#x: nocsto

[purgetrooperfox]

"Your place is here. The sooner you accept that, the easier things will be for both of us."

ahem ahum AU where Kit survives that fight with Sidious but Falls while he's recovering. where he goes off the rails. where we get the hyper-possessive, manipulative, completely fucked up noctit evolution we deserve.

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[purgetrooperfox]

do. do you really think Kit fisto of all characters would turn to the dark side? 😬

okay so I assume you're here from this. a couple things

Kit's explicitly canon personality isn't all that complex. he's loyal to the Jedi Order, he cares deeply about his Padawan, he's quick to laugh and tends not to take things any more seriously than necessary, he's an excellent swordsman, he has a strict moral compass and low tolerance for those who violate it. these are the things we see in his episodes of TCW. anything I say about him beyond the bounds of canon is based on my own hcs

and also. I think Falling is a risk to any Force-sensitive in the gffa. based on how heavily it's emphasized that staying in the Light requires control and discipline and self-awareness and extensive training, and some people still don't manage it with all of that, the Dark is kind of depicted as this ever-present pitfall. I'd imagine the Jedi are taught that it's foolish to think themselves immune to Falling, and that part of why meditation is so central to their religion/philosophy/whatever is this need to check in with themselves. to sit down and honestly assess where they are, mentally and emotionally, so they can more consciously stay in the Light

so yes, I think Kit could go darkside

the Kit who lives in my head is a little bit dogmatic, unwavering in his faith both in the Force and the Order. he trusts that they're doing the most right thing they can for themselves and the galaxy. he goes along with fighting in the war because he believes they're doing more good than harm

his emotions run deep. he loves and cares and empathizes with his entire being. one of his struggles is to find a balance between emotionality and the Jedi practice of non-attachment (not the weird toxic definition of non-attachment on this site, the rational actual sensible approach that gets alluded to in the movies), particularly where it comes to close friends/family/partners. he hovers right on the brink of getting too emotionally wrapped up in them

[putting the rest under the cut bc long]

so without getting any further into the weeds about headcanons, I think finding out that the entire war was orchestred by Palpatine from the start, that Palpatine's the Sith Lord they've been looking for all this time, and that the Jedi were massacred by their own troops would put him right on the edge. particularly given the aforementioned dogma and borderline attachments. plus the strain of nearly dying and being pieced back together because someone in the Empire senses that he's on the brink of Falling. idk man it doesn't seem that hard to believe

it also leads nicely into his Fall revolving around grief and loss and fear of losing the few people he still has. he hates Sidious because of course he does, but he also hates himself for surviving. part of him hates the Order for failing. part of him blames the clones for all of it, even though he knows better. he blames himself for not recognizing Palpatine as a Sith

and because I have OC brainrot, it sets him up to project that guilt and anger and blame onto Nocte. blame for his attachment. a target for his possessiveness. someone to have. to cling to because he has no one else. nothing else. and he can't leave, he can't want to leave. so he fixes it so he doesn't. so he never will :)

[purgetrooperfox]

“Please tell me what I can do. There has to be something I can do.”

Nocte and Kit, perhaps?

man oh man this one dealt me psychic damage ilysm

[ prompt list ]

pairing: Kit Fisto/Clone Medic Nocte

characters: Kit Fisto, Clone Medic Nocte

tags: OC/canon, established relationship, breakup talk, emotional hurt, hurt no comfort, angst etc, unbeta'd

ao3

"What's changed, huh? We've beaten this conversation to death and you can never tell me what's so fundamentally, irreparably damaged."

Kit twitches like he might step forward then catches himself. There’s something harsher in his tone than the half-dozen other times they’ve had conversations like this. He closes his eyes, takes a breath. When he opens them again, something has steeled behind them. “We said from the start that this couldn’t become anything more.”

It takes considerable restraint for Nocte to strangle a scoff. “More than what, exactly? An outlet? Blind release? There was no way to stay strangers, Kit. If you wanted strangers, you didn’t have to keep coming back.”

“I didn’t say that.” He folds his arms across his chest, an attempt at building a barrier, thin as it may be. “I said we couldn’t get emotionally attached. The Code–”

“Don’t,” Nocte cuts him off, fighting not to speak through his teeth, “do not recite the Code to me right now. I’m not talking about the Jedi or the GAR or codes or regulations, I want you to tell me what you want. This dance around what we want or need from each other is how we keep ending up here.” He gestures between them and hopes it’s enough to convey that ‘here’ means ‘this tired fucking argument’.

Part of him knows that he's not helping his case by pushing back. He's spent entirely too much energy shoving down feelings that stubbornly refuse to die, it would be disastrous to show his hand at this point. It's too late to say that this never would've lasted if he hadn't gotten emotionally invested. 

"I need honesty from you, and I don't think I've gotten it." 

"I've never lied to you."

Kit arches his brow. "Omission is still dishonesty, is it not?"

A knot of anxiety twists in Nocte's gut as he squeezes the countertop digging into his back, missing the protective barrier of his bucket. What he feels is naked. Raw. Like an exposed nerve. "If you know how I feel, then you know nothing's changed. Not really."

It can't work both ways. He can't know that he's in too deep to have any hope of climbing out now without also knowing that he's been falling from the start. There are unsettling implications on both ends. Namely that Kit might have known, even back at the beginning, and still kept coming back. 

"Nocte," Kit starts before pausing, like he's looking for the right words. "I can't give you what you want from me. You know that."

To protest the unfairness would be childish. It's still tempting. 

"When have I ever asked for more than this?" In all this time, as much as he wanted to… "What right–"

Kit cuts him off. "No, I need to– we have to stop. I can't keep pretending. I won't. I shouldn't have strung you along for this long and I'm sorry, but it has to end. For both our sakes."

'Strung you along' plants itself at the back of Nocte's mind like a physical weight. 

He always knew. 

None of his questions have been answered yet, but he still tries, "Why didn't you ever say anything?"

Itching, ratcheting insecurity abruptly, painfully makes Nocte's skin start crawling. Because nothing can ever be easier than pulling teeth. Because he knows better, he knew better than to fall for someone who would never feel the same way. Because yeah, Kit knew he was in over his head, but Nocte knew that Kit would only ever always hurt him in the end. He's known the consequences of his own weakness all along. 

Knowing doesn't lessen the pain of having it thrown in his face though. It doesn't do shit for the urge to either explode or implode. 

Somehow, it's immeasurably worse that Kit looks at him with fucking pity. "I thought your interest would fade," he admits. "I thought my interest would fade." 

Implosion wins out over explosion in Nocte's chest. Something deep inside him caves inward. "Your interest," he echoes numbly.

Kit doesn't catch himself this time when he staggers forward and brushes a curled finger under Nocte's chin, tilting his head up. Restrained apology glistens in the darkness of his gaze. "It was never supposed to get this far."

He can't look away, so Nocte closes his eyes and tries desperately to keep his voice steady. "Tell me what I can do." It's worse than dropping to his knees and groveling, somehow. "Please… There has to be something I can do." 

It's worse because despite his inability to speak above a whisper, it's a screamed admission of guilt. It's worse than 'I love you' because it's 'I need you'. The charge against him is attachment and he's pleading guilty. Begging, even. 

Too gentle on the sides of his neck, Kit's hands rest firm and warm. A yearning for something rough enough to qualify as violence washes through him. 

"There isn't." 

There's no apology or protest strong enough to communicate this storm of emotion. 

"Okay."

He doesn't open his eyes until Kit lets go of him and he can turn his face to the floor, blinking the blur from his vision. 

"I'm sorry."

There has to be a bar open somewhere. One that won't turn him away on principle and force him to face his brothers and pretend that anything is okay. 

"I have to go." 

You have to ask me to stay.

"Okay." 

His toothbrush will stay by the sink until it gets thrown out. His small accumulation of clothes and trinkets that made a home here will have to be donated or disposed of. He's fairly certain there's a blaster under the bed and spare plastoid plates in the dresser. It can all be chalked up to a loss and replaced, because he can't stay any longer. He can't look Kit in the eye or take the time to gather his meager belongings and keep his composure. 

So he goes with nothing, and Kit doesn't stop him, and he doesn't look back. 

The only thing that's clear is that there could be no answer to what changed between them. That fundamentally, irreparably damaged thing had always been there. Nothing changed because the entire time, that thing was him. 

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[purgetrooperfox]

head currently full of epic highs and lows of Nocte's situationship with Kit

it's so important to me that you all know that they get into massive blowout argument on the regular and that the issues they argue about almost never get resolved. Kit will be like "you let your emotions rule you and you're rash and impulsive and I can't tell if I envy you or pity you" and Nocte will be like "your personal identity is so reliant on being a Jedi that you refuse to work on yourself for any other cause and I resent you for it" while they're like eating cereal or something. they have on fuckign horse blinder things to their own hypocrisy. they find the things they hate about themselves in each other. everything is so wrapped in layers of dual meaning that it's completely indecipherable

but they also understand each other on such a deep level. they find solace while grieving and support when struggling and it's all unconditional. they're two sides of one coin and when the stars (their wildly different perspectives) align, there's a beauty to it. it's part of why they fight so much. they are just these guys with eerily similar beliefs and values but completely incomparable experiences

it's so ugly and toxic and problematic and beautiful and healthy and balanced and broken and unbreakable all at once UGH I hate them I love them I kick them like the football

[purgetrooperfox]

sits cross-legged and thinks about fucked up and toxic noctit

[purgetrooperfox]

no thoughts just "I wish I knew how to quit you" and noctit. whispered late in the night while the other's asleep. into the silence after a comm call. through gritted teeth, for and from heartache. a plea for more and less and everything and nothing

[purgetrooperfox]

fucked up and evil noctit?

[ wip game ]

I'm grinning so evilly over this one :))) there's a wip over here. it's set in an AU where Kit narrowly survives the fight with Palpatine, but he Falls shortly thereafter. so begins the most toxic rendition of noctit to ever enter my brain, complete with brainwashing and manipulation and tampering with memories and Nocte generally having a horrible time. desperate reaching for who the person you love used to be, blaming yourself for their downfall, etc etc <3 it's probably gonna be my next art post and it set off an elaborate au in my brain, even if it's mostly just in the server rn 👉👈

[purgetrooperfox]

t-tell me about 'the holding of hands, the breaking of glass' is it hurty noctit :(

(and if you'd like to say, who in the carrie fisher scout trooper pose 👁👁)

[ wip game ]

👁👁 "the holding of hands, the breaking of glass" is a constantly evolving quote unquote canon storyline for noctit ;-; like I dunno if I'll ever finish it because I keep getting new ideas and changing things alskdjdj but it basically covers their relationship during the war, ups and downs and warts and all. it ends with the rise of the Empire,,,, I'll put a lil snippet under the cut, the scene isn't finished (obviously) but it makes my brain go brr

and the photo redraw is either gonna be Lane and Uj to Quin and Fox, I have two sketches in the early stages ehehe

It feels significant, be let into the Temple without a very specific work-related reason. The halls are empty at this ridiculous hour. Even so, there are surveillance cams to avoid as best they can. Nocte’s not sure of the odds that the Temple Guard would recognize him at a glance, but they could always just ask Fox and he’d rather avoid that entire conversation.

[fx - expand]

Kit ushers him across the threshold and breezes past him because Nocte has to stop, frozen just inside the doorway. It’s a small space, but not cramped. There’s a worn out couch in the common area with more blankets strewn across it than one person could ever need. A rug with an intricate pattern on the floor. Just outside the kitchen, a table big enough to seat four and a tall shelf cramped with assorted keepsakes. The wall behind the couch is covered in photos, printed out for posterity.

It feels like a home. Lived-in and cared-for.

“Nadhar is visiting Mon Cala for a few days,” Kit says as he takes off his boots.

It is a home, in a way Nocte was completely unprepared to process. There are traces - fingerprints - of Kit and his wayward Padawan everywhere, in every decorative choice and in the spare robe thrown over a chair and in the brand of tea on the counter.

“Oh,” he hears himself rasp.

Everything feels strangely distant, then Kit rests a hand on his shoulder and snaps the world back into focus.