?”

“Hey, so, uh.” Suddenly she felt a little silly. Surely she and Danny could’ve handled this alone? But she was here now, and her parents wanted to see Phantom, so… “Um. My parents figured out my secret? Apparently they had another ghost scanner, but now they’re confused because their son is human, and they wanted to know who Phantom was? Could you, uh, come along?”

Phantom’s expression had grown increasingly uncomfortable as she spoke, but he still nodded after she finished talking. “Yeah, sure. How did they… react?”

“It was…” She considered it. “Not that bad, I guess? But maybe they haven’t quite processed it yet. I figured they would be okay with it, anyway, so it’s not that surprising.”

“If you thought they would accept you, why…” He paused, dusting off his jumpsuit rather pointlessly. Stalling for time, she figured. “Why didn’t you tell them sooner?”

She shrugged. “I wanted them to change their minds about ghosts. Specter, and later Phantom, were the easiest examples of ghosts doing good, and I thought that they would blame everything on us being part human if they knew.”

“That… makes sense.” He sighed, combing a hand through his hair. “Well, let’s go, then.”

The two of them flew back to FentonWorks, not turning invisible now. They phased through the front wall, directly into the living room, drawing the attention of the three people still present there.

Jazz landed in front of the couch, shifting back to her human form. Phantom kept his distance, however, and looked rather uncomfortable.

“You’re half-ghost too?” Jack guessed, gesturing at the Ghost Finder that Maddie still held. “The Finder suddenly started picking up your core, like something had been muting it but stopped.”

Phantom nodded, hesitantly. “I am.”

Maddie was staring at him with narrowed eyes. “But you look and sound almost exactly like Danny. I can’t imagine that there’s anybody in Amity that looks so similar to my son.”

That made Phantom shuffle even more uncertainly.

“Phantom,” Danny said, still on the couch. “Just tell them, man. Shift back.”

The half-ghost made a face, but did as asked. Light flashed, the ring of energy passing over him, and he thudded back onto the ground. Jazz was glad to see that Phantom had borrowed some of Danny’s clothes, so he didn’t look quite as ragged anymore.

Phantom grinned at Jack and Maddie, and, man. Jazz could feel the awkwardness in the atmosphere.

“Tah-dah?” he offered, opening his arms as if he were showing off an outfit.

“Jazz already did that,” Danny commented from behind her, and she kicked him in the shin. “Ow, Jazz, jeez. Just trying to lighten the mood.”

Jack made a noise that not even Jazz could decipher, then said, “So. Complicated, huh?”

“I am so tired of that word,” Danny muttered, and Jazz kicked him again. “Ah! Are you taking lessons from Sam or something?!”

Phantom snorted, then immediately straightened out, having drawn everyone’s attention back to him.

Jazz waited for him to speak up, but after a few moments of silence, cleared her throat. “So… You want to explain your complicated situation, Phantom?”

“I, uh. Yeah. Right.” He shuffled his feet, looking wildly uncomfortable. Seriously, it was a little weird, but it couldn’t be that much worse than when he told his secret to his own parents, right?

Unless… he had never told his secret to his own parents?

But that would be crazy, right?

“So, I’m, um.” Phantom ran a hand through his hair, running it all the way over his head until it ended up in his neck. “I’m… Danny Fenton. From another universe.”

“Apparently he’s the younger sibling and half-ghost,” Danny added when Phantom stopped talking. “He had photos with himself and his own Jazz, and she was like, eighteen.”

“But how did he—” Maddie paused, turned back to Phantom. “How did you get here?”

Phantom shrugged, uncomfortable now that the attention was on him again. “I, um. Natural portals form in the Ghost Zone all the time, but they don’t just connect to the regular human world. They can go to any place and any time on Earth, and, apparently, to different universes as well. I accidentally flew through one and… I thought I was back in Amity, so I didn’t try to go back.”

“And portals are too finicky to reliably travel back through,” Jack realized, snapping his fingers. “That’s why you stuck around! But I don’t understand… Wasn’t your home… don’t you miss it? Wouldn’t you want to go back?”

“Of course I want to go back!” Phantom snapped, suddenly, his eyes flaring green. “I want nothing more than to go home! But there’s no point in risking life and limb by diving through portal after portal, hoping to find it! If I just stay in one place, they will find me! I just…” The green faded away, his voice petering off into near-silence. “I just have to wait. They’ll come.”

“Because Sam and Tucker and your Jazz are looking, right?” Jazz asked, softly. “What about your parents? Wouldn’t they go looking for you?”

“I…” Phantom jerked his head. “Of course they’ll be looking for me! Just not—”

“They don’t know,” Danny said. “You never told them your secret. That’s why you were so hesitant to tell me what was going on, and why you’re acting weird now. You’re helping Jazz tell her parents, when you never told yours.”

Phantom made a face but nodded.

“But you. You’ve had your ghost powers for two and a half years!” It felt like her core had frozen in her chest. How had he gone so long without telling his parents? Had they held off on changing their minds for so long? Or…

Or was he genuinely scared that they might hurt him? That they would hate him for being half-ghost?

“Yeah, well.” Phantom shrugged, weakly. “My only comparison is the guy who’s gone twenty-two years without telling anyone about his powers, so.”

“We both know he’s a terrible example in every way,” Jazz scolded. “Seriously, Phantom… Danny. You could’ve told me. You didn’t have to come.”

“It’s… fine.” He looked up again, eyes wandering to Jack and Maddie. “I… I probably should’ve told mine ages ago. I’m glad you didn’t… didn’t.”

She huffed out a breath, scrambling over the couch to get closer to him. “That’s what you’re doing the whole time, isn’t it? You’re not just telling me what I’m dealing with, but you’re specifically aiming to have me avoid making the same mistakes you made.”

Jazz wrapped her arms around him, and, after a moment of stiffness, Phantom hugged her back. “Wouldn’t you?” he asked her, head pressed in her hair. “If you saw your sibling, so young and innocent, before they had made any of your mistakes. Wouldn’t you stop them, too?”

“You never said anything,” she told his shoulder. “I had no idea how bad it was, Danny. You should’ve told me! You’re not alone, not here.”

“I’m never alone.” He sniffled, but she didn’t comment. “I have Sam, and Tucker. And my own Jazz. I have Wulf, sometimes when I can find him, and Frostbite. Clockwork, even, if it’s really important.”

A warm bulk reached over Jazz to clap Phantom on his shoulder. She wrenched an eye upwards, meeting her dad’s eye. “Danny, kiddo. I don’t know your parents, but I can tell you with absolute certainty that family is the most important to us Fentons.” The other hand landed on Jazz’ shoulder. “Part ghost or not. My kids are my kids, and I love them with all my heart.”

“I… I know,” Phantom murmured back, keeping his head turned down. “But it’s just… hard. To hear them speak so badly of ghosts, of Phantom, and know. Know that that’s me they’re talking about. Even if I know, rationally, that they wouldn’t feel that way if they knew it was me.”

“Is that why you never told us, Jazz?” Maddie asked, laying a warm hand on Jazz’ other shoulder. “Because you were so scared?”

She shrugged, only a little so she wouldn’t throw off the comforting hands. “I… No, of course not! I wanted— wanted you two to change your opinions on ghosts, first, because it would be easier! Not because I was…” It felt like her throat was clogged up. She sniffled. “Yeah… Yeah, a little bit, I think. I just didn’t want to…”

“You didn’t want to admit that that was why,” Phantom finished for her. She couldn’t see his expression from where she was pressed against him, but he sounded like he was tearing up. “So you reasoned around it. Because you couldn’t be scared of your parents, not really! They didn’t mean it like that! But you were. Scared, that is.”

“Oh, honey,” her mom said, and suddenly another warm body pressed against her. Maddie’s arms wrapped around her, and by extension, around Phantom. “Oh, I’m so sorry that we made you feel that way. That you felt like you couldn’t tell us even some of this, that we were so set in our ways that you had to hide all of that. And that…”

Maddie’s hair brushed against Jazz’ cheek, as Maddie turned to look at Phantom. “And that it was so bad that, if we hadn’t figured it out ourselves, we wouldn’t have known for another two years, at least. That you would’ve been forced to hide yourself—yourselves—from us for so long.”

Then, suddenly, their hug collapsed. Jazz teetered for a moment, before she was drawn against her mom. She blinked in surprise, then realized what had happened.

Phantom stood several steps away. He must’ve turned himself intangible to escape from the hug.

“I’m glad you’re all talking this out okay,” he said, his posture stiff but his voice wavering. “But I… I’d better get going. This isn’t… my place.” He nodded at Danny, who uncertainly stood in front of the couch. “I. Yeah. Later.”

“Wait, Phantom!” Jazz shrugged off her mom’s arm, stepping closer to Phantom again. “Will you… Are we still meeting for training? Maybe not tomorrow, but… next week?”

He hesitated, visibly, before nodding. “Yeah, I… of course. I’ll…” He grinned, clearly fake. “I’ll check your homework then, alright?”

“Yeah, sure.” She wanted to stop him, wanted to help him, make him feel better, but… her own parents came first. He understood that, right? He would’ve done the same, had their roles been reversed.

Still, her core wavered in her chest, upset, and her heart felt like a clump of ice.

“I’m sorry we upset him,” Maddie said, tugging on Jazz’ arm again. “We didn’t mean to, Jazz. Upset either of you.”

“I know.” She wiped a hand over her eyes, shocked to find them wet. “I always knew that you cared, Mom, Dad. That my fear wasn’t… wasn’t rational. And Phantom is… He’s been upset for a long time, I think.”

“He misses his home,” Danny added, finally speaking up again. “When I talked to him with Sam and Tucker, he could barely look at them. He’s been here for months, waiting for them to find him.”

Jack’s arm wrapped around her shoulders again. “He’s worried that they might never find him,” he concluded. “That he’ll be forced to stay in world where he can’t see any of his loved ones ever again. That sounds like a Fenton’s worst nightmare.”

“Yeah,” Jazz agreed, leaning back against her dad’s massive bulk. “I can’t imagine… And his parents don’t even know… Can’t imagine why he disappeared like that.”

“At least we’ll know.” Maddie’s arm snaked around Jazz’ shoulders too, joining Jack’s. “If you ever disappear… God. It could’ve happened to us.” Her eyes were watering, too. “It’s been months since Specter’s first appearance, and we only discovered by coincidence. We could’ve… It could’ve been years before we changed our minds enough for you to tell us on your own.”

“If ever,” Jack mumbled, grimly. “If we ever got evidence convincing enough to break us from years of bias.”

Jazz just pressed closer. She wasn’t sure if her parents ever would’ve changed enough for her to feel confident about telling them, no matter what she said.

Somewhere, she was glad that they had found out on their own. She might’ve put it off forever, otherwise.

---

“Jazz,” Phantom said, grinning at her when she touched down in their clearing. “It’s been a while. How have things been?”

“They’re…” Rough. Her parents are struggling, it’s a lot to wrap their minds around. They’re trying but it’s hard. “Fine. Things have been fine.”

He nodded, already turning around. “Good. I’m… glad to hear so.”

Ah, so they were not going to talk about the other thing. Well. She supposed she could give him that much, at least.

“Weren’t you going to check my homework?” she asked, lightly.

Phantom paused. Turned back around. “Did you do it, then?”

“It was homework, Phantom. What do you think?”

His lips quirked up in a smile. It felt genuine, this time. “Should’ve figured. The trick to training you was homework all along.”

“I thought it was fine before now, too.” She shook her head, but smiled. “Anyway, you wanted me to test for elements I felt connected to. Now what?”

“Uh uh uh,” Phantom said, waving a finger. “First you have to give me your homework. So, tell me. Any elements you felt positive—or negative—about?”

“Well, I dunno. I didn’t feel a very strong connection to anything, to be honest,” she admitted, ignoring the way her core clenched. It wasn’t a personal failure, she was sure of that, but it still felt that way. “But… I think electricity was… okay? Better than the other stuff?”

He nodded, and she felt her core relax a little. “You haven’t been exposed to a lot of elemental ectoplasmic attacks, so your core might’ve prioritized learning neutral abilities over elements. Electricity makes sense, though. It was my first one, too, and it’s useful for a variety of purposes.”

Good. She liked the sound of that. “Okay, so, again. Now what?”

“We need to nudge your core into developing affinity for that element.” Phantom paused, then made a face at her. “This is going to sound really bad, but we’ll need to expose you to the element in question to do that.”

“What, like… like electrocuting me?”

“Not that rough, but…” He shrugged. “Kinda, yeah. Low voltage, closer to a static charge than something that would really hurt you.”

She grimaced. “Then why didn’t I develop an affinity for electricity sooner? I get static shocks constantly!”

“Needs to be ectoplasmic electricity,” Phantom explained with another shrug. “I got hit by Plasmius’ electric attacks all the time, and some other ghosts used them too. Technus, for example, or Walker’s right-hand man.”

He waved her over and, reluctantly, she joined him. “I’ll tell you right now, I don’t like this.”

“We can… not do it, you know?” Phantom laid his hands on her shoulders, lowering his head so he could meet her gaze. “Seriously, Jazz, it’s no big deal. You don’t need elemental attacks. If you don’t want to do this, you don’t have to. I’m not gonna force you into anything.”

She sighed, wrapping one of her hands around Phantom’s. “I know, Phantom. It’s… Well, not fine, but it’s okay. I’d rather do this with someone I trust than get shocked by an enemy until I develop this power.”

Phantom remained silent for a moment, before asking, quietly, “You trust me?”

“Oh, Danny.” She pressed her head against his shoulder, wrapping her free arm around his shoulders. “Even if you’re not my brother, you’re still my family. You’ve been taking care of me for months, protecting me and making sure I would be fine even when you left. Of course I trust you.”

He drew his arms in closer, until they were wrapped around her neck instead of settled on her shoulder. Buried his head in her hair again. “If,” he said quietly. “If I ever leave.”

“Don’t say that,” she chastised, awkwardly patting him on the back. “Of course they’ll find you, and bring you back to your universe, and everything will be fine! You can tell your parents and they’ll accept you, too, and you’ll be okay. Maybe… Maybe the time is weird! That’s a thing, right, with the portals? Maybe your universe is just going way slower than mine, and your friends are looking for you, but it just hasn’t been that long yet!”

“Heh.” Phantom’s breath whistled through her hair, mussing it up. “You know… I hadn’t even considered that option yet.”

“Well, that’s what you have me for, right?” She turned her head to grin up at him. “I’m the smart sibling, after all.”

He barked out a surprised laugh, drawing away from her a little. “Yeah, I guess you are. Now come on, smarty-pants, you’re not getting out of training that easy.”

Phantom moved a full step back, until the only contact they had left were their linked hands. Then he lifted his free hand, offering it back to her.

Jazz bit her lip, then took the hand. “We’re making a loop? For the current to run through?”

“Yeah,” he confirmed, tightening his grip comfortingly. “Tell me if this feels weird, okay?”

“Okay.” A tingling feeling started running down her arms, buzzing, hot and cold simultaneously. It danced through her veins, down her arms and into her chest and, oh. Her core whirred, like it was soaking up the energy. “Is it… My core is absorbing it, I think? Is that… bad?”

“It’s fine,” Phantom assured her. “That’s confirmation of an elemental affinity, by the way. Your core is accepting it, and processing it. We’ll keep to this level of power, give it the time to figure it out.”

She nodded, trying to focus on the energy running through her. On her core, soaking up all the power that Phantom was offering it.

“Say,” Phantom said, after a long moment of silence, “have you ever thought about getting a logo of your own?”

“A… logo?” She quirked a brow at him. “What, for my jumpsuit? Like yours?”

“Yeah!” He nodded towards his chest, like she could’ve missed the vivid white logo. “It’s kind of a superhero staple, you know.”

Jazz snorted. “No thanks.”

“Why not?” he prodded, shaking their arms. “We’ve got a while, anyway. Might as well talk through it, right?”

“If you insist. First of all, it’s tacky. Just not my sort of thing. And second of all…” She kicked him in the foot, gently. “I’m not a hero, Danny, just trying to help.”

“Looks like a hero from where I’m standing.” He jumped when she tried kicking him again, legs merging into a whispy tail. “From where I’m floating,” he corrected, childishly.

Jazz rolled her eyes. Secretly, she was glad to see him bantering, though. Even if it was just a cover for his homesickness… it served a distraction, at least. “Who’s the older sibling here?”

“Technically neither of us is,” he pointed out. “Even if I’m older than you, I spent almost my whole life being the annoying younger brother.”

“You make a good older brother, though.” She stiffened slightly as she realized she said that out loud. Ah, no, too sappy! “You’re a lot like Dad.”

Phantom raised a questioning eyebrow. “Yeah?”

“Yeah! You’re protective, you value your family—both blood and from friendship—above everything else,” she grinned, a little impishly, “you’re very interested in ghosts and ghost hunting…”

He flushed green, opening his mouth to counter, so she went for the final push.

“And you seem pretty obsessed with logos.” She outright smirked at him. “Pretty sure the next step is using your face as one.”

“Oh my god, Jazz, no.” Phantom threw his head back, groaning loudly. “That’s horrible. You’re horrible.”

“You started it,” she countered, childishly jiggling their arms. “Don’t start what you can’t finish.”

“Terrible. You’re terrible.” He swiveled his head back around, his green eyes sparkling. “How’s your core feeling?”

She stuck out her tongue. “That was a terrible topic change and you know it.” Still, that was why they were meeting, she supposed. “It’s feeling… full? Full-er?”

“More powerful?”

“Uh.” She prodded it, mentally. “No, not really? More… zappy? More zappy than usual, kinda staticky, and more full. Kinda… heavy? But not powerful.”

He nodded, a thoughtful expression on his face. “Alright. I’m cutting off the power. Let’s see if we can get some electricity out of you yet.”

“Sure,” she said as the static down her arms stopped. She unlinked her arms, then twitched her fingers. Felt like they were having after-buzzes. “How?”

“How do all your ghost powers work?” he asked scathingly, but with no real heat. “Thought you were the smart sibling?”

“Mh.” She tried to recall the static feeling. Prodded her core into replicating that. “Wait, I think…”

Gold sparked between her fingers. Brief flashes of lightning jumped from one finger to another. “Oh, look! I did it!”

“That’s a pretty good start, yeah.” Phantom grinned at her when she looked at him. “Good job. Your parents would be proud.”

Well, there went the mood again. The electricity sparking between her fingers faded, her core making a soft hum, almost like it was sad.

“Yeah,” she said, like Phantom could’ve possible missed the mood drop. “I… Speaking of them, though…” She trailed off, then remained silent.

“What about them?” he asked, frowning. “They didn’t—”

“They didn’t do anything!” she assured him, quickly. “Not like that! It’s just. Everyone’s been kind of obsessed with this adult music channel lately, and that’s… fine, whatever, you know, but. Mom and Dad have been listening to it a lot, too, saying it relaxes them. But they wouldn’t need relaxing if it weren’t for— for this!”

Phantom blew out a noisy breath, shaking his head. “Jazz… You can’t blame yourself for the accident, or for your parents finding out. Yeah, maybe they’re a little stressed, but… but they would probably be, anyway, even if you’d told them from the start. It’s not your fault, okay?

“Besides,” he added, and he was suddenly next to her, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. “They got into something similar in my universe. Practically every adult in Amity was obsessing over that music. And that was even though my parents didn’t know my secret. So it’s fine, yeah?”

That… wasn’t quite as comforting as Phantom had intended it, probably. She sighed. “I guess. What made them stop?”

“I, uh.” He paused, drawing back. Frowned in thought. “Um. No— hold on.”

“Holding on,” she snipped back.

“Got it! Oh, shit, whoops.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “Okay, so, don’t freak out, but it was totally a ghost thing. And I don’t know where to find those guys until they make their move, so…”

“Oh my god, Danny!” She threw out her hands. “That’s the opposite of comforting! What does that even mean, their move?!”

He grimaced. “They might… try to kidnap every adult in the city. No, scratch that, they totally did kidnap every adult in the city. Everyone who listened to their music.”

“Danny!” She clenched her fists, her core whirring angrily, her glow flickering wildly. “I’m not gonna— I’m going home right now. And I’m not leaving until I’m sure it’s taken care of!”

“Yeah, of course.” Phantom nodded quickly. “Go ahead, Jazz. I’ll meet you when Youngblood and Ember show up.”

---

Jazz stood on the landing at the top of the stairs, staring down at the roiling mass of students in her house. It felt like a block of ice sat in her chest, her core angrily buzzing beneath it.

“Jazz,” Valerie said, nudging her. “Come on, glaring at these guys won’t make you feel any better. Can’t we wait for your brother somewhere quieter?”

“No. I already looked at the ship, and they’ve got a ghost shield. Phantom and I can’t approach until someone turns it off.” Valerie quirked an eyebrow at her, and Jazz rolled her eyes. “Val, no offense, but you can’t possibly do that alone. It’s loaded with ghost pirates, and there are at least two high-powered ghosts on there.”

Valerie sighed. “That’s fair, I guess. So now what?”

Jazz turned her eyes back towards their classmates, partying below them.

“Jazz, whatever you’re thinking, no.” Valerie nudged her. “Seriously, you can’t plan to involve those guys again. Last time they were already in danger, and they had ghost powers.”

“They’re already involved,” she pointed out. “Their parents are gone, too. We just need to convince them to help us. There’s enough ghost hunting gear in FentonWorks to arm all of them, and they don’t need to be good, just good enough. If they can distract the ghosts, you can sneak by to disarm the shield.”

Valerie gave her a flat look. “Why the ‘we’? If you convince them, you’ll need to come with, and if you can pass through the ghost shield with them, you and Danny can do it with me, too.”

“I don’t know, Val. It’s a lot of ghosts.” She sighed. “And we need to turn off the shield, or Phantom and I can’t leave. If we can get more people there, it would help a ton.”

“But there’s no way the two of us can convince our class to help us hunt ghosts,” Valerie pointed out harshly. “Seriously, Jazz. Be realistic. We’re both uncool outcasts with a ghost problem. They’re not gonna listen to us.”

“Yeah, but—” A screech of static broke through the music, then stopped. The music didn’t pick back up.

Jazz leaned down over the railing, and spotted Danny standing at the front of the crowd, Sam and Tucker on either side of him. Tucker was holding a PDA, a cable running from it to the speakers behind them. Of course, he must’ve turned off the music for them, drawing the attention to the three of them.

“Hey people!” Danny raised a hand in greeting, his voice loud enough to carry through the sudden silence. “I know you’re all here to party, but I’m afraid we have a bit of a situation! As you all know, just about every adult in Amity Park got kidnapped by ghosts, including pretty much everybody’s parents!”

He looked through the room meaningfully, letting it sink in for a moment, before he continued. “Now, you might all think, so what? Specter and Phantom will solve it, just like every other ghost problem, won’t they? Or maybe that human ghost hunter on the hoverboard? Well, I’m sorry to say that it won’t be that easy.”

“How do you know?” someone shouted from the crowd.

“Glad you asked! I know because I actually looked at the fucking ship where they’re holding our folks, and guess what? It’s got a ghost shield around it! So Phantom and Specter, even if they come to help, won’t be able to! And, as much as I might be inclined to trust in the human hunter, she’s just one person. There’s a small army of weak grunt ghosts on that ship, and at least two higher powered ones, one of which has previously invaded our town, and which required the teamwork of Phantom, Specter, and the human hunter. Now, as much as you’re enjoying this time without your parents, are you really content to rely on other people to fix this for you?”

Danny paused, eyes slowly moving over the crowd. “Do you really feel good, partying here, knowing that your parents are working themselves to the bone up there, forced by ghosts? Knowing that the only people that might help are two ghosts that can’t actually go there, and a single human hunter? Hm?”

He shook his head, then gestured to Sam and Tucker besides him. “Now, I don’t know about any of you. Obviously, since I’m older. But I do know myself, and I know Sam and Tucker. And I know that none of us could live with the guilt, if we spent however long having fun down here, just to discover that our parents died because Amity’s protectors got outplayed. So I’ll ask all of you one thing. If your parents didn’t survive this, could you live with the knowledge that you could’ve helped, but didn’t?”

With his speech finished, Danny stepped back again, Sam and Tucker moving in sync. He turned around, the three of them moving to the edge of the room. Behind them, noise slowly starting coming in again; murmurs of the crowd as they talked. The music stayed silent.

“Damn,” Valerie whistled. “Didn’t know your brother was such a good motivational speaker, Jazz.”

“Yeah,” she said, thinking back to Phantom. To the way he must’ve convinced countless enemies to help him, those times he needed backup he didn’t have. Doing all the things she’d done with basically no information. “Yeah, I guess he is.”

“Wow, that was almost a compliment,” Danny commented, coming up the stairs. Jazz started—when had he gotten there?

“You stole my idea, though.” She swatted at him. “And that’s rude.”

“It’s better this way. Besides, I had a better shot at convincing them.”

She huffed. “What, because you’re such a brilliant speaker?”

“Because I’m older, Jazz.” He rolled his eyes, an amused smile on his face. “For kids like these, older teens are automatically cooler. You two might be all the way at the bottom of the popularity ladder, but Sam, Tucker, and I are high up, just because of our age. Doesn’t matter that we’re not popular among our own classmates.”

“Well, whatever.” She shook her head. “It doesn’t really matter, I guess, because I’m coming anyway.”

Valerie grabbed her arm. “No you’re not. Don’t be crazy.”

“Val, I—”

“Jazz. You are not coming,” Valerie repeated, shaking her arm. Jazz frowned at the weird emphasis.

“I wholeheartedly agree, Jazz,” Danny said from her other side. “I don’t want you to come.”

Jazz grumbled, slumping on the landing’s railing. “You two suck.”

“We also both know, huh?” Danny sighed, then leaned on the railing beside her. “Look, Jazz. Yes, I overheard your idea, and decided that I would take the lead. I’ll lead the human ghost hunters in the attack on the ship, we’ll turn off the shield, and then you and Phantom can come in to actually deal with the ghosts.”

“Wait, hold on,” Valerie cut in before Jazz could reply. “Aren’t you Phantom?”

Danny jerked backwards to look at Valerie over Jazz’ back. Jazz also turned to shoot her an incredulous look.

“What? Why are you both looking at me like that?” Valerie frowned. “Seriously, I asked Phantom if he was Danny Fenton and he said yes. And Jazz, you keep saying he’s your brother. What was I supposed to think?!”

“Technically, all of that is true.” Danny made a face. “It’s just… not the complete truth.”

“One might even say that it’s complicated,” Jazz added, just to rile up Danny a little. “I don’t know why Phantom would tell you he’s Danny but not tell you the whole story, though. He is actually Danny Fenton, yes, but he’s from alternate universe, and just staying until his own friends and sister find him.” She reached behind her to pat Danny on the arm. “This is my actual fully human brother. Hence why I call him Danny, and the other guy Phantom.”

“Ah.” Valerie nodded, but the crease remained. “I… see. I thought you were just, I dunno. Trying to separate the two halves with their own names, or something. So you wouldn’t slip up and call him Danny while he was a ghost.”

“I mean, that’s almost the truth,” Danny pointed out, lips quirking up into a smile. “Anyway, I should go help Sam and Tucker prep the weapons for your classmates. Jazz, you go find Phantom and come join us before we actually leave, okay? The promise of teaming up with Amity’s actual protectors will help convince them.”

“I’ll get going too, then.” Valerie pushed off of the railing, then paused, realizing what she’d said. “I mean, um. I…”

Jazz clicked her tongue. “You need practice with lying on the spot, Val. She’s the Red Huntress, Danny.”

“The human hunter with the hoverboard?” he guessed, then nodded at her. “Yeah, that’d be good. You can take lead, since you’re probably the best fighter among the humans. I’ll have Tucker go down to deactivate the shield, and Sam and I can help cover him.”

“Sounds like a plan.” Valerie nodded back, the tension in her shoulders ebbing a little. “Just…”

“I’ll keep your secret, no worries,” Danny assured her. “Unless you leak Jazz’ secret and get her hurt as a result, but that’s just fair turnabout.”

Valerie snorted. “Yeah, I think I’d deserve whatever shit I get if that ever happens. Where are we meeting?”

“Up top.” Danny raised a finger to point above them. “The Ops Center can turn into a blimp, that’s what we’ll use to get to the ship.”

“Gotcha.” Valerie nodded, once. “See you in a min, Danny, Jazz.”

They watched as Valerie made her way down the stairs, sneaking through the front door unnoticed.

“I’d better get going too.” Jazz pushed herself off of the railing. “See you upstairs.”

“Yeah, see you in a minute.” Danny turned back to head down the stairs as well, while Jazz went to her room. The moment the door closed behind her she shifted to her ghost form, invisibly phasing out through the wall.

She intercepted Phantom on his way to the house, dropping her invisibility.

“Oh, Jazz,” he said, seemingly surprised. “What are you doing outside?”

“We’re meeting the teen ghost hunters upstairs,” she explained with a shrug. “Danny, Sam, and Tucker are leading my classmates for now, but Val is gonna show up and take lead during the actual attack. They’ll probably explain the whole plan for the class in a minute, when we’re all there.”

He nodded. “Gotcha. To the Ops Center, then?”

“Let’s.”

They flew up to the Ops Center quickly, but paused right outside it. Valerie, completely suited up and standing on her hoverboard, was already there.

Whoops. Nobody told her how to get in.

“There’s a door on the top,” Jazz pointed out. “Sorry.”

Valerie stared at Phantom for a moment longer before nodding. “Yeah, alright. See you inside.”

The huntress flew over to the roof, her hoverboard retracting into the soles of her shoes so she could land. She found the hatch, opened it, and dropped through.

After a beat or two, Phantom nudged her. “Let’s go.”

Jazz nodded back, and they both phased through the center’s metal walls.

The inside of the Ops Center was crowded, but surprisingly quiet. A hush must’ve fallen when Valerie had come in, and they quietened down entirely when she and Phantom came in.

Valerie hovered at the front—had apparently re-engaged her hoverboard after coming in—with Danny, Sam, and Tucker right with her. Jazz flew over there as well, Phantom right beside her.

“Wow, what a team!” Danny said, a cheeky grin on his face. “Do you see that, guys? Looks like we’re gonna show those stupid ghosts what Amity Park can really do!”

Phantom quirked an eyebrow at the speech, his spectral tail lashing lazily. “Do you have a plan? Specter and I would love to help, but we can’t, not unless you guys take the shield down.”

“As a matter of fact, we do!” Danny waved a hand, and Sam and Tucker rolled forward a whiteboard. On it were crude drawings of the ghosts’ ship and the Ops Center, but nothing else was filled in yet.

“Because of the shield, us humans will be taking lead in the fight.” He tapped a marker against the drawing of the Ops Center. “We’re in the Emergency Ops Center now, which can turn into a blimp. We’ll use that to fly us to the ship.” He drew an arrow from the Center to the ship.

“Once we’re there, we’ll board them. The Red Huntress,” he gestured over at her, “will lead our main assault. They will fight primarily against the grunts, since the ringleaders probably won’t step up that soon. With their attention drawn, the three of us,” he gestured at Sam, Tucker, and himself, “will split off. Tucker is our tech-master, and he can disable the ghost shield. Sam and I will cover him.”

Danny erased the green circle around the ship with his thumb. “With the shield down, Specter and Phantom are free to join us. The two of them, together with the Red Huntress, will take on the leaders, who will probably come involve themselves by then. The rest of us will take out the remaining minions, then join the fight against… what were their names?”

“Ember and Youngblood,” Jazz answered him.

“Right. The rest of us will join the fight against Ember and Youngblood, helping however we can without outright endangering ourselves. These three,” he gestured at her, Phantom, and Valerie, “are all packing capture devices. They’ll be in charge of catching the enemy ghosts. Once we’re all clear, we’ll take the ship down carefully. Unfortunately, as you might’ve noticed,” he gestured around them, “the Ops Center is too small to take everyone back safely, so that’s what we’ll have to do. Any questions?”

He looked over the crowd of teenagers, but no one spoke up. “Good. In that case, come forward to grab weapons from me, Sam, and Tucker. Phantom, Specter, you’re free to wait outside, since you won’t be in here for the fight anyway. Red… feel free to grab extra weapons if you want.”

“I’m good,” Val muttered, her voice quiet. Probably trying not to get overheard by her classmates.

“We’ll be outside, then,” Phantom told Danny, then nodded at her. They phased outside, landing on a nearby rooftop.

The pirate ship hovered high above them, an unnatural green in the overcast skies. The shield around it reflected oddly in the windows around them.

“This fight is gonna be a breeze,” Phantom said airily, hands behind his head.

“Yeah?” She turned to look at him, cocking her head. “You sound confident.”

He snorted. “I managed without too much trouble. Now I’m more powerful, and backed up by both you and Valerie.”

“And a small army of my classmates.”

“And a small army of your classmates, yes,” Phantom corrected with a laugh. “Seriously, Ember and Youngblood don’t know what they’ve got coming.

Jazz watched him smile, and it felt like a knot loosened in her chest. It was good, to see Phantom smile like that. Confident, powerful, at ease.

They had this fight won before it even started, really.

[kolbisneat]

MONTHLY MEDIA: March 2020

So like most of you, this month has seen more time spent at home consuming things. Now, more than ever, I think it’s good to share what we’re doing and seeing and hearing. Here’s how March went.

……….FILM……….

The Invisible Man (2020) Stressfully fantastic. I was relieved when it was more of a thriller/suspense sorta film (as opposed to straight horror) and hoboy does it deliver on making everything tense. Well-acted and relevant. Also very stressful.

The Muppet Movie (1979) First time seeing this and it holds up. I would say I recognized maybe 5 of the celebrities that were featured, but could easily tell when someone was supposed to be a familiar face. Man fame is a weird thing. Anyway, the songs and origin story were lovely and I really think what works about the muppets are their blend of absurdity and sincerity. Sure they snark each other sometimes, but their general motivation is to put some good in the world and I think that’s a great addition to our media diet.

Jenny Slate: Stage Fright (2019) This is the first of Jenny Slate’s specials that I’ve seen and it was a lot of fun! The interweaving of home videos, interviews with family, and her stand-up added an extra layer to everything. Oh also very funny!

Black Christmas (2019) We missed this in theatres and were anxiously waiting for the blu-ray release and...I think that built up too much anticipation. I’m all for what the movie was trying to say, but how it said it was muddled. It also managed to be fairly boring for 2/3 of the runtime. Bummer. 

……….TELEVISION……….

Love is Blind (Episode 1.01 to 1.02) We’ve barely started this and I wasn’t sure about it during the first ep, but knowing the series quickly moves past the blind dating is reassuring. Very keen to see how this all plays out.

McMillion$ (Episode 1.01 to 1.03) I know there’s a far more popular (and tiger-centric) docuseries in the zeitgeist right now, but I’m really enjoying this. They limit the insane FBI agent after the first episode, and it’s the right call. It’s true crime that we can all relate to via the McDonald’s element, and for that alone I think it’s worth checking out.

Locke & Key (Episode 1.01 to 1.10) Wonderfully whimsical. The last two episodes have some questionable writing that really only stands out because the previous 8 were so strong, but I suppose part of that is likely due to setting up a second season? I dunno. It did make me interested in returning to the series (as the first volume didn’t click with me) so that’s saying something.

What We Do in the Shadows (Episode 1.08 to 1.10) Consistently strong season of television! It’s refreshing to watch something where each episode works on it’s own, while still offering lots of through-lines across episodes. Also that finale gave us lots to get excited for with the next season! Very very good series.

The Bachelor (Episode 24.10 to 24.12) What a dud. This season ended the way it started and that really makes one question why they watched it at all? It certainly wasn’t for the beautiful friendships formed between contestants. It wasn’t for the deep and meaningful conversations while the lead tried to find true love. It wasn’t even for the genuine drama about silly things. It all just felt overproduced and undercooked. Such a bummer.

……….READING……….

Witches Abroad by Terry Pratchett (Complete) I love a good Discworld novel (this being number 12!) It’s like comfort food in these complex times. The Witches are always fun and I really picture the Sanderson Sisters from Hocus Pocus and that adds another layer to things. If you’re looking for light, humours fantasy chock full of tropes, check out this series.

The Incal by Alejandro Jodorowsky and Jean Giraud (Complete) After having read this just once and barely remembering it, I decided to come back to it. I still find it a little wordy, but the overall plot is so operatic and psychedelic that I’m glad I gave it a reread. It feels 70s future in a way that I can’t describe, and I can totally see why Jodorowsky wanted to direct DUNE. This is political and weird and has everything he couldn’t make happen with that movie. Anyway, it’s worth picking up. 

The Sleeper and the Spindle by Neil Gaiman and Chris Riddell (Complete) A wonderfully illustrated short story. Enough of Sleeping Beauty and Snow White has been changed and merged to make it a fresh interpretation and Gaiman finds a good balance of creepy and all-ages appropriate.

……….AUDIO……….

Twin Temple (Bring You Their Signature Sound.... Satanic Doo-Wop) by Twin Temple (2018) A lot of folks have been posting their fave listening online while we all quarantine and it’s introduced me to so much (including this)! The title says it all and “Satanic Doo-Wop” perfectly encapsulates their sound.

OOZEFM (Spotify Account) I’ve started a dedicated Spotify account for Booburgh’s radio station, OOZEFM. Curated playlists abound and I hope you enjoy!

……….GAMING……….

Neverland: A Storybook Campaign Setting (Andrews McMeel Publishing) My RPG setting! The ongoing campaign is continuing along well as the group spends more time in the mountains while waiting to find a fallen star. They’ve also come across a few pirates, so that’s also fun. I also ran a  one-shot with the Mof1 Podcast that you can listen to here (well, the first half)!

A Red & Pleasant Land (Lamentations of the Flame Princess) The group continues to explore the dual towers and after killing an egg man, rescuing a spider, and fireballing a bunch of the King’s court, they’ve been presented with a choice: door #1 or door #2.

Celeste (Matt Thorson and Noel Berry) Such a beautiful game. The controls and concept are so perfect and each new stage offers something fresh. I wish those stages were broken up into smaller chapters, as I’d be more likely to revisit if I didn’t have to commit to the whole thing at once, but I’m splitting hairs at this point. Absolutely check this out.

Wilmot’s Warehouse (Finji) Wonderfully relaxing and exactly as the trailer describes: for people who love to organize things. The stress of getting deliveries/getting items to customers is balanced by stretches of free time where you can rearrange and organize your supplies at your leisure. I’m about 60% of the way through and find not much has evolved. I don’t know if I’ll finish it but I’ve really enjoyed the time spent with it so far.

And that’s it! As always, share any recommendos and stay safe out there.

Happy Tuesday!

[aliciameade]

I Don’t Care

Title: I Don’t Care Author: aliciameade Rating: T Pairing: Beca Mitchell/Chloe Beale Summary:  Basically, Ed Sheeran & Justin Bieber’s “I Don’t Care” came up on a playlist on my commute and by the time I got home from work, I had a story. Also, here’s your Pitch Perfect 3 fix-it (you know who you are).

Also on AO3 & FF.net

“Shit, sorry.” Beca tries to smile in apology for bumping into a girl standing in front of the entrance of the club, but the girl glares at her and shoulders her pointedly in retaliation.

Bitch, Beca thinks as she pushes past her and into the party.

It’s the last place she wants to be: a party meant to celebrate her, Beca Mitchell.

It’s a victory party. An afterparty. She’d won Khaled’s contest with the full support of her Bellas and already has a week of legal meetings set up when she gets back to the States for her new solo recording contract and concert tour she’ll be joining. It’s a party for her and it’s the last place she wants to be tonight. She’d much rather be in her hotel room moping.

Moping about her life changing. Moping about knowing her time as a Bella has technically ended. Definitely not moping about Chloe kissing their Army escort with such gusto that makes Beca a little nauseous to think about.

She weaves through the crowd to try to find any familiar face but it’s nothing but a sea of strangers. She makes it to the bar after being stopped several times along the way to listen to the strangers gush over her and her performance. She usually liked positive feedback for a Bellas performance but when 100% of it is focused on her? Not so much.

“Tequila,” she shouts at the bartender. “A double.” She wants to get drunk quickly to make the event tolerable and to maybe drown her sorrows a bit.

She’d much rather down her liquor in solitude but tonight isn’t the night for that. People start to notice her despite her best effort to blend in. She suspects her sparkly gold wardrobe in a sea of mostly black isn’t helping her blend in very well.

Strangers keep demanding her attention–not asking, demanding–and she tries to be pleasant but it’s difficult when they’re all so self-serving in their commentary. It all feels fake. No one really looks her in the eye, too busy looking around the room for the next person they’ll rush off to greet, to see how they can use them, network with them, capitalize upon them. She knows that’s going to be a part of her life forever, now. She made a choice to step into the spotlight. She dug her grave.

She’s good at faking it, too, though. She can wear a plastic smile and laugh and flirt even if it twists her up inside to be so disingenuous.

She asks for a margarita on the rocks (no salt) when she gets a break from being the center of attention and savors it–the break...and the margarita. She’s still quick to drink it though, barely beginning to feel the fuzziness of the two shots she’d downed in succession, and orders another margarita while she finishes the one in her hand. She’ll slow down, now. She doesn’t need to get sloppy; she just needs to get drunk enough and then she’s going to sneak out a back door and go back to the hotel. Maybe cry a bit. She could use a good cry.

She’s nursing her second margarita, leaning against the bar and trying to become invisible, back to the crowd, when someone plucks her glass from her hand.

“Hey!” she says, offended, as she spins to steal it back, only to watch it be finished off by– “Oh, thank God.” It’s a relief that Chloe’s found her. Other than Theo nodding at her now and then, everyone is a stranger.

“Dance with me,” Chloe says with a wink as she sets Beca’s empty glass on the bar and takes her hand. She doesn’t ask, either, but unlike all the strangers, Beca doesn’t mind when Chloe demands her attention.

Beca lets Chloe pull her out onto the dance floor; people try to talk to her again when they notice her but she ignores them, instead focusing on her hand in Chloe’s as she follows until Chloe picks a spot, stops, turns, and drops Beca’s hand to instead drape her arms over Beca’s shoulders as she gives her own a quick shimmy before they fall into rhythm together.

This...this is easy. This, Beca can do. This feels like the innumerable nights in college, and even after, when they’d get bored of everyone else, or the guys hitting on them, and decide to pair up to be left alone. It’s easy to let the anxieties and the general bad feelings go when Chloe’s smiling at her, or winking at her, or making caricature-level sexy faces at Beca to get her to laugh.

Chloe makes it better, but then again, Chloe’s always made everything better.

Beca sees Chloe’s lips moving but it’s so loud, she can’t make it out. She tries to read them...grumpy? crappy? gumby? go pee? but she can’t, and she’s embarrassed when she realizes it’s because she’s too distracted thinking about how she’d rather be kissing Chloe’s lips than reading them.

Instead, she leans to shout in Chloe’s ear, “I don’t fit in with these people!”

She closes her eyes at the touch of Chloe’s fingers along her neck, pushing her hair out of the way so she can reply, “Who says we need to fit in?”

Beca’s about to ask what she means when Chloe takes a step back and, much to her horror, launches into doing The Sprinkler, one hand behind her head as the other chk-chk-chks past Beca’s face.

“Oh, my God, what are you doing?” Beca can’t help but cover half her face in second-hand embarrassment (but not her whole face; then she wouldn’t be able to watch Chloe shift into The Robot, arm rotating to bonk herself on the head and transfer the motion across her body). “You need to stop!”

She doesn’t know if Chloe can even hear her, but she’s pretty sure she at least gets the message because instead of stopping, she shakes her head, and subjects Beca to The Roger Rabbit, The Running Man, and by the time she gets to The Cabbage Patch, Beca’s laughing too hard to be embarrassed.

“Come on!” Chloe says as she takes a couple of steps backward, grinning so widely Beca’s sure it must hurt.

“No, no no,” Beca says, waving her hands despite shifting her feet for what she knows is coming.

Chloe just nods and steps forward and Beca has no choice but to do the same; she can’t leave Chloe hanging as one-half of the Kid ‘n Play and taps her ankle with her own before stepping back to repeat it.

She’s still laughing when Chloe hooks her ankle and forces them to hop in a circle until Beca loses her balance on her heels and falls into someone. She doesn’t bother apologizing, too busy laughing and letting Chloe catch her.

Chloe always catches Beca when she falls, it seems.

“I didn’t want to be here,” she says, still laughing as she lets the levity and the tequila lower her inhibitions as she holds Chloe a little closer than she would if she was sober.

“We can go if you want to.” They have to shout to be heard, despite being inches apart from one another.

She shakes her head, moving into a more modern and less attention-grabbing version of dancing and Chloe follows suit. She hated everything about this place when she arrived but now...now it’s good. Now it’s fun. “We can stay.”

It’s hard to think that this will be one of the last times she and Chloe dance together like this, travel together like this, have any time together at all, really, like this. Everything is going to change. Everything already has changed. She has to travel. Probably relocate. Leave Chloe on the other side of the country. Chloe’s in school, it’s not like she could or should uproot her life to try to transfer to a California university, and Beca would never ask her to. And now, apparently, Chloe has...well, a guy. A guy friend. A male companion whom she’s drooled over this entire trip to the point Beca’s considered taking a photo of his face just to put it on a dart board.

They have to grow up. Grow apart. It happens with all college friends. You can’t stay close forever.

Her thoughts are interrupted by someone drunkenly slamming into her from behind; not a graze or a bump but full-on slamming into her to shove her into Chloe and Chloe into the person behind her like dominoes.

“Ugh, get off me, fucker!” she says as she tries to shove backward but the man is slow to move and, apparently, she and Chloe are the only thing keeping him from hitting the floor. “I hate everyone.” She doesn’t have to lean in to be heard; they’re already cheek to cheek thanks to the drunkard.

“Everyone?”

She shivers because Chloe’s lips brush her ear when she speaks. “Everyone but you.”

She doesn’t mean to be so honest; it’s a disarming response and she knows it. She should have said, “Except you; you’re cool,” or any version of that, but “Everyone but you” has a very distinct connotation to it and she closes her eyes to not have to meet Chloe’s when she’s finally able to stand upright again, the man helped back to his feet.

“Then let’s leave,” Chloe says in her ear, taking Beca’s hand to again lead her, this time out of the crowd, off the dance floor, and out the door and into a waiting car. There’s no military escort this time; it’s a hired car, the same one that had transported Beca to the party and she doesn’t know how Chloe knows which car to take them to, but she does.

They’re quiet for the first several minutes of the drive and Beca’s grateful for it; her ears feel like they’re full of cotton as they recover from the music of the club. She notices, pleasantly, that Chloe’s hand hasn’t left hers save for when they had to climb into the car.

“I’m so proud of you,” Chloe says to break the silence.

Beca sniffs and shakes her head.

“I’m serious, Becs. You...what you did up there tonight...that was magic. I’ve never seen you like that, just...glowing. And it’s not like I’m surprised, I knew you had that in you, you always glow when you’re singing but tonight...that was...that was really something.”

When Beca finally manages to lift her eyes, she finds Chloe already looking at her, smiling softly, eyes shining. “Thanks,” she says shyly.

“I can’t believe that was our final performance together, though.” Chloe’s voice is watery and Beca already knows tears are imminent.

“No, hey,” she rushes, “we’re totally going to sing together again.”

Chloe shakes her head and a tear escapes. “Not like that. Not like we used to. Everything’s going to change.”

Beca takes pause at hearing her own thoughts echoed back to her, spoken with the same type of...not regret, exactly, but true bittersweet sadness. And though she doesn’t want to think it, to say it, one thing, one evil, green-eyed thing slithers into her brain and starts demanding her attention like everyone at the party. “Why did you kiss Chicago?”

Chloe blinks in genuine surprise. It’s clear she expected any response but that. “What?”

“After everything, after our performance, our last one, you—you—I was waiting for you and you just, you just breezed right past me and kissed him.”

“I...I was pumped from the performance and emotional and I wanted to kiss someone. Why are you asking me about it?”

“Why him?” The question shocks even Beca. She can’t believe those words just left her mouth.

“What?”

“Why him? Why did you kiss him?” She can’t believe they’re still leaving her mouth.

Chloe stares at her, confusion and maybe hurt swirling in her eyes. “Well...he was there. Who’d you rather it have been?”

The rear passenger door opening next to Beca jolts her out of the moment; she hadn’t even noticed they’d stopped in front of the hotel. She considers leaving, but Chloe hasn’t flinched at the driver’s expectation that they’d be departing.

“Who’d you rather it have been, Beca?” Chloe’s jaw sets firmly this time and her eyes are unreadable. Not confused, not hurt, but...something.

Now or never. “Me. Okay? Me. You—you make me feel like I matter and you make all the shitty things in my life better and I don’t know what I’m supposed to do without—”

She’s cut off by lips on hers.

She gasps, shocked, and then it registers: Chloe is kissing her. She hadn’t hesitated. Not five seconds had passed from Beca saying she wished it had been her before Chloe had done it.

Chloe hadn’t second-guessed her words.

Chloe wanted to kiss her.

Beca lifts her hands quickly to frame Chloe’s face, struggling to comprehend that this was real, that Chloe is kissing her. She can feel tears on Chloe’s cheeks and she knows she’s crying, too. She brushes one of Chloe’s tears away and then Chloe pulls back with a quiet laugh.

“Now that we got that cleared up…” Chloe says with a gentle touch to Beca’s forehead as though she’s brushing a hair back into place. Then she looks over Beca’s shoulder and lifts her eyebrows.

“Oh, right,” she says, realizing they’re still sitting in the back of a car and the driver is still waiting alongside it holding the door for them to leave. She twists in her seat and steps out, then turns and offers her hand to Chloe to help her out as well.

She intentionally tugs her a little too hard so she can use the momentum to pull her close. She doesn’t kiss her, though. She just wants to look at her, at the eyes she’s spent so many hours upon hours staring into over the years.

“Everything’s going to change,” she says.

Chloe’s hands settle on her hips. “It already has.”

Beca looks up at the night sky above them, then bites her lip and closes her eyes. Her knee would be bouncing if she was sitting. “Come to my room?”

“Really?” Chloe’s response is almost laughter. “I mean, yes, but I gotta say, I’m honestly surprised, I didn’t think you’d want to—”

“To sleep, Chlo,” she interrupts, blushing furiously. “I didn’t mean...I meant to sleep. Together. Not sleep together but, like, share my bed. With me. And sleep at the same time.”

Chloe does laugh at that and Beca grimaces, only to feel Chloe tap the tip of her scrunched up nose to make her open her eyes. “I’d love to.”

Beca exhales. “Okay. Cool.”

“Just sleep, though?” Chloe doesn’t give her a proper chance to respond; she kisses her before she can. Unlike the sudden reflex of a kiss in the car, this one is more measured, less panicked, and it instantly makes Beca lightheaded.

“Maybe,” she mumbles against Chloe’s lips, “more of this is okay.”

Chloe’s smile grows until they have to stop kissing. “Maybe?”

Beca can’t help but smile, too. “Okay, yeah, definitely more of that.” She laughs with Chloe as she takes a step back, grabbing her hand to take her best friend, her companion her friend who...is a girl...back to her room.

And she doesn’t care that everything is going to change.

[zutaralover94]

Congratulations for 500 followers 😘💖 Zutara / 5 ✌️✨

#5 for Zutara writing prompt was Arranged Marriage! Please excuse the extreme wait! I hope you both enjoy this. I really like the end. So I hope you do too!

“I will never love you.”

Katara stood in probably the most beautiful dress she had ever owned, but the fact that on the other side of room was her newly appointed husband, ruined her mood to admire her gown. She looked through a random book that was in the room. They were waiting to walk out into the reception as the new couple. As the future rulers of the Fire Nation and Water Tribes.

“I don’t expect you to.” Zuko mumbled.

Katara slammed the book, she turned around and glared at him. “Then why me?!”

“Uncle suggested the match.” Zuko lifted one shoulder.

“There were plenty of other young women in the tribe that would have killed to be your wife. Why me?” Katara felt herself turning desperate. If neither of them expected anything out of the marriage minus peace for the kingdoms, then he certainly could have chosen someone who wanted the title. Katara was perfectly fine with her family home, with her small group of young water benders, and her own peace.

“Uncle said you were a master,” Zuko rubbed at the back of his neck. “He said you were a great teacher of waterbending. Said that it would be wise to have a strong figure like you to stand beside me.” Zuko finally turned around to her. “So, I chose you.”

“Do you always listen to your Uncle?” Katara crossed her arms over her chest.

“I didn’t use to,” Zuko said with a shrug. “But I learned that lesson the hard way.”

Katara sighed and turned back to the stack of books, “Whatever. I’m hungry.”

+++

Eight months later

+++

Katara was pulling out multiple braids the maids had put in her hair that morning. Breakfast with the King and council, a meeting that followed immediately after, another with the royal guard and battle tactics, then following that was lunch with the Duke of Omashu. After that, Katara finally had a small break and took a stroll through the fire lily gardens with her head maid that ended with high tea with two other Ladies from Ba Sing Se. Katara had been filled in on gossip of the neighboring kingdoms. Katara wished to say that their company was a complete bore but that was a lie. The hour and a half long meeting with some dignitary from the Crescent Island had to be the top of the list of the day. Sadly, that was not where her day ended or slowed down.

Zuko and Katara had been called away to dine with the Lee family. (Don’t ask her which one because truthfully who cared?) Then she dozed off lightly on their hour journey back. When she had woken, her head rested against Zuko’s shoulder and hot heavy breaths blew over her forehead. Katara knew by the small snore on intake of breath that Zuko had fallen asleep like her. She smiled  at that.

The princess had finally sat down to her vanity with tired feet and her cheeks hurt from smiling so much. Her fingers unknotting the smaller braids close to her temples. She was brushing through her hair when a knock came from her door. “Come in!” She heard a click of the door opening and closing. She peeked in the mirror to see her husband leaned against the door and sighing heavily. “Oh! Zuko,” Katara pulled her robes closed and turned. “I thought you were Meng.”

Zuko turned to look at Katara, “How was your day?”

Katara gave a soft smile, “About the same as yours. Except I know all about how some Lady from some random prefecture is severely in love with her husband’s stable hand.” Katara did her best impression of a snooty woman. She even crossed her legs and held an invisible tea cup to toast Zuko.

“Should I be screening my stable hands with you?” Zuko gave a light laugh.

And it severely hurt her. Because this marriage, this contract, killed all of her motivation to get to truly know Zuko. The man certainly was tolerable enough. Though his jokes were dry and his advice could use more refinement. But Zuko was nice. He led well. Definitely not as well as his father had wanted him to but… Minus the little outburst the following two months after he became King, Zuko led the kingdom to prosperity.

Zuko leaned against her vanity and smiled down to her, “It only gets worse. Just wait till your birthday in the next few month.”

“You know my birthday?” Katara played with her hair.

“Sixth day of the winter solstice. Right?” Zuko looked around her vanity briefly before handing her a hair tie.

“Yes,” Katara accepted the tie and began wrapping her hair back. It was beautifully crimped from the tight braid she had worn all day. She looked up to Zuko in the mirror. “Yours is the second month into the summer.”

“Yeah,” Zuko nodded.

There was a small pause in conversation. Zuko looked around her bed chamber. He didn’t often come in here and most of the time it was a quiet ‘good night’ said from her door to the hall.

Katara was almost relieved to find that she would not have to share a bed with Zuko. Though after tea with the Ladies from Ba Sing Se, she would say that would have to change soon.  Very soon. Way too soon.

It was expected of her to birth a child within the first year of their marriage. The sooner the better.

Which Katara understood from a royal standpoint. You wanted the lineage to continue. Another blood heir to take the place if something were to happen to the King. But from where Katara sat, she didn’t think she could go through with that without loving someone first. And Katara made it very clear from the start she would never love Zuko.

Zuko cleared his throat, “Right, well it all begins again tomorrow.” He gave a short bow and then whispered a ‘Good Night’ into the back of her hand when he kissed it.

Katara blushed and turned her head to the side, failing to hide the blush from the King. “Good night.”

+++

A Few Months Later

+++

“Her Royal Highness, Katara Ven Luna De Sole.”

Katara blew out a breath before straightening her posture and walked through the door. Zuko was standing just inside the door with a smile. He held his elbow for her to take and he escorted her the rest of the way into the ballroom. “You look lovely.” Zuko leaned in close to her.

“Thank you,” Katara felt a blush bloom across her cheeks.

They took steps to the platform along one wall of the ballroom. Katara’s head maid quickly stepped to help her small train fall beside her when they took their seats on the throne.

Zuko gestured for the music and turned to all of their guests, “Let my beautiful wife’s birthday celebration begin!” The band took their cue and began a waltz like tune. Zuko then turned to Katara who was sat straight in her chair. “How do you like it my queen?” He asked as he sat down and held out a hand to her.

Katara was shocked. Really. Zuko had planned the whole event and with minimum questions besides what her favorite color was and favorite foods were. Katara planned close to nothing. Only insisting on inviting a few of her closest friends. Zuko immediately agreed to everyone on her list and went about to get them hand delivered.

The party was sparkling with creams and dusty blues that set off the dark reds of the ballroom. Their symbols blended together in a yin yang balance. There were long tables filled with her favorites and with other items, because Zuko understood not everyone loved stewed sea prunes.

Katara smiled to Zuko and took his hand, immediately intertwining their fingers, “Thank you, this has to be the most stunning birthday I have ever had.”

“Good.” Zuko nodded and looked out the to the crowd.

Katara didn’t look away from Zuko. Her fingers tightened slightly and Zuko rubbed his thumb over her knuckle. Katara felt something flutter in her chest. He was really trying. Truly. If the party didn’t prove it, then the walks he now took with her in the afternoons when she was sure he had daily training with his men during the same time. They had talked more in the last month than Katara was sure she had ever talked to anyone, minus Gran Gran of course.

Zuko had even placed a fountain in the garden that were filled with rare purple and red lotuses. Katara hadn’t even asked for it. There was a bench that was sat to the side with beautiful carvings in the stone. Katara often snuck to sit out there with a book or simply to play with the water in the fountain. It had brought her so much joy. Katara didn’t know how to properly thank him.

Her contracted husband, whom she had sworn she would never love, was making that promise a very hard accomplishment.

Zuko had gained his throne rightfully and stood with honor and dignity he was told that he never owned. She saw him grow within the last nine months. He took his position in leaps and bounds. She also giggled one evening when Zuko had stopped by her room, that Zuko gained a new grey strand with every accomplishment he obtained. Zuko grumbled and combed his fingers through his hair. Katara could have swooned as his bangs were pushed back off his face. She still wasn’t sure it was safe to tell him that he should wear his hair with his bangs pulled back into a bun.

Her husband was definitely handsome. Katara sighed inwardly. Or maybe it was outwardly because golden eyes looked over to her and then Zuko turned his head with a smile, “What?”

“I-,” Katara looked down at their hands and then down to the crowd.

“Would you like to dance?”

Katara nodded and looked up to him. Zuko stood and led her down the stairs to where people parted and made way for the couple. Zuko kept them towards the front side of the dance floor and in sync, stepped into the dance.

It was an easy dance and the layers Katara had on didn’t seem to make Zuko stumble like she was afraid when she put it on. Zuko led her gracefully into the steps being mindful of his hands and the space between their bodies. Katara again sighed and Zuko looked down to her.

“You alright?” Zuko tilted his head. “You’re not tired yet are you?”

“No,” Katara shook her head. “I’m simply thinking.”

“What about?” Zuko readjusted his their hands to a more relaxed position.

Katara blushed and turned her head away. He would ask. She was going to embarrass herself now. “It’s nothing.”

“You know I had an annoying sister that often told me, ‘If it’s nothing then you can tell me.’” Zuko raise his eyebrow to her. Katara looked up through her eyelashes to him and shook her head. “Fine, if you don’t wish to tell me.” Zuko raised his head in an overly haughty look.

Katara shook her head, “Trust me, my king,” She looked away again. “It was nothing.”

“Hmm,” Zuko smiled and continued in silence until the end of the dance. “Shall we get you something to drink or have another dance?” He asked as they bowed to each other and then gave a clap to the other dancers and band.

“A drink would be nice.” Katara took Zuko’s hand as he led her to the table of different colored cups.

The celebration had lasted for much longer than any party Katara was sure she had ever been to. (Except for her wedding night. That would be the longest day of her life. Ever.) She danced and drank, she laughed and talked with friends and with other invited guests. Most of time she was next to Zuko, a part of her constantly touched him, even if it was her pinky finger locked with his in the folds of her skirts. It all moved along greatly and there were so many birthday wishes as presents that Katara was almost overwhelmed.

Zuko caught her mid-yawn  that she tried to hid behind her large goblet of wine. She gave a guilty smile and apologized before continuing her talk with the elder Beifong couple. Zuko stepped to her side and gently kissed her cheek close to her ear, “If you wish to retire for the night, we can.”

Katara shook her head, “But what about all of the guests?”

“They will leave, especially if you decide to turn in.” Zuko whispered softly and leaned back to look at her. “But if you wish to stay out longer there is one more surprise I wish to give you.” He smiled and bowed his head dismissing the Beifong couple. “It’s my gift to you.”

“A party wasn’t enough?” Katara gave a light laugh and followed as Zuko began to pull her along.

“The celebration is for everyone else, this, this is a gift from me.” Zuko led her to the gardens they often walked through in the afternoon. Guards stood with lanterns on hooks along the path. Katara would nod to ones that caught her eye.

“I never thought I would complain about the cold in this place, but Zuko it’s chilly we should have stopped for our jackets before coming out here.” Katara mothered as she walked only one step behind Zuko.

He stopped abruptly and turned to her, “Close your eyes.”

“Zuko, aren’t you listening.” Katara put her hands on her hips with a pout.

“Yes, but the longer your beautiful sapphire eyes are looking at me the longer we are staying out here.” Zuko countered.

Katara huffed and closed her eyes. Even with her eyes closed she could see his signature smirk he wore when he won. Katara rolled her eyes under her lids. She heard a snap and felt a small surge of heat cut through the cold before it surrounded her again. But she didn’t dare open her eyes until Zuko told her to.

Zuko had taken steps away from her and she heard him mumble something. Then clearly said, “Open your eyes.”

When Katara blinked her eyes open she gasped. She had never seen a more beautiful picture ever. Her eyes filled with tears as she took in all the details.

Zuko had lit lanterns that floated through the water lilies in her, their fountain. There were small and large candles sat around in different clumps that shone on the water and ground. They lit up the garden in a glow so beautiful Katara couldn’t help the tear that fell.

But at the center of it all was what made her heart stutter.

Zuko held onto a floating lantern and gave her the smallest of soft smiles she has ever seen on a human being. He stretched out a hand and Katara hiccuped on a small cry. She stepped towards him with a wobbling smile.

“I once read a story, of a king who would light a lantern on his wife’s birthday for every year that he loved her.” Katara took Zuko’s hand and looked down to the glowing lantern. “He would lift it into the sky to show all the world his love. The wife claimed him to be a foolish man. And maybe he was. But he did it every year. The number of lanterns he would send off grew and grew each year.” Zuko pulled Katara a little closer to him. Katara took a hold of an edge like Zuko and she licked her lips as Zuko continued his story. “Util the year he died in a horrible war.” Katara’s face crinkled into one of confusion at Zuko’s pause. “And his wife at his burial lit one lantern.  And would continue to do so every year on his birthday. To show her love for her deceased husband.” Zuko paused and gave a half chuckle. “Sorry that was um really not the happy ending. I just read it and I thought the tradition of lighting a lantern on your birthday was something we could do. Or I could do for you- or maybe this was stupid. Yeah this was stupid. We don’t have to-”

Katara yanked him down by the collar of his shirt and kissed him. She loved this man. Spirits. He did all of this. Everything was for her and she was surprised to find he knew so much about her. He got to know her. In return she knew him. And that if she didn’t shut him up he would take back not only this super storybook romantic tradition. He would also say that the party wasn’t as great as he had planned. Or some other non-sense that lowered his self-esteem. And she would not stand for it. Because she loved it, all of it, the party, the lanterns, him. Oh spirits, she loved him.

Katara let go of the lantern to wrap her arms around Zuko’s neck. Zuko’s surprise had finally worn off and he kissed back, releasing the lantern in favor of wrapping his arms around her as well. Katara squealed as she was lifted from the ground.

The queen pulled back when she was sat back down on her feet. Her smile was bright as she looked up to her contracted husband. “I love you.”

Zuko smiled and pulled her in for another kiss. But not before whispering, “I love you too.” on her lips.

The first lantern took flight in the sky that night. To show the world the King’s love for his Queen. But more importantly for Katara’s love for Zuko.

[harley-quinnn]

Not Afraid Anymore

Jared Leto x Reader

Prompt: Merry Christmas harls! ❤️ Can I request a Jared x reader based on Not Afraid Anymore by Halsey? It doesn’t have to be a song fic but the concept

{A/N} I kind of pictured this as a prelude to Violent Delight halfway into writing it, since I mentioned in that story that the reader had already met him at a show months prior! This was so fun and once I got to writing it, I couldn’t stop! It is not a song fic, but just based on the concept of the song. I hope ya like it, puddin’! xo Harley

Warnings: Sexy sex. Daddy kink, choking, gagging, a slap or two, teasing that probably killed me more to write. (Also a very, very disgruntled best friend.)

“I can’t believe we’re here!” You enthused, your wide eyed friend hopping in place a few times as she waited in line beside you.

You won them on the radio, the VIP tickets to the show. At first, you weren’t even sure if you should even try to call the station, but knowing just how badly you and your friend Claire wanted to attend the meet and greet with Thirty Seconds to Mars, you figured there was nothing to lose.

“God.. If he touches me, I’m going to scream,” Claire said emphatically, her eyes rolling back at the thought before she grabbed onto your shoulders. “What if we get invited to stay behind or something!?”

“Claire, please. It’s us and a million others right now. We should just be lucky we’re here at all,” you gently remind her, your eyes drifting toward the long line ahead of you, and then to the rest of it behind you.

She pouted, her perfectly rosy cheeks puffing out as she blew a few strands of brown hair from her angelic face, reminding you of an upset toddler.

“I can dream, can’t I?” She asked, crossing her arms in front of her.

“Yes! Of course. Just don’t get your hopes up too high,” you said.

Claire was the dreamer, always excited, always hoping for the most unlikely situation. She helped balance out your usual level-headed-ness. It was fun to play pretend, but you didn’t necessarily want to play groupie, you just wanted a chance to meet the man you adored; and adore him in your mind where no one could hear you scream as he stared you in the face and pretended to care that you were there.

It seemed like only seconds passed when the entire room began to shout with joy. Your eyes shut automatically as you lifted your brows, your hand reaching to rub your ear as you looked around the room again. Claire was hanging over the edge of the rope that held the line together, waving her thin, pale arm frantically at the front of the room. You decided it was safe to assume Jared and Shannon had finally arrived.

As much as you wanted to get caught up in the overwhelming wave of excitement, all you desired was to catch a glimpse of Jared up close and in the flesh. Try as you might- no dice. The other members of the crowd were in your way and weren’t willing to give up their spots to look at him so easily. You shrugged to yourself and hung back.

I’ll see him later.

Suddenly, you were being swept up in Claire’s arms, a rough hug capturing your frame as she raved.

“I saw him! I saw him! Oh my.. {Y/N}, he’s even more gorgeous up close!”

You forced a smile. You’d ruined her fun enough, you thought.

“Really? I can’t wait.”

“Well didn’t you see him?”

“No, but that’s okay! I will once we get closer.”

She nodded, her demeanor suddenly changing to something like feeling sorry for you as she pulled out her phone and opened the camera. She tousled her brunette locks from under the barrette she wore and reapplied her lipstick. You immediately knew what she was planning.

A pang of jealousy peaked in your chest as she puckered her pout in the camera. You were pretty, sure, but Claire had a way about her that even models didn’t possess. Should her little daydream come true, you were certain you’d have no part in it. Still, she was your best friend, and you set all those feelings aside to be happy for her. You gave a soft nudge to her side.

“You don’t need to do all that. I’m sure he’ll fall in love the moment he lays eyes on you.”

The color red that painted her cheeks was like none you’d seen before as she quickly put her phone and lipstick back in her pocket. She suddenly gave you a shy smile and an even shyer shrug.

The crowd roared again and the photos began. You could only catch glimpses of the camera flash, and hear his voice laughing and carrying on with fans amidst the chatter of everyone else. The line seemed to move agonizing slow; He seemed to take his time with everyone, and so did Shannon. Butterflies began to kick up in your stomach as you drew near enough to see his handsome face. Before you knew it, there was only one other person ahead of you. You’d both turned away from the scene, not wanting to lose your heads prematurely.

“We’re so close!” Claire squealed, clasping her hands together as she looked at you.

“You’re next!” You heard from behind, the familiar velvety voice that you’d grown so infatuated with over the years musically filling your ears.

Claire lost it, tears of joy welling up in her eyes as she pushed past you and headed right into Jared’s arms, embracing him in an unashamed hug. You quickly felt betrayed. She was hogging him all to herself, not even giving you a chance to say hello. When you finally approached them, he was teasing her; pulling the hat from her head, tracing his fingers over the writing on the sleeves of the bands shirt she had on. You were a ghost next to them as you approached Shannon, who automatically noticed your upset mood despite your forced grin.

“Don’t look so sad!” He said. “I’m not Jared but I’m just as cool. Better yet- cooler.”

“No! Oh my gosh, no. I love you!” You gushed, your emotions doing a complete turn around as he swept you into his arms for a big hug. You had almost forgotten about the scene playing out next to you.

Claire always got what she wanted.

The photographer gathered you, Claire, Jared and Shannon, and counted down for the photo. You smiled, despite feeling like you didn’t even get a chance to smile in Jared’s direction. You adored Shannon, and he was so kind. Though they both had your loyalty, Jared would always be your favorite.

A click of the camera and you were done. Just like that, you were being shuffled off by assistants to make room for the next fan. You gave Shannon another hug before he turned his attention to the person behind you. Your eyes remained on the floor as you passed by Claire giving Jared her last bits of affection in hopes for an invitation back to the tour bus, or wherever he might be staying. You bowed your head just slightly, becoming invisible and blending into the background just as you were used to.

Walking past them, you felt a knot in your stomach that pushed its way to your throat as you tried not to cry out of hurt and just a twinge of anger.

That was, until you felt a hand on your shoulder.

“Hey, what’s your name?” He asked, stopping you dead in your tracks as you came face to face with the Jared Leto.

“I..” You looked at Claire, who might as well have been hooked away from him like an actor in an old fashioned play. “I’m {Y/N}.”

Your eyes met his again, and you swallowed hard, trying to push the feeling of crying and excitement away all at once.

“Jared, we have to get going,” an assistant said, nervously eyeing the people next in line who were chatting with Shannon.

“I didn’t get to talk to {Y/N}, just give me a minute please,” he told her kindly and calmly, turning aside to speak to you.

You couldn’t believe he was stopping the entire order of things just to make sure he said hello to you. Maybe dreams did come true. Still, you felt bad for getting him in trouble and messing with the schedule.

“Thanks for coming. I’m glad to see you here,” he grinned.

“Oh, I wouldn’t have missed this for anything,” you said meekly, trying desperately to keep your blush at bay as you stood before him. “You don’t have to keep everyone waiting, though, I’ll get out of your way.”

“No, it’s okay! I love meeting you guys. It seems like we just didn’t get enough time together. Please, stay.”

Stay.

Where you had almost turned to leave, you shifted back to your position in front of him, finally allowing your eyes to really drink him in. He was tall and slender, his athletic build hidden under the long sleeved shirt he wore. His long locks were lustrous and his blue eyes reminded you cold pools on a hot summer day. His jawline could cut ice and his hands were masculine, but still held a touch of softness. An image of his hand trailing down your bare waist flashed in your mind, bringing the blush in your countenance forward again.

“Are you sure? I think my friend Claire sucked up enough camera time,” you joked shyly.

Every move he made was smooth as he rested his hand on your upper arm, shaking his head and rolling his eyes playfully at your statement.

“Oh, actually,” he started as though recalling a distant memory before turning to the photographer and assistant. “We didn’t get a picture together, let’s get one,” he said, waving his finger lightly at the camera before taking his place next to you.

His arm reached around you in a half-embrace, and what he said next, in a low and gentle tone, just loud enough for you to hear, shocked you.

“You’ve got a very beautiful face. The rest of you is just as amazing.”

There was no doubt your expression was full of surprise and bashfulness when the photographer looked at his camera’s screen and suggested taking a new photo.

“Take a few!” Jared enthused before looking down at you.

“Me?” You asked with a grin, suddenly surging with a confidence you knew was only going to last a few more minutes. “Did you tell Claire that, too?”

“Not so shy anymore, are we?” He smirked as the camera shutter sounded, your eyes fixed on his.

“She’s pretty, no doubt. But I prefer you. You weren’t clamoring for my attention like miss Dirty Diana over there,” he quipped, referencing the Michael Jackson song every musician knew like the back of their hand.

“Well, I don’t really need to fawn all over someone to get what I want,” you responded, and the look on his face screamed ‘impressed.’

“You ever try your luck with the devil, sweetheart?” He asked in a raspy tone, sending your senses atwitter. “When I play, I play to win.”

Claire was absolutely your best friend, but in the moment, she had already cast you aside in an attempt at Jared. You quickly peered over your shoulder as you noticed her still being shuffled back into the crowd that had already had their time with the band. Still hurt over her total disregard for you, you decided to look out for yourself instead of worry about her.

Your heart couldn’t pump fast enough as you continued to absorb his words. You quickly feel as though you’d just gotten yourself into something you’d been dying for, but hadn’t had time to prepare for. What you wanted, desired, was impure, and it seemed like he was just the man for the job.

“Game on, then,” you spoke just loud enough for him to hear, noticing a darker kind of smirk slide across his features shortly there after.

Though Claire had been the hopeful one all night, it seemed like you were getting your (and her) every dream. Lust was a hell of a drug, and it seemed he liked you more than just taking one hit.

The camera shuttered once more as he bent down to kiss your cheek for a photo, your eyes closing instantly with a flirty grin. Before he pulled away, he pressed his lips to your ear.

“Stay after the meet and greet.. Just you. For me?”

You looked back up at him, noticing the gleam in his eye as he pressed his palms together and gave you a pleading smile.

“Okay, I’ll stay.”

His face lit up like the crystal ball on New Year’s Eve as he squeezed your shoulder and discreetly instructed the assistant to lead you to the green room of the venue. Her eyes snapped from yours to his, then back again before she sighed and obeyed his order- something you assumed happened quite often to anyone he may have spoken to.

“Come on,” she urged, clearly annoyed before walking past him and toward a large door.

You looked at Jared one last time, and he threw you a wink before turning to meet the people in line behind you with an enthusiastic expression.

Following closely behind the woman leading you past the door and down a hallway, your eyes roamed around the mostly empty space. She stopped at another door before pulling a key from her pocket and swiftly sliding it into the doorknob.

“It’s not everyday he asks this,” she assured you, but something in the back of your head told you otherwise.

“Just take a seat anywhere,” she said again as the door popped open, revealing a large room void of anyone else, clad with couches, snacks and vintage arcade and pinball machines that silently flashed fun colors. “And please don’t talk to anyone else. I could get in so much trouble for this.”

The atmosphere of the room was nothing like you were expecting. It was dimly lit, one would even say completely dark, save for the bright glowing neon signs that hung on the walls paired with lava lamps and faux candles that falsely burned on tables. It was an aesthetic dream as you stepped inside, and it took an immense amount of effort not to lose your head over the room itself.

When you turned to thank her, she had already disappeared, the door cracked open just an inch. You suddenly felt unsure of why you were there. He could’ve had anyone else.. Claire, mostly. Why me? You moved to plop down on one of the couches and pull your phone from your pocket. A sense of dread washed over you at the thought of checking your texts, knowing Claire’s name would be there. Cringing, you unlocked your phone.

Thirty-seven new text messages. Only one of them was from your mom hoping you were having a good time. You replied to her without bothering to glance at Claire’s messages before locking your phone again. She would just have to deal with it.

A bowl of skittles on the table looked awfully appetizing as you soaked in the room, leaning forward from the couch to pick at it. Even the flavors seemed to come alive more than usual as you awaited his appearance in the doorway.

Time passed quickly, too quickly as your heart hammered in your chest harder with every passing moment. Before too long, you stood up, thinking of leaving.

But, what if?

It was a chance you didn’t want to take. Instead, you walked toward the arcade machines, lingering around them slowly as you thought about just what happened tonight. It was even more unnerving to think about what was possibly to come.

You weren’t as experienced as your friend, but you knew enough. Though you’d had the chance to act on your deepest fantasies, something always held you back. It was a strange fear that kept you; maybe of attachment, maybe of simply liking it too much. Because of that you remained vanilla most of your sexual life, save for the places you’d gotten down and dirty.

You’d heard the rumors about him, you’d seen the signs in his music and in his speech. The gifs on Tumblr and the way he like to tease the audience during concerts. Still, there was the slightest pang of worry as you wondered if that was what he was expecting. If he assumed you’d be just as into the darker side as he was.

You wanted it, him and all things that came with him, there was no doubt about it. Who wouldn’t want him? But that faint panic started running through your body as you realized if those rumors were true, you wouldn’t just be on your back on the couch for twenty minutes. You’d be apart of something darker, rougher; something sickeningly beautiful.

Your skin crawled at the thought. You wanted to try it so badly, to finally give up control and act on impulse. The fear almost melted away as another image flashed through you mind; his hand pulling on your hair, his teeth in your neck. There was electricity in the air as you caught yourself breathing just a bit heavier, running your finger along the tops of the arcades and pinball machines one by one as you walked past them as slow as molasses.

He seemed into me- maybe laid on the charm a little thick.. but if he didn’t like me at all, he wouldn’t have. Would he? Sure, he teased Claire, but he didn’t ask her to stay behind. He could have anyone tonight.. he could have anyone ever. Why me?

Your thoughts trailed back to what the woman said as she opened the door in the first place.  

“But why?” You asked yourself quietly in the silence of the room.

“Because you’re different,” the intoxicating voice you’d know anywhere chimed in from the doorway, starling you as you curtly turned to face him.

“Oh, I didn’t hear you coming,” you said, a soft, nervous laugh escaping you.

“You will,” he quipped quickly before continuing on, the joke making your emotions leap. “Sorry, that took a little longer than usual. It was a crazy crowd tonight.”

He stepped inside, closing the door behind him before making his way to the same bowl of skittles on the table, picking up a handful and walking towards you.

“It’s okay,” you said quietly, attempting with every ounce of might not to lose your mind completely as you watched his every move in awe. He was even more charming and enamoring alone, without having to keep a guard up to defend himself from hundreds of people at once. Sinking your teeth into your lower lip gently, you turned around quickly to hide your face from him, absentmindedly eyeing the flashing pinball machine you’d stopped in front of.

“You like them?” He asked as he stood next to you, gesturing to the glowing machines.

“Oh yeah. They remind me of my childhood, actually. I used to hang out at the arcade and.. do stupid stuff with my friends.”

“I always liked the green room here. Every venue is different, but this one stuck with me.”

His attitude was cool and aloof, but never to the point of completely uncaring. It was immediately disarming as you cracked a smile.

“You must see the inside of so many of these places.”

“I do,” he said. “Everywhere is different. But sometimes, you find that one element that makes a place worth remembering.”

“Just one? What’s the element here?” You asked, curious.

“Tonight, it’s you.”

Your breath remained in your lungs as you stilled beside him, your eyes daring to drift from the pinball machine to meet his heart stopping gaze. Every time you looked at him felt like the first time. Your words weren’t available to you as you held his stare. The tension building couldn’t be cut with a knife, but rather something more of a chainsaw as you tried to gather yourself.

“Don’t be nervous,” he finally said, his tone soft as he stepped back a bit. “I’m not trying to make you uncomfortable.”

“That’s really not the case,” you quickly responded, you eyes closing for just a second. “I’m, so, so far from uncomfortable.”

Where you had no words before, you were suddenly revealing too much. Nervous, yes, uncomfortable, absolutely not. It was bad enough you were completely infatuated with him, it was even worse he was into you, too- even worse in all the good ways, anyway. If only for the night.

You were stuck between going as far as you’d always wanted, to politely declining anything other than a hug and a conversation and being on your way. In that moment, you refused the thought of the latter.

“Are you?” He asked, his tone gruff, yet still soft.

“Yes,” you assured, your voice breathier than you anticipated it to be. “But I am a little intimidated.”

He noticed it too, breathing a soft chuckle as he moved to push some hair from your face, his hand staying on the side of your head tenderly.

“I’d be lying if I said I didn’t intend that.. Not maliciously, or anything,” he added nonchalantly with a faint, lighthearted grin.

A soft giggle emitted from your lips and you rolled your eyes playfully before his hand slid from your head to the side of your neck. When his eyes traveled from yours to your lips, you could almost hear the blood rushing to your cheeks again.

“Do you always blush so easily?” He smirked. “It’s precious.”

Bringing a hand to your cheek, words spilled past your lips without any way to control it. “You’re just, far more handsome than even I expected,” you gushed and looked away, unable to reel it back as your hand gripped onto the pinball machine behind you. “And I can’t help but want you.”

Your breathing grew staggered as he moved closer. There was something even more alluring about him in person, and you knew you were about to crumble to pieces when he leaned in and gripped onto your chin, turning you to face him in a rougher manner than you were used to.

“How do you want me?” he asked under his breath, leaning over you against the machine as his free hand gripped onto it beside you.

That was all you needed. The darker, submissive side to you would be hidden away no longer. There was something you needed that you felt only he could give you. His grip got just a bit tighter on your chin as you inhaled, holding his dangerous gaze. The masochistic craving you felt in your loins was insatiable as you opened your mouth to speak.

“Hard and fast,” you breathed, your slightly trembling hand moving to grip onto the collar of shirt as he leaned you back just a bit more. “Destructive.. I’m not afraid anymore.”

He didn’t waste any time. He picked you up and threw you onto the pinball machine, his lips meeting yours like there was a magnet attracting him to you. His kiss was suffocatingly deep as he parted your lips, smearing your nude-colored lipstick on your mouth as his hands explored your body. The taste of his lips was sweet as the candy he’d just ingested, sending you into a whirlwind of heaven. Still trembling just slightly, you moved your hand to touch his flesh; to finally get what you’d been dying to have for years. You hardly realized you were digging your fingers into his back when he pulled away for just a moment, ripping his shirt off of his toned body and exposing the tattoo on his chest you’d always dreamt of running your tongue over. You kicked your heels off quickly, wrapping your ankle behind his body as the intensity heightened between you.

He tugged you down closer to the edge of the surface he had you on, ripping your shirt off before pressing his lips back to yours with a force to them you’d never felt from anyone before. Your nether regions burned with a desire that you’d only heard of in movies as you pushed back, kissing him with same fervency he was giving you. A soft groan filled the air, and it was all Jared needed to hear as his hands tugged at your jeans, yanking them down your legs and dropping them to the floor. Without warning, you felt his hand on your barely clothed sex, pressing his fingertips against it roughly.

“Such a sweet girl, and yet so filthy..” he growled as his lips trailed down your neck roughly; a mixture of bites and kisses peppering your skin.

You brought his head against your flesh harder, your eyes falling shut as you moaned under his touch. The emotions and sensations within you bubbled like champagne in a glass with every word he spoke. There was no stopping the immense amount of arousal that he inflicted on you with every coy sentence; with every ounce of affection.

“Harder,” was all you could manage, and he swiftly obeyed.

His teeth sunk further into your skin, his finger rubbing circles over your engorged clit before slapping it a few times. Each slap sent a warm electric shock from your core to every other centimeter of your body, eliciting a new, delicate moan from you every time.

“Already, sweetheart?” He taunted softly. “Damn, such a fucking slut for daddy.. And I haven’t even fucked you, yet.”

His voice was gruff and full of lust as he spoke. He stood up again, shoving you down onto the pinball machine, rattling the pieces inside of it as his hand gripped around your throat. His other hand moved to tear your panties off your body. You gasped, opening your legs for him as he stood between them, rubbing his groin against your core through his pants. You watched as he bit his lower lip, his eyes roaming over your body lecherously as he gave your neck another squeeze. There was no question he was getting harder in his pants as he did so. It was enough to get you going even more, the thought of being the reason he needed you just as and much as you needed him.

“Then fuck me.. I want you to push me completely.. No limits,” you begged.

He lifted a brow with a smirk, his eyes landing on your pussy, glistening under the buzzing neon lights as he drew a breath between his teeth. It all drove you further up the wall with every passing second. He was addicting already, like a sweet kind of venom that you never knew you needed rushing through your bloodstream.

“No limits, huh?” he pondered, his hand moving to pull his length from his pants, still pinning you down with the other.

“None. I want it all. All your wrath..”

“Such dirty words coming from such an innocent face, {Y/N}..” he said, tapping the head of his shaft against your swollen folds a few times, eliciting a whimper from you.

With one, quick thrust, he pushed his large member into your core, your mouth slightly agape as you inhale at the sudden pleasure laced with the slightest twinge of a blissful pain. He was bigger than you were expecting, filling you up with no issue, but as he began to rock back and forth, the sensation quickly melted into nothing but pure, unadulterated euphoria. There was nothing like it, the high he had you running off of as you fit his rigid member like a glove.

“Oh, daddy..” you mewled, not used to such a filthy term coming from your lips, but aroused even more just at the opportunity to use it.

Jared picked up the pace, his hand dragging itself down your breasts before squeezing each of them over your favorite bra. Your leg pushed him even closer to your body as it bounced underneath him. He slid his hand beneath your bra next, pinching and tugging at your taut nipples as you moaned out his name, watching him bite into his lip as you did so.

Your senses tinged right along with his own as your shoulder blades pressed against the hard glass surface he had you on top of. When you moved to prop yourself up on your shoulder, his hand quickly met your cheek with a slap before smearing his thumb over your lip and grabbing your chin again, shoving you back down against the machine as he thrusted into you harder, his fingertips connecting with you cheek again. Your tight walls clenched around his solid cock, only offering the both of you more friction to get off on as he kept it up.

“You don’t move unless I move you,” he rasped, his hand moving to rub your clit again, this time with more pressure.

You were on cloud nine as you took every inch as deeply as he could possibly give it to you, crying out between gasps. His grunting was temperature rising, his moaning almost too hot for you to handle, and when saw his hand move to tear the belt that hung on his pants from its place, a whole new sensation of need appeared.

Your back arched as he ran it over your skin, the material was cold and smooth as he curtly leaned over you, and held it over your mouth, his hands on either side of your head as he fucked into you relentlessly.

It was obvious, plainly obvious, that he was only using you to tease himself as he began to slow down, towering over your helpless frame as one hand gripped onto the back of the pinball machine above you, the other squeezing your own breast with an eagerness to feel everything at once. His skin was just slightly damp as he pulled his thick cock out slowly, then pushing into your sweet spot again at the same pace, over and over.

“That tight little pussy is all mine, isn’t it kitten?” he groaned, his expression intense as he watched you with the belt over your mouth.

You bit into it, whimpering with a nod as your nails clawed at his shoulder, next. Your hips lifted to collide with his groin as you tilted your head back against the machine. He let go for a moment, the material still hanging over your mouth as he lifted your legs over his shoulders. His hand swiftly met your backside, slapping it violently with a firm squeeze before he leaned back over you and held the belt down again. His cock hit your g-spot with such a mouthwatering deliciousness, that you began to feel overwhelmed with pleasure; tears forming in your waterline. All you wanted was more of him, to feel the beautiful release that he was building you up to. Your stomach was in glorious, anticipatory knots as he continued.

“So helpless, trying to play with me like you can handle it..”

He lifted the belt just a bit so you could respond, a glint in his eye as he smirked down at you, still thrusting slowly.

“I can, baby..” you assured, your tone just as helpless as he knew it would be; just as desperate to please him.

With that, he pushed into you all at once again roughly, a cry falling from your lips as your chest heaved. You were close, so close. How he managed to get this far himself was beyond you as he chuckled, low and sensually.

“Does that feel good, baby girl?” he asked, taunting you now as he mercilessly stroked into you harder.

“Oh, fuck.. Yes, daddy! Fuck me!”

Your pussy throbbed around him, leaving you no time to keep your climax at bay as you finally let go. When he noticed you were at the finish line, he threw the belt aside and reached for your neck, squeezing it just right as your body writhed in response. Wave after wave of pleasure coursed through your veins, sending a warm, sizzling sensation through your core. When he felt your walls squeeze his length repeatedly, he let himself go, too. A carnal groan bolting out of him like a freight train as his thrusts grew harder and animalistic. Riding out his ecstasy only helped you into another release as your overstimulated center sent nerve singing ripples of the most intense orgasm you’d ever felt- alone or with someone else.

“That’s right baby, cum for daddy.. Let me feel that pussy cum just for me,” he groaned into the open air.

Your pulsing clit was sensitive, only growing increasingly more sensitive as he reached to slap it over and over before his hands slid to grip onto your hips violently, thrusting into you with the same urgency as before.

Leaving you breathless and senseless all at once while he spilled inside of you was just the game he wanted to play. His fingers digging into your soft skin was painful, adding to the amazing feeling between your thighs as your swollen pussy swallowed his throbbing shaft with ease.

Jared’s eyes were glued to yours as you shuddered beneath him, watching your every reaction intently. It only got him off even harder on the fact that it was all because of him. The immense wetness that was dripping from your center made him slide in and out of you swiftly, your moaning turning into a soft whining as he slowed down, pushing back into you a few more times before finally pulling out with a sigh of satisfaction.

He set your legs back down and pulled at his pants, fixing himself again as you laid on the pinball machine, heaven in your eyes and mind. Suddenly, you wondered if you were going to be able to walk at all as a soreness replaced the fullness you’d just felt.

Giving into him, getting what you wanted, it all felt surreal as you looked up at the ceiling. The sex was rough and on fire, a total one-eighty from what you were used to. It was exciting, and honestly? Igniting. You wanted more of him, so much more. You wanted the darkness and the rage; the violence and the loss of control. You’d just gotten it all, but you were still hungry for him; still hungry for more. If what you’d just experienced was any indication, you were fast on your way to the sick and twisted desire you shared with him, no longer afraid to give it and receive it. Jared had satisfied you thoroughly, but as you laid on the pinball machine with an aching between your legs, you realized when it came to him, there was no way you’d ever be completely finished

A deep breath was all you allowed yourself before sitting back up, the puddle underneath you coating the back of your thighs as you looked for your clothes on the floor. He moved to pick up your jeans and panties, handing them back over to you with a smirk.

“Do you live around here?” he asked, and you almost couldn’t believe he’d moved into regular conversation so quickly.

You reminded yourself that he was Jared Leto, after all. You were probably just one out of a million when it came to tour flings. You attempted to shake the envy quickly.

“Yeah, just about twenty minutes away,” you breathed, still trying to bring yourself back down as you carefully took your clothes back.

You slid off of the pinball machine and into the articles of clothing he handed back to you.

“I get back home in a few months.. Maybe we can hang out again.”

The snort that escaped you wasn’t meant to be rude, but it was inevitable.

“You want to see me again?”

He mocked the expression on your features playfully with a light chuckle. “Of course I do. Are you kidding?”

You grabbed your shirt off the floor, slipping into it and looking at him meekly.

“Sorry, I just.. You’re.. You know, you can have anyone.” “Oh, I just spent all that time giving you my undivided attention and you still think I’d want to give it to someone else?”

“I know how you sweet talking band guys work,” you retorted, showing him you weren’t just another naive girl, even if you felt like it.

“So you’ve done this before?” he quipped, a sly grin on his features.

“No! I just.. Assume. You’re all a special kind of breed..” You stammered, huffing and regrouping as he stepped closer to you. “ What I meant is, I don’t expect you to all of a sudden be in love with me endlessly and want to give up.. Tour life,” You stated, knowing he knew exactly what you meant.

He chuckled again softly, shaking his head as he wrapped a hand around your waist, looking down into your {E/C} eyes.

“Where’s your phone? I’ll give you my personal line.”

You hesitated, studying his expression as you reached into your back pocket, suddenly glad it didn’t slip out during your rendezvous. When you pulled your phone out, he took it gently from your hand, unlocking it to put his number into your contacts.

“Claire is pissed,” he joked, drawing out his words as he lifts his brows, his thumb scrolling through the thread.

Had it been anyone else, you might’ve been mad that he went through your messages with her like that. However, he was different already, and she was showing her ass.

“Oh, yeah… She was hoping it would was going to be her getting railed tonight. Definitely not me.”

He laughed, looking at you and saving his contact.

“Getting railed, huh? Such a lady,” he joked.

You blushed in return as he slipped your phone into your back pocket for you, a soft giggle emitting from your chest as he gave your rear a firm squeeze. A faint pain made itself known under his hand from where he’d spanked you earlier, and you chewed on your lower lip.

“You know there’s more where that came from, right? Pushing your limits.. I’ve barely started.”

His icy stare landed on yours, a silent moment hanging between you as your breath hitched nervously in your chest all over again. Something told you if he did ever call you again, he’d just keep going. He’d keep going harder and harder every time you saw each other, until you were completely devoted to his every need. You were about to respond when-

“{Y/N}! What the fuck! How could you just leave me like that?!” you heard Claire calling out, the door swinging open and slamming into the wall behind it.

“As if on cue..” he said under his breath to you.

You jumped, trying to calm back down as Jared turned to face her.

“You must be Claire,” he grinned, and she automatically melted at his presence.

“Oh, yes.. Hi, again,” she said, pouring the flirt on thick. “Fancy meeting you here, babe.”

He only smiled, turning back to you and pulling you close with one arm before leaning in to plant a passionate kiss on your lips. When he pulled away, he winked and headed for the door. “Text me your address. I’ll call you when I’m back,” he said, grabbing his shirt from the couch he threw it on in the heat of your moment and walking cockily out of the room. “Be good, sweetheart.”

You couldn’t help the grin on your lips as you thought about what just happened. When you turned to Claire, you saw envy, confusion and rage written all over her features as she seethed, practically chomping at the bit to ask what the hell any of that was; but she didn’t need to ask. You simply shrugged, suddenly uncaring of her behavior.

“What can I say? He’s one hell of a guy.”

[dramallamadingdang]

lilleputtu replied to your photoset “One of the cabins-at-the-pond. This one has its own private bit of the...”

your landscaping is amazing. teach me your secrets

Not really any secrets, I’m afraid. It got long, though (Surprise, surprise!), so I cut it. My approach to landscaping more rural/rustic neighborhoods is like this:

1) I use a larger-than-necessary lot for the intended structure, to allow for landscaping, especially for blending in with hood deco flora. A tiny cabin on a 3x3 lot, for instance, where neighborhood-deco scrub encroaches onto the lot, which I can incorporate into the on-lot landscaping. :) Structures in rural areas aren’t usually built right up against the road, after all, and a larger lot allows you to sit the structure away from the road. I know people seem to like tiny lots -- and I get it -- but honestly? When I do this sort of thing, most of the lot ends up being “fenced off” so Sims can’t use it anyway. (More about that farther down.) So, I use larger residential lots in rural areas, sometimes up to 4x4.

2) I build the rough structure -- usually just foundation (if applicable), walls, windows/doors and roof -- in the spot I want it to be in because I “build” the landscape around the structure.

3) If there’s going to be water on the lot, I put that in now.

4) I terrain-paint a walkway from the road to the entry of the house. I usually make the walkway wind a bit, not just a straight line. I terrain-paint a driveway, too, if I’m going to have one and I don’t want to use floor tiles for it. I tend to use a gravel terrain paint for rural walk/driveways, but there are all sorts of terrain paints you can use. I use paint because the shapes you can make with paint are more flexible than what you can make with floor tiles.

5) Trees. I position one or two of them near the path of the walkway, especially toward the road end of it, to define the entrance to the lot. I try to balance the positions, heights, and shapes of the trees to create a visually-pleasing line, similar to the attention I pay to roof lines on the structure. I also give some consideration to scenic views and also to privacy, even though Sims don’t care about either of those things. :) As in, I tend to place some larger trees in places that block views through windows into bedrooms from the sidewalk. But if there’s a nice view out of, say, a window wall, I don’t block that with trees. This is why I put in the windows in the rough structure, because that helps me to decide where trees will and won’t be on the lot. Density and type of trees used is dependent on the neighborhood’s environment, of course. Arid ones get pines and birches-that-substitute-for-aspens, for example.

6) I plop down grass under the trees and any neighborhood deco that is sitting on the lot. I use that converted-from-Bioshock “Boardwalk” grass for this because it’s nice and big. You cover a lot of ground with just one instance of it. I alter the orientation of the grass plots so they’re not all facing the same way and so that there are some curves, for a more natural/chaotic look. Those plots of grass define the area where shrubs and rocks will be used for the “understory” beneath the trees.

7) I plop down shrubs and rocks underneath the trees/deco in the areas defined by the grass patches and also here and there around the footprint of the structure, to break up its facades a little. Again, I use a variety of shapes, types, and heights to create visual interest. And, again, the types used are dependent on the neighborhood’s environment. Deserts and near-deserts don’t naturally have flowering shrubs with lush, dark green foliage, for instance. It’s mostly rock and scrub and yellow grass and cacti. 

8) Fill in any little gaps with ground-cover type vegetation. Depending on the environment, I use various grasses and ground covers from the Miasmata conversions, various meshed grasses that MLC repositories, flower squares, “flower squares” that are cacti, “flower squares” that are grass, small plants from the buy mode plant catalog, etc. This can add touches of color and/or just fill in small spots where you don’t want a bush.

9) Terrain paint. Honestly, this can make or break the look of a lot and it’s often the thing I spend the most time on. I layer the paints, using quick squirts and the middle-sized “brush,” because layering them makes the look softer and more natural, with no one paint being overwhelming. The first spray is plain dirt. It goes underneath all of the landscaping. On top of the dirt, I have this rocky sand paint that I really like (I have no idea who made it; its description is in Polish, which I can’t read. :) I got it with a lot ages ago.) I squirt that over the dirt. If pine trees are on the lot, squirts of pine needle paint go under there. On the top there might be something with a bit of green. The Maxis “sandy grass” or CuriousB’s “weedy lawn” one that’s part of her terrain default set tend to work well. I keep painting, blending and layering various paints together until I like the look of it, basically. Then with the smallest-size brush, I go around the edges of the landscaped areas to add more concentrated paint to better define the landscaped areas. Then, over the whole lot, I put down a few fast squirts of a paint that blends in with the general terrain, just to soften any areas of unpainted terrain, using the largest-size brush. Finally, I go back and touch up any areas that might have gotten paint that I don’t want on it.

10) Invisible fences. I put these around any neighborhood deco that’s incorporated into the landscaping, so that Sims don’t walk through the deco. :) 

10a) I also have a pet peeve that when I paint walkways on the lot, I want Sims to USE THEM, DAMMIT! and not walk willy-nilly all over the place. So, I tend to lay down invisible fences to create “cattle chutes” for Sims, so that they walk in the places I want them to walk on the lot and not where they want to walk. :)  Since you can’t see invisible fences as you draw them, I usually draw the fences with regular fences till I get the layout right, to make sure Sims can access the places where I do want them to go, and then replace the real fences with the invisible one. Of course, if you use landscape stuff that needs to be tended, then you’ll need to allow Sims access to them, but I use a Perfect Plants mod for landscape plants, so I don’t have to worry about that. 

And...that’s it? *laugh*

[sheisbornadreamer]

Blend in, chapter ten

...chapter ten?!

WARNINGS: No fluff in this chapter whatsoever, not even any cold-hearted intercourse alright, so just wipe all of those expectations away. There you go :) Plus this chapter is very short. And I suck.

Sorry.

But! Hopefully, a lot of things will get cleared up :)

...just read!

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

Saturday, 10.48 AM Tachikawa's residence

"-and I bought these two jeans -aren't they gorgeous- y'know the assistant said I look just like Misha Barton, hah I wish but whatever I mean her BMI is totally anorexic and that's great and all if you wanna like, die, though you can't deny that she's freakin gorgeous I'd totally die for those legs wouldn't you -look aren't they cute!"

"Mmh," Sora's eyes submissively fell on the jeans covering her friend's legs, but her mind couldn't tear itself away from her new full-time dilemma. This was hardly ever a problem for the two; to Mimi Sora was merely a mirror -or a wall, rather. She didn't interrupt, but she didn't respond with any interest whatsoever. Except perhaps for the actual changing.

Mimi kept chatting, modelling her new clothes and checking her reflection in the mirror. Sora's eyes kept resting on her legs -covered in denim, half covered by a pastel skirt, or not covered at all. She had legs to kill for; always perfectly tanned, constantly hairless and never-ending. Legs of another species that yet remained the ideal for all the poor girls with earthly legs. Thankfully, Sora had stopped comparing herself to her best friend a long time ago, figuring that it was no use.

"So are you actually gonna talk to me about what's causing that creepy absence I've seen in you lately?"

It wasn't the actual words that pulled her out of trance; it was the tone. The skip from high-pitched excited girl-chatter, to worried sentimental adult mom -tone wouldn't pass anyone.

Sora reacted quickly enough to catch the question, and she bit the inside of her cheek as she pondered an answer. Bringing Mimi into the problem was like letting someone else help you with a card castle you're halfway through, but stuck with and too shaky to continue. A bit down the road -which might as well be the goddamn wrong one- she didn't want to risk starting all over again. If Mimi managed to confuse the hell out of her -which rather commonly happened; she was freakishly alike Taichi in that way- Sora would lose the tiny bit of sense she'd made out so far. And dammit, that took a long time to make!

'Sides, there's was no way she'd be able to explain this complicated story with sustained patience -and that was very necessary for it to be understandable.

Having that thought through, she forced herself to look at it logically. Voicing her reasoning would simply clear it up, not destroy it. Who knows, Mimi might see something that Sora, as partly involved in the whole thing, was incapable of. In all honesty, Mimi's train of thought probably ran closer two Taichi's -maybe Yamato's too.

So why not?

"Taichi and Yamato," she uttered, not knowing where to start.

The currently halfnaked teen threw her arms out. "Yeah, well duh. So was that rumor true?"

"Well now it is. I kinda it woke up some sort of attraction, or feelings or just fucking madness in Blondie, and Tai pushed his luck some and now they're shagging like rabbits while Yamato is brainwashing him."

There was a brief silence where Sora's stubborn self mentally said 'I told you so'.

"That didn't make much sense coming from someone who's usually very pedagogic."

Sora managed to smile, somewhat relieved by the refreshing view of Mimi laughing. In comparison, she felt old and worn-out. Why the football-player even allowed something that hardly concerned her get to her like this, she didn't know. Sora sighed, deciding to throw everything out of her skull for the other girl to sort out.

She comforted herself with the knowledge that, when it came down to gossip, Mimi had all the patience in the world. She started talking, trying to stay as objective as possible. Naturally, it was near impossible with Mimi's repeated gasps and questions and other interrupting sounds that she seemingly thought were necessary to show Sora that she really listened. Letting herself get stressed up by this, Sora ended up giving her the completely wrong idea. This was obvious when Mimi summed the whole thing up.

-'-

"Okay so if I've got this straight, Yamato-kun was stupid enough to talk loudly and about their after-school activity, with so many split signals that everyone mistook him for being gay, and then he freaked out and started fighting Taichi-kun for no reason. Then they shag in the school's bathroom and start bitching when you try to save them from being caught-"

"No, no, no" Sora interrupted, sighed and held up a hand when the honey-eyed girl gave her a confused look. "No, I'm sorry, I'm giving you the wrong idea here. I guess I'm just so fed up with Yamato -well, Taichi too- that I make it their fault. Just please let me take my time, so that I can do this right."

If it weren't for the fact that they had worked this through once, Mimi would've taken Sora's request -if she even took it in- the wrong way, and jumped to conclusions. But the brunet's way of rushing and misleading had in the past bothered Sora to the point that she had talked to her about it. Mimi had finally understood the problem and promised to improve -when she actually remembered. Now, Sora could simply remind her and she'd be back on track with no hard feelings. This was one of the improvements they'd been forced to accomplish since that time when their lives took a slight turn.

"Sorry" Mimi said with a small laugh, rolling her eyes at herself. Sora smiled back, but shortly looked away to be able to continue. This was important.

Mimi staid amazingly quiet through Sora's second try of revealing Taichi and Yamato's story, and when she later summarized it to see if she'd got it right this time, Sora was introduced with a new point of view that made ten times more sense. Sure, Mimi was perhaps a little too romantic and naïve, but hearing everything from Sora who's the total opposite, she balanced it up, filled out the gaps and straightened all those things that had been invisible to the redhead.

"...so when Yamato's finally fed up with Taichi's immature behavior and mocking, he snaps and comes out and tells him-"

"-yeah, probably during that detention-"

"-or after they'd escaped. You know you're not supposed to talk during detention."

"Right"

"And Tai just... finally gets it?"

"He's not dumb. Not when it comes to Yamato; he's like a living lexicon."

"Not now though..."

"Stick to the subject!"

"Sorry."

"S'okay."

"So Taichi agrees to back off, and overdoes it to make Yamato miss him-"

"He really did, it showed. So yeah, Yamato misses him and finally asks him out!"

"...what?"

Sora hesitated. "Well, no... but it was so cute!" She grinned. "You were there, or at least after that. That Friday we went and saw The Holiday-"

"Yeah! Oh, Jude Law is so hot..."

"Hey!"

"For a guy at least."

"Heh. So they hang out Friday night, and there's surely tons of sexual tension and then they screw each other."

"It's called making love."

Sora snorted, causing Mimi to scowl even more. Which in turn caused Sora to grin wide. "Yeah, yeah, they make sweet love to each other. Yamato did want to though; he wasn't drunk or anything, just seduced. But he regrets it the next morning, throws Taichi out and asks me to come over. God, he was so messed up." Sora blinked, regaining the sympathy she'd felt for him that day.

"And then you leave, and... did they talk after that?"

"No idea. Maybe."

"They were even more awkward the Monday after that right?"

"Yep. And..." Sora frowned -ignoring Mimi's whining about wrinkles- trying to recall what else happened that day. "Oh!" she exclaimed, remembering. "That was when he hit him!"

"Ah." Mimi complied, also recalling that from Sora's story.

"I think Yamato was avoiding him, and Taichi got a bit annoyed I remember -he snapped a few times at me that day when I asked where Yamato was. Then boom! When I went to my locker at the end of the day Taichi's lying on the floor clutching his jaw and Yamato's a whiter shade of pale."

"And then they just forgive each other" Mimi filled in, smiling because she knew how much it had puzzled the redhead. "And they walk out together"

"Right, and this is the weird afternoon thing Tai told me about, when Yamato had nursed him and then took of as if a Scream-dude were chasing him-"

"-which confused the hell out of Taichi"

"Yup. Next day?"

"The avoiding-day. Yamato's fallen off the face of earth"

"Taichi's whining like never before-"

"And boom!"

"They make sweet tender love with each other," Sora teases.

Mimi shakes her head determinedly. "Nope. That's screwing. Calling it lovemaking would be an insult."

"Tai is walking on clouds."

"Yamato still avoids you guys."

"And here's where things gets really fucked up. Taichi becomes his personal slave, and Yamato has him all brainwashed."

"Taichi starts his too-happy gimmick -which, mind you, is a total give-away - and covers his master by constantly distracting you and himself."

"Gah, it's tiring just thinking about it..." Sora muttered, rubbing her eyes.

"Poor baby."

She stuck her tongue out in reply. "I'm up to here with his stupid jokes. And you know he actually talked about girls at one time!"

"So maybe he's bi?" Mimi offered, not seeing the issue.

"Fine, maybe he is. Doubt it though." Sora added, crossing her arms sullenly.

"Oh, come on! He's talked about girls plenty of times, and hasn't he even gone out with a few?"

Sora gave her a long look. "You believed that?"

Mimi shrugged. "Gotta give him some credit."

Sora snorted, then remembered the other ironic thing. "He also tried making me talk about guys!" she announced, sending the other teen a challenging gaze, as if daring her to brush that off just as easily.

A grin slowly spread over the other female's face, and the next second they were laughing their heads off.

"Okay, okay..." Sora eventually gasped between laughs, "We're loosing focus here."

Mimi nodded in agree, picking up where they left off. "This is the tricky part. You solve it by saying that Yamato's simply turned into a maniac all of a sudden,"

"Well he did! I mean first he's like 'no, I don't like him, don't like him' when he actually does and slips up when Tai decides to be all over him. That I can understand, but this on the other hand is madness!"

"Okay, don't hurt yourself. What's the reason Yamato has denied his feelings from the very start?"

Sora shrugged. "The gossip. He worries too much about other people's opinions."

"Right, and that's why he doesn't want Taichi to tell anyone."

"Yeah, well that I get-"

"So he uses the power of sex to keep Taichi quiet. No secret -no sex"

Sora threw her arms out impatiently. "Sure, that's-"

"-and if he would be the slightest bit of friendly, Taichi wouldn't take it that seriously." Mimi quickly pointed out.

"But I don't understand why he can't even kiss him!" Sora exclaimed, half aware that she was sounding like a little kid saying 'it's not fair!'

Dammit, it wasn't fair.

"I mean if this is a power method then he should reward him or lure him with-"

"Kisses?" Mimi filled in, raising perfect eyebrows.

"Tai's a kissing type of guy."

Sora couldn't help but wallowing in the irony. In one of her and Taichi's uncommonly intimate conversations the boy had admitted that he'd choose kissing over sex any day. On the other hand, by that time he was eleven and didn't know one bit about sex -not that much about kissing either. But Sora had a feeling this hasn't changed. She'd never heard him utter this ever since though, maybe -just maybe- because Sora had happily used this knowledge to throw in his face whenever she had the chance.

"I take your word for it" Mimi promised, knowing how close the two where. They probably told each other everything -or at least used to. She hesitated, catching the sudden sad look in her friend's eyes.

"...maybe Yamato doesn't find it that necessary, considering that Taichi's still under his spell -with or without kisses."

"Mm." Sora sighed, resting her forehead in her palm. "I know what you're saying, it's probably not that weird, but I mean even though it's just sex there should still be some sort of... okay, let's just say that Yamato's only interested in Taichi because he's a guy and close at hand. Wouldn't he still be interested in doing things to him? Doesn't have to be any feelings in that. And what about this control-thing? How fun is it to sneak around with someone, when you can't even let go while you're alone?"

Mimi remained quiet. She shook her head and sighed. "I don't know."

"Taichi didn't tell me a lot when I interrogated him, but what I did find out was that Yamato rushed through it, afraid to be caught by his dad -that's not blameable-, forbade kissing, never did anything to Tai, let Tai be the top-"

"That I find a bit weird." Mimi spoke up, pursing her lips as she pondered different possibilities.

"...maybe it's easier getting fucked by someone you hardly care about, than shoving your dick into someone you don't have feelings for." Sora suggested, wrinkling her nose slightly at her own words.

Mimi nodded thoughtfully, snickering a little when their eyes met. "Who would've thought we'd be discussing the mystery of sex between men?"

Sora chuckled, shaking her head. "Especially those two, who's been nothing but friends until now."

They were both quiet for a while.

"Alright," Sora sighed, breaking the tense silence. "Have we made any sense so far?"

"Sure, Blondie's afraid of the school finding out, of his dad finding out, of anyone finding out-"

"But what about the bathroom make-out?" Sora remarked, holding up a finger.

"Um... he's gay?" Mimi retorted, raising an eyebrow.

Sora bit her lip. "Yeah, but-"

"He's never had a girlfriend, probably never been interested in anyone and suddenly he's kissing someone and actually feels something, I mean he must've had a total black-out! After all, he's only human"

Sora surrendered, holding up her hands. "Okay, point taken"

"And all the avoiding was probably just to stop more rumors, and y'know, he's awkward around Tai because he's sexually attracted to him. And also because Taichi is too indiscreet."

Sora leaned back, smiling at the brunet. "This really is your area, huh?"

She was answered with a cheeky grin. "Sure is. And," she continued, finally realizing that she was still standing up and sat down on her bed beside Sora, crossing her legs. "I think the night before he really started to avoid you, was when he came out to himself!" She threw her arms out happily and Sora laughed. "He was like 'ok fine, I like guys. Now who should I have gay-sex with? Ah, here's my loyal friend who's open-minded slash gay as well, this'll be easy. But oh no! No one can find out! I know: I'll avoid him at school, and then I drag him home, make him my bitch and I have free afternoon sex everyday with no one bashing me!'"

"He's such a jerk." Sora grumbled. "I can't believe he actually pulls through it, I mean they used to be friends! Really good friends"

"Yeah, but he does avoid doing things that would make him feel guilty. If he'd use tricks and like pretended to care about him it would make him a bigger jerk. And he avoids him so he's not around to see how screwed up Taichi's become of this. And," she emphasized, catching the redhead's attention, "if he'd be the top, it would almost make this rape. He's planned this."

Sora stared at her, lost in that thought. "So..." she started hesitatingly, after what seemed like a small eternity. "There's still a small chance of him being human?"

Mimi tilted her head, eyelashes jumping as her gaze flicked around the room. For a moment her expression told Sora that she'd soon have the solution, but then the wise look was replaced by a playful glint. "Let's just say that, for now. Yamato still cares about Taichi, and the part of him that's not filled with hormones is full of shame and regret."

Sora, somewhat past the disappointment of not getting the answer to everything, nodded, accepting the theory. "Right."

"So just imagine being in his shoes; how freaking easy would it be to talk to your best friend that you're just using for your own pleasure? Or kiss? Being the one who fucks him, it... would just be too wrong. Or rather too obvious that it's wrong. Plus there's no wonder he's tense, and stressed and easily annoyed, and cold. He must hate himself!"

Sora held her hands up, chuckling. Mimi was getting a bit too into this. That girl watched way too many soap operas. "You're right, never thought I'd say this but it makes sense. But, if it's so clear that no feelings are involved, why don't they just enjoy it? As he's stated enough times, Tai only wants sex, and he's okay with Matt only wanting that too. So why would Matt feel guilty when he knows that it's not personal?"

Mimi shrugged. "Because they've fought so much, maybe, and it's still a bit weird screwing as friends."

"But they're not friends anymore" Sora commented, raising an eyebrow. Somehow she enjoyed criticizing her friend's casual reasoning.

"Like I said, if Yamato still cares about Taichi so it must feel wrong having such a platonic relationship"

"But Tai doesn't mind it, so there's no harm done"

"Right, but since they're not communicating -as I'm assuming, Yamato doesn't know how Taichi feels about this and hates himself in case he's hurting him and has to act cold not to break down and so they can't communicate and work things out and they'll just continue this. It's an evil circle." Mimi gestured enthusiastically.

Sora's eyes narrowed as she pondered the argument, not wanting to give in but she pretty much had to, didn't she? Mimi might be wrong, but she sure couldn't come up with anything better at the moment. Plus that evil circle thing really took a lot from her energy to continue this. Sora threw her hands up, deciding that this just wasn't her territory.

"Touché!" she called out, face breaking into a grin as the other girl threw her arms up victoriously.

"Now let's go shopping!" Mimi demanded happily, dragging Sora up from the bed and started skipping out of the room, grabbing her purse on the way.

"Wha..? I thought you've already went shopping?" Sora stuttered as she was dragged down the stairs, desperately trying to keep up with the steps.

"Well yeah for me, but we're shopping for you now!" the other girl replied perkily. She stopped at bottom and turned around, causing the slightly dizzy redhead to crash into her. Mimi pushed the other girl's shoulders an arms length away, locking determined eyes with distracted ones. "We're going shopping, and you're not going to puzzle Dumb & Dumber's problem -which by the way doesn't even involve you- one more time, got it?"

Whether she would keep that up or not, Sora was fully aware of that Mimi accepted no other answer than yes. Thus, she saluted.

"Yes ma'am"

As they walked out the door arm in arm, Sora sincerely hoped that she would keep that promise.

o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o-o

will be continued.