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cooltrainererika · 3 years

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A Star Wars Noob’s ideas for fixing the Disney sequels

Okay so just to get this out there, because it won’t leave my mind.

So I’ve been binging on SW lately and the sequels only annoy me more and more by the day. So just wanted to throw my character ideas out into the world. Focusing on characters because I like writing characters way more than plot. Hopefully if I ever actually write this thing, or even somehow pitch it to someone with the right connections to animate it with the actors as voice actors, this wouldn’t have gone viral. But since no one looks at my blog it probably won’t lol. Hopefully.

But just in case, I’ll say that this will probably contain spoilers for a story which may or may not exist by the time you read this.

I’ve deliberately been trying to avoid as much emotional spoilers and normal spoilers as I can before the sequels despite the temptation, so sorry if some stuff is a bit off. Augh I hope I can get the time to watch the full OT and PT soon. I was too tired from hiking when I watched SW4 and I now really wish my dad didn’t show me when I was half-asleep.

Rey: Rainbow of possibilities; Cynical Scavenger, Adventure-seeking Audience Surtogate Geek, or Lawful Good to the core Paladin Padawan with a personal grudge, and may be descended from a family line, maybe not, but currently most likely a Skywalker by blood. Story and other character arcs change dramatically depending on which route chosen.

Finn: Stoic soldier man learns power of friendship, finds meaning of life, causes Stormtrooper mutiny, probably becomes a Jedi and second main character and hooks up with Rey. “What‘s a joke?”. Awkward dork and stunted socially but doing his best. May instinctively find it hard to disobey orders. He may be the one wanting to find his family; but that’s dropped soon enough to focus on what’s ahead.

(Alternatively: Proud warrior guy who acts like a stereotypical North Korean soldier who finds himself outside the First Order, learns power of friendship etc. The rest is the same)

Poe Dameron: What we Japanese people call The Aniki. The funny charismatic ace pilot who keeps everyone sane, overall bro. Wholesome but a bit rough, that guy you would want to share a beer with. But within that easygoing nature burns a hotblooded, determined, dutiful streak, and an even stronger snarky streak. The one with the social skills. Loves his droid like his son though Cynical!Rey and Finn find that initially kind of stupid/strange.

Kylo Ren/Ben Solo: Appears to be yet another quietly imposing Star Wars villain with added edgelord factor, but actually a mentally unstable, borderline yandere berserker of a man crushed under the weight of a legacy, with a horrifying inferiority complex, identity issues, and an unhealthy obsession with familial honor, constantly stuck between Dark and Light. Despite his high rank, basically the First Order’s attack dog. Usually has the emotional maturity of a 16-year-old, if not younger. If anyone is, he’s the damsel in distress of this story.

Luke Skywalker: Cuddly sunshine headmaster sage doing his best, has been on many adventures before that are hidden ads to future Lucasfilm projects. May have gone to search for answers as to what is causing recent events, or is still present at the beginning. May survive at the end. He could be anywhere from kind of jaded but at his core still that sweet optimist, to Basically Uncle Iroh, to can-literally-summon-Porgs-by-whistling/Space Sage Mr. Rogers.

Han Solo: General of the Republic Armed Forces or courier who decided military life just wasn’t for him and now delivers important messages through still unstable areas of the New Republic, a war hero, and a dad doing his best. Wants to hold hope but may have at least outwardly given up on Ben, with Poe filling in the void. Has gone clean from his life of crime and still married 30+ years strong with Leia. He would be the one who is the closest to Poe if he’s still in the military and Leia is a Jedi, with Poe being seen as his likely successor. He might die at the end of 8? Maybe Hamill and Carrie would somehow talk him into sticking around past 7? He might still die in 7?

(Side note: I wish we could have seen Old Harrison Ford in a military casual coat-cape. He would have looked awesome in it. I mean no one would really complain that he plays fast and loose with the dress code if there even is one, he’s Han freakin’ Solo and he gives no f*cks.)

Leia Organa-Solo: Preferably a Jedi Knight, leader while he’s away if he’s away as well as their tactician, or senator considering her personality; maybe have basically what Colin Trevorrow planned for her (I mean… why not just use CGI at this point? They’ve done it before. I’m sure Carrie wouldn’t have wanted her swan song to be such a passive role either), with her bond with Luke being a major factor and us actually being able to see it in practice. May have outwardly given up on her son as well, but still is at the end of the day a mom doing her best. Basically a strong, smart lady like how she’s always been.

Chewbacca: How he always is, but he plays more of a role than basically the guy bussing the cast around, an active combat role definitely. Han’s second in command and maybe fellow dad. Possibly the part-time chaperone of the mess that is the new main duo. Also was Ben’s first friend, and you bet there will be drama here.

Lando Calrissian: Business mogul who probably helps the heroes out, maybe by selling them stuff and using his many connections to get information. And/or he’s basically an economic diplomat for the Republic. Has known Ben since he was a child and may have snuck him on too many joyrides without telling Leia, to her chagrin and Han’s amusement.

Grand Admiral Armitage Hux: Basically how he was in SW7. Calculating, manipulative, coldhearted, intelligent, and ruthless, the brains to Kylo’s brawn. Son of former Imperial officers, killed his own father to get where he is. Gives no f*cks, except when he goes full ham. Maybe even he goes cold and pale if Kylo starts getting angry, just to show how terrifying he can be, but I also like the idea of him being one of two people who can manipulate Kylo out of a tantrum and not end up a pile of flesh or choked to death.

Captain Phasma: How she is in supplemental material probably. A walking chrome machine of merciless death. Probably not very talkative, and probably does not take defectors lightly. She may defect at the end or not depending on how truly evil she’s portrayed to be, but I’m thinking she’s likely this cruel disciplinarian who expects complete and utter, machine-like obedience to the end, and Finn flinches at the mere mention of her, though she herself is equally as extremely loyal to the cause.

Snoke: A mysterious being, the likes of which are not of this galaxy. Probably some kind of ancient eldritch abomination who can torment vulnerable minds with an untraceable curse. Not your average Sith, and despite how it may seem it may not be connected to them at all… Or perhaps it is. Or perhaps it itself serves a larger master. It wants to use Kylo Ren for… something. Just what it is is what Luke has been trying to find out for years.

Knights of Ren: Idea borrowed from Thor Skywalker (check him out on YouTube!); possibly a military cult of Sith/Vader worshippers who see Ben as the second coming of Vader, and have aligned themselves with Snoke. Probably basically Kylo’s personal guard and troops. Or possibly directly liked to whatever otherworldly entit(ies?) Snoke is, not being of this galaxy themselves.

Anakin Skywalker: Determined grandpa doing his best for his kids, grandkid(s), and the galaxy. Doesn’t appear often, but plays a major role in the story; maybe he’s the one who led Rey to his lightsaber, and maybe he advises Luke while training Rey, or secretly follows Kylo, trying to speak to him but unable to be seen or heard by him. He’d be the one who ultimately convinces Ben to return to the light, and to, in an echo of the words Ben heard when he was being impersonated, “finish what I started”.

Rose Tico: A probably relatively new, wide-eyed young recruit in the Republic Military, and maybe seeks revenge on First Order for killing or kidnapping her sister. Not sure if she will be needed, but if there’s room for her she might be interesting. Maybe she’s one of Poe’s friends or part of his squad. She could also be the resident girly girl because there aren’t many of those here.

Vice-Admiral Amberlyn Holdo: She’s in the Aftermath books, and those seem pretty good, so she’s probably how she is there. A quirky mostly background character that is probably at most there for Han and/or Leia and Ackbar to give commands to and salute back, but most importantly she actually does her job properly, even if she’s still a bit of an odd person. Also Poe knows her and they have a way more amicable work relationship. Also give her something which actually looks like something military personnel would wear. She could even be a legitimately good tactician who comes up with off-the-wall tactics.

(Side note: I heard that she basically has the Star Wars version of Autism, and while I’d appreciate that as an Aspie myself, I’ll also have to say that Autistic people would probably be terrible military leaders due to us not being able to adjust to sudden changes well and our bad communication skills. So yeah, sorry, unless she’s recast to something like, say, a mechanic or logistics or medic or any other more Autistic-friendly job, that’s going to have to go)

Maz Kanada: …Admittedly not sure what to do with her. But she’s more likely to be an acquaintance of Lando before Han, if she doesn’t know both. In fact, Lando may be introduced early alongside her. But she would still have the important role of keeping Anakin’s saber; how she has it, either Lando found it, or basically what was cut from TFA showing that she’s indeed pretty awesome.

BB-8: BB-8 doesn’t have to change. He’s perfect as he is. Maybe what he can do should be more consistent though. Poe and him are basically Ash and Pikachu, they stick together whenever possible. If Rey or Finn need a droid to tag along and Poe isn’t in the party at the moment, R2 is right there. I once read a fanfic in which BB-8 was actually a droid Luke made for Ben and I liked the idea… though it probably would be a bit of an unnecessary detail in practice.

R2-D2 and C3P0: They’re basically business as usual. They would still have that boke-tsukkomi dynamic they had going on, sometimes with the added childlike cuteness of BB-8 in the mix. If there’s any extra time left for comic relief scenes, or if they’re sent on some kind of mission together, I can see these three messing around doing their thing (or rather, BB being childlike, cute and curious, Threepio being overly nervous, and Artoo being too old for this sh*t and/or BB’s cool uncle/older brother) being both cute and hilarious.

Also Worldbuilding stuff will be featured at the bottom

Elaboration on the “big four” of the sequel cast:

Rey: Aged 19, speaks with Daisy Ridley’s normal accent, not RP (I mean really, her accent isn’t that hard to understand). A whole rainbow of possibilities with this lady, though many don’t realize it. I might be leaning towards her being Luke’s daughter, though her being Just Rey may also be interesting, and her still being a descendant of Palpatine or the main villain could also have potential, though if Finn is a Jedi I don’t think there’s any need for her parents to be nobody. But the three main routes I can think of for her are these three: Cynical!Rey, a Rey with a backstory identical to the canon Rey from her abandonment onwards, Fangirl!Rey, a sort of estimation of a dorky female Star Wars nerd in-universe and the most lighthearted start out of the three, and Padawan!Rey, a Rey who is already Luke’s Padawan at his academy. Maybe making her starting point less crushingly bleak and Fangirl!Rey could work, but it might dilute both ideas, and that characterization might be a bit too similar to ANH Luke.

As is apparent, Cynical!Rey, is, well, cynical. She’s strong and independent, but extremely distrusting, on-edge, and not used to friendly interaction. Think Female SW4 Han Solo but even more antisocial and probably not even bothering with the bravado, and basically with Anakin’s upbringing except she doesn’t even have a loving mother like Anakin did. Fangirl!Rey was my initial idea but I’m starting to become less partial to it because of the aforementioned similarity to ANH Luke, but my idea was she’s basically Harry Potter, living with stepparents who hate her, or she’s still used as basically child labor but her conditions are nowhere near as bad as Cynical Rey’s, and she would have grown up on stories about the Rebels and the Jedi and everything else in the past movies, collecting every single bit of memorabilia she can get her hands on. If one wants to go for very lighthearted and slightly meta for SW7 this is the route. Padawan!Rey could go anywhere, but I’m thinking she would basically be our D&D Paladin; ever since Ben Solo went berserk and ran off to join the First Order, she’s become very protective of her fellow students and has a really understandable personal grudge against him. She might be the strongest pupil left after the Second Jedi Massacre, and by the end maybe she becomes the successor to headmaster of the academy. It is possible that she was found abandoned on Jakku or Luke’s doorstep, however, so the theme of growing up lonely is there, and because being a Jedi is what has given her meaning in life it means a lot to her. But while I don’t want her parentage to be revealed early if it is Luke, it does raise the massive plot hole of why this was never disclosed to her or to Ben.

And yes, I did say fellow students and academy. Wiping the new Jedi Order feels really cheap and it makes the whole hopeful Jedi Starting Anew implication that I’m 90% sure the OT ended on feel very pointless. I’d prefer them still being there, though their inclusion would be obviously way more natural in the Padawan Route. This also has tons of marketing potential for Disney, because I wanted to take IRL realism into account; what’s in it for Disney? Maybe potential to expand on other students and Luke’s academy? It could be like a smaller Jedi Hogwarts/Xavier Institute basically. Though the survivors wouldn’t be too numerous; just, like, four at most. Maybe there would be elements of an Avengers/Infinity War/Endgame-esque team movie, even if the rest are a bit out of focus.

I did think maybe the heroes would still go to Ahch-To after SW7 where Luke would have been hiding with his students researching the new threat, but maybe I could have him stay and sort of take a few cues from Harry Potter by introducing the heroes to the world of the Jedi early and giving them a break in the action as they settle in their new homes, so there’s more time to develop the padawan side characters, what the academy is like, and Luke gets to appear in SW7 as well so there can be a OT trio “reunion” (not a reunion in-universe). Though that kind of messes with other parts I want to include like Rey and Finn having to take on Kylo and getting completely whipped because he’s a rampaging madman before having to be saved by Luke. Also Rey getting kidnapped has potential for developing her trust in others, and her and Finn getting a breather moment at the Republic after the heroes and Han regroup would kind of remove a point where that could be easily slotted in the story. It would also require everything before this to be crammed in the first act.

(Newer edit 5/27/21) I also like her getting a golden double-bladed saber like many fans depict her. It’s not only awesome looking (because she only gets her own saber at the end of TROS… Why?), but it’s more toys for the moichendise! It fits her starting with a staff, it has more reach, and it would fit Cynical Rey especially for her to have a style centered around keeping as much of herself defended as possible. Watching Battlefront 2 footage has made me think about fighting styles a bit, and if she and Finn are a duo how their styles of combat might compliment each other, especially as their relationship develops (coincidentally she and Finn apparently are a very good combination in BF2). A Cynical Rey would probably contrast the most, with a fighting style based on keeping enemies away, trickery, and defense (a good choice for a blade made of light), maybe a bit wild at first but initially her goal in fighting would be to hold out until there is an opening to get the hell out, only staying to fight if she has no other option. Fangirl Rey wouldn’t really have a fighting style initially, and it’s gonna be very dependent on where her arc goes. Padawan Rey would have the most Prequel Jedi-esque, choreographed style, showing a lot of skill though not quite mastering it and with tons of openings at first. A Cynical Rey may have an uncanny skill to detect suspicious people, which would make her trusting the heroes easier, and though this ability isn’t super strong and is more “a slight gut feeling but it could be nothing” than “human lie detector” it could maybe be honed more. And while not quite wall vision like in BF2 (because wat? Where do they come up with this stuff?), maybe she’s good at detecting people’s presences too. These are very apt ambient skills for someone in her position. Meanwhile, Fangirl!Rey would have probably suspected she had the Force already, and her ambient abilities could be whatever, just rather passive abilities unless trained.

If she is Luke’s daughter though, that would open up the can of worms of who her mother is. Just making it so that she died before the events of SW7 might seem a bit… unfortunate? I kind of want Luke to have found love sometime (and seriously with how much of a bombshell young Luke was, in addition to him being such a hero, I’m shocked that he never got one. I can see why Mara Jade wanted a piece of that. *wolf whistle*), but then I’d have to figure out how to incorporate her in this already character-dense story without her having cheaply died offscreen. I might be able to think of something? I could always go digging in the dusty pile of old fan theories, I might find something good. Thor Skywalker did hint at her but his story stopped at the end of where SW8 would have. If I do name her Mara there’s probably going to be extra pressure to do something with her. …But I can’t be the only one who thinks that Daisy Ridley kind of looks like Natalie Portman. Then again I’m pretty face-blind. I guess blond hair and blue eye color genes are also recessive traits for Star Wars humans. Though it seems the height genes skipped a generation because she’s actually pretty tall for a woman at 170 cm - I’m sorry what. That’s as tall as the average Japanese man! Holy sh*t Daisy! She only looks a bit small because she’s often depicted with Kylo and Kylo makes everyone not Phasma look diminutive. I guess Ben would get it from Anakin and Han (though he’s still taller than both of them…), so maybe a taller actress would be cast as Mara (?). And despite Rey’s malnourishment in the Cynical route, this actually isn’t that implausible, because stunted growth apparently only happens if children are deprived from gestation to about 2 years of age.

And again, why wouldn’t Ben know about this? But if this isn’t the Padawan!Rey route (the hardest to incorporate Rey The Actual Skywalker into), maybe Ben took Rey’s assumed death as even more of a reason to burden himself with the entire Skywalker legacy? This would give him a reason to already care about her.

Further edits: According to the Aftermath books, Jakku was a “Lightside Nexus” planet. Maybe this has to do with her powers? (Perhaps she was kept sane by the Force speaking to her on occasion, in dreams or as she lies staring at the ceiling after a long day, showing her the loving life she used to live and unknown to her she will return to someday). Or why she was dropped there? Maybe she was supposed to be living with Lor San Tekka (the old guy Kylo kills at the beginning of TFA), but got lost one day or was kidnapped by bandits to be a scavenger because her small size would have been perfect for getting loot from small spaces? Why not take her back then? This probably is one of the biggest plot knots in the Cynical Rey Skywalker route, alongside who her mother is.

Small detail lightning round before moving on: I once read a Japanese fic, and in it she mentioned she hates alcohol because she saw how it turned people into monsters. I actually kind of liked this headcanon, and maybe a bit unexpected. Though there’s also the route of her just being too used to it, setting her apart from previous more wholesome protagonists even more. Also Daisy would have to start hitting the gym and protein shakes because I think her character design evolving from her thin build to a very athletic, Wonder Woman-esque body type would be pretty good in representing her growth as a character, and combined with her height she would be so very badass looking.

Finn: Probably around 23? Infamous for lost potential, so his backstory is the same. However, I’m thinking that due to his dehumanizing upbringing, he’s a bit robotic and pretty stoic initially, a total opposite to Poe. He doesn’t understand jokes or sarcasm, and now that he’s completely left the life he’s always known, he feels pretty lost. He would basically act like a male Rei Ayanami, though I was going more for Drax at first. Alternatively, he’s a proud warrior type, imagine a stereotypical North Korean/Prussian soldier. He’d be a bit more emotional and probably less cartoonish here (I mean I have compared Star Wars to anime but full-on anime tropes in live action probably looks super corny), and he’s a massive hardass who also doesn’t get sarcasm or jokes and fanatical and would have thought of his fellow soldiers as a collective as his band of brothers and comrades, collectively serving the FO like a smoothly running machine. My initial thought was that after a life of war crimes and the influence a certain pilot whose cell he was guarding who gave him his name, and maybe witnessing the death of a comrade, he had defected from the FO, but I started thinking it would be plausible if he defected from the FO probably by accident. Highly likely to be the second protagonist, if not POV character, and if so I think it’s logical that it’s Finnrey that becomes the canon ship here. In the Padawan!Rey route, he’s the newcomer protagonist, not Rey. If they’re shipped, or even as friends, they may bond over their dehumanizing, harsh backgrounds and the feeling of being lost in the world. Also he likely starts a mutiny. Like it was such an obvious plot point but they never use it for some bizarre reason. It’s like the DM didn’t read his character sheet at all. Actually one didn’t and the other kept forgetting it in the third campaign.

There’s two ways I think his arc could go; first would be a focus mainly on his search for identity and becoming his own person. Second, his guilt about having done the First Order’s bidding for so long. Probably a combination of the two, though I’m not sure how to address them both. He also wants to see his colleagues free from slavery. But I am sure about I’d that he’d have to overcome his conditioning, learning to regain his humanity.

Especially if Rey is a Skywalker and he becomes a Jedi, he’d be the one who the movie makes a point about being from nowhere. He has no idea who his parents are, but it would not even matter in the end, it’s what he makes of his life from here on out. And if he and Rey end up together, which is extremely likely in this scenario, he not only finds his family in the figurative sense with the other Jedi and his new friends plus girlfriend, but in the literal sense as well, going from nameless Stormtrooper FN-2187, to just Finn the ex-Stormtrooper, to Finn the Padawan and then Jedi Knight, to finally, Finn Skywalker, Jedi Knight; maybe the last movie ends with one of them proposing to the other, with SW8 having previously ended with the climactic big damn kiss that cemented that they are a thing now. (Cue Luke jokingly asking when he’s getting grandchildren and How It Should Have Ended!Anakin squeeing over him getting great-grandchildren lol) His name would have this real symbolic value to it with how it changes as he goes from nobody to somebody. Not to mention “Finn Skywalker” is just a freakin’ awesome name. If they make up the leading duo, he and Rey may have some kind of inherent connection, or they progress into two parts of the same whole, even attaining something like a Dyad.

I thought an interesting thing to do if Rey is a Skywalker, and this is Cynical Rey, is a twist on the expected pattern by making him the one who sees the good in Kylo, not Rey. Because while Rey might be his cousin, she’s also a very distrustful person who couldn’t afford to think deeply about people act the way they do when she was growing up and fighting to survive. Meanwhile, Finn knows Kylo, and he also knows what it’s like to be determined to be a killing machine from a very young age, and if he has to forgive himself, or if he’s able to see the light, that Kylo deserves a chance as well. It would be the ultimate show of kindness from him, to show him forgiving the man who works so loyally under the same organization that enslaved him. I can also see Kylo being angry at himself for being unable to sense the Force-Sensitive in their midst.

Maybe he was born on a “Lightside nexus” planet too so that it makes sense that he can keep up with other characters? Presuming he’s in his early 20s, I don’t think him being raised by the Order since he was a baby is that plausible, so maybe he was already an orphan? I can see the First Order spinning their Stormtrooper program kidnapping street orphans as “rehabilitating” them, which combined with good old Victorian style citizen apathy to street children allows them to get away with it. But if he was, say, around 6 years old when he was taken away, it would make sense why he was able to break out of his programming. Perhaps Poe showing him friendship awoke the humanity long dormant in him. But on the other hand, the younger, adolescent soldiers may be beyond saving, and I can see that being absolutely heartbreaking.

I can see his fighting style with a saber being direct, forceful, and pragmatic, but unlike Rey the emphasis would be on engaging and keeping up the fight, and be very disciplined, calculated, and controlled in contrast to Cynical Rey. At least he’d attempt it while he gets used to the properties of a lightsaber, before there would probably be a lot of awkwardness as John is directed to swing this weightless prop blade with a weighted hilt like he would a club or sword. If he isn’t a Force Sensitive, he’s a good sniper just like in BF2, in fact this would be his primary combat ability, though still able to hold his own in melee combat. Though even as a Jedi he’d probably still use a gun as a sidearm, and his good aim would also translate to him being very good at spotting openings and spotting danger from a distance, as well as enhanced ability to dodge.

Poe Dameron: Age 29 (?). A total bro. I’ve kind of come to think of him as this embodiment of the good, wholesome side of traditional masculinity. I can best describe him as the guy you expect to think of when you think of the guy who takes the boys to the bar for beers on the house and hosts Super Bowl night (for the Americans out there). Basically just that big bro/cool uncle everyone likes. I think he’s the least changed from how he is in SW7; he’s a laid-back pilot with no special powers, and while he’s probably the most static and admittedly flat character (and unfortunately more minor than the other two) he has tons of charisma and optimism to compensate, though being the one who keeps everyone sane definitely helps. Not to mention his piloting skills; which, note, are never eclipsed by Rey, because that’s dumb. His skills are a bit more downplayed here, but he’s still extremely good, especially for his age. Despite being the pilot he’s the most down-to-earth, and may be the only one of the big four with any social skills, even if he’s a bit dorky, especially regarding BB-8.

Son of Rebel pilots, graduated top of his class in the Republic Flight Academy, and his background is squeaky clean, no drug trading involved, though he spent a lot of his adolescence and his adulthood in the Academy or in the military, just like in pre-TROS supplementary material. He’s the main source of jokes and wisecracks out of the trio in all but the most dorky of Fangirl!Rey routes probably, teaching Cynical!Rey and Finn what it’s like to smile and laugh. He still has a close relationship with Leia and Han; possibly closer to the latter due to the latter being a pilot and likely still a General. Not sure about him keeping his rank because him starting and staying at the top might mesh awkwardly with the rest of the trio, but maybe he’s still a Commander; whichever makes his inclusion in the main cast most plausible. Due to an adorable Pixiv comic I found he may have been inspired to become a pilot by Luke or Han. I’d like to think that he breaks the hotshot pilot cliché a bit by not being too overly arrogant, immediately setting himself apart from Han by being a wholesome guy there for his buddies from the start, even if he is fond of wisecracking and snarkiness (probably from hanging around Han and Leia), and inside that laid-back personality lies a hotblooded, passionate, unwavering core. Like, he’s not exactly hotheaded like a Latin stereotype (*ahem*), but he’s got this more subtle, but still apparent, underlying fiery hotbloodedness to him, something that especially makes itself apparent in high-stress situations and when it comes to his loved ones. He’d also be Rey and Finn’s mentor of sorts in stuff that doesn’t involve the Force, being their role model for what a functional member of society is. He may make some self-depreciating jokes about being “normal”, but I think mostly he’ll take it in stride. Though I can see him and Han having a chat about this in a more quiet scene.

Ironically, out of the trio he could maybe be said to be the most suited to be a Jedi personality-wise, despite the fact that he has no Force Sensitivity whatsoever; he goes with the flow, he isn’t troubled, he’s happy with the simple pleasures in life, he’s just a good, genuine guy who does good things, passionate but not obsessive, and he’s forgiving, willing to give even an enemy soldier a chance, appealing to the humanity in him. The last one is particularly Luke-like, don’t you think? Oh, to elaborate on the escape; I still like the idea of him giving Finn his name (though another idea I love is a fallen friend giving Finn his name, that would change stuff around a lot from what I am thinking at this moment). I also think that perhaps supplemental material or some flashbacks, or even an animated short could be made showing just how Poe broke Finn’s programming; by showing him genuine kindness, because somehow, despite his lack of Force Sensitivity, he saw that FN-2187 could be talked out of his programming if he was constantly nice to him, befriending him, starting up casual chatter with him, and after a while the trooper starts opening up to this pilot. …Yeah, Luke-like indeed. Though since there is the plot hole of why Finn could be convinced in mere days and why he’s the only one guarding such a high-profile prisoner, a more realistic idea may be that they talk to each other this way a few times, then Poe escapes and Finn goes after him before they both crash on Jakku and have to work together, with Poe immediately being friendly with Finn and later Rey, to his (and her) confusion. (I can just imagine Poe being all chipper and trying to engage Finn in conversation, or telling him “Good job, sport!” after they fight off bandits or something, and Finn just is all deadpan and “We are enemies, we have no reason to fraternize” and I find that kind of cute).

He may ultimately be the most static of the main cast, but I can see him having a huge impact in more subtle ways; like maybe Rey and Finn think of what Poe might do in a given situation in their training, and he could be the catalyst behind why Finn thinks that Kylo can be redeemed, just like how Poe was able to light another way when it felt like there was only one path for him. He also definitely wouldn’t be the type to be so reckless with his men like he was in TLJ, if he’s still a Commander; he cares about his men a lot, and in fact they may be the reason why he tends to act like an older brother. I can imagine a pretty poignant scene with Finn where Finn sees Poe by himself and BB-8 paying respects to his fallen comrades by this handmade cenotaph, as he sets some flowers down and pours a drink to them, and Finn once again is able to see how different the culture outside the First Order is, as he would have never been mourned like that if he died on the battlefield, nor can he imagine he ever would have done so himself. Or maybe Rey is there too, because if this is Cynical Rey she’s only known a life where people exploited each other. Maybe other characters like Jessika (who he’s already close to I think? Did she show up in the movies though?) or Rose would have the opportunity to be more than background characters by being part of his crew, and we’d get some charming scenes about the bond he has with his squadron.

Again, admittedly he’d be the least deep character out of the big four, with his feelings not being explored nearly as much. But he probably doesn’t really hide his feelings much anyway. For any supplementary shorts involving him, they would be mainly lighter stories about his relationship with the OT cast and their families and his friendship with BB-8 and his crew, or action-y ones about missions he’s gone on; as opposed to, say, Finn, which would show his life as an expendable trooper who knew nothing but war, Cynical!Rey and her crushing loneliness and growing disillusionment to the world as she struggles to survive, or Padawan!Rey and her anguish and grappling with the Dark Side in the aftermath of the Jedi Massacre.

I can also imagine him being this adorable Shipper On Deck for Finnrey lol. Just looking at his two friends, all proud, maybe even tearing up like “*sniff* I’m not crying Buddy, you’re crying!” when the inevitable big kiss scene happens. I can also imagine him being the one to tell Finn that “Hey Finn, what you’re feeling is love!”…And then he has to spend hours trying to explain what love even is to him lol. He always has his friends’ back after all. Again, he’s most likely the one guy who isn’t completely socially inept among these dorks. I’ve also had the potential idea that he could maybe be a good cook, and he’d be the one who introduces Rey and Finn to actually good food. Some fics I’ve noticed tend to show him cooking stuff probably for that reason. It’s just kind of cute, and it sets a good example if despite his traditionally masculine, salt-of-the-earth character, he likes some less “manly” stuff like such and sees no shame in it.

He may sacrifice himself in a blaze of glory towards the end, especially because quite frankly he may lose his plot relevance as the story goes on, though it would definitely be way more respectful than a lot of deaths were treated in the sequels. But I also want him to stick around because I want to imagine him being all proud of Rey and Finn after they propose to each other and giddily planning their wedding, and I feel he could have some very good interactions with Ben to build on for any spinoffs taking place after the trilogy. Speaking of…

Kylo Ren/Ben Solo: AKA Yet Another Ball Of Lost Potential: Anti-Villain Addition. This is gonna be a doozy, so strap in. He was probably the most developed character here but that just makes his lost potential stick out even more, so I have so much to say about him.

About 27 probably. While people complain about it, I actually like him being a manchild. It makes him a bit unique in this series. It’s kind of like Vader if he didn’t get stuck in that suit and kept acting like Anakin. In fact, that could make him even more terrifying if that feeds into how destructive he can be; at first he seems like your typical intimidating SW villain, not even that bad a leader with a seemingly calm if tense, imposing air, but it eventually becomes clear he’s this terrifying, volatile berserker who can throw some of the most destructive tantrums ever, and is ultimately a pathetic, broken, pitiful shell of a man. …He just happens to be a very powerful shell of a man. Maybe if he becomes emotional or angry enough, he can unleash powerful shockwaves that basically blow up everything around him, or cause mini Force Storms, or cause any number of unpredictable effects. Though he’s not quite constantly raging either; these berserk states are indeed triggered by anger, but I’m thinking that they are also basically weaponized panic attacks, there’s a sense that it’s also a self-defense mechanism that he lapses into when emotions overwhelm him or when he otherwise feels threatened (though whether it’s necessarily involuntary all the time I’m not so sure; but while he’d definitely want to be able to trigger them voluntarily, there will always be some sense that he doesn’t have full control over it). Also a lot of his rage is directed inwards as well, much like with his grandfather. I thought that maybe his unpredictability in these rages would be the key to his destructiveness, though I can see how someone who is out of control would also pose a problem, no matter how powerful; so maybe this is when he becomes the most focused, becoming locked onto the elimination of the perceived threat at all costs, and/or he can be controlled by his Master more directly like some kind of attack animal.

Luke’s first padawan, or at least after Leia or Grogu (I might make him show up as Luke’s first knighted pupil and allude to this, providing more exposition on Kylo, and being one of the Jedi who help fight in the final battle as the Skywalkers go on to take on the final boss (and Grogu’s name being revealed would be a massive hype moment in The Mandalorian)). Due to his storied family, plus the name of his uncle and grandfather’s own master, he had heavy expectations on his (at the time) small shoulders from an early age. However, he had long been tormented by the Dark Side due to an untraceable curse placed upon him by Snoke, and probably a pre-existing anxious personality. The expectations placed on him, or maybe perhaps just self-imposed expectations, only worsened his turmoil, resulting in a festering mess of self-hatred, extreme perfectionism, and an obsession with familial honor and obsessive attachment to his family, especially Luke, that is a nasty combination of hero-worship and the abovementioned complexes and may border on almost incestuous.

There’s three ways for his backstory to go; “Underachiever Ben”, where Ben is either mediocre as a Jedi or still good but outperformed by others, or “Elsa Ben”, where he’s basically like Elsa from Frozen, possessing an extreme amount of power but barely able to control it, possibly due to Snoke’s curse, and a sort of middle ground, where Ben was super strong and a quick learner, but the dark side in him made Luke feel mixed about Ben’s increasing power, which Ben sensed. If the former, Ben becomes increasingly frustrated at himself for being such a “failure”. If “Elsa Ben”, there’s that, and also the added pain of him growing up terrified of himself and able to sense the terror he causes to those around him, so he was taken in by Luke so hopefully Luke could figure something out; he could have been destructive from the start, or maybe he started to become increasingly destructive despite his training. If the middle ground route, he takes Luke’s mixed emotions to mean that he doesn’t think he’s good enough. How severe Snoke’s curse would have been I’m not fully sure on; he could have voices in his head and nightmares keeping him up for days, chipping away at his sanity, tempting him to accept the darkness, or it may have just been an amplifying of his already unstable emotions. They could have even started as the latter and escalated to the former. But I’m thinking that to best explain his behavior I’m leaning towards the Elsa route. Eventually, his nightmares morphed into repeated visits by Darth Vader, his grandfather, who told him about the truth of his lineage and how he became Vader, slandering everything and everyone he ever admired or loved, telling him of his “true” destiny, and how he should give up and embrace it; unable to hear the real Anakin’s ghost screaming at him to not repeat his mistake. This extended campaign of mental torment stunted his emotional growth in many aspects, and at times he may seem to regress even more. Maybe other padawans were afraid of him because of this dark side presence, avoiding him, and/or were jealous of him because of his lineage and relation to Luke. He often felt entitled to be Luke’s right hand, getting jealous at other students and taking any reprimanding, no matter how gentle, extremely personally. Luke would have needed to struggle between not seeming to be biased towards his nephew and giving him the attention he needed, especially because Ben would feel like Han and Leia abandoned him because they weren’t able to help him, but considering how attached he is to Luke this would hurt him. So when Luke went to speak to him one night, or rushed in sensing an overwhelming dark side presence in his room, and was suddenly attacked by Snoke with a vision of what his nephew would become and making him go into fighting mode for a split second, drawing his weapon to protect Ben, and/or earlier admitted in anguish that he had no idea what was tormenting him despite his efforts, the straw broke the pedestal and he resigned himself to his “destiny”. Ironically he’s just exchanging one sky-high ideal for another, but he’s too emotionally immature to realize this, nor does he fully realize the fact that Snoke merely sees him as a malleable, gullible means to an end. Yet he still feels that pesky pull to the light, and he becomes increasingly frustrated with himself that even as a Dark side user, he still can’t be “perfect” or “worth” anything, not even able to sink himself into the darkness and finally rid himself of his pain. For all the privilege and power he has, or because of it, he always feels worthless.

Basically I want to break him down and make his pitifulness obvious, but that’s what makes him sympathetic. He’s nowhere as far gone as Vader, even if he wants to be, kind of like a reverse Jekyll and Hyde situation where the Hyde is dominant but Jekyll hangs on, so to speak? Maybe? Is that the right analogy? Or I guess it is kind of like Anakin but sort of not, but he’s rapidly going down the same route of hurting his family like his grandfather.

From researching a bit, his proposed behavior seems pretty close to the symptoms of BPD, which is actually pretty fitting because I was thinking Luke’s philosophy on the Force would be influenced by a more modern understanding of psychology, and Dialectical Behavior Therapy actually seems pretty in tune with what I understand to be how the Light Side of the Force works (I mean it even has basis in religious meditation…). Perhaps a mystical version of DBT was one of the things Luke was studying in exile. Though obviously it isn’t exactly BPD; portraying an actual, named mental illness not only has way too much baggage behind it, but it breaks immersion. And with him a lot of it will be the influence of the curse, though I think I would rather him have a personality that made him vulnerable to it from the start, so the curse had something to latch onto.

Going with the “Elsa Ben” scenario, his “real” personality is anxious and even a bit shy. While I like the idea of him being cheerful when he was very little, the shyness always being there is also a characterization I like. Combined with his lumbering physique from his teenage years onwards, this made him a kid who gave off an impression of being extremely dorky (an act that would probably be very natural for Adam Driver to pull off lol) and/or withdrawn and aloof, the latter of which may have made some other padawans think he thought highly of himself and start to resent him. Unlike Anakin he’d be probably a dutiful student, almost creepily obedient, probably actively distancing himself from rebellious behavior, though his way of speaking isn’t exactly super formal either because of the influence of the adults around him. In his obsessions lies a genuine love, even if twisted, of his “favorite person” so to speak. He was also a genuinely sweet kid who wanted to please these special people in his life. He could be said to be actually really selfless in a weird way, because ultimately he values familial honor and being “good enough” for whatever higher purpose more than he values himself. TROS implied some sassiness with that Han-like shrug, and while I can maybe see some of Han rubbing off on him like that, that might be something that started from him trying to copy his parents’ air of confidence, and another coping mechanism. He might, like Vader, have a 501st legion 2.0 which Phasma is in charge of and Finn is part of, and show a more nicer side to them. Perhaps he opened up one or two times to Finn specifically; I can see this image of him venting to him while Finn stands still like how someone might vent to their dog, not really expecting Finn to be listening (also sarcasm might help Kylo obscure his true anguish from Finn, because FO troopers don’t understand sarcasm probably).

He will be redeemed at the end… and live. Even if not necessarily paired with Rey. I’m neutral on Reylo (though admittedly I have a weak spot for pairs involving a strong woman and a troubled guy, so it’s kind of growing on me), but I really think this ship, or even centering the story strongly around a platonic relationship between these two, could have worked if it was built up strongly (Though if I were to go this route Finn would have to be established as a secondary character from the start, with Rey as the definitive main character, to focus on this). But either way, he’s definitely going to have to face the consequences of what he’s done, make up for his atrocities at least somewhat, and think about what he truly wants to do from now on. I can imagine him quietly reading stories to younglings as Rey, Finn, and Luke train some other pupils outside, or thanklessly working behind the scenes in other ways. For his haters out there, I could make the pill easier to swallow not just by making the reasons for his fall and how he was slowly and meticulously gaslit more clear, but also making him not as awful. Yes, he’s extremely destructive, but he could show more reluctance, or pause after his berserker rages, staring at the destruction he’s caused as the weight of what he’s done sinks in. He’d of course resent that he still has mercy left in him though. I don’t think that there will be a Starkiller Base, but even if there was he might argue with Hux a bit over whether it’s really necessary, until Hux sneers at him for having mercy, saying that Vader never hesitated when blowing up Alderaan, and Kylo reluctantly backs off.

…Actually, what about making him and Rey cousins? On one hand, if Rey is a Skywalker by blood, a direct daughter of the Master himself no less, Ben is now suddenly freed from carrying the weight of the family legacy on his own. On the other hand… He basically loses the thing he has spent his entire life building his identity around; since his fall would have partially been because of his obsession with Luke, he may become jealous and extremely resentful of her, and/or take this as even more reason for Luke to not “need” him anymore. Or perhaps, he pulls a reverse of “I sense the conflict in you” with her, wanting to “save” her from embracing the Light and wanting her to embrace the “true” Skywalker destiny with him. He could even be overjoyed that he could have someone else alongside him to carry on the legacy with; in this scenario he could have an unhealthy obsession with her that might also start crossing into “are you sure this isn’t incest?” territory. Yeah it’s a “join me and we can rule together” scenario again, but it would be done differently. Or perhaps it’s a mix of some of those. Exploring that and how he chooses to take it could be extremely interesting. Maybe it’s resolved when Anakin tells him to “finish what he started”… not just by saving the galaxy, but by also living the rest of his life loving his family not as an ideal, but as family, like Anakin wasn’t allowed to. And platonic Reylo sounds nice too. Though that’s going to make all that shipping fanart so awkward lol. Well it’s not as if Star Wars shippers haven’t been cockblocked by incest before (though his obsession with family and extremely questionable mental state would probably make such shippers go nuts anyway…).

And going off of Poe being close to his parents, while the main interactions with Kylo from the heroes would be Rey, Finn if he’s the second protagonist, Luke, and his parents, I can see potential for an interesting dynamic and some interesting conversations between them too. Much like how he might react to Rey being Luke’s daughter, I can see him being jealous of Poe and resenting him for being his “replacement”, but after his redemption I can see potential for seeing the start of a friendship between them in epilogue comics, novels, or a mini-series. It would be pretty in-character for my version of Poe to want to help rehabilitate his sort-of stepbrother. Also I now have the adorable mental image of Ben quietly helping Poe (and maybe the rest of his squad) decorate and arrange Rey and Finn’s wedding, or the two surprising Finn with a very elaborate bachelor party, though I’m not sure if those exist in this universe. And because of a certain Inside Llewyn Davis scene I’m also imagining Poe getting Ben to sing with him and BB-8. It’s adorable.

Also if both Rey and Finn are the main heroes, he might have some kind of link with both of them, and the main duo would both contrast him in their own way (lonely scavenger who no one expected anything of and nameless trooper who defected from the First Order vs. someone who grew up in greatness but seemingly threw it away and chose to be in the First Order; and much like Kylo Finn in particular has been manipulated from childhood to do heinous things, so he may sympathize with his situation). Maybe he’s the missing piece needed for both him and the leading duo to reach their full potential, or the main duo are the last piece needed to finally break Snoke’s curse on him, or something. Or it could simply just be Finn showing his growth and strength of character by understanding and forgiving Kylo, despite him now understanding just how badly the First Order treated him, which makes Rey (who, again, might start as this super cynical scavenger or may have seen Kylo go berserk and massacre her friends and betray her Master) come around to the idea. In this scenario it may actually be even more important to emphasize that Rey and Finn are two making up a whole, so as not to bog stuff down. It’s possible to ship Finnrey and want Kylo to have a better ending, what a shock!

Maybe Rey and Kylo could switch places, and he comes back to the light in SW8, which is an idea I’ve seen floated and is something that would make the story truly unique. He would seem like basically a less stable Vader 2.0 at the start, but over SW8 he could be seen breaking more and more out of his own terrible mindset, coming to a head in a cathartic realization that bring him back into the arms of his beloved family. It would also add an interesting dynamic that he and Finn have to be equals now. But that may mean that Rey would have to be killed off and I’m not so sure about that.

Though speaking of her, since in all these scenarios a common thread is that she understandably doesn’t like him, it would be a bit of a twist if Finn sees the good in him but Rey, if she’s a Skywalker, his cousin, doesn’t.

And to bring up Poe again, I also really like the idea of them having been childhood friends and thus knowing each other before the events of SW7; after all, they’re around similar age, it isn’t that far-fetched to think that former Rebel families would be still pretty close to each other, and I’ve seen some adorable fanfics with the concept. It also adds connection between them and adds even more tragedy, even if this relationship may have to be elaborated more in supplementary material due to time. I can definitely Poe speaking like an old friend to Kylo and constantly calling him “Ben”, to his irritation. The abovementioned feeling of being replaced could be what caused Ben to suddenly break off the friendship. And making the main cast kind of tight-knit like this might also help make the cast easier to manage.

Granted, there is the possibility of killing him off, though. I heard that one of the initial ideas for TFA was apparently that Kylo would be a reverse Vader, falling deeper and deeper into the Dark Side as the trilogy goes on. In fact, this may have been where Kylo killing Han may have been leading to. This actually sounded like a super cool idea, but considering the backstory I laid out I thought it would be way too bittersweet for the concluding movie of the saga, and if one were to say Kylo basically has BPD… That might lead to some unfortunate implications. I mean nothing is stopping me from not using the Elsa backstory, and if I didn’t use it maybe this route would be pretty viable, but I’m kind of starting to get attached to it.

—

Other characters:

Hux: I’ve never really been a villain person. I mean I liked sympathetic villains, yeah (but even then I preferred anti-heroes for a while; I’m talking like nothing beyond N from Pokémon levels of “evil”), but straight-up villains I just have merely seen as obstacles. Like back in my Smash fic days I was often like “Eh… They’re there… Because they want to take over the world I guess?”. It’s why I’m having trouble with Snoke probably lol. But for some reason Hux interests me. If I take a guess it’s probably because of the potential he had as an actual foil to Kylo in his own faction. He had so much potential as a villain, and in having this tense dynamic play out. In fact he does seem to have been set up that way in SW7. But yeah, I imagine him as one coldhearted bastard. His backstory, though not elaborated on in the movies, would be much like TFA supplementary material set him up; he’d still have killed his father, but while yes, Brendol was abusive and strict, Armitage didn’t kill him completely because he was a young man who wanted to break free from his strict father, but also genuinely because he knew doing so would be good for his standing. Unlike Kylo when he (most likely) kills Han, he doesn’t regret killing Brendol at all. While he might have a tragic backstory kind of explaining his behavior, it doesn’t bother him at all, while Kylo, who considering what happened to him and how he’s literally under a curse you’d think would have a much steeper fall into unabashed evil, is constantly conflicted. It’s a very Sith Lord-like backstory funnily enough… In fact I’m pretty sure that Palpatine had a backstory very similar to this with his parents.

He’s a very logical, analytical, brutally pragmatic person, and he looks upon Kylo’s emotional state with condescension. I’m increasingly starting to like the idea that he’s somehow able to talk Kylo down, while still being hardly nice. Perhaps he preys upon Kylo’s constant need for approval from others, even if he doesn’t like the person in question (this may also be why Kylo reacts so strongly to Finn escaping as well, in fact. He genuinely cares about people’s loyalty, even from literal no-name soldiers). Though I can’t decide whether he’s this deceptively charming snake or basically an evil Spock. I also can’t decide between him being in this constant state of “Why do I have to babysit this manchild” or giving absolutely no visible f*cks around Kylo no matter what happens, or even straight-up trolling him often, toying with his emotions because it amuses him; preferably two or a bit of all somehow? I can see him using having met Vader as a child to mock Kylo for how much of a pale, childish imitation he is, or reminding Kylo of how much better he is as a leader objectively; perhaps that’s what he holds over Kylo’s head. Or him explaining to Kylo how he was raised by less than stellar parenting and tried so hard to live up to his strict father too… So he brutally murdered Brendol in cold blood (possibly with Phasma’s help), became a better admiral than he ever was, and got over it “Like an adult. Unlike you.”. They’d be in this constant state of delicate, tense equality; Kylo can easily overpower Hux if he pisses him off a bit too much, but Hux is able to walk that fine edge seemingly without much effort.

But when he realizes whatever grand cosmic plot he and the entire First Order has been participating in this whole time is when, ironically, there would probably be a really dramatic villainous breakdown from him. It’s kind of a Zuko and Azula situation with Kylo and Hux perhaps? Or is this Hux more a mix of Azula and Zhao’s roles rather?

——

Worldbuilding stuff: Since I’m more a character person, there isn’t much here, but because the worldbuilding was another issue in the movies I’ll also be adding these.

The New Republic isn’t nuked in the first movie. In fact it stays there for the duration of the trilogy and the hero faction is now its armed forces, not The Resistance (Also that name makes no sense. Seriously. At least name them The Peacekeeper Corps or Vigilantes or something, or since they’re basically Leia’s personal military maybe the Organa Free Army or Organa Corps or something of that sort. No wonder people mistakenly call them The Rebels sometimes. It’s a similar setup to Chrom’s Shepherds in Fire Emblem Awakening, albeit with a better relationship with the kingdom; it would be downright strange if the Shepherds called themselves The Resistance despite literally existing with the queen’s permission, and it still is here. Hell, Leia’s Shepherds is a better name). There would be elaboration on the political stuff going on behind the scenes, and if Leia isn’t a Jedi that’s her plotline probably, though a big part of me wants her to be part of the action instead of being stuck on the homeworld.

Meanwhile, The First Order is made up of Imperial Remnants and people and planets who were unsatisfied with the democratic but still new and fragile New Republic. Basically think White Russians if the Soviets weren’t also awful. It happens a lot in history. While it may have some mining planets in its orbit (not literally, you know what I mean) so it can plausibly refurbish anything Kylo wrecks with his tantrums, Starkiller Base is probably a bit much, and a lot of their equipment might be old Imperial or Rebel stuff, or stolen from the New Republic, with new stuff being produced but not in overly high quantity. Some of the equipment deemed less important might even be kind of crappy due to how old they are. They’d probably be at most an equally powerful faction to the Republic, if not smaller than them, seeming more like a terrorist cell. I don’t have much of an idea why Snoke would want to be involved in it yet though.

But while the First Order might be smaller, the New Republic is hindered by it just now finally gaining its footing, and the military previously only having been used for peacekeeping and sniping stray Imperial remnants. Because it’s peacetime, it might have been kept pretty small, and also the military academies are literally not even 30 years old at this point, so new that it’s possible Poe, despite his youth, was one of the earliest graduates; one of the military’s most high-ranking officers is literally a scoundrel with no formal training - even if he is good at his job - it isn’t exactly a well-oiled machine, though its less rigid, casual structure also does benefit it in some aspects. Also the FO can easily use Kylo as intimidation, and its upper staff is nothing if not driven and motivated as well as ruthless. They may engage in more underhanded actions like sabotage and suicide bombers, or rely on small elite units like the Knights of Ren or small companies of troopers, to poke holes in the enemy just as much as open combat. And maybe if all else fails Snoke causes something really bad to happen seemingly out of nowhere.

While I do think that making the baddies an Empire 2.0 is an… uncreative decision, I want to keep Finn’s backstory, plus it fits Kylo’s story too so blah, I kind of have to keep it. Plus I want to do Phasma and Hux justice. Maybe Snoke or whatever it serves turns into a giant Eldritch abomination and have no use for the FO anymore. And again, reactionary forces are a thing that have existed throughout early modern history. But as already mentioned, due to the nature of the First Order’s existence, maybe the Stormtroopers aren’t kidnapped, but they were orphans picked off the streets, and/or some more dedicated Imperial parents gave them their children? I had the idea that Troopers like Finn are “Junior Troopers”, the child slave type, while older members, “Senior Troopers”, would be legit Imperial revanchists and former troopers. Maybe there’s a separate company of Juniors who think they’re cool by fighting for the First Order, but generally Juniors would be the lowest on the social rung, though some might make it into higher positions, and don’t know any other life than what they have now. Though I also like the idea that Finn was part of an elite unit directly connected to Kylo Ren like the 501st, so he has a reason to be particularly hurt by his betrayal (but that could throw a wrench in the whole Finn was a faceless cog in the machine thing). They’re pretty Prussian in command structure; officers work under mission-tactics, but the rank-and-file are machine-like in their discipline, more than even some actual droids. The Republic’s forces also probably engage in mission-tactics a lot, except how far it is acceptable goes way further down the chain of command, so stuff like the Holdo situation doesn’t happen. If that situation were to happen when mission-tactics were to be expected Poe’s independent action would be seen as reasonable. This would have potential for very interesting battles and tactics, though I’d need a lot of help with those because I’m the furthest thing from a tactician you can find (but even I can tell the bomber scene from TLJ was dumb, which should say something).

I kind of realized that it’s possible that the four OT legacy characters may end up basically representing four major aspects of the New Republic; the Jedi (Luke), law and justice (Leia, if she’s a senator), the military (Han, if he’s a general), and economics (Lando). I think some worldbuilding into how the republic functions should be explored through these characters as they move the story forward, except for the Jedi since they’re obviously a central focus, and Luke might very well be introduced after them, and the military will also get focus for obvious reasons, and Poe exists. The information definitely needs to be conveyed as efficiently and organically as possible through the story, because there’s two, likely three, equally important main characters and an unholy amount of secondary characters who aren’t exactly minor.

May write more later idk. I need to be doing other stuff…

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puddygeeks · 3 years

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𝑊𝑎𝑟 𝑂𝑓 𝐻𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑡𝑠 - 𝐶𝑟𝑖𝑚𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙 𝑀𝑖𝑛𝑑𝑠, 𝑆𝑝𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒𝑟 𝑅𝑒𝑖𝑑 𝑥 𝑂𝐶 - 𝐶ℎ𝑎𝑝𝑡𝑒𝑟 6: 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑 𝐵𝑒𝑡𝑤𝑒𝑒𝑛 𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝐿𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑠

Masterlist

Rating: Mature

Summary: 𝐴𝑙𝑖𝑐𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟 𝑖𝑚𝑎𝑔𝑖𝑛𝑒𝑑 ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑓 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑖𝑛 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑙𝑙𝑖𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑐𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑑𝑒𝑠𝑖𝑟𝑒 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑙𝑝 𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑠 𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑢𝑙𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝑟𝑜𝑢𝑏𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑙𝑒𝑓𝑡 ℎ𝑒𝑟 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑙𝑖𝑡𝑡𝑙𝑒 𝑜𝑝𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠. 𝑊𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠𝑢𝑝𝑝𝑜𝑟𝑡 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝐴𝑈 𝑓𝑎𝑚𝑖𝑙𝑦, 𝑚𝑎𝑦𝑏𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑒 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑓𝑖𝑛𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑏𝑒𝑔𝑖𝑛 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑒𝑎𝑙 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑤𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑑𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑝𝑎𝑠𝑡.

Fandom: Criminal Minds

Pairing: Spencer Reid x OC

Status: Ongoing

LONG TERM ONGOING PROJECT :)

My writing is entirely fuelled by coffee! If you enjoy my work, feel free to donate toward my caffeine dependency: will work for coffee

𝑾𝒂𝒓𝒏𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒔: 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑒𝑟𝑎𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑑𝑢𝑙𝑡 𝑐𝑜𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡, 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑠𝑜𝑚𝑒 𝑡𝑟𝑖𝑔𝑔𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑚𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑤. 𝑃𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑏𝑒 𝑎𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑑𝑜𝑒𝑠 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑐𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑐𝑎𝑠𝑒𝑠 𝑜𝑓 𝑚𝑢𝑟𝑑𝑒𝑟, 𝑐ℎ𝑖𝑙𝑑 𝑎𝑏𝑑𝑢𝑐𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 & 𝑠𝑒𝑥𝑢𝑎𝑙 𝑎𝑏𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑠 𝑖𝑠 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑎𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝐵𝐴𝑈'𝑠 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑘. 𝐼𝑡 𝑖𝑠 𝑚𝑦 𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑛𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛 𝑡𝑜 ℎ𝑎𝑛𝑑𝑙𝑒 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑖𝑠𝑠𝑢𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑠 𝑐𝑎𝑟𝑒𝑓𝑢𝑙𝑙𝑦 𝑎𝑠 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑠𝑖𝑏𝑙𝑒, 𝑏𝑢𝑡 𝑖𝑓 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑟𝑒 𝑖𝑠 𝑎𝑛𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡ℎ𝑎𝑡 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑓𝑒𝑒𝑙 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑 𝑏𝑒 𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑟𝑜𝑣𝑒𝑑 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ ℎ𝑜𝑤 𝑡ℎ𝑒𝑠𝑒 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑚𝑎𝑛𝑎𝑔𝑒𝑑, 𝑝𝑙𝑒𝑎𝑠𝑒 𝑙𝑒𝑡 𝑚𝑒 𝑘𝑛𝑜𝑤.

Eᴘɪsᴏᴅᴇ: Pʀᴇ Sᴇᴀsᴏɴ 1

Chapter Six

“We’re missing something.” I muttered to myself, as Reid and I examined the small room in the house that had been locked. I’d lost track of how many times we had checked this room already, but as we’d been left to finish investigating here, we were both drawn back to this room as if it were the key to the mystery. “I can see how Logan took Amanda, how he held her and we know that he took her for revenge. So, why move her now and then just lie in wait for us? If he knew we were coming, you would think that he’d try to avoid us, but he didn’t. He just hid her from us. Why?”

“Some part of his revenge fantasy isn’t complete yet. He might be confident that he can clear his name and return to collect her later. Or he has factored his arrest into his plans somehow. The time with us serves some kind of purpose for his fantasy.” Reid thought aloud and I rubbed at my temples.

“It doesn’t make sense. She’s literally right under our noses. Why can’t I find her?” I hissed irritably, the pressure that hung over me only growing with every hour that passed and Reid glanced up at me with his brows furrowed in concern.

“It’s not just your responsibility, Alice. We’re a team.” He advised, a self conscious smile filling his face and I ran my fingers through my hair in a gesture of stress.

“I know, but Agent Hotchner-” I paused abruptly, reminding myself of our earlier conversation about dropping the formalities and attempted to respect his wishes. “Hotch pulled a lot of strings to get me on this case. I don’t want to disappoint him.”

“You won’t.” Reid assured me, flashing me a smile before he moved off to examine the rest of the house again.

I made my way outside to get some air, feeling shaken by the unusual reality of being physically present in the place where our victim had been held and busied myself with investigating the external elements of the property for clues. Hotch and Morgan had returned to the main building with our suspect for questioning, but my instinct told me that they would be unlikely to pry anything from Logan that he wasn’t willing to share, due to the careful control that we’d seen in his actions so far.

The sharp ringtone of my mobile pulled me from my thoughts and I glanced at the screen to find Penelope calling.

“Greetings, my fine British scone! I have dug into all blueprints for the home as you asked and at least officially, there is no basement, no extra building permits and no small spaces that you and Reid haven’t already searched.” She explained, attempting to use her bright attitude to soften the impact of the information and I sighed in disappointment.

“Are they getting anywhere with the interview?” I asked hopefully, beginning to pace in the garden of the property impatiently. We had little to work with at this point and I remained conscious of the clock for child abductions, which had been against us since we arrived.

“Nada, I’m afraid. It seems that this Bo Peep is keeping very secretive track of his sheep.” She answered and I cursed under my breath in annoyance. “This team knows what they’re doing, Ally. They’ll crack him, eventually.”

“Amanda doesn’t have time to wait for that.” I groaned, the helplessness of the situation already grating at me. “We must have missed something in this guy's history. Maybe there’s a link to the Sweeney Todd stuff that we haven’t noticed. Have you found any more files on Logan in the military system?”

“Honey, you would be shocked at how little the military has modernised. Not only am I having to battle against heavy encryption, but a whole bunch of information hasn’t been digitised yet. They’re still recording an awful lot of their logs with pen and paper.” She divulged with an obvious sense of disgust and I felt my interest peak.

“Do they keep the paper records on site? And if so, can you get me access to them?” I suggested, waiting with baited breath for her answer and Penelope simply chuckled confidently.

“Of course I can. I’ll get hold of the Colonel now. Head over to office 4A, that’s where they store it all. I’ll have one of those charming soldier boys bring your laptop and an access code for you.” She instructed proudly and I had to smile as I hung up the phone to search for Reid.

Once back inside the house, I found him staring intently at a picture on the wall in the master bedroom and seeming as if he was lost in thought. I cleared my throat as I approached to keep from startling him, but he didn’t move at all to acknowledge me.

“Penelope might have a lead for us. She’s arranging access to the paper files in 4A. I’m thinking some of the details about Logan’s past might be buried in there. Want to ride along?” I offered, causing him to finally turn to face me with interest and I couldn’t help noticing how handsome he looked when he was concentrating.

“That’s a good idea. Perhaps something was omitted from the original report when it was added to the system.” He agreed, causing me to smile at the support for my suggestion. I wasn’t used to having colleagues appreciate my input and it still gave me a warm, fuzzy feeling every time that this team trusted me. “I’m gonna stay here, if you’re okay going alone? I think I’m close to something.” He checked, examining my face closely for any signs of discomfort, until I nodded in confirmation.

“Sure. I can fly solo. I’ve got my phone on me, so just call if there’s anything I can do to help out.”

--⥈--

When Penelope described the base as behind the times, I hadn’t ever imagined a level of disorganisation this extreme to be possible amongst military personnel. I’d set up my laptop at the small desk in the room, before sitting cross legged on the floor amongst the stacks of boxes that almost reached the ceiling in places.

Even the soldier who had granted me access seemed too daunted by the task ahead of me to be able to cope with remaining in the cramped room and after many reassurances that I was quite capable of sitting here alone, he’d returned to his post. Time had already lost meaning and I was growing bleary eyed from the onslaught of information.

Fortunately, Penelope broke up the task by giving me regular updates on the team, who were still having little success in their interrogation of the suspect and were now highly relying on Reid and I to find something that they could use to pressure him.

There were countless reports of Logan’s antisocial behaviour amongst the boxes and it became clear that his friendship with Franklin as he rose to power allowed him far more leniency than any other member of staff would have received in similar circumstances. There was very little information on his wife Stacey, who seemed to have joined the military later in life and met her husband there. She was an otherwise painfully ordinary soldier, serving her time with little distinction and a simple life right up until her death.

I sighed as I got to my feet and stretched out my limbs, desperation creeping up on me. There was nothing here that bought us any closer to finding Amanda and at this point, I was losing faith that we would ever recover her alive. I pulled out my phone to contact Reid in the hope that he might have had some success, but realised that I had no service. With a dramatic groan, I navigated my way through the maze of paperwork that I’d created to reach the door, only to find that it wouldn’t open.

A cold chill ran down my spine, causing my stomach to flip and I couldn’t deny a feeling of severe dread pooling in my stomach. Instinctively, I pulled the handle a few more times, but after my earlier performance with a simple wooden door, I knew that I wasn’t getting out of this steel, electronic locked door without help. Holding my phone up in the air, I paced the room in an effort to catch a signal to little success, before I was interrupted by a loud sound in the distance that caused the ground to shake.

“Shit!” I hissed, grabbing a nearby shelf for balance and noticing that my heartbeat had already quickened in my chest. I hit my phone in a panic, desperate to get through to someone and just as I felt myself losing control, my gaze fell onto my laptop.

Dropping into the seat heavily, my fingers grazed over the keys with an urgent desire to seek help. I first confirmed that the base’s systems were all locked out, meaning that I couldn’t contact any of the team or any military support, but was blessed to discover that my connection to the FBI system was still live. Immediately, I utilised this to get in touch with Penelope and the moment that her face filled my screen, I sighed with relief.

“Oh, Alice! Thank god you’re okay!” She gasped before I could even get a word out and the flustered expression that she wore only intensified my fear. It was clear that whatever had happened was unexpected for her too and I knew that whatever piece of the puzzle that we were missing was likely about to complicate our situation.

“What the hell is going on?” I breathed, noticing that something was flashing in the background of her video and as I concentrated harder, I realised that I could hear alarms.

“There was an explosion in the main building. We think that it came from Colonel Franklin’s office, but I can’t tell. The security systems have kicked in. We’re trapped in this room.” She answered hurriedly, her eyes wide with panic and as I opened my mouth to ask if the Colonel had made it, he appeared behind her. “I think there’s been a couple of other targets too, as the base system has gone down. This is not the work of a hacker, or you and I would definitely have been targeted. Whoever it is likely blew up the actual server rooms themselves just to kick us out. I was terrified that there might have been one in your room too.” She admitted, seeming shaken by the idea and I quickly caught up to what she was implying.

“To get rid of the paper trail, too. Colonel, how many people know about this backlog of paperwork here?” I enquired nervously, attempting to quash the fear that I might meet a fiery death at any moment and he moved to take a seat beside Penelope.

“We had an administrator a while ago who was responsible for amalgamating all of the paperwork onto the system, but other than that it’s only top ranking staff.” He explained in confusion and I released a long breath in relief.

“Alright. So, other than the soldier that you just had in here, there’s hardly anyone on this base who knows that you are still holding paper documentation. We can assume that if I haven’t been blown up already, I’m probably safe. Unfortunately, I’m also locked in, so I have no choice but to test that theory.” I reported, causing Penelope to frown in terror and I fidgeted awkwardly in my seat at the thought. “What about the rest of the team? Are they okay?”

“I can’t get hold of them. It’s possible that the cell towers have also been blown out.” Penelope revealed, tears beginning to fill her eyes and I found myself holding my head in my hands as I considered our predicament. The faces of each of our team members flashed through my mind and I said a quick prayer in my mind for each of them to calm my anxiety.

“The lockdown protocol would only affect high priority areas. This room houses all of our main access to the base systems, the room that Hawthorne is in has our physical records and the cell block where your agents are interviewing closes to contain prisoners. The rest of the base will already be proceeding with evacuation.” The colonel explained, his demeanour significantly calmer than either of us and I strained to come up with a plan.

“If this evacuation procedure is known by the whole base, there’s a chance that a bomb could already be in place to inflict more casualties. They’d be sitting ducks.” I analysed, looking back up at the screen with severity as I realised that everyone but Reid was trapped behind locked doors somewhere. “We need to override the locks somehow. Where is your security system housed?”

“Right where you are, Agent. There should be a large metal container in the corner.”

Wasting no time, I jumped to my feet to rush to the cupboard and entered the code that the Colonel provided to open it. Behind the innocuous looking metal doors was a spaghetti junction display of wires to an ancient security system and I could hardly believe that anyone would still be using such antiquated technology.

“You have got to be kidding me!” I exclaimed as I marched over to grab my laptop and placed it on a box with a clear view of the cupboard’s contents. “I hope you’re up to date with your caveman technology, Nels. This is like Jurassic Park in here.” I announced, hearing a dissatisfied groan from her over the speakers.

“This is absolutely criminal. Fortunately, I toyed with robotics for a while before computer science, so I might be able to crack this.” She calculated as she began drawing out the pattern of the wiring on a piece of paper. “It looks like there’s a simple enough bypass here, but it’s going to take me a few minutes to figure it out.”

“Colonel, I’ve looked at everything that you have on Logan and nothing here is giving us the answers that we need to find your daughter. I can’t find a connection to Sweeney Todd at all. Sure, there’s a similar feeling that he could be inspired by, but plenty of stories could say the same. There has to be a reason why he chose that particular one. Did the Logan’s have a love of musicals as a couple?” I asked, deciding to utilise our waiting time to keep the focus on Amanda, instead of obsessing over the safety of our colleagues.

“Not that I remember. They were average soldiers, into sports and barbecues. They weren’t the type to read often, so I can’t understand why he would be this obsessed with some story?” The Colonel answered, his frustration evident as he struggled to comprehend the relevance of this conversation.

“What about Stacey? She joined service late. From the limited background information in her file, it doesn’t seem like she was military bred. Was there anything in particular that led her to enlist?” I probed, desperately trying to find the missing piece of the puzzle and he sighed deeply at me.

“I don’t know what it is that you’re trying to say about her, Agent Hawthorne, but she was a good soldier. Her unit was everything to her. She treated them like a family. Even gave them haircuts when they were on tour.” He growled, seeming thoroughly offended by my questions and I quirked a brow at him in interest. “She was a barber before she enlisted. It was her fathers trade and she followed in his footsteps. I can tell you that came in incredibly handy when you’re living in the middle of the desert.” He added defensively and I jumped to my feet to scatter around paperwork in search of something specific. A theory clicked in my mind at this revelation and I knew that it had to be the connection that we needed.

“Sir, we believe that your daughter is still on this base. We’ve been looking for places that relate to you, or your wife, but I suspect that it may have more relevance to Stacey. Is there anywhere on this base that she would offer haircuts? Or did you have a specific barber shop here at any point?” I pelted out the questions in quick succession as I laid the blueprint of the base out on the floor and busied myself with examining it again.

“I already told your agents that. The people here go to a family business in the next town. It’s owned by a grandparent of one of the troops. We support each other in the military.” He answered aggressively and I scanned the document before me with confusion. Something seemed out of place, a structure that I didn’t recognise and as I grabbed a current map to compare it, I noticed that it wasn’t marked.

“This building here is on the blueprint, but not the map. What is it?” I interrogated, holding up the document accusingly and he rolled his eyes at me.

“It’s marked for demolition, but the project has been put on hold. We decided not to list it on the new maps as it was supposed to be gone by now. It’s a world war 2 relic, structurally unsound and not fit for purpose. We already had troops search it before we even called your team.” He elaborated impatiently, glancing over at Penelope as if it were her fault that I was wasting his time.

“That was before he moved her.” I argued, drawing his attention back to me instantly. “What was it used for? The building?”

“Storage mostly. For a long time it was considered a historical landmark, because many of the soldiers that were stationed here in the war wrote about it in their letters home. They would creep in there at night to smoke cigars and drink moonshine.” He began to describe in a bored tone, before pausing abruptly in a chilling manner that allowed all of the colour to drain from his face. “They...they used to call it the barber club.”

“That’s it! That’s where he’s holding her. Penelope, I need these doors open!” I ordered frantically, hardly able to contain the energy that pulsed through my body and she nodded back resolutely.

“I know, my love. I think I’ve got it. Follow my instructions very clearly.” She demanded as I placed myself in front of the cupboard and felt my hands shaking from the pressure.

Step by step, she guided me through the process, disconnecting wires and rerouting things that I barely understood for myself like a pro. Were the circumstances less dire, I would have littered her with praise for her efforts, but I didn’t have the space in my mind for that now. Finally, there was one switch left to flip and the moment that I did, I heard the door click open from across the room.

Before I could even begin to celebrate our success, the sound of an explosion rocketed from nearby and the entire room shook hard enough to knock me from my feet, causing even the Colonel to freeze in shock.

“I...I think that might have come from the barber club.” Penelope mumbled regretfully, whilst the Colonel fought back tears, seeming as if he were in shock. It seemed that even powerful leaders were not immune to the emotion of losing a child and I had to channel my own determination to keep things moving.

“I’m the closest to that building right now. Penelope, find the team and send them to meet me there. We’re gonna need medics, too.” I blurted as I got to my feet with determination, prompting the Colonel to launch into action too as he charged through the door to her side and left her looking flustered.

“Alice, the building is probably already on fire! Just wait for backup.” She pleaded, her eyes filling with tears as she stared into the camera. I stepped away from the laptop to grab a rag to cover my face, planning to protect myself from the smoke that was likely and turned back to face her with fire in my eyes.

“I can’t. Send the team and stay safe, Nels.” I ordered, before rushing out of the room and into the chaos of outside.

As expected, the air was heavy with smoke from multiple directions and people were running around in panic all around me. Now that I had left the well protected room, I was overwhelmed by the blaring sound of sirens and lights flashing from overhead. It was clear that things had already spiralled out of control and I tried to prevent myself from being sucked into the mania. Mentally following the blueprints, I ran in the direction of the unmarked building, being passed by numerous scared civilians who simply lived here due to their partners enlistment and were not equipped for these circumstances.

As I turned the corner to the large old storage unit, I found that Penelope had been correct in placing the most recent explosion and there was already fire spreading within. For a moment, I couldn’t bring myself to move as I stared up at it with a crushing feeling of defeat, but following a bolt of rebellion, I launched myself inside to search for Amanda.

Fortunately, I thought to tie the rag around my face for protection and instead of struggling to breathe, I was taken aback by how little I could see once inside. I placed my hand on the nearest wall and used it to navigate my way as I strained to remember the building’s layout.

The air was agonisingly hot, worse than I had even imagined that it would be and every step that I took felt impossibly hotter. I had no idea how far I would be able to go, as I knew from the plans that this was a vast space and it was impossible to know where exactly Amanda would be hidden, if she hadn’t already died in the blast.

Smoke filled my lungs, causing me to cough heavily and burned at my eyes. I could feel myself growing weaker and though I considered whether I would be able to make it out, I wasn’t willing to turn back yet. My posture shrivelled under the strain, crouching down to avoid the oppressive heat and without warning, I tripped over something very solid.

Somehow I managed to land on my hands and knees to avoid any serious injury and turned to investigate the cause of my fall. From feeling alone, I quickly realised that the object I was touching was, in fact, a person and judging from the size, it was highly likely to be a child. I wished that I could see enough to identify them, before remembering that Amanda had very short, almost graded hair and a quick feel of her head left me feeling confident that I had found her.

Coughing burned at my chest and I knew that I didn’t have much time, so I began to drag her in the direction that I’d come from. It was even harder now to tell where I was going as the fire rapidly spread through the unstable building and it took every ounce of my strength to keep moving with Amanda in tow.

The rag around my face only seemed to be making it harder to breathe now and I ripped it off as I could tell that I was nearing the exit. Unfortunately, my bulletproof vest that I was still wearing constricted my chest uncomfortably, but I couldn’t wiggle out of it without wasting precious moments that I needed to escape. Some of the structure began to collapse behind me and I yelped in panic, hoisting Amanda’s limp form into my arms for protection.

With one final burst of defiance, I stumbled out into the open air, gripping onto her tightly and continued walking into the chaos that stretched in every direction in search of help. Unfortunately, no one was waiting for me outside as I’d hoped and the various explosions were still causing panic as people ran around me in a fluster.

My entire body ached as I fought to drag myself onward, glancing around frantically for someone who could assist us and as I finally ran out of energy, I stopped to look down at the girl that I was carrying. Despite all of the soot and sweat that covered her young features, I still easily recognised her and squeezed her to me warily.

“Don’t give up, kid.” I wheezed, hardly able to get the words out from my burned throat.

Finally, an ambulance skidded into view and I sighed in relief. Closely behind them were my team, including even Penelope, who ran toward me in desperation and I thanked every force I could think of for providing me with colleagues who cared enough to seek me out. I almost burst into tears as two paramedics rushed over to meet me and I assisted in lowering Amanda to the ground so that they could work on her.

“Is she alive? Is she gonna be okay?” I whispered, my voice hoarse and dry despite the power of my emotions and the medics ignored me as they frantically prepared an oxygen tank and mask for her. I watched them impatiently, unable to tear my eyes off the little girl’s delicate form, even as Penelope charged up to examine me.

“Are you hurt? Oh my god, I can’t believe that you went in there! You’re insane!” She scolded, fussing over me with teary eyes as she reached to take my face in her hands, but I batted her off with annoyance.

“Is she alive?!” I repeated, much louder this time despite the pain that it caused me and one of the paramedics looked up at me with annoyance.

Before they could get a single word of explanation, or scolding out, Amanda gasped loudly, spluttering for air and it took the full attention of both paramedics to calm her enough to benefit from the mask. Almost immediately after, Colonel Franklin arrived and dropped by her side in relief, holding her to him whilst she refilled her lungs.

My knees gave way from the weight of my own relief, but fortunately Morgan was quick to catch me as the rest of my team surrounded us and he swept me off my feet, leaving Hotch to wave down another ambulance for me. Though I fought to tell them that I was fine, the only sound that I could manage to make was coughing as my lungs finally gave in to the effects of smoke inhalation and Morgan carried me protectively straight to the back of the second ambulance that parked beside us.

In order to save time, Morgan simply sat me on the back of the open vehicle instead of allowing the medics to take me fully inside and they strapped an oxygen mask to my face before I could protest. Reid pushed past the staff with a determined expression and ripped off the bulletproof vest that I wore in an efficient manner, quickly calculating that it was restricting me and I felt an immediate improvement in my breathing the moment that it was released.

As he stepped back out of my space with a sly smile, I gripped the oxygen mask as if it were the most important thing in my world and allowed myself a few moments to catch my breath, whilst Penelope took a seat beside me to hold my free hand soothingly.

“Reid, Morgan. Keep an eye on Alice. I’ll talk to the Colonel.” Hotch ordered, nodding at me to check that I was okay with him leaving, before he strode over to the first ambulance where Amanda had now been situated for further treatment.

I felt too exhausted to even argue as the two boys took their places in front of me, guarding the entrance to the ambulance and staring down at me with amazement in their faces. Though it was subtle, I caught a brief smirk in Morgan’s face as he peeked at Reid, raising his brows at the vest that he held as if implying something, but I couldn’t bring myself to address it at the moment.

“What were you thinking running in there alone, kid? You have a whole team here. You don’t have to be the big hero.” Morgan scolded, though his tone was still light enough to reveal his amusement at this outcome.

Behind them, a fire truck arrived to begin battling the blaze and it seemed that the military had finally regained control of the situation as they set to work evacuating the alarmed residents that still remained in the area. I watched them with interest, hoping that they had realised the danger of following their usual plan and Reid cleared his throat, catching my eye.

“They’re evacuating to a completely different spot than the agreed plan. Whilst you were locked away, I found the nearest officer and advised them of the risk that the unsub would target the evacuation zone.” He explained, as if reading my mind and when I furrowed my brows in confusion, he chuckled shyly. “Garcia told us that you were worried about it and I noticed that you were watching them. I’m just...I’m sorry that I didn’t come with you.” He added, staring down at his feet guiltily and I removed my mask to address him.

“Reid, you have nothing to apologise for.” I wheezed, cringing immediately at how awful my voice sounded and though Penelope tried to force the mask straight back on, I pushed it away again. “I’m serious. All of these people are safe because you didn’t get trapped with me. You did your job and I’m fine. No harm done.” I insisted, prompting him to drag his gaze back up to me with a smile, which was painfully addictive for me, until we were interrupted by Hotch.

“I’d like a moment to speak to Alice alone.” He announced, his expression as stern as ever.

Reid and Morgan made an excuse about needing to check on Amanda, quickly excusing themselves from the conversation, but Penelope hesitated for a few moments longer, before finally caving to his intense stare. Once we were alone, Hotch crossed his arms in a gesture that indicated I was about to receive a lecture and I gulped in dread.

“Going into that building was reckless. It was a risk with no guaranteed reward, especially for someone who is not a trained field agent.” He began, his tone scolding and I nodded slowly in acceptance, feeling any future opportunities to work with the FBI slipping through my fingers.

“However, you took action despite great personal risk and even considering your lack of experience, you did what needed to be done. You were honest with Garcia about where you were going and what you needed, showing that you trusted your team to have your back. These are not qualities that can be taught. If you had waited, Amanda would likely be dead. You have an enormous amount of potential, Alice and that saved a girl's life today. “

“Thank you, Sir.” I wheezed, coughing from the strain of my words and he softened his expression slightly as he viewed me.

“As you played such a large role in this case, I would appreciate it if you could return to Quantico with the team to complete your reports, so that I can oversee them.” He requested and I nodded without hesitation. “We’ll arrange for someone to take you back to your hotel for the night. I imagine you could do with some rest. You’ll join us on the jet first thing tomorrow.”

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shimmersing · 4 years

Link

Chapter Four: In My Arms

“I feel like we keep arriving late to the party,” Erithon said dryly to Jorgan and Dorne as they entered the Thul warehouse uncontested.

A young man dressed in Organa colors ordered a group of beaten, grumbling Thul guards into a makeshift holding cell at the back of the building. The same guards that Erithon and the rest of Havoc Squad had expected to be battling themselves, but apparently someone had beaten them to the punch… literally.

The man tapped a code into the keypad with relish, and the forcefield lit up the doorway, sealing the indignant guards inside. He grinned and turned to Erithon, rushing over with a look of awe. “You’re with the Republic?”

“Havoc Squad. You’re with House Organa?”

“Brant Sonn, sir,” he replied with a bow.

Definitely from here, Erithon thought. “Wait…” Erithon frowned at the young man, recalling the briefing. “Brant Sonn? One of the hostages?”

“Yes!” He answered with a shade too much enthusiasm, pausing to compose the rest of his answer thoughtfully. “The Wolf Baron freed us when the diplomat turned herself in. We came for her as soon as we’d heard what happened. We couldn’t allow a friend of our house to remain under Thul’s hold, not after she sacrificed herself for us.”

“Was anyone hurt? I mean, besides…” Erithon nodded toward the bruised Thul guards, ensconced safely behind the forcefield.

Brant grinned. “No, sir, but the diplomat was sedated, we think. She’s a Jedi, so we-”

Erithon grasped the other man’s shoulder. “The Jedi. Where is she?”

“There, with the Duke, still in the other cell.” Brant pointed toward the other storage area where Charle Organa paced restlessly behind a slicer working at unlocking the forcefield. Beyond the crackling barrier, Erithon could just make out a human form.

“Thanks. Jorgan, see if there’s anything else we can do for Brant here. Dorne, with me.” He clapped Brant gratefully on the shoulder before turning toward the duke.

Organa looked up as they approached, his surprise lasting only a moment before being replaced by relief and gratitude. “Lieutenant! Please, tell me you’ve brought medical supplies.”

“Yes, sir,” Erithon answered, just as the slicer made one final adjustment. The glowing shield dropped, allowing Erithon, Elara, and Duke Organa to finally reach the unconscious occupant.

The prone figure was swathed in neutral shades, and a glimpse of dusky blonde hair peeked out from under the familiar hood. No, no, this isn’t what I meant when I-

The sickening lurch in his stomach almost sent Erithon to the dusty floor of the warehouse.

Aitahea.

“What in blazes happened?” Erithon demanded as he rushed to her side and yanked off his gloves. Elara dropped to the floor beside them, digging through her kit.

Duke Organa scowled furiously while he hovered. “They drugged her. Some kind of gas. Barbarians. Can you wake her?”

It looked like she’d been tossed unceremoniously over a shipping container after the drug had taken effect; the very thought set Erithon’s teeth grinding. He scooped the unconscious Jedi into a sitting position, pushing her hood back and shifting gently to let her head rest on his armored shoulder. She was white as the snow outside, lashes stark black against hollow cheeks. Biting back a particularly vicious curse, he pressed his fingers to her neck and exhaled sharply when he found a steady pulse. Elara Dorne finished her search and pulled out a handful of stims, efficiently scanning the labels before passing one to the waiting lieutenant.

“Antidote for general sedatives, sir.”

Erithon wasted no time in pressing the stim to Aitahea’s throat, watching anxiously as the medication worked its way into her system. He let the empty cartridge fall away, cradling her cheek in one hand as he waited for a response. “Come on, Jedi.”

The trooper held his breath while she stirred. Her eyelids fluttered, then opened, green eyes clouded as she focused on his face.

“Oh. Lieutenant.” A slow blink drew her eyes closed for a long moment before opening again to reveal a dreamy smile. “I was just thinking of you.”

He broke into a wide grin, elated and undeniably pleased. “If we keep meeting like this, Master Jedi, I might start getting ideas.” He closed his arms around her, unable to hide the deep sigh of relief that rushed out. “How is it you end up in my arms every time we meet?”

She gave a soft laugh, for a fleeting moment nothing more than a pretty girl amused by his witty banter. She lifted a hand and tapped gently on his chest plate. “I received your message, but I haven’t had a chance to watch it.”

Now it was his turn to laugh, only to be interrupted by the understated sound of Elara clearing her throat. Erithon started, realizing he still had Aitahea cradled close, his thumb idly brushing the curve of her cheek. Erithon spared a glance toward Duke Organa, who had watched their reunion unfold with a charmed expression. Erithon self-consciously dropped his hand from Aitahea’s face and hastened to help her sit upright while Elara thoughtfully offered the Jedi water. Aitahea gave the other woman a grateful smile, then looked toward Duke Organa.

“Your Grace. Are the hostages safe?”

“Indeed, and once free they immediately came to your aid.”

Aitahea blinked, brow knitting. “They came… for me?”

“Without hesitation.”

Aitahea nodded solemnly, thoughts elsewhere for a beat before finally lifting the container of water to her lips with trembling hands. Erithon hovered protectively at her side, frowning when he realized her already-slight form was thinner than on Taris. It had been months, of course, but… what had happened since then?

Elara leaned closer, peering carefully at Aitahea. “Master Jedi, I’m Sergeant Elara Dorne.” The sergeant glanced briefly at Erithon before continuing her queries. “How do you feel? Any pain or discomfort?”

“Woozy, Sergeant, but I expect that’s normal, thank you. A vast improvement from a few minutes ago. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

“Lieutenant,” Aitahea turned back to Erithon, eyes clearer than they’d been moments ago, color returning to her cheeks. “What are you doing here?”

“We’re the cavalry, of course.” Erithon jerked a thumb back over one shoulder. “Been helping the Duke out with his troublesome neighbors. We were supposed to rescue some diplomat,” he intoned, playing at charming nonchalance. Aitahea’s lips curled in a smile again. “But it seems the folks you helped felt they needed to return the favor first. We just brought the medkit.”

“Oh!” Aitahea marveled, eyes aglow, as she pieced together the last few hours. “It was you who took back the Spears!”

“Guilty as charged, Master Jedi,” Erithon replied, basking in her attention. She’d been in his thoughts so often. He’d found himself scanning through his messages for her name every time he’d had a reasonable signal. There’d been no more dreams of her since Taris – at least not of them as children again, anyway – and this wasn’t the exact reunion he’d hoped for, but having her whole and close was better than he could have asked, even under these unusual circumstances.

Then again, this was starting to look more like the norm for them.

“It seems you two know each other.” Organa’s eyes danced, amusement lightening his knowing tone.

Aitahea’s eyes flickered from the duke to Erithon and back, her smile shy but bright. “On Taris, Your Grace, we retrieved impossibly valuable data from the wreck of an old starship. The mission was a great success.”

“I beg your pardon, Master Jedi, but I think it’s advisable that you see a medic once we’ve returned to Organa Castle,” Elara said, gathering up the few items she’d removed from her pack. “Otherwise your condition seems to be improving rapidly.”

Aitahea nodded, her attention shifting past the sergeant to where Qyzen Fess and Aric Jorgan approached, led by Brant Sonn. “Good. Because I don’t think we’re finished here.”

Erithon observed the scowl on Jorgan’s face before turning back to Aitahea, rising slowly but steadily. “Are you sure you’re up for that? You were out cold just a few minutes ago.”

“Whatever your companion administered is working quickly, and I have the Force with me, as always. All will be well.” Aitahea studied him, and he couldn’t help shuffling sheepishly under her reserved scrutiny. “I am… so pleased to see you, Lieutenant.”

He shrugged casually, but a gratifying warmth had settled quite firmly in his chest. “Erithon is fine, you know, if it’s okay with you.”

Her lips parted, the shade of a smile appearing before she looked toward their waiting allies.

“We have a problem,” Jorgan said. “The Thul army is on the march again. General?” He lifted a holocomm, the bluish projection brightening the dark corner of the warehouse as General Kashim appeared.

“It is good to see you alive. Matters are moving quickly, and House Organa is in dire need of reinforcement.”

“What can we do to help?” Aitahea asked, steadying herself with a hand on Erithon’s arm. He found himself biting his lip to avoid interrupting the Jedi with an admonishment for offering her assistance, knowing full well – after a moment of careful consideration – that she knew her boundaries better than he would. As much as he wanted her out of harm’s way, that wasn’t in the cards for either of them.

“The Empire has sent several Sith apprentices to support the Thul army. Organa soldiers are proving no match.”

Those gathered murmured their concern, but Aitahea looked positively alarmed. “Sith, even apprentices, are not to be trifled with.”

“We’re used to fighting blasters,” Brant Sonn added with a deep frown. “Not the Force.”

Kashim continued over the holo. “So long as the Sith are in place, we cannot win this battle. You must make a full assault on their war camps immediately.”

Aitahea dropped her head, resignation darkening her words. “It seems peace must wait.”

“This is the greatest challenge House Organa has faced. If we win, Thul will be repelled, and we can go on the offensive.”

“Aitahea, I can hardly ask you to risk yourself once again, but it seems I have no choice,” Charle Organa added, shaking his head in disbelief. “If we lose, House Organa will be forced into exile.”

Aitahea drew a sharp breath at his admission, fingers tightening on Erithon’s armored wrist. “Your Grace, I will not allow that to happen.”

Organa smiled tightly. “I expected nothing less from a paladin of my house. And you have strong, courageous allies.” The duke nodded at Erithon, who returned a practiced salute.

“May the Force be with you,” General Kashim added as his final word, and the comm went dark.

The Jedi lifted her eyes to Erithon’s again, clear and determined. “We have work to do.”

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millennial-star-gazer · 5 years

Text

The Draconic Demon Within: Chapter 3

The Draconic Demon Within (Originally for Nalu Lovefest 2017 on previous celestialgeekmage accounts and Angst Week 2015 on Twishadowhunter/teamedwardjace2 in the past and Vera's April 2018 Prompt challenge on cosmicdragonwizard account )

Genres: Romance, Friendship/Family, Drama/Angst, Hurt/ Comfort, & New Adult Fanfiction

Vera's April 2018 Prompts: Soul, Empyrean, Savage, Memory, Trust, Fear, Unstoppable , Resilient, Supernatural (Implied) Lost (Implied) and Loathing.

Nalu Lovefest 2017 Prompts: Dreams

Nalu Week 2019 Prompts (Implied:) Lost, Curse, Trial, Treasure, Chance and possibly Bare.

Pairing: Nalu/EndLu,( Natsu x Lucy/ E.N.D. x Lucy)

Rating: M for language, steamy and mature adult sexual content (all consensual) in these and future chapters. Reader Direction is advised.(You have been warned!)

Summary: Now faced with the reality of who he is truly is, the son of Igneel must contend with the new darker instincts of his new demonic identity- all while navigating through his ever-growing, intense feelings for a particular celestial wizard. Originally a Submission (semi -au) for Nalu lovefest 2017 (on my previous celestialgeekmage account and now one of my entries for @nalu-week 2019 with chapter 3. (Also was on my earliest previous accounts of teamedwardjace/Twishadowhunter in the past. Also part of Vera's April 2018 prompt challenge from fic-writers appreciation on cosmicdragonwizard).

1/2 entries for @nalu-week

Chapter 3: When A Star Dies

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A/N: Hey guys, it's your girl MillennialStarGazer back again! This time, it's with another installment of TDDW which is also happens one of my entries weeks for @nalu-week 2019. I was actually working on Chapter 3 along with those for my other fics (including WIPs) on my ipod . Took me some time to finish on account my other writing projects and responsibilities in my life— though I'm glad that this chapter's finally posted. This chapter's title was inspired by A Billion Stars Will Die Today from the incredible Nights Amore who's one of my favourite modern composers. (This evocative score and other tracks can be found here). Oh and major kudos to my friends/mutual's @bmarvels and @doginshoe for taking the time to be my betas whose positive feedback helped me to further develop and improve this chapter during its draft stage. Your help was invaluable—thanks so much ladies! Anyways, without further ado , here's chapter 3—enjoy!

(Note: I’ve had to use an alternative means of inserting divider/ page breaks by inserting pictures (or typing) in light of the original tumblr feature seemingly being removed by @staff . Anyway, please be sure to scroll down past cut for disclaimer, corresponding links, legend and actual chapter content).

Disclaimer: Fairytail does not belong to me, but to the most honourable Hiro-sensei instead, for whom without this work of love wouldn't be possible.

Read Previous Chapters of TDDW and on platforms here:

(Copy and paste the links into another window if need be)

A. Tumblr

Previous (Click Here:) (or here https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179816334878/the-draconic-demon-withinreupload-from/amp):

Next (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/614628807073251328/the-draconic-demon-within-chapter-4-a-demons)

B. Fanfiction (Click Here:) (or here: https://www.fanfiction.net/s/13113898/1/The-Draconic-Demon-Within-Reupload-from-cosmicdragonwizardaccounts)

C. A03 (Click Here:) (or here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17365061/chapters/40861307))

2. Ongoing Master Post Of All My Writing (Click Here:) (or here: https://millennial-star-gazer.tumblr.com/post/179665258923/master-fic-rec-post)

Legend:

Italic: Song Lyrics/Quotes (or flashback dialogue)

Bold: First Person Thoughts

Bolded Italics: Empathized, stylized Word(s) or bloodythirsty fantasies

Bolded Italics (Within and Outside Bracket) including for author's side notes also known as (A/N:) within brackets (though none for side-notes in this chapter ).

"The stars are not wanted now;

put out every one,

Pack up the moon and

dismantle the sun;

Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;

For nothing now can ever come to any good."

(W.H. Auden: Funeral Blues)

Flashback

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"Lucyyyyy!"

Natsu's alarmed scream of Lucy's name rang out. Arms were catching his partner before she hit the ground. Just minutes before , the duo found themselves in the midst of a grueling stand off against two of Tartarus most notorious demons. Natsu versus Jackal ; Lucy versus Tempester who she battled with a valiant proficiency that her best friend or any other team would be immensely proud of;

"Whoosh and Whirl."

Only to be to no avail when a summoned whirlwind slammed into her light frame at the full force of a freight train before she could even blink.

"Lucy— can you hear me?"

"Please Luce— you gotta be okay! You.. can't... be gone... just can't be. If I Lose you...God! I can't... not again!"

Brittle words spilled from the lips of a tortured man rocking back and forth with a broken angel in his arms who never seemed so fragile.

My god... this pain... feels like everything is being blown apart! How viciously ironic those words proved to be. Natsu's entire world truly did seem to be crumbling around him.

"Lucy...open.. your eyes.." He gasped, frantic air being ripped from his lungs ." Let.. me know you're okay!... I'm .. begging ya'... just stay with ...me... Please?" The fire wizard's desolate voice broke on the last word. Gods above, what he wouldn't give to see or hear any vital signs of life from in motionless woman in his arms ; a single breath , a heartbeat or two, a twitch of fingers—anything! Honestly, he couldn't fathom how his life would have any meaning if his best friend's light was torn away from him.

Don't think I'd be able to go on.,,

It was then E.n.d realized his world would be so much darker without Lucy's guiding light— nothing more than a starless void. Not to mention, the indescribable , excruciating torment that would haunt their friends for years at a time if she didn't survive.

I couldn't stand to see them suffer like that. Luce has to survive — not just for my sake, but her own and the others… Please let her... what the hell?!

The unwelcome noise of steady, advancing footsteps broke through Natsu's reverie ; whose head whipped towards Jackal with a baleful growl.

"No— get away!"

"Ooh look at you barring your fangs at us like that!" Jackal was still sauntering towards the other wizards at a measured pace.

"Stay back!" The menacing snarl salamander slayer let loose in warning was positively bestial. Not to mention, his arms were automatically tightening around Lucy— sheer natural protective instinct. "Don't ya' dare come any closer!"

That bastard better leave us alone...

Good God how his fingers were just itching to char that infuriating , cocky smirk off the other demon's pathetic face.

But doing that would mean letting go out of Lucy and leaving her unprotected out in the open— not happening .

"Well aren't you quite the big, scary, menacing, demon''. came Jackal's answering taunt, eyes flashing in sinister amusement.

" I said stay back..."

"Yeah, I don't think so," said Tartaros underling let out a taunting cackle of glee; which only served to boil the blood in Natsu's veins.

"Urghh–leave us alone or I'll literally burn the both of ya' to a pile of ashes for what you did to Lucy! "

Can't help but seriously want to tear them limb from limb right now...

Spasms racked the hybrid's sinewy frame at the same time as visceral images were flooding his brain from rising bloodlust.

Shredded remnants of flesh hanging from what was left of Jackal and Tempster's throat, a flash of extending talons.; spurting blood , hands instinctively pressing against punctured jugulars in frantic vain, agonized noises of agonized gurgling that were savagely pleasing to the ear. All for daring to lay a hand on the woman most precious—

Enough! God.. What the hell is wrong with me? And all these unexpected and strange, bloodthirsty instincts .. where are they coming from?! I mean sure I've been enraged enough to want avenge or thrash those who harmed my friends! But never the urge to kill —save for Jellal... and even that wasn't as graphic!

"Lost in thought?"

Jackal's taunting voice cut through E.n.d.'s reverie.

" Bastard— just leave us alone already!" His response was an incensed roar that was raising several octaves. "Why's that's so hard for ya' to get through your thick skull? As for my best friend— you'd better hope her heart's still beating or swear to God, I'll —”

"Jesus ...” The other demon muttered, his otherwise airy words laced with mild exasperation.

"Why are you so hung up over this celestial wizard of yours? Seriously dude... ya' might be one of the most powerful demons ever created— but you're kind of harshin' my vibe . Just chill.."

Scumbag… I'm either gonna save Lucy or avenge her...

"Look---no need to seem like you wanna rip our heads off, okay? Your woman's gonna be just fine. She's not dead— only unconscious. Hell, she's even got a pulse . Check for yourself if you don't believe me."

" Go to hell!" Natsu spat, words dripping with lethal venom." I don't take orders from sadistic psychopaths! And you'd honestly better not be lying!"

"I'm not. Just check, would ya'?"

Not trusting Jackal's claim , the fire demon lowered his head to press an ear against Lucy's chest; just for shock to shoot through his veins when what could only be the most precious noise in the entire universe could be heard — the steady beat of her heart!

Lucy's really okay?

Fic Tag Squad: @fuck-yeah-nalu @fortheloveofnaluevents @nalubookclub @nalu-week

@petri808 @magnolia726 @ccrispy

@yukimcffblog @i-write-fanfics-to-procrastinate @writer-appreciation @caandleworks @caandlle @rougeminded @rougescribe @cobblepottantrum @lovelyluce @dark0angel13 @sovay-says

@soprana-snap @phoenix-before-the-flame @phoneboxfairy @bearpluscat @narutoyaoifan

@mautrino @goddesofimortality @nalufever @thecelestialchick @nalu-natic @bearandbirdfan @pyroandtheprincess @mautrino @lucielhyung @smappybubbles @seehunnybees @lover-of-the-light117

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A/N: There you have it- chapter 3 folks! Fun fact about the title of this chapter: As you're aware, the title was inspired by previously mentioned score of the same name; Not to mention, how aptly-named this installment is if the events of this chapter, Lucy's type of magic and 's mindset are anything to go by. Not only is Lucy a celestial wizard, but she also happens to one of the precious lights or stars in Natsu/E.n.d.'s universe which he couldn't bear to lose if it were to be blotted out (from a metaphorical sense of course). Nor would he ever wish for his friends to suffer that kind of pain (as seen in the original anime/manga and sequel) . Hence why one of our favourite demons was so distraught when he truly believed Lucy to be possibly dead. Anyways, just thought I would provide a little more insight for those who were wondering.

All right, that's all for now. as always, don't forget to let me know what you think, like, reblog and share! Oh and be sure to stay tuned for the next chapter which will up ASAP once there's a chance for the writing process to start . Feel free to check out the rest of my writing as well! (Corresponding links are above, in the navigation bar and bio if reading this on tumblr. See other writing platforms for links as well! ) All right, that's it for now! Until next time— take care!

56 notes · View notes

emma-nation · 5 years

Text

Without You - Bloodbound AU (Chapter 7) *For You Sequel*

Summary: Gaius is back. While coming up with a plan to take him down, the gang must deal with some new life-changing events.

Genre: Angst/Adventure/Romance

Rating: T - Warning for violence and language

Tag List: @begging-for-kamilah, @lulu-the-cat, @ilovekamilahsayeed, @zoe6111, @kennaxval

Notes:

- English is my second language, please forgive me for any mistakes.

- Hope you enjoy it, your reviews and likes are always appreciated.

- My apologies again for the late update. My life is chaotic right now but I don't intend to give up on this fic. Please be patient, as soon as I can it'll be updated weekly again. I hope a longer chapter can compensate my absense ;)

- Trigger warning for Priya’s past. It may contain some sensitive content. Part of it was inspired by this headcanon.

- Smut Alert!

Amy

“I’m going to kill him.”

If there was one thing Amy wasn’t good at, it was acting. She still tried to act surprised when Kamilah drove them to the Hamptons’ house and started to ask if she’d like to have it for their wedding party, or even permanently, but her ‘whoa’ wasn’t convincing enough.

“You didn’t like it,” Kamilah sighed in disappointment.

“No,” she fixed. “It’s just… I’ve been here before. With Lysimachus.”

After telling her fiancée about how she found out about the house and how her twin brother invaded it, Kamilah was extremely angry.

“Hey,” Amy went behind her, massaging her tense shoulders, “I loved it and this is what matters. Really, Kamilah. I could spend the rest of my life here with you.”

The female vampire’s expression finally softened. She was still disturbed, Amy knew. The whole drive was silent and while she was focused on the road, her eyes seemed distant. It shouldn’t be easy to face Gaius again after almost a century. After betraying him. Kamilah hadn’t told her details of the encounter, but she had a feeling, a intuition, that he had tortured her badly.

“So…” she tried to lighten her mood, “now we have this house all for us, which part should we try first? We have a nice bar, a giant swimming pool, four bedrooms…”

“A walk on the beach is fine for me,” Kamilah replied.

Amy agreed.

After minutes walking together on the shoreline, holding hands and feeling the waves crashing against their bare feet, they picked somewhere to sit. They contemplated the ocean in silence for a moment, before Amy pulled Kamilah for a kiss. A soft and gentle kiss. She still hadn’t felt her fiancée’s lips after coming home. After thinking she would never be able to cherish them again, because she almost died in Wright’s crazy ritual.

“I have something to tell you,” she spoke. “It’s about the historical fair.”

Kamilah stared at her for a second before rolling her eyes.

“If you say you’re going back to London, I…”

Amy couldn’t help laughing.

“I mean it, that teacher has a master’s degree in manipulation.”

“She had, indeed. She’s dead, Kamilah.”

“Oh.”

“She was lying the entire time about the fair. It was a trap to force me to join her cult.”

“I knew there was something wrong about her! She didn’t force you to do anything, did she? Because some of these cults can evoke some real dark forces.”

“Actually, I was the sacrifice to her goddess.”

“God, Amy… H-How did you…”

“I believe destiny really want us to get married. Lysimachus happened to be at the right place, in the right time. He saved my life.”

“I…” Kamilah didn’t know what to say. It shocked more than she already was. While she processed the information, Amy hugged her tightly, resting her head on her shoulder.

“I’m just so thankful I have another chance of being here with you.”

She didn’t told it yet. She just couldn’t find words to tell Kamilah she was the First Vampire’s descendant. The one that was supposed to bring her back to life. Did her feelings or their connection had anything to do with that? She wasn’t sure. Conflicted, she decided to keep the information for the right moment.

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Lysimachus

He was working on a project for Raines Corporation but his eyes wouldn’t leave the page lying on the table. That mysterious symbol, he could almost remember seeing it before, engraved somewhere. But he had been alive for 2064 years, it wouldn’t be an easy task to remember. He rested his back on the chair and let out a weary sigh.

Priya passed through his office door, grunting with her cell phone in hands.

“Bastards!”

“Do you ever do anything else other than complaining?”

“I’ve got trouble, Hunter. Trouble you wouldn’t understand.”

“Is it the gossip website again? I’m not hacking it another time to remove your… compromising pictures.”

“Those were fake! My features are way better than that and you know it. Anyways, that doesn’t come to the case…”

“What’s the matter?” He sighed and crossed his arms to hear, expecting it to not having any murder situation involved.

“You know, since I’ve been off the media lately, it has been raising a lot of questions. Now, my agent is forcing me to attend this party tonight.”

“Since when this is a problem to you?”

“I need a date and literally no one is available.”

She watched him in silence, expecting an answer. Lysimachus didn’t know what to say. It wasn’t like he could recommend her any celebrities or high society personalities to attend the party as her date. Then he realized…

“No. The answer is no.”

“I’ll pay you for it.”

“I don’t need money.”

“Then, what do you want?”

“Hmmm,” he was pensive for a moment, trying to figure out something Priya would never accept. “I accept under one condition.”

“Tell me your price.”

“You’ll be doing something nice for once.”

“Like…” she seemed puzzled, “donating money for charity? Adopting a stray puppy? That’s easy.”

“No,” Lysimachus protested. “I want you to do something spontaneous. You know, not because you’re being forced, but because you want to. Something that shows you actually have a heart.”

“Go to hell,” she whined, walking back to the living room. “I’ll find some random mortal on Bleeder.”

He followed. She was deeply focused between finishing the last adjustments for wedding dresses and the release her Spring collection. Priya was passionate about her career, that he couldn’t deny. It was possibly the only thing she truly loved.

“You’ve outdone yourself with these dresses, congratulations.”

“I know,” she grinned, proud of her creations. “Also, Kamilah is paying me handsomely for them.”

That was a good opportunity to try to explore her mind. Speaking of her work, she could reveal a little of who she truly was.

“You’re talented,” Lysimachus complimented. “It’s uhhh… been only fifteen years since you officially started your label?”

“That’s correct, but you know… being vampires, we always need to confuse the media, so I answer ten in most of my interviews.”

“And for how long have you been a fashion designer?”

She was silent for a brief moment, as she was reliving a memory. A small smile appeared in the corners of her mouth.

“Since I was born, I think.”

That was the answer Lysimachus wanted. Finally something honest, with feelings.

“Oh, how was it like back in India? Did women wear some sophisticated sari with your name written all over it?”

The smile faded away from her face.

“It’s none of your business, Hunter. Now listen, will you help me or not?”

As he advised her himself, “always find out your target’s weaknesses”. He had just found the right spot. He only needed to know how to access it.

“Okay, you win. I’m going with you to the party.”

----------

Kamilah

It had been almost ten minutes Kamilah had locked herself inside the restaurant’s toilet. She looked at her reflection in the mirror, her fangs were still exposed, as well as her red eyes.

To feed from that group of mortals, she had to let her instincts take control. She wouldn’t be able to do that consciously. Now, after ingesting such a large amount of blood, her thirst was out of control. While they were eating, she couldn’t focus on anything else but the beating hearts around her, their jugulars, the sound of the blood running inside their veins… including Amy’s. She looked at her fiancée and she desired her in a different mode. She wanted to please her, to make her scream her name and beg, beg for more… beg for her life, as her fangs sank into her neck and sucked until the last drop of blood.

Gaius was turning her into a monster again and she didn’t even notice. The hypnosis wasn’t needed, he was already inside her head.

“Kamilah?” She heard Amy’s voice coming from outside. “Is everything alright?”

Amy. Her Amy. Was she still capable of loving her the same way? What if she lost control? She could seriously injury her or worse.

“Open the door, please.”

She inhaled deeply, focusing her thoughts on something else. Ahmanet Financial. Nothing could make her forget about the world as her company. If she managed to control her hunger through the centuries, she could do it again.

When she opened the door, she was her recomposed self again.

“Sorry, I was fixing my make up,” she walked away before Amy could question.

Back to their house, she grabbed her laptop and pretended to be focused. She needed to avoid Amy as much as possible. At some point the girl would want to get intimate and it’d lead to a tragic outcome.

“What are you doing?” Amy placed herself next to her on the couch, with a bucket of popcorn. “You’ve been acting weird since lunch.”

“My apologies, Amy. I… I forgot these information I was supposed to have sent to my lawyers and I was afraid it was too late, but I’m working on it right now.”

“Anything I can help? I’m still your assistant.”

“Not really, it’s just very complicated.”

“Okay.”

The girl started to text Lily and as she was distracted, Kamilah could examine the pictures she took of Lysimachus’ book. She had absolutely no idea how to translate that.

“Lawyers, huh?” Unnoticed, Amy came back from the kitchen and stopped behind her. “This is the ritual Lysimachus and Lily have been studying. The one to kill Gaius.”

“Amy,” it was becoming harder to keep things from her fiancée. She always managed to find a way to figure out when she wasn’t well.

“Kamilah, it’s okay to share your concerns and feelings with me. I mean, we’re getting married. It shouldn’t be a problem anymore. Unless…”

The girl studied her face for a few seconds before raising her eyebrow.

“Unless you’re planning something stupid. You’re not planning to do this on your own, are you?”

She rolled her eyes, wondering if Amy was having those visions about her life again.

“Amy, speaking of a fight against Gaius, it’s clear not all of us are going to survive. People will die and I don’t want it to be Lysimachus… or you.”

“How many of you did he kill, back in the twenties, when you put him in the sarcophagus?” Amy sighed.

“None, but only because I intervened.”

“But you couldn’t have done it yourself! You only stabbed him because he was distracted fighting the others.”

Kamilah rolled her eyes again. It was hard to admit Amy was right.

“Why don’t we join them and help with their plan? Trust me, it’s the best we can do.”

Amy placed her hand on hers and she admitted defeat. Even though Priya was part of the plan, it was more reasonable and safe than fighting Gaius alone.

----------

Amy

Despite Amy’s best attempts, Kamilah was avoiding physical contact or any interaction that could lead to intimacy.

“Is there something wrong with me or…” she showed Lily her body and face through a video call.

Maybe Kamilah was too stressed to think about it, but then, for what purpose she brought her to stay in that house for a couple of days, if they weren’t supposed to spend time together?

“Uhh... maybe she’s attached to old traditions? I mean, save it for after the wedding?” Lily suggested.

Amy muffled a laugh.

“I don’t think that’s the case. Anyways I should go, I have a sexy vampire CEO to seduce. Bye.”

She walked to the living room, wearing a sexy nightdress she bought in London. One she knew Kamilah would be able to resist. She bit her lower lip playfully as she spotted the female vampire in the living room, where she was waiting for her to watch a movie.

"What is my gorgeous fiancée doing?" She asked to make her presence to be noticed.

"Amy," Kamilah said, before turning around to face her, "I swear this was the longest shower you've ever..."

She turned around and stopped, astonished by her special outfit.

"I was preparing you a little surprise. Did you like it?"

"I-It looks... nice."

"Really?" Amy rolled her eyes. "Nice is the best word you can use to describe it?"

"No, actually I can find multiple other adjectives to express how much I liked it."

"So," Amy wrapped her arms around her neck and whispered in her ear, "tell me."

“Amy,” Kamilah carefully pushed her away, “this may not be a good idea at the moment.”

Amy threw herself at the couch and sighed frustrated, wondering if after being distant for so long Kamilah had stopped desiring her.

“It has nothing to do with you,” the female vampire spoke. “It’s about me.”

“Gaius?” Amy asked, afraid to hear the answer.

Kamilah shook her head in denial.

“After ingesting such a large amount of blood my thirst is out of control.”

“Oh, so that’s the problem. I mean, you’ve controlled it before, you can control it again.”

“Does that make you relieved?” Kamilah frowned. “Amy, it turns me into a monster! At the same time I want you, I want to drink until the last drop of blood in your body.”

After thinking for a while, Amy found an easy solution. She brushed off her hair from her shoulder, exposing her neck.

“Do it,” she ordered. “Feed from me. You'll never know if you don't try it.”

“Did you hear what I just told you? I’m going to kill you.”

“You won’t. I know it.”

“Amy...”

“It’s in your head, Kamilah. You’re letting Gaius manipulate you again, can’t you see it? You’re not a monster. Please, let me prove this to you.”

She stood up again, approaching Kamilah and pressing her lips on the vampire’s. As she slipped her tongue inside Kamilah’s mouth, she stopped her.

“Then let’s get you a stake first. In case I don’t stop, you can...”

“Kamilah,” Amy silenced her with her index finger, “stop.”

She turned around, exposing her jugular again. Kamilah held her close, Amy could feel her heart racing inside her chest. She nervously traced her neck, finding the right spot to feed.

“Are you sure?” Kamilah asked.

“More than sure,” Amy placed her hand where hers was lying, on her belly.

Kamilah slowly sank her fangs into her jugular, drawing small sips of her blood. Amy could sense how insecure she was, as if she was holding back her thirst, her desire, everything... and the girl was determined to get more. She grabbed Kamilah’s hand, guiding it to her inner tights.

She moaned in pleasure as Kamilah started to give her exactly what she wanted, what made the vampire deepen the bite.

Amy never felt a similar pleasure in her life before. Kamilah’s fingers moving inside her, along with the pleasure from the bite. She felt like her entire body was on fire. Kamilah suddenly stopped.

“That’s enough, I’ve drank enough of your blood.”

“No,” Amy protested. “You usually take more than that.”

“I feel I’m slipping out of my control.”

“You’re not. I promise you.”

“In this case,” Kamilah looked at her and a devilish grin appeared on her face.

Using her vampire special skills, she ripped off Amy’s nightdress.

“I thought you had liked it,” Amy complained.

“I thought you were used to my ways of showing it.”

Kamilah’s mouth was suddenly on hers, kissing her hungrily, fiercely... then she moved down to Amy’s neck, tracing her jugular with her tongue.

“Hmmm, I’ve had enough of this,” she sank down to her knees, leaving Amy with a confused look on her face.

She softly pressed her fangs against Amy’s inner tights, leaving a small, shallow cut. The swipe of her tongue, cleaning the blood over the mark, made Amy’s entire blood tremble. She closed her eyes, enjoying the sensation of ecstasy as Kamilah bit her a little harder, drawing some more blood.

Amy was about to reach climax when the female vampire stopped, healing the bite with her fingertips.

“Why did you... oh!” Amy had no time to finish her question, Kamilah moved her mouth to her most sensitive spot of her body, sending her into bliss.

After she finished, Amy’s legs were weak and her mind a little lightheaded and foggy.

“Now you know how much I liked it.”

Between pants, the girl let out a smile.

-----------

Kamilah

It was late night and Kamilah couldn’t force herself to sleep. Though she was relieved to know her thirst was remained under control, she was lying still, staring at the ceiling. She wondered if she and the others would even survive the next few weeks. Or days. Gaius was planning something big and, unless she was able to earn his trust again, she wouldn’t be part of it this time. The sound of her cell phone vibrating on the nightstand made her body stiffen even more. It was Harvey.

After going to the balcony, she finally answered.

“What do you want?” She asked. “I’m in the middle of something.”

“Recruiting new members, I hope,” the voice on the other side replied. "The King isn't pleased after what your stupid brother did."

"I haven't spoke to my brother in days. I have no idea of what he's doing."

"After you gave him ownership over your clan, he sent all of the members to different parts of the country, looking for our King."

Kamilah smirked. Her twin brother hadn't lost his skills over the century. Behind this act, he should be trying to make it difficult for Gaius to get new servants.

"I mean it, Kamilah. You better find some new members to our army, he's furious at you."

The last words made Kamilah's heart pound, but she couldn't show it.

"I'll see what I can do," she lied. "Just give me some time."

"We have no time. He wants to see you, in three days."

Three days. Gaius demanded to see her urgently. If he was furious, he'd probably punish her. If only she was able to finish him before that... As anger took control of her body, she was ready to throw her cell phone away, when a loud, frightened scream came from inside the bedroom.

"Amy," she shouted.

In less than a second she was back to her fiancée's side. The girl was sitting on the bed, her skin was pale and her eyes were wide in fear.

"You scared me, what's wrong?"

"I-I..." she took a moment before being able to say anything. "The visions, Kamilah. I saw her... Keaseth."

"Who?!"

"The First Vampire. Her name is Keaseth."

Kamilah sat by her side in bed, wrapping an arm around her shoulders in a assuring manner.

"Amy, she's only a myth. We're not even sure she really existed."

"She exists, Kamilah!" Amy raised her voice. "Asleep, inside a coffin in some underground temple in London. To wake her up, I must offer my life in sacrifice because I'm her descendant. The one she assigned the mission."

The girl buried her face in Kamilah's chest and started to sob.

"S-She's calling for me... but I can't... I can't..."

"This is insanity. Whatever that teacher has tormented your mind with isn't true, Amy! She was a psycho that created a baseless theory. This isn't true!"

"Lysimachus has the manuscripts. It's real, Kamilah. Everything is there, Keaseth instructions, a genealogy map that leads to me... It's true. I can ask him to show you."

Kamilah got up from the bed and started pacing around the room. It couldn’t be true. That teacher should’ve invented it all to lure Amy into her own interests. But somehow it explained Amy’s visions. How she could, somehow, have access to hers, Lysimachus and Adrian's past.

“This isn’t why I love you,” Amy tried to explain between tears. “In the beginning I was confused. I thought I only felt attracted to you because I’m related to The Frist Vampire, but it’s not...”

“Amy...” Kamilah gave her a comforting hug. “This thought never crossed my mind. I... The only thing I fear is for your life. If you’re really her descendant it makes your blood powerful, special. A lot of vampires could try to use it in their advantage. But... I’ll protect you.”

Amy finally opened a smile and hugged her back.

“Amy, as you know, under the current circumstances it’s impossible for us to have a moment of pure joy and peace, so... we have to go. Gaius is requesting to see me and we need to discuss our plan.”

“Kamilah, oh my god. Y-You don’t have to go. We'll find another way.”

“Yes, I do. While we can’t figure out a way to kill him, I can’t blow up my cover.”

“Actually...” Amy jumped out of the bed, looking for her phone.

“What are you doing?” Kamilah was confused.

“I’m calling Lysimachus, I just remembered where I saw the last symbol.”

-----------

Lysimachus

“Boring,” Priya lamented. “Everything suddenly started to feel boring and I don’t know why! Maybe I’m getting old, like Kamilah.”

“No,” Lysimachus added. “You’re absolutely right. That party was one of the most boring events I ever attended. I'm glad we left."

He still couldn’t believe how far he had went on his plan to find out about Priya’s past. He could have gone to the Shadow Den to help Lily or hang out with Jax. For what purpose he was trying to know her better? She would never change. She only agreed to be part of the plan because of her own interests: protection, power and strength. If Gaius offered her an opportunity to obtain more power, she’d surely accept.

“We aren’t even friends…” Lysimachus though, “or are we?”

As Priya would always say, they were friends with benefits, without the friends part. Only the benefits.

“Than, let's have fun!” She complained, splashing him some water. "We didn't come here to chat."

“Okay..."

They were both in the swimming pool at Priya's house, with a few bottles of vodka he stole at the event's bar. All he had to do was to find a way to make her talk.

"We could play a game," he suggested. "Truth or Dare?"

"Come on, Hunter. This is so last century! Though it could be fun if only picked 'dare'."

Her hand softly stroke his naked chest, when she suddenly stopped.

"I'm not sure I'm in the mood for this either."

Lysimachus observed confused as she left the swimming pool and wrapped a towel around her body.

"Priya, what's wrong? Did I do something wrong?"

"Why do you assume it's about you?" Her face turned into a frown.

"I'm not assuming anything! You've been acting weird since this morning."

"You assume a lot of things."

He detected a hint of sadness in her voice.

“What are you talking about?”

“Stop playing dumb, Hunter. I saw you creeping on my bedroom. You don’t think I’m worthy your trust.”

“Priya, this is not...”

“I’m done with you.”

For the first time since they met, he could tell she was somehow hurt.

“I’m sorry, I just wanted to know more about you, about your past.”

His words made her turn around and face him again.

“Why?” She clenched her fists in anger. “Why was that supposed to matter? Why would you like to know about... that!”

Carefully, he took her hands in his and noticed she was shaking.

“Sometimes it’s easier if you just let it go. I mean, look at me. Everything I did, everything I built my entire life... it was a lie. My sister was so alive as I was.”

She walked away from him, sitting by the pool’s edge, where she started to play with the water using her hands. After a few minutes in silence she finally spoke.

“Life wasn’t always a piece of cake for me, Hunter. Back in India, I belonged to the people they call ‘the untouchable’, ‘the impure’. We lived like rats! In a secluded and small rural property, where my parents did the most degrading work to feed me and my four siblings.”

During his travels to India, Lysimachus heard about that group of people. Excluded from the caste system, they lived under inhumane rules.

“I was the youngest child and the only one to not accept that life,” Priya continued. “As a little girl, I started to collect pieces of fabric that were discarded and sew them together to make myself beautiful clothes. Clothes I’d never be allowed to have.”

She approached him again, taking a sip from her bottle to prepare for what she was going to tell next.

“When my father died, my mother fell seriously ill. We needed to bring home some money, but I’d never submit myself to dirty work, such as working with garbage and dejects. So, I went even dirtier.”

"Priya, oh my god...” Lysimachus ran his hand through his hair, not knowing exactly what to say upon that information.

“What do you think upper caste women did when they found out their husbands were sleeping with an ‘untouchable’? One night, they set my family’s house on fire. I wasn’t home, so I was the only one to survive.”

“It’s enough,” he told, squeezing her hand, but she was fixated in the memories. Memories she probably suppressed for over a century. Some tears started to run across her cheeks.

“With the money I had I fled to France, seeking for a better life. I was naive, Hunter. Too naive. Soon, I was back to my old habits. Until the day this rich guy I was dating got fed up of my expensive taste. He called a little friend of his and the two of them attempted to get rid of me, not before having fun one last time, of course.”

“Priya…"

"I was weak, almost dead, when somebody came to my rescue,” she didn’t let him speak. “A thirsty, disgusting vampire. I attempted to scream while he fed from what was left of me. After drinking my whole blood, he thought I was too young and pretty to die, so he Turned me.”

“You don’t even know who’s your maker.”

“No, I was on my own. Until a woman saved me. She owned a brothel. She let me stay there, where I was allowed to feed from her and her girls. In trade, I’d create clothes for their night shows and protect them from the nasty clients. That was my favorite part. Anyways, when she died, some of the girls wanted to come to America, where they hoped they’d find what they were searching for, so I came too.”

“And did you find it? What you were looking for?”

“More than that,” she finally opened a mischievous grin, “he gave me what I needed.”

“Who?”

“No one,” she finished her bottle and wiped the last few tears from her face. “He’s gone now. It doesn’t matter.”

Lysimachus stood up and involved her in a protective embrace. Everything suddenly made sense, her houseboys, the way she treated mortals… she was taking revenge for how she was treated in the past. Being used, abused, broken.

"You don't have to do this," he stroked her soft hair. "You're hiding behind this character you created to mask your pain. I know what I'm saying, this is exactly what I did being a Vampire Hunter."

“No, you have no idea of what you're saying,” she angered. “I shouldn’t have told you any of this! Now you know my weaknesses, you’re going to use it against me!”

“Priya,” Lysimachus held her still, looking into her eyes. “God, I would never use it against you. You can trust me, I promise.”

“But… now you know, it changes everything. You better keep a distance.”

“What if I don’t want to?”

For a moment, she seemed open, vulnerable. Their lips were almost touching when Priya took a step back.

“I need to stay alone for a while.”

Respecting her wish, Lysimachus went to the Shadow Den and left her alone in his apartment. Lily had important news to tell him.

“Amy told me she remembers seeing the mysterious symbol at Wright’s office and temple.”

“So that was where I saw it too.”

“Anyways, after studying it for hours I came to a conclusion,” Lily seemed worried somehow. “It’s a junction of other symbols: this one for ritual, the one for blood or descendant and this one... means sacrifice.”

“A-Are you telling me…”

“In order to kill what the First Vampire created, you must execute the ritual and offer her descendant as sacrifice.”

“You mean…”

“To kill Gaius, we must kill Amy too."

Next: When a meeting with Gaius goes wrong, somebody will be facing a tragic outcome. Stay tuned!

#playchoices #choices stories you play #bloodbound #kamilah sayeed #kamilah x mc #bloodbound fanfiction #priya lacroix #lysimachus

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angstars · 5 years

Text

First Confession Series

-Switch-

Note : This concludes my first fic for the blog! It’s literally been ages since I last wrote anything so I'm kinda rusty but anyway! I plan to do the First Conffession Series for all the units so I hope you’ll enjoy them! First up, Switch Edition~

Also! This blog literally was just made a couple of days ago and I'm really surprised at your enthusiasm for content and thank you so much for following me! I’ve already opened up the ask box so requests are officially opened (๑•̀∀- )و

ミ☆

Sakasaki Natsume :

It was one of many countless paperworks stacked together into a pile on your desk. Its soul purpose to not only give you migraines but also deemed it necessary to slave you in its urgent need to be finished in ungodly hours.

You lean back on your chair, bones popping and muscles straining. You couldn’t help the small whimper leaving your lips at the sudden strain your body just took.

”Working hard? As expected.” The familiar voice comments and you can feel a blanket being draped over your shoulders.

Natsume gives you a small smile, his lips stretching dauntingly as if addressing a child. ”A producer’s work is never finished. So it's to be expected that you would stay this late. Though I advise you not to stay too long in the dark. You never know what lurks in the shadows.”

A wry smile settles your lips, tilting your head to face the male better. ”Of course... Thank you for the advice.”

He hums, seemingly satisfied in your understanding of his point as he takes a seat across from you. You couldn't help but to notice the sudden silence that took over. The clock’s ticking seemed to be ringing in your ear and it didn't help the sudden awareness your body had towards your surroundings.

Huh.

You glance over at the redhead sitting across from you. He was immersed in his own world, a thick book in front of him as his golden eyes skim over the pages. Perhaps feeling your eyes on him, his own looks up to lock gazes with you.

Quickly looking down towards your papers, heat began rising up to your cheeks, the blood colouring your skin red up to your ears.

Natsume chuckles lightly, voice breathless and scratchy and you weren't sure when you noticed all these things. Was it strange to be able to hear his laugh still??

”Hmm, it appears to have worked,” Natsume murmurs, you could barely catch what he was saying were you not leaning over the table towards him.

”What seems to work?” Your question was replied with a smirk. Your chest drumming at the way his eyes seem to be reading you like an open book.

“Curious?” He addresses, tilting his head slightly. You weren't sure who moved first, but the next thing you know is his face is very close to yours. ”Would you like to know a secret?”

You swollow the lump stuck in your throat. Head spinning at the close proximity and lips opening and closingー at a lost for words.

”I’m a bit stumped. I’ve hit rock bottom and you seem to be the cause of it.”

You blink, fingers trembling and you realise Natsume was holding your hand if the warmth he radiated against your fingers were anything to go by. You start cautiously, ”What... what do you mean by that?”

He smiles, features softning and a look at admiration lighting in his eyes. ”I’m completely enhanced by your magic,” He leans closer, lips almost brushing against yours. ”Now will you be enhanced with mine?”

~~~

Aoba Tsumugi :

You skimmed over the rows of books in front of you, looking over the various choices displayed. The contents still seeming a mystery. Though it was essential in your quest of finishing the task intrusted to you by your teacher.

In other words, you were in the library to finish an assignment.

”Do you need help looking for something?” Tsumugi’s voice was soft and gentle as always; addressing you delicately as if one would address a bunny at a petting zoo.

Your features brightened up; the tired look from your face replaced with a smile at the prospect of being aided by the senior. ”That would be great!” a sheepish smile stretches your lipsー realising how enthusiastic you sounded. ”if you don't mind, that is.”

”Oh, not at all. I'm glad if I can be of any help somehow.”

It wasn't anything that hard to be honest. You were simply looking for a book about astrophysics for an assignment required a study about star clusters and stellar dynamics. You still weren't sure what the project was given specifically to you but you figured that the teacher picked by random conveniently as you passed by the aforementioned teacher.

It was truly a mistake to stay late at school.

”I think this must be it?” The glasses clad teen inquires, showing you a book he had picked from the top shelf.

”Ah, I think that must be it!” As you were about to thank him, your eyes caught onto a familiar title. The book next to the one Tsumugi had just picked out was what your teacher suggested would be a good book to help you with the assignment.

”Sorry, I think that one must be it,” you point out. Tsumugi follows your finger, tilting his head slightly to understand where you were pointing.

You smile wryly, stepping closer to the shelf and reaching out to try and grab it yourself. Even on your tippy toes, it proved to be quite difficult hence why you struggled to reach the book. In your defence, it was on the very top shelf.

”Here, let me...” you could feel Tsumugi’s chest radiating heat from behind you, his chest almost touching your back as he reaches out to the book you were struggling to get.

Your face blooms in color, embarrassed at the near hug he almost gave you -though you knew he was only trying to help, it was embarrassing, still- and opted to not comment about in hopes of not making the situation awkward.

He hands you the book, returning the one he previously picked out. You mumbled him a thanks, gaze intent on the book to hide your slightly red cheeks. Tsumugi chucles lightly, patting your head. The action only seemed to further colour your cheeks rosy.

”If it means I'm able to help, I wouldn't mind doing anything for you.”

You weren't sure if he realised what his words did to you, but your heart couldn't help but flutter, smiling at him as he returned his own brilliant smile; cheeks a similar colour to yours.

~~~

Harukawa Sora :

”Sora was really surprised, you know! Master didn't say why he thinks Sora would be happy today but he only told Sora, Sora would be reaallyy happy today!” The blond exclaims, hands stretched out in front of him as if to make a point.

You listen attentively, folding the piece of paper in front of you as Sora continues to tell you about his day.

”What about you? Did something happen today? Sora can see how happy you are! Master said when someone’s happy, they can't stop smiling.”

You blink, halting your paper folding and looking up at the boy. He was sitting on the desk, right next to your papers; hands between his legs as he swings them like a child. He beamed at you, leaning forward as if what you would say would be a secret.

”Oh... I’m... Not particularly happy or sad though..?”

Sora pouts, as if unsatisfied with your answer. He whines a little, reminding you of a kicked puppy. ”But you’ve been humming a lot! And Sora notices you smiling a lot too,” he elaborates, eyes wide and twinkling.

You never bore at seeing how blue they were. Bright like the limitless sky. You smile, continuing to fold the papers, blood beginning to rush to your cheeks. ”Really...? I don't really notice these things... Guess I've been in a good mood lately.”

He laughs, bright like the stars and the sound made your chest warm from some reason or another. ”That’s good! Sora thinks it’s good you’ve been happy lately! Sora also feels happy when you’re happy!”

You can't help but feel the heat from your cheeks, admiring his bright smile; features lighting up and twinkling like the stars. You would even say he held the cosmos in his hands.

”Umm, but Sora’s curious,” he tilts his head, blinking down at you and leaning closer to whisper, ”what’s been making you happy lately?”

Feeling bashful, you avoid his gaze, looking down at the paper in your hand. ”I think...” you start, hesitant. As if what you would say revealed a deep dark secret. It might as well be one with the way your eyes seem to fill with doubt, looking at the boy that held the universe in his palm.

A small smile finds itself to your lips, the doubt in your eyes dissipating as you look at the blond. ”It’s quite embarrassing actually,” your voice takes a gentle turn towards the end of your words before you look up at him, a smile on your face. ”I’ve been a lot happier since I’m hanging with you.”

Blue eyes widen slightly, taken aback with your honesty; declerationー confession. Sora smiles, bright and blinding like always, eyes bright like the stars. ”Sora’s also happy when he’s with you!” he declares, voice bright and happy. He laughs, airy and bright like the sun. ”Sora really likes you!”

For the boy who held the cosmos in his handー he also held your heart in it.

#ensemble stars #ensemble stars imagines #enstars #enstars imagines #mod chu #ensemble stars scenerio #enstars scenario #sakasaki natsume #aoba tsumugi #harukawa sora #first confession series #switch

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lumateranlibrarian · 5 years

Text

Don’t you just hate it when people screw you over, and when you confront them about it, they profusely apologize but don’t bother explain themselves?

Like, I’m willing to give people the benefit of the doubt. But if you know you’re in the wrong, or don’t have a way to justify the bullshit you’re pulling... then why the hell are you trying to bullshit in the first place?

I don’t really care about apologies. I’ll easily admit I’m not the best at giving them. I care more about results, though, and when it’s both of our asses on the line, if you can’t pull your weight as a grown-ass adult, you shouldn’t be so surprised when I say I’m going on without you.

For context: we’re both graduate students with almost two years worth of classes and research under our belts. I should not have to be responsible for my partner’s motivation and contributions when she hasn’t done shit for three weeks. It’s only now, when I tell her I’m done waiting for her to contribute and I’m taking charge of this project with a week left before we have to present it, that she decides to post everything on a shared document and powerpoint that I made for us to work off of weeks ago.

And here’s the thing. I gave her the absolute easiest tasks. Mostly because I didn’t know her or have ever worked with before. I asked her to write the methodology portion of our paper. Literally one page of text to talk about how the data was gathered, where it came from, and what the basic distribution of the data was (aka missingness, simple differences between groups, etc).

She texted me a picture of two (2) graphs.

I was the one who talked with the professor about getting the dataset. I was the one who asked the professor for help formatting properly (because SAS is a hell program, sorry I’m an R girl through and through). I’m the one who made the shared documents for us to work off of, came up with not one but two possible research questions, looked at our variables and decided which ones were reliable and interesting enough to use.

She only started putting things on our powerpoint tonight, after I told her I was done waiting around for her to contribute. When I asked why she hadn’t done anything yet, she said she was “busy”. Busy? Really? I was busy too. I was extremely busy, having missed class from having shingles, having midterms and finals and papers and presentations and meetings, all to organize and prepare. But somehow I managed to open up the freaking SAS document without needed to be reminded that it existed.

And here’s the thing. I have it from THREE DIFFERENT SOURCES that this isn’t the first time she’s pulled this shit.

One is a fellow student whose partner for the same project was partnered with her last semester on a different project. He says that his partner was approached by This Girl for the current project, and advised him not to accept the partnership because she’d flaked on a project they’d worked on “together” in a previous class.

One is my own faculty mentor, my research advisor and lab PI. Last week, I was in his office trying not to burst into tears because I was losing my grip on all the papers, projects, and finals I had to complete within a span of about five weeks (a homework assignment, a paper, a final presentation, and a midterm each for two different classes, a manuscript for my first first-author publication, and preparing for a committee meeting that will directly feed into my dissertation work, while attending regular classes and seminars). And when I mentioned my frustration with This Girl’s ability to contribute or even conceptualize the very simple problems I was talking about, he admitted that she had taken his basic epidemiology class and that she was one of his worst students. I didn’t ask for specifics, but his words were, “yeah, I was worried about her when she took my class.”

AND THEN. IF MY GODDAMN RESEARCH MENTOR SAYING SHE WAS A CRAPPY PARTNER WASN’T ENOUGH.

One of my best friends had a bridal shower yesterday (super fun, met a lot of lovely folks, got to make toilet paper wedding dresses on people), I mentioned I was having trouble with This Girl as a project partner, and when I named This Girl to my friend, she revealed that This Girl used to work in the same lab as her, but got fired because she never showed up to work and never completed anything.

So I’m just like.

Okay.

And I’m supposed to rely on this person?

Of course not. It’s laughable.

It doesn’t make any difference that she’s a masters student and I’m on the PhD track. We’ve both had at least an undergraduate education, which is pretty strenuous on its own, so we both should have some understanding of what it means to pull one’s own weight on a substantial class project. But it’s not just that, it’s being an adult who doesn’t need their hand held and their ass wiped to contribute on a project. I’m sorry, This Girl, but I have standards and I have a grade I need to make to pass this class.

You’re worried I’m going to finish this project without you? At this point, it’s really not my problem.

#lol i was more pissed about this than I thought #grad school life

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bffhreprise · 5 years

Text

Entry 257

As James stepped toward his house, the doors swung open, revealing his employees inside. My wife and I followed, trying to watch everyone at once for something strange to occur.

Mila took a step toward us and said, “I took the liberty of informing everyone that they should gather if interested in demonstrating their abilities.”

My son nodded without missing a step, so we followed him inside. Before we were all the way in, Brandon stepped forward, seeming to grow with his step.

“How’s it going?” he asked.

I stared and stared, trying to make sense of his new height, easily double my own. The clothing, which had been baggy on him, was now fitting him poorly, taught all over.

“That’s amazing…” whispered my wife, though she had stepped behind me initially.

I nodded and reached up a hand, which Brandon accepted, enveloping mine as well as part of my arm. “Good to see you again.” I stated.

Stepping around Brandon’s enormous leg, his sister, Brenna, said, “Pick a color.”

“Pardon?” I asked.

“Blue.” stated Rachel, still behind me.

I stepped back, bumping into Rachel, as something happened to Brenna. She was… blue. Her hair was a darker shade than her skin, but all of her was blue!

Grinning, Emma told us “She saves a ton on hair dyes.”

“No need to be jealous, just because mine’s natural.” taunted Brenna, returning her smile.

Emma sighed dramatically and said, “You know I am.”

“And what do you… do?” I questioned, curious what Emma had hidden from us. I could hardly imagine this playful girl who we had welcomed into our home to be something dangerous.

She kept smiling as she replied “Best wait on mine till we’re outside again.”

“Is it dangerous then?” I questioned, feeling worried.

“Oh no. It’s fun!” she insisted.

From next to her, Cosette stated “I’m a vampire.”

“I… see.” I told her, though I wasn’t certain whether or not she was teasing us.

“No, really. Check out these fangs!” she exclaimed. Her mouth opened abnormally wide as all of her teeth grew outward into points.

I felt Rachel hugging me from behind, but I couldn’t take my eyes off what I was seeing.

“I believe you have a few too many.” suggested James, seeming amused.

Cosette rolled her eyes as her teeth returned to normal, save for her canines. “Is this better?” she questioned.

James nodded and said, “Much more traditional.”

“No, not really. You know… oh, yes. Your parents probably don’t yet. Most vampires only grow fangs like this as a joke.” she stated as her teeth shrunk. “Some of us are fans of vampire stories and legends.”

“Ah. So are you actually supposed to be hundreds of years old?” I asked.

“No, actually. I’m sixteen. I was fifteen when we met. Sorry for the deception. My new identity states that I’m twenty.” she replied.

“New identity?” asked my wife.

“Why do you need a new identity?” I questioned.

“My parents died, and I was advised not to keep ties to their last identity.” explained Cosette.

“I’m sorry for your loss.” I told her. “Was it the vampire who turned you that killed them?”

She smiled ruefully and said, “I was born a vampire.”

“Oh.” I replied at the same time as my wife.

“Vampires can be made from humans as well.” added James.

“Do you actually… well… do you drink blood?” questioned Rachel.

Cosette nodded as she said, “Yes, in a manner of speaking. Blood is a necessity.”

“But you don’t kill people?” I verified.

“No, I do not, nor have I ever. I’m blessed with knowing someone that has a limitless supply.” she assured us.

“Portentia.” stated James.

I nodded, unsurprised by that at least..

“What an adorable kitten!” exclaimed Rachel after Emma had bent down to pick something up “Is it yours?”

Emma was gripping a small cat with light colored hair. Giggling, she said, “I wish.”

“That’s one of my employees, mother.” stated James.

“What? Son, how can you employ a cat?” I questioned.

“Remember Raine from Thanksgiving?” he asked.

“The shy girl?”

“Oh.” stated Rachel, connecting the two.

I could see the resemblance between fur and hair color now.

“Raine’s a therianthrope, similar to a werewolf.” explained James.

“But sooo much cuter!” exclaimed Emma, hugging the cat who was scooting farther beneath her arm.

“She usually seems more comfortable around people in her present form. Of course, she might just be trying to hide.” suggested James with an amused smile.

“Oh!” gasped Rachel.

I turned my head and stared in shock. A radiant fairy barely bigger than our son’s nose was hugging him there.

“Sorry, master, but she has been searching for you for hours. I still haven’t perfected a way to tell her you’re out.” stated Mila.

“Yes, father, I believe in fairies.” claimed my son with a smirk.

“Me too, dear.” stated Rachel breathily.

I couldn’t argue, too distracted by visions of a forest flowing through my head. “What am I seeing, son?” I asked, my voice barely leaving my throat. There was a jubilance sweeping me away with the images.

“Her day. This is how the fey communicate, projecting images, sounds, and even feelings directly into your mind. The other creatures you don’t recognize are other types of fey. They all live in my forest.” explained James as if this were an everyday occurrence.

“James tends to neglect telling anyone that fey can be dangerous.” stated Lady Pendreigh. “They are, however, the absolute masters of parties.”

“How could she possibly be dangerous?” questioned Rachel.

“She can project light with lethal intensity, just like a laser weapon.” replied Lady Pendreigh, sounding perfectly serious.

Nodding, James said, “She can also bend light around herself, practically becoming invisible.”.

“She’s also good at stealing food.” stated one of the twins.

“She loves to take my bacon.” insisted the other.

“And sausages.” agreed the first.

“You’d be amazed by how much she can eat.” they concluded in unison.

“And what do you two do?” I questioned, looking over to them despite still seeing a forest.

“Let her.” suggested one, motioning to Lady Pendreigh.

“We don’t want cooked.” agreed the other.

They grinned and ducked behind Jarod.

“I believe those three want to announce something.” stated Lady Pendreigh.

“Yes, actually.” agreed Jarod. “We’re engaged.”

Cheers erupted around us, and James stepped over to shake his friends hand, congratulating him.

“To which one?” asked Rachel.

“Both.” replied Jarod, looking perfectly serious.

The twins held out their hands bearing matching engagement rings.

“But… is that even legal?” I questioned in shock.

Jarod shrugged as he said, “Generally, no, but we’ve sorted out how we want to proceed already.”.

James placed his hand on my shoulder and said, “Just be happy for them. I assure you there are good reasons for this.”

I stared at my son, trying to find answers in his eyes. There were none, of course, but he seemed confident. Looking to the engaged trio, I said, “Congratulations to all of you.”

“When will the wedding be?” questioned Rachel.

“We need to sort some things out with our family before we make official announcements.” replied the twins.

Lady Pendreigh seemed slightly annoyed as she said, “Oh joy. You haven’t informed your mother yet.”

The twins grinned at her, looking perfectly troublesome.

Shaking her head, she smiled and told them “You know I will back you.” Then she turned to Jarod and said, “I would like to discuss some things with you later.”

He nodded, grinning ear-to-ear.

“We, by the way…” started one of the twins.

“Can control water.” finished the other.

Water coalesced around them into fish, swimming through the air.

“And I,” stated Jarod, “control them.” He winced as his brides-to-be punched his sides.

“I never realized you enjoyed living quite so dangerously.” I teased, knowing Jarod always had a wild streak.

“My turn!” insisted Emma, literally skipping over to him.

Jarod stepped back, saying, “Not everyone gets a turn to punch me.”

“Yeah!” exclaimed a twin.

“He’s our punching bag.” insisted the other.

Emma stuck her tongue out at them before turning to my wife and I, saying, “I got a bit excited when I was told you two were coming to see magic, so please indulge me.”

Rachel smiled and said, “Since you insist.”

I followed as well, wondering what could be so outlandish that we needed to return to the cold. The rest of the group was coming as well, so I would have been swept along whether I wanted to be or not.

“James surely mentioned that I’m his gardener at some point, but I think you’ll enjoy seeing how I garden.” she suggested, glancing back at us.

“Is that really Raine?” questioned Rachel as she watched the cat’s tail twitching from under Emma’s arm.

“Sure is! She’s just the cutest kitten ever.” cooed Emma.

“Stories of lycanthropes always make them seem strong and dangerous. I never really considered a similar creature… er… person being so… tiny.” I suggested, wanting more information.

“Her kind can also assume a hybrid form with cat-like claws and teeth in a more humanoid shape. You really can’t judge something strictly on appearance.” warned Lady Pendreigh.

“Is she sleeping?” questioned Rachel as the tail seemed to hug Emma’s side.

“Probably.” replied Emma. “Even when she’s a human, she just dozes off wherever she feels warm. She played Ancient Tribes of Earth with us before we ever met her. She’s got incredible crafting skills in the game, but randomly stopped responding at times. I never really understood until she moved here. She’ll be in the middle of doing something and suddenly be out like a light.”

“When she disappeared at Thanksgiving, had she turned into a cat?” I questioned.

Still grinning, Emma said, “Oh, no. She fell asleep at the table and slid out of her chair. We just let her sleep when she wants. She gets… umm… skittish.”

“Skittish?” I questioned, remembering what my son had said earlier today. “You can’t mean…” I turned to look at him for verification.

James looked uncomfortable, which was all the confirmation I needed.

“Raine is unique, as far as I know. She’s quite incredible.” replied Lady Pendreigh.

I nodded, still trying to imagine this tiny cat being more “powerful” than a nuclear blast. I couldn’t make sense of it.

My son’s home was large enough that Emma had plenty of time to explain the numerous types of plants growing throughout the yard here, delving into the science of them with such a natural air that the conversation seemed completely normal.

I didn’t follow half of what she was talking about when she started to explain the beneficial arrangements she did throughout the yard, but I could understand that each plant was helping another.

“James, you still have fresh vegetables? There’s snow on the ground!” exclaimed my wife in surprise as we stepped into a garden.

“Alma taught me a nice spell to keep the garden warm for Marco. He has trouble finding things in the snow.” explained Emma.

“And how do you find things?” I questioned.

“With bare feet!” she teased with a wink. She slipped off her shoes and jumped into the snow. Plants quickly enveloped her leg up to her calf.

“What is that?” asked Rachel.

“Just grass. James will have green grass all year. If you want a snack before dinner, how about an apple?” questioned Emma as a tree erupted from the ground where she was pointing. “Maybe an orange? We’ve got cherries and grapes! Do you like pears?” she questioned, causing more and more plants to grow out as she named them. An arched tunnel formed from the countless plants with fruits dangling down in abundance. “They’re as fresh and ripe as you could hope for!”

“Emma’s produce always tastes amazing. Marco loves having her around.” suggested James with a smile.

“I’m sure.” stated Rachel, greedily looking at the produce.

“They’re really safe then?” I questioned.

Lady Pendreigh smiled and said, “Perfectly. I actually had some concerns myself initially and personally conducted numerous tests. There are obviously no preservatives or insecticides used here, and each fruit is a perfect specimen.”

“Try some.” insisted Emma with a wink. “And then come this way! I have more ahead.”

We could see. My wife braved a grape, so I followed suit, impressed by the flavor as the juice touched my tongue. Following the tunnel behind Emma, my mind struggled to remember the snow-filled ground that had been here prior to her demonstration. Flowers were even blooming in Emma’s wake! We reached a clearing with wooden tables and chairs already set.

“How did these get here?” questioned Rachel as she examined a table. “This furniture’s beautiful even unfinished.”

I had to agree. Whoever did the engravings was very skilled.

Emma turned to her and grinned, saying, “I grew them as we walked. I’ve gotten better with furniture, since I moved here. I need to come up with some more designs, but you’ll find no seams in the wood. No nails needed. Everything’s perfectly solid.” As I looked for seams, she explained what types of wood she used, blending different types of trees together to provide some of the unique coloring. “I’m gradually collecting every type of seed in the world, so I’ll be able to grow anything we might want. Just let me know if you two ever want anything I can provide. I really don’t mind at all.”

“Will all of this vegetation remain when we go inside? I mean, how long does it last?” I questioned.

“The plants are perfectly real, Mr. Somerset. I just encourage them to grow. If I left them be, they’d live their normal lives from their current growth. This would be a rather awkward spot to leave a grove though, so I’ll clean them up.” explained Emma.

I gasped as the world around us seemed to shrink away to nothing. Before long, all of the plants and even the furniture were gone, leaving only the verdant ground at our feet.

“That’s incredible. You could easily have a business of your own, and your profit margins would be enormous.” I told her. “I must ask… why are you working for my son?”

Emma giggled and said, “This is home. What more could I really want?”

I slowly nodded. She obviously couldn’t do this type of stuff just anywhere. She’d get far too much attention.

#Best Friend For Hire Reprise #Best #Friend #For #Hire #Reprise #Jovial Times #Jovial #Times #Fantasy #Fiction #Story

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thralls-for-alls · 6 years

Text

Something A Little Lighter...

Torque stood in the doorway, resting his shoulder against the thick, Jennerit fashioned frame as he watched the clone work. Hunched over, TZ’s scar splashed fingers danced along the keys of his laptop plugged into the heart of he Stryx Striker. For now, peace reigned in the silent, empty ship and for the focused Mike. Trouble awaited him in the morning, when his medic would discover that he had broken curfew despite her many stern warnings. FU worried that his most recent, ill-advised stunt of firing himself over the mouth of a volcano might have been a cry for help; he needed to stay in the Kingdom for a while to ensure that he would not hurt himself again.

Clearing his throat, Torque turned his head and scratched under his chin to announce his presence.

Caught red-handed outside of the Kingdom. TZ’s body tensed, his hand having to shoot out to keep the laptop from going flying from his gasp. His head snapped in Torque’s direction, all three golden eyes bright in shock. “I can explain...” He pointed to the many, constantly filling and flickering bars as more and more files downloaded from the Imperium network onto the massive hard drive plugged into his laptop. “We need these files and it won’t be safe to get them with someone else in charge.”

Holding up his hands, Torque shrugged. “You’re sayin’ that like I’d take you back, mate.” Shaking his head, he lowered himself to sit behind TZ. “I just wanted to make sure you’re okay and Ric was busy.” Torque could not hide the grimace as he uttered the other thrall’s name, years of insults and slurs making it feel strange on his tongue. Scooping TZ up in his arms, he pulled him up onto his stomach to keep working. “But, no promises ‘bout when we go back tomorrow, all right. But I’ll still keep you company.”

Life outside of the Striker was... complicated. Since TZ had found out about Rictus’ nightmarish warning for Torque, he had pulled everyone together for a simple talk between the three to air out their issues safely. Neither trusted the other and the piles of abuse and a lifetime of abuse created a sticky problem that made the clone realize he was in over his head. Therapy was working for him and they needed to talk, so enrolling them both into therapy with his medic, FU seemed natural. It was rough going and awkward, but forcing the two thrall to live together to force them to get used to each other brought small wins almost every day.

On a day when Torque’s curse got the better of him, their Rictus verbally tore him a new one, detailing every grievance and abuse suffered at the hands of the bonecrusher. All of the names, all of the slurs, the constant destruction of the Sinful Bat, the harassment of Vocatia, turning Vocatia in and almost getting her murdered poured from Rictus’s overly fanged mouth. By the time his was finished, his entire body shook with fury, threatening to knock the spindly thrall off his hooves. And as the beast, all Torque could do was listen.

Torque had been called names too, slurs of all kinds as well. His brothers and sisters would wreck his small, stolen collection of containers filled with the prettiest pests he had found; nothing on the scale of the Bat, but just as important to a young thrall who had little else to his name. As Rictus dumped accusation after accusation, all the liontaur could do was hang his head and lower his ears in shame. He could never forgive his brothers, even as they had passed in battle and on tours over the years; it was natural the void-touched one did not trust him.

But TZ did, for some reason. And so did the other Mikes. The heat of the overworked laptop propped up against his thighs pleasantly burned his skin through the soft flannel of his new pajama pants, thanks to tailor Mike. TZ’s bare feet pressed against his stomach as he uncomfortably hunched over to balance the machine across his splayed knees. With the smooth top of one of the leaf-like protrusions on his knuckle, Torque rubbed TZ’s back. Torque smiled, letting his eyes rest on the scrolling filenames on the bright screen for a while.

Every so often, a serial number or project name would pass that the old thrall recognized. From his uninformed perspective, it seemed the Mike was mass downloading literally everything from the Imperium servers and databases across the system. Payroll sheets, work schedules, greyhorn modification plans, broodhall records... Torque chuffed and gently poked TZ’s back with his knuckle when he saw his number come up. “’Ey, can you open that one? ‘T’s about me.”

TZ flinched. Blinking several times, he stared up to Torque before his brain really processed what he had said. “Oh! Yeah, sure bro.”

The file flashed onto the screen. Torque squinted to try to read the small dark text across the stark white of the spreadsheet program. Scrolling down, he scanned for his serial number among the list. Males paired with females, the resulting litter tacked at the end; a simple broodhall record keeping track of who was paired with who to prevent inbreeding and to keep the army’s genes healthy.

“There,” Torque pointed out, nudging TZ again. The entry hung in the middle of the screen as followed:

Female: Q.79q-c.359 Male: K.24-c.236 Litter Size: 1 Pup: Q.45-c.131

Q.45-c.131, that was... “That’s that rebel... Vo’s pup...”

“Wait, he’s Vo’s son?” TZ laid back to stare up at the underside of Torque’s thick neck, his eyes thankful for the rest. “I didn’t know you two...”

“It was a long time ago and under permit, mate.” Torque tilted his head to glance down to TZ. Despite the calm explanation, the thrall’s hearts thumped hard in his chest. Not just once, but twice he had attempted to capture his own son. He had almost killed Mortus. “But yeah, we had a litter once. Neither of us knew who was ours though...”

TZ reached up to affectionately scratch the lowest curve of Torque’s horn. He knew it would register as the lightest touch for him, but he hoped it would still comfort him. Despite Torque’s efforts, tension still poured from the bonecrusher. “So, who are they?”

“... remember that young thrall I attacked on the street?”

“Yeah, Morty? Wait!” TZ set the laptop on the ground next to Torque and flipped over to lay stomach to stomach on him. “You’re his dad! That’s great! I’m surprised I didn’t notice the resemblance sooner.”

The answer was a small nod. Shame burned between Torque’s horns, silencing his answer. This was massive news, but he had already ruined any chance of doing anything with it, right?

Running his palm across Torque’s sternum, TZ let his smile fade, but did not let it dim his hope. “Well, I know it didn’t turn out good at all last time...” TZ knew it was an understatement, but how else could he describe the mauling that ended with Torque getting his furry butt handed to him? “But, maybe if you tell him about his mom and explain the situation, maybe things will be different?”

A purr rolled through his chest as the small hand did its work. “... I dunno. He has every reason to hate me and she hates me too... It won’t end up good.”

“Maybe. But you’ll do something good for both of them. Even if it doesn’t make them like you, you still would have done something nice.” TZ gave Torque a hopeful grin, reaching up to grab his chin to lower his head. Flashing a bright grin, TZ gazed into Torque’s eyes. “That’s enough of a reason to do it. I’ll even print up the page and everything.”

Torque let him pull his head down, but he averted his eyes. “Yeah, you’re right. I just... I just always wanted to know what our pup was like... and I tried to bring him in to the masters to get culled.” He rested his hand across TZ’s back. “Seems like I missed my chance for that.”

The warmth and weight of the huge palm against his back calmed TZ further. “Yeah, you might’ve,” he admitted; there was no reason to soften the blow. “But, it’s still worth a try.”

Glancing over to the computer, still churning along on its mass collection of important and not-so-important Imperium data, Torque thrummed. “I’ll.. do it. Just got to find the kid first.” Scooting forward, the thrall lowered his body more so the clone could get more comfortable. His hard plates jammed uncomfortably against the floor, but it was tolerable for now. “Maybe I’ll look after I escort you back to the Kingdom.”

“All right,” TZ sighed as he looked around at the room deep within the Striker. “I’m probably getting put in the tub for this...”

Torque nodded. “But you’re doin’ somethin’ good, yeah?”

“Exactly,” TZ yawned, a chuckle on his breath. “It’ll be a good present for the Battleborn, definitely.”

#//thrallfics #//tipsycurvyfics #//tzfics #//((No angst november has started.#They're talking about stuff but ultimately the conclusion is good promise.#Also: I still gotta write the last chapter of The Tortured one and that'll be it with angst.#Also this contains a summary of what's happened behind the scenes with Torque TZ and Rictus and a little bit with Morty.))

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obsessivelollipoplalala · 3 years

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Hi. This is sort of random and I don’t know if you do these kind of asks but I’m in the final year of my Bachelor’s degree and am thinking of applying for a Masters next year. I’m feeling a bit nervous and stressed out about it. I don’t know if I could handle the workload, I’m worried I won’t get accepted or if I do get accepted, I’m worried I might not be able to finish it. It’s a bit mysterious and honestly I don’t even know what it would be like. Could you tell me a bit more about your experience doing your Masters? We’re studying different things in different countries (I think, I’m in the UK), but I would like to know what the main differences are between doing a Bachelors and Masters, if it was hard to get used to or catch up with the teaching, whether professors treat you differently, what it was like writing your dissertation/research project (if you did that), etc. Does it take up all your time and leave you with no social life? I have depression, and some days it’s hard to even get out of bed. I barely scraped through my second year; my grades slipped with the lockdown worsening my mental health (I didn’t fail but you can see the dip in some of the modules) and I don’t know if I could cope with all the work next year (that is if I do get accepted). If you could answer some of these questions I would really appreciate it. Thank you 🥺🙏😭

The thing is that Master's programs vary a lot based on what the degree is actually in, and the university where it's being offered. My experience might not translate to yours, so keep that in mind. That said, I'll answer everything. I'm putting this under a cut because it got long:

So, I was in an accelerated program, meaning that I began to take graduate classes while I was in the spring semester of third year of my Bachelor's. I wasn't significantly more stressed once I took on those classes because I'd already taken the bulk of the requirements for my undergrad. I took one grad class per semester for two semesters in my Bachelor's, before I took two during my final semester of undergrad. Once I was fully in my grad program, I took 3 classes per semester. Honestly, I thought undergrad was more aggravating and stressful. I found that only three classes per semester were a lot easier to keep up with, despite the work being a little more intense, because I thought it was easier to stay on top of 3 syllabi as opposed to the ~5 I'd have during a typical undergrad semester. Besides, grad school couldn't compare to the trauma of my undergrad Japanese language class lmao. Those 4 semesters were brutal and everything seemed easy in comparison. My professors were pretty nice and a lot more chill than my Japanese professor lol, so they didn't really bother me. I was quiet in college, so my professors never had a problem with me. Since I went to the same place for my Master's as I did my Bachelor's, I didn't notice a significant change in my lifestyle as a student.

I do think there's more independent reading required in grad school, so you have to prepare for that. If you have a problem with deadlines, grad school will be tough; I'm just someone who never turned in anything late. Literally, I think I turned in fewer than 3 assignments late in my whole life because that's just how my brain is wired. If you're someone who can consistently turn in assignments on time, that's half the battle. If not, you'll struggle. But I found that there was less bullshit in grad school compared to undergrad. With my Bachelor's I had to take so many stupid electives I didn't give a shit about just because my university required like 30 non-major credits, and I was frustrated because I felt like my time was being wasted and I was stressing over syllabi for no real reason. In grad school, it's a lot more focused.

I didn't have a dissertation or thesis; I had a comprehensive exam at the end of my program. That sucked lol. It was a 10-question essay exam over the course of 5 hours. I was given access to the questions from previous exams and study guides from previous students, which were tremendously helpful, and I studied and answered practice questions almost every night for a month and a half straight. That was really tough. That was my only class/requirement, however, so I was able to dedicate all of my time to the exam. I passed, but if I'd put off studying, I definitely wouldn't have just because of how my specific exam was designed.

Now onto mental health stuff. I'll be real with you: I'm one of those people who benefited from the lockdown. I've always enjoyed working alone, so I didn't really miss classroom discussions and actually loved not having to commute to and from campus every day anymore. All of my classes were asynchronous and I felt my mental health improve because I was able to pace myself, my schedule, and have a lot more time for my hobbies. College was far worse for me in undergrad, and it honestly had some of the worst years of my life lol. I didn't make a single friend on campus until the end of year two, and I found being on campus with no friends incredibly depressing and isolating. Going into lockdown took that away, you know what I mean? You can't feel lonely if everyone is alone :'D Plus, since I'm such an independent worker, I wasn't hurt by everything going online since I was able to keep up with all of the material and deadlines pretty well. So, if your grades and mental health suffered during the pandemic, I completely understand, but that wasn't my situation. I enjoyed staying home. Since most of grad school was online during the pandemic, too, I can't say it took up all of my social life since I couldn't have a social life lmao. I was/am very strict with lockdown and social distancing, so it's not like grad school kept me from seeing my friends. But since there are typically fewer classes in grad school, anyway, you might find more time for your personal life. It really depends on the program and requirements.

tl;dr: you do need perseverance and the ability to meet deadlines in grad school. There's typically less margin for error (I think I couldn't get more than a couple B- in my program?), but it doesn't have to be terrifying. It's difficult to advise you since these things can vary so much, as I've said. But this is what college was like for me 🤷 I hope this helps in any way. If your depression is that debilitating, I do recommend going to whatever disability resource center is available at the university to get appropriate accommodations, if that's a thing over there. That can help a lot and there's no shame in it. My mom is a professor and receives letters informing her that students need accommodations on assignments and deadlines all the time.

#replies #Anonymous

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venusgfs · 7 years

Text

Daffodil Garden

summary: Dan Howell is the only ordinary one in a world of remarkable people. Phil Lester is the only one that sees his lack of a power as a power in and of itself.

genre: fluff, a lil bit of angst

tw: swearing

word count: 2.7k

a/n: this idea/prompt comes from the wonderful @kaitlynnrambles thank you ilysm kait!!

Dan was always remarkably ordinary, and in the world he lived in, such a thing was dangerously unfortunate.

By the time he hit 13, he started to become aware of just how ordinary he was. When his classroom was full of invisible students, bursts of fire, and floating desks while he sat patiently, powerless hands still in his lap. When kids would run up to him, eyes bright and wide, begging to know what his superpower was, and he didn’t have a reply. When he heard his parents speak to each other in the next room, the walls thin enough for Dan to hear even the slightest of whispers.

“It’s unheard of!”

“He’ll be fine.”

“It will be rough for him.”

“He can manage.”

And from then on, Dan understood that he was different, and not in a good way.

“Hey, you must be Dan Howell!”

Dan had expected his first day of high school to go horribly wrong, so it wasn’t much of a surprise when a pair of invisible hands seized him by the collar as soon as he stepped outside for lunch. The hands were attached to Nolan McClain, who had allegedly mastered his invisible limbs by the time he was eight, and had been using them to torture others ever since.

Dan’s feet dangled in the air as Nolan tilted his head higher, bringing Dan with it. “Is it true you don’t have powers, Howell?”

“Fuck off,” Dan grunted, kicking his legs angrily.

“What are you going to do about it?” Nolan scoffed. “The only power you’ve got is a big mouth.”

Dan opened his big mouth to spit out another insult when something wrapped around Nolan, a giant vine crawling from his thigh to his neck. Dan went tumbling towards the ground as Nolan lost focus. He braced for the impact that never came, landing in an outcropping of soft grass that had suddenly grown from between the cracks in the pavement. Nolan was still struggling against the vine wrapping tighter and tighter around his body.

Dan stumbled to his feet, brushing the disheveled curls from his eyes to see a tall, black haired boy smirking at Nolan, brows furrowed with concentration, fist clenched loosely.

“You want me to make it tighter?”

It took Dan a moment to realize the boy was talking to him, and that he was also controlling the vine.

“W-won’t it crush him?” Dan stuttered.

The boy shrugged. “We can find out.”

Dan’s eyes widened so far he was certain they would bulge out of his head, before the boy tipped his head back and started laughing.

“I’m only joking, there’s no need to look so terrified.” He unclenched his fist, and the vine slithered back into the ground.

Nolan fell forward, palms scraping the pavement. The boy stepped towards him, crossing his arms.

“Picking on defenseless people is very cowardly,” he told him. “Now fuck off, for real this time.”

Nolan frowned, and Dan was worried for a second that this boy would be the next target of Nolan’s invisible attack. But to his surprise, Dan’s bully did nothing but scoff and walk away, bringing a portion of the group of students surrounding the scene with him.

“Are you okay?” the boy asked once Nolan was out of earshot.

“Uh yeah, I’m fine.”

The group of students had dispersed by now. The boy leaned forward, locking eyes with Dan. His eyes were a piercing blue color that Dan couldn’t look away from.

“So I’m guessing it's true. You don’t have powers.”

“Yeah, maybe not,” Dan mumbled, expecting the boy to step away from him like his extreme ordinariness was a contagious disease.

“Cool.”

“What?”

“That’s cool.” The boy grinned. “It’s almost like having no power is your power.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.” Dan felt himself blush. “It’s still kind of lame.”

“I don’t think so.” The boy stuck his hand out. “I’m Phil, by the way. I just moved here.”

“Dan,” Dan said, shaking Phil’s hand. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“Likewise.”

The school bell rang, the monotone sound shocking Dan. Was lunch over already?

“Guess we should get to class.” Phil pulled a crumpled paper from his pocket, smoothing it out and scanning the page. “What do you have next?”

“History 9.”

“Me too!”

Phil grabbed Dan by the arm, dragging him back into the building. And for the first time since he was 13, Dan felt very safe.

Dan and Phil grew inseparable over time, Phil fending off anyone who gave Dan shit with his power over plants, which even included their sophomore English teacher on their first day of tenth grade.

“And what about you? Name and power?”

Dan cleared his throat. “Dan Howell.”

There was a heavy pause. Most of the students in Dan’s class knew about his unfortunate situation, but very few were willing to speak up about it in fear of getting in trouble. Even Phil stayed quiet in his seat, muscles tense like he was ready to attack.

“Your power, Mr. Howell?” the teacher asked. Before Dan could start the inevitable explanation, Phil stood from his seat.

“Why do you even ask to know powers anyway? What difference does it make?”

The teacher looked taken aback. “Mr. Lester. I wasn’t aware you cared so passionately about this.”

“Well now you are,” Phil replied. “Whatever power we have doesn’t make up who we are. Why not ask him what his favorite color is, or his favorite school subject, I don’t fucking know.”

The class collectively gasped at Phil’s profanity. Cussing out a teacher on the first day only spelt trouble.

“Mr. Lester I advise you watch your language and your opinions,” the teacher replied icily. “Now I don’t know why Mr. Howell can’t present this argument for himself but I’m sure he doesn’t appreciate you speaking for him.”

Phil’s jaw clenched, and he slowly sat down.

“Thank you.” The teacher sighed, as if dealing with such difficult students was taking a dramatic toll on him. “Now, Mr. Howell. I’m sorry if I may offend you but will you please tell me what your power is?”

“I don’t have one, sir.”

“Hilarious. Do you and Mr. Lester need to give the principal a little visit?”

Dan swallowed a snappy remark. “I don’t have a power, sir. I promise.”

The teacher cast a glance at Phil, and then back to Dan. “I see. You’re the one they’ve told me about.”

Phil was shaking his head angrily. “That’s it,” he muttered. Dan watched intently as Phil’s fist curled from under his desk.

“Anyway,” the teacher droned. “Who’s next?”

Instead of a reply, there was a smattering of snickers from all corners of the room. The teacher frowned. Dan stifled a smile as he watched a small flower grow from the center of their teacher’s balding head. Phil clenched his fist tighter, and the petals of the flower expanded until it was fully grown, bright yellow daffodil. The class was laughing now, the teacher growing more and more livid by the second until he gathered the place of mind to grab at the top of his head. The petals of Phil’s daffodil fell to the ground, crumbled.

“Mr. Lester, principal’s office now.”

Phil spent a lot of time at Dan’s house. Phil’s parents would argue a lot, scream at each other and throw plates and lamps and things. Their powers only made it worse. Sometimes Phil would come home to find the whole bottom floor of the house flooded. It was on those days that he retreated to Dan’s house, outcroppings of dead flowers appearing at his feet when he paced around the room.

“You should sit down and relax,” Dan tried to tell him on an especially hard day. But pacing was always Phil’s thing. He didn’t seem to notice all the dried out brown petals he left on the floor for Dan to sweep up without complaint.

“It’s hard to. I have to finish that project for chem and then that essay is due tomorrow not to mention…”

“Phil,” Dan interrupted. “Please.”

Phil rolled his eyes and promptly sat down on the floor. “There, happy now?”

“A little bit.” Dan smirked. “You wanna watch an anime or something?”

“I literally just told you how much shit I need to do and you’re proposing we watch anime?”

“Why not?” Dan shrugged, pulling his laptop closer to him and opening it up. “Might take your mind off of everything.”

“But I can’t keep my mind off of it, that’s the point. I need to keep thinking about it until I get it done that’s the only way.”

“Yeah, yeah whatever. I’ve been hearing really good things about this one called Akame ga Kill maybe we should check it out.”

Phil sighed, exasperated. “Dan.”

“Phil.”

They were locked in a silent battle. Dan eventually won, and Phil collapsed on the bed next to him, head sinking into Dan’s mountain of pillows. His dark hair was in dramatic contrast to Dan’s stark white pillowcases.

“They just suck sometimes,” Phil muttered quietly.

“What was that?”

“My parents.” Phil stared up at Dan’s ceiling as Dan watched him. “They really suck sometimes.”

“Most parents do.”

“Yeah. Mine especially, though.”

With inseparability comes the inevitable deep discussions, and no friendship understood this quite like Dan and Phil. They would talk about everything from Phil’s shitty home life to Dan’s lack of motivation when it came to working towards achieving his lofty goals.

Once, late into the night, Dan’s phone screen lit up, waking him with the notification’s bright light. It was Phil, asking if they could talk.

Dan, under the impression that he meant on the phone, answered yes along with claims that Phil definitely hadn’t woken him up, he had been awake for hours. However Phil went silent shortly after, and in a few moments Dan heard a tapping on his window. He ran a sleepy hand through his curls and padded to the window, pulling the curtains aside. Phil was waiting for him on the other side, face so close his nose was pressed against the glass.

Dan scoffed and unlocked the window, wincing as it creaked loudly when he opened it. “It’s three am Phil, what the fuck!”

“Sorry. I had to talk to you.”

Dan’s mock anger fell from his face. “Is it your parents again?”

“No. Well, I mean. They’re still pretty bad. But that’s not why I’m here.”

“Then why are you here?”

Phil exhaled loudly, plopping himself of Dan’s bed. It was hard to see him in the dark, but Dan managed to sit beside him. The cold air from the open window stung Dan’s bare back.

“So this is something I’ve been thinking about for a long time,” Phil began. “And I wasn’t sure if I wanted to tell you or not because I wasn’t sure if it was real or not.”

“Okay…”

“But uh…” Phil hesitated. Dan heard him exhale again. “I think I might be gay.”

Dan blinked rapidly. He wasn’t sure how to react. He had never had anyone come out to him before. “Oh, um, okay. Well that’s awesome. I mean good. I mean fine.”

Phil laughed. “Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Oh um, yeah. No problem.”

“But seriously,” Phil said again. “I’m still the same person, no reason to treat me differently or anything.”

“What? Why would I do that?”

Dan could see the vague outline of Phil’s smile in the dark. “Okay, good. I wasn’t sure.”

“I’m your best friend Phil, and if you think you being gay is going to change that, you’re delusional.”

“Thanks Dan.”

“Of course.”

Phil remained in Dan’s room for a couple of seconds, and in those couple of seconds Dan could feel something stirring in his chest. He wasn’t sure what it was, it almost felt like his heart was beating irregularly, or his lungs were constricting, without the life threatening consequences of those two events. He thought it felt kind of like his heart was expanding, opening up like the petals of a daffodil.

The feeling went away up until Dan saw Phil at school the next day.

Dan was true to his word, of course, things were normal between them. Phil kept the bullies away with a simple clench of his fist and Dan made jokes about how stupid Nolan’s new shoes were. The only thing amiss was the ever present growing sensation inside of Dan’s heart. The only time throughout the day that it went away was Dan’s only glass without Phil.

He would have to be stupid to not notice the pattern.

That night, Dan stayed up late researching the types of powers and how they are felt. He learned a lot about aggressive powers, like Phil’s plant growth or Nolan’s invisible limbs. He learned about passive powers, like invisibility or teleportation. But most importantly, he learned about emotional powers.

He learned that those with emotional powers are generally capable of sensing the strong emotions of others. Some people go insane from the amount of emotions they feel, the sadness or happiness or even fear that emit from every person they walk past. And some people can only feel the emotions when it occurs because of them. One person Dan read about explained how whenever she made someone sad she would begin to sob uncontrollably. Another man, who described himself as tall and burly, felt a shiver of fear whenever he passed someone smaller than him. It was so disturbing that he didn’t leave his home often anymore.

By the end of the night Dan was certain that he had an emotional power. And he was pretty sure he knew what emotion it was that he was sensing. Because the more Dan thought about it, the more sense it made. And the more Dan’s heart expanded with every second he was around Phil, the more he felt certain that Phil wasn’t the only one.

One night, after Dan had mustered up the courage, he called Phil. It was nearly midnight, so he was almost guaranteed to be awake.

“Hello?” he chirped on the other end.

“Hey.” Dan swallowed his fear. “Can you come over?”

“Sure, what’s up?”

Dan could hear Phil rustling, probably trying to find his shoes. “I just… need to talk to you that’s all.”

Phil paused. Dan’s breath caught in his throat. “Sure, of course. I’m on my way.

Phil appeared in less than ten minutes, Dan already opening the window before he could start tapping. He could feel the now familiar expanding in his chest starting when Phil was a minute away.

“What did you want to talk about?”

Dan stared down at his bare feet. “I think I figured out what my power is.”

Phil’s eyes widened. “No shit. You must be a late bloomer.”

“I don’t think so. I just think I hadn’t had the opportunity to… use it.”

“Well?” Phil asked impatiently. “What is it?”

Dan sat down on his bed, bracing himself for what he was about to reveal. Phil stayed standing, brows furrowed with concern.

“Dan?”

“I think that my power is being able to tell when people are in love with me.”

There was an uncomfortable pause. The first one between the two of them in their four years of friendship.

“So I’m guessing you know then?” Phil whispered.

“Yeah.” Was it Dan’s imagination or was Phil stepping closer towards him?

“And…? Are you mad?”

“Of-of course not,” Dan sputtered. “I just… I just…”

“You just what?”

“I just wasn’t sure if I felt the same way or not and it took me a long time to realize that I did and…”

Dan’s rambling was cut off by Phil’s soft lips pressed against his, one hand cupping his cheek and another on his shoulder. Dan stood awkwardly, never letting their lips separate as he wrapped his arms around Phil’s waist. The sweet scent of flowers filled his nose and it felt like his heart was bursting.

When Dan and Phil pulled apart they noticed the flower garden that had sprouted under Phil’s shoes and the vines that had crawled Dan’s walls.

“Oops,” Phil whispered, giggling like a little kid. It was contagious. Dan started giggling as well until Phil tipped forward again, sealing their lips back together.

The two remained in Dan’s room, surrounded by their daffodil garden, for the rest of the night.

#ahhh this was fun #also technically it's still monday my time so i'm keeping with my schedule #anyway yeah i felt like this was my best written fic in a while?#so enjoy i guess #phanfiction #phanfic #phan fluff #phan au #plantboy!phil #phan #franfic #100

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bountyofbeads · 4 years

Text

My Whole Household Has COVID-19

“The thought of simply breathing in and out without coughing and reuniting with my children ... is goal enough. To—literally—live and let live will be enough.”

By DEBORAH COPAKEN | Published March 27, 2020 12:35 PM ET | The Atlantic | Posted March 29, 2020 |

I can pinpoint the exact moment I started feeling off. My partner, Will, and I were on a bike ride on the afternoon of Wednesday, March 18, to escape our apartment and get some exercise. This was back when leaving a New York City apartment to get some exercise was still okay, or at least that’s what we’d read, or at least that’s what we thought? If the coronavirus pandemic has taught us anything, it’s that what is considered dogma today might change tomorrow.

Ten minutes into our bike ride, I was overcome by an intense fatigue. “I think I have to go back,” I said.

Back home, I felt chilled. Took my temperature: 99.1. I’m normally 97.1, but still, not a huge deal. We’d been so careful about wiping down doorknobs, washing our hands, and keeping everyone except for our family out of our apartment. I’d been ambiently worried enough that my 13-year-old son could be a silent carrier of the virus that I’d yanked him out of his public middle school and off the crowded subways four days before Mayor Bill de Blasio pulled the plug– (far too belatedly, in my opinion). I was getting over a urinary-tract infection, so my fever, I thought, must be from that.

That evening, I answered a bunch of Slack messages from work, finished a project for my boss, and picked at the dinner Will cooked. I was, unusually, not hungry. Neither was Will. Neither was my son, which is weird because normally he eats twice his body weight in food.

The next day my temperature was back down to 97.1, but the UTI had worsened. I called the nearby urgent-care center to see if they could prescribe me a new antibiotic, but no one was answering the phone. Figuring the place was overwhelmed with coronavirus calls, I walked over to the urgent care, opened the front door, and poked my head in. “Hi,” I said. “I’m so sorry to bother you at this time, but no one’s answering your phones.” I explained that the antibiotic course I’d just finished hadn’t worked, and I needed a different prescription.

“Do you have a temperature?” I remember the receptionist asking, as she walked over to the door and handed me a mask. Wait, what?

“No. I had a slight fever yesterday. Can I just leave a message for the doctor? I don’t want to come in.” I could hear a hacking cough coming from one of the exam rooms.

“If you need a new antibiotic, you’ll have to pee in a cup again.”

“But you guys already have my pee from last week! Use the same pee!”

“Sorry, we can’t treat you unless you meet with the doctor again and give us a new sample.”

You’ve got to be kidding me, I thought. Why are we talking about pee during a shit storm? I weighed my options: either endure the UTI for who knows how long until this pandemic is over, which could lead to a kidney infection, which might eventually mean being forced to enter an overwhelmed, COVID-19-infected hospital anyway, or walk into this urgent care right now and possibly get exposed to the virus, but only from the two people coughing. I didn’t like this game of “Would you rather.”

I put on that mask and walked straight in––in my regular clothes, with no eye protection––where I stayed for a good 30 to 40 minutes until I could pee into a new cup, meet with the doctor, get a prescription, and go home. To say it was scary sitting there listening to all that coughing in the other rooms would be an understatement. The other patients sounded as if they should be on respirators, not in a neighborhood urgent care.

When I came home, I immediately stripped and washed all my clothes. That night, I got word that I did, indeed, have an ever-worsening UTI. (Duh.) A few hours later, Will came down with a fever and diarrhea and fell asleep watching Rachel Maddow, which he never does.

We isolated ourselves in separate rooms. My son stayed in his room, Will stayed in my other son’s room––that son, 24, had been volunteering for several months with Syrian refugees in Samos, Greece, and was self-quarantining in a nearby Airbnb––and me in the master bedroom, but not before I wiped down the entire apartment with Clorox wipes again. The next night, March 20, I cooked some rice and beans that no one ate.

Will stayed quite sick for three days, his temperature spiking and then retreating, but he never came down with a cough. Just the diarrhea, which is a rare COVID-19 symptom. We considered heading over to the drive-through test site that had just been set up on Staten Island, but by the time Will was feeling well enough to sit in a car for several hours, New York City had been declared a FEMA disaster zone. All masks and pieces of personal protective equipment were needed to treat the sick and dying, and the city put out a statement saying that people whose illnesses didn’t require hospitalization should not get tested. So we stayed home.

We missed each other’s company, though, so I threw caution to the wind, washed my hands, and invited Will to wash his hands and lie on the bed with me, as far from my body as possible, to listen to a recording of the 1977 Cornell Grateful Dead show while watching the sunset from our bedroom window. I kept it together until Jerry, in “Morning Dew,” sang, “Where have all the people gone, my honey? Where have all the people gone today?”

My fever spiked again on Sunday night. Monday morning, March 23, the fever was gone, so I decided to reorganize our spice cabinet. As one does in a lockdown. But I found I could no longer smell the spices. I had to make sure, when writing up new labels, not to mix up the herbs de Provence, the basil, and the oregano, all of which now looked and smelled exactly alike, which is to say they all smelled like nothing. (Doctors have begun observing a loss of smell and taste in some COVID-19 patients.) By the afternoon, I had a well-organized spice cabinet and a sore throat. Not a bad one, just a slightly annoying one.

By Tuesday afternoon, I was quite sick. I was now coughing a deep and scary dry, wheezing cough, just like the ones I’d heard in the urgent care a few days prior. My temperature was spiking and falling, spiking and falling; my throat was still sore; and I could not drink enough water to quench my thirst. My chest felt as if there were an anvil sitting on top of it. When I attempted to take a deep breath, I could not get enough air into the bottom of my lungs to fill them.

I sent a text message to my primary-care providers’ office through their telemedicine system. I made an appointment with a doctor to speak on the phone. Over the course of our 15-minute call, she asked many questions about my symptoms, about Will’s symptoms, about my son’s loss of appetite. She also heard my cough several times, and said, as I remember it, “That’s a COVID cough. You have to assume all three of you have it at this point. Just lay low until everyone’s symptoms are gone.”

“Can I get a test?” I said.

“No,” she said. “You can’t. Only essential workers. You don’t need one. I can tell just from listening to your cough and hearing your symptoms. When did you first start to feel ill?”

I told her about the bike ride.

The doctor became irritated. “You rode a bike? With viral load everywhere? Why?”

Hadn’t I read one or maybe several experts saying it was safe to go outside and exercise? “I thought it was okay to go out if you stayed six feet from others?”

“No,” she said. “Not in New York. Not right now.”

So nobody knows anything. Or some people know some things, but then facts catch up and prove them wrong. What an embarrassment, how unprepared this country is. We had time to right the plane before it crashed. But the pilot’s been too busy blaming the clouds and spouting lies over the loudspeaker. If I’m sick and can’t get a test, how do we even know that the attack rate in New York City is, as was recently reported, five times the norm? Maybe it’s 10. Maybe it’s 100. Who the hell knows? How many others are sheltering in place in my city right now, coughing on the down low because they can’t get tested? I want to be counted, goddamnit.

“Can my partner and I sleep in the same room again, now that we’re both sick?”

“I wouldn’t advise it,” said the doctor. “Your bodies need to get better. Keep your viral load from his and vice versa. Do you have enough rooms for all of you to self-isolate?”

“For now, yes,” I said, explaining how I have one child self-quarantining in an Airbnb in Brooklyn and now another, just evacuated from the Peace Corps, in an Airbnb in Washington, D.C. It’s been an expensive month.

The doctor told me to open up an account with Capsule, a prescription-delivery service, to keep my germs from infecting our local pharmacy. She’d send over a prescription for an inhaler and a nebulizer. The key thing, she told me, is to stay away from the hospitals unless absolutely necessary. There are no beds, even if I need one. And I could get sicker in a hospital than I would staying home.

These were not reassuring words to hear from a doctor.

The drugs and equipment would be delivered later that evening, but before they arrived, my cough and breathing had become so bad that Will barged into my room and said, “We need to make you a go bag.” I could barely get out of bed to go to the bathroom, much less contemplate what items I’d toss in a go bag, a bag to go to the hospital, a place I’d just been told by a doctor not to go.

“If it gets that bad, I won’t even notice if I don’t have my phone charger or extra underwear,” I said. My older children were each FaceTiming me from their own quarantines, but it suddenly hurt too much to talk.

A few hours later, the medications and the nebulizer arrived at my door via a brave delivery man who left the bag at the end of the hallway, smiled, waved, and then ran. “Wait, don’t I need to sign for that?” I shouted after him.

“That’s okay!” he said. “I’ll do it for you.”

I watched a YouTube video that explained how to use the nebulizer. Then I set up mine, squeezed the medicine into its chamber, turned it on, and suddenly … relief! For the first time all day, I could breathe. I could feel the bottom of my lungs again. Hallelujah.

But then my heart rate shot up. It got up to 144 beats per minute according to my Apple watch. I was dizzy with heartbeats. I’m prone to premature ventricular contractions––extra, abnormal heartbeats that begin in the ventricles and disrupt the heart’s regular rhythm––so I have to be careful. My doctor, after I texted the office about my heart rate, called at 8 p.m. and gave me her personal cellphone number in case of emergency.

It’s been three days since my COVID-19 diagnosis, nine days since that first rush of fatigue and slightly elevated temperature. My life is now centered on finding a balance between being able to breathe and not feeling like I’m going to pass out from a too-thrumming heartbeat. Periodically, I send photos of my Apple Watch heart monitor to my doctor, and she gives me advice on when to use the nebulizer next.

All in all––aside from the few hours when I couldn’t breathe and didn’t have the nebulizer; and when I passed out walking from the living room into my bedroom; and when I cough; and at night, when it all feels much worse, and my back aches from coughing, so I can’t sleep––I’ve been okay. Groggy and irritable and down six pounds, but okay. I’ve had worse colds and flus, and I’m hoping I’ll still be able to say this when I’m all better. My biggest fear now is getting sicker and needing to enter either a too-crowded hospital at the viral peak or, heaven forbid, the Jacob Javits Center, which FEMA is transforming into a giant COVID-19 treatment center. Not to make light of an increasingly dire situation, but the last thing I want is to die in the Jacob Javits Center.

I spoke with my daughter yesterday morning from her Airbnb in D.C. She’s not sure where to go after her 14 days of quarantine are over. She’d planned on staying in her post in Cameroon for two years but was able to complete only six months before the emergency evacuation, and she’s not allowed to return. As a Peace Corps volunteer, she’s not eligible for unemployment. She is, at 23, broke, heartbroken, and homeless, which is another reason I’d better not die right now. My son is going stir-crazy all alone in his Airbnb. I haven’t been able to hug him since he got back from Greece. Should he come home on March 31 or pay for another week of the Airbnb, given our illnesses? How long will we remain sick? The World Health Organization says two weeks for a mild case, and three to six weeks for a more serious bout. But that’s just the accepted dogma right now. Tomorrow, those numbers could change.

Part of me wants, as soon as we’re better, to grab my three kids and my partner and escape someplace remote, but where? COVID-19 is everywhere. I guess the thought of simply breathing in and out without coughing and reuniting with my children, wherever that might be, is goal enough. To––literally––live and let live will be enough. Because in the middle of writing that last sentence, I learned that an old friend has been felled by COVID-19. Rest in peace, Mark Blum. I’m so sorry we didn’t do more to flatten the curve while we still could.

Trying to remain optimistic, I have sent an email to researchers at Mount Sinai, who are searching for antibody-rich plasma from those of us who catch COVID-19 and make it through to the other side, to treat critically ill patients—a protocol that showed some promise in China. I definitely, certainly, 100 percent plan to give my antibodies as soon as I can. If my illness can help someone else be less ill, then it is my moral duty to make that happen, just as staying home right now is our moral duty to save others. “We must love one another or die,” W. H. Auden wrote. I read that poem to my older kids after 9/11, and I plan to read it to them again when we’re all reunited.

I received an email back from Mount Sinai asking for my full name, date of birth, symptoms, date of symptom onset, and last day of symptoms.

“Still sick,” I responded. But hopefully not for much longer.

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DEBORAH COPAKEN is a contributing writer at The Atlantic. The author of The Red Book and Shutterbabe, she's currently at work on a new memoir for Random House, Ladyparts.

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I’m Treating Too Many Young People for the Coronavirus

Americans in their 20s and 30s—no matter how healthy and invincible they feel—need to understand how dangerous this virus can be.

By Kerry Kennedy Meltzer, Internal medicine resident physician in New York City | Published March 26, 2020 | The Atlantic | Posted March 27, 2020 |

ON FRIDAY NIGHT, I WORKED A 12-hour shift in the designated COVID-19 area of my hospital’s emergency department in New York City. Over the course of the night, I examined six patients who were exhibiting common symptoms of the novel coronavirus; five of them were in their 20s or early 30s.

I am 28 years old. Up until Friday, when people asked me whether I was scared, I would tell them yes—for my country, my colleagues, my 92-year-old grandmother, and all the people most vulnerable to getting seriously ill from the virus, but not for myself. I, like many others, believed that young people were less likely to get sick, and that if they did, the illness was mild, with a quick recovery.

I now know that isn’t the case. The fact is that young people with no clear underlying health conditions are getting seriously ill from COVID-19 in significant numbers. And young Americans—no matter how healthy and invincible they feel—need to understand that.

My first patient was in their early 20s. (To protect their confidentiality, I’m referring to my patients without mentioning their gender.) They had a dry cough and a 102-degree fever, but their chest X-ray came back clear and their oxygen levels were safe. I wanted to test them for COVID-19, but they weren’t sick enough to require admission to the hospital, which meant I couldn’t do so. We desperately want to be able to test and take care of everyone, from the seriously ill to the mildly sick and worried, but with our current capacity, we simply can’t. I told them that they needed to assume they had the virus, and gave them instructions on how to quarantine at home.

I changed my gown and gloves, checked my mask and goggles, and moved on to my next patient: a student who had been coughing and feeling fatigued for multiple days. They had been with a friend before getting sick, and that friend had since fallen ill with symptoms of COVID-19, including a fever. The patient was having trouble catching their breath, but their symptoms were not severe or acute—as confirmed by a chest X-ray and a test of their oxygen levels—so I recommended discharge and quarantine, and they understood.

My next patient was a young professional. For the past week they’d had a dry cough and chest pain. They had no underlying health conditions, and they’d tried to follow the current guidelines by staying at home (the right thing to do, given the overwhelmed state of hospitals like mine) but that evening their breathing had become so labored that they called an ambulance. When I saw them, however, they were breathing comfortably, their chest X-ray was clear, and their oxygen levels were safe. They were visibly upset when I told them they would not be admitted. They wanted to be tested. I explained why we couldn’t do that, and completed their discharge paperwork.

I collected myself and approached my next patient: a young person who’d been suffering with a fever, cough, and extreme fatigue for the past three days. Their boss didn’t believe they were sick, so they’d continued to complete long shifts working with customers at a local business. After examining the young patient, I determined that they were in the same category as the previous three I’d seen—sick, but not sick enough to be given a precious hospital bed or COVID-19 test—so I gave them fluids, Tylenol, and a note for their employer confirming that they were indeed ill, and needed to stay home.

Late in the night, another young patient came in with a high fever and no underlying health conditions. They’d had a dry cough for the past four days. They’d come to the hospital after finding they were unable to walk a few feet without getting severely short of breath. On their chest X-ray, I saw lungs that were almost completely whited out, indicating a significant amount of inflammation. It was clear how uncomfortable they were, and how desperately they were trying to catch their breath. They were in a different category from the previous patients I’d seen that night. They needed to be admitted. They needed testing. They needed close monitoring.

I called the Intensive Care Unit team, and they admitted the young patient to the hospital. I finished my shift not long after, walked home, and got in bed, feeling unsteady. When I woke up a few hours later, I logged into our electronic medical record system and learned that in the time I’d been asleep, my patient’s oxygen levels had dropped severely. A breathing tube had been placed down their throat. A ventilator was now keeping them alive.

Recent statistics suggest that what I saw that night is not unusual. On Tuesday, California Governor Gavin Newsom said that half of the 2,102 people who had tested positive for COVID-19 in his state were ages 18 to 49. The Centers for Disease Control and Prevention published data on March 18 showing that, from February 12 to March 16, nearly 40 percent of American COVID-19 patients who were sick enough to be hospitalized were ages 20 to 54. Twelve percent of patients with the most critical cases, requiring admission to an ICU, were ages 20 to 44. There are some caveats worth noting: The CDC was not able to determine whether the young people included in its report had underlying health conditions. And all of this is early data. We know that we are still not testing nearly enough people in the United States. The numbers may change.

But in spite of these alarming figures, too many young Americans have been slow to give up the false belief that they are safe from COVID-19. The day after the CDC report was released, college students began responding to a poll. Only 50 percent said that they were concerned about contracting COVID-19. Fifty-three percent admitted that they or their friends had gone to social gatherings in the previous week.

At the same time as I was seeing the flurry of young patients on my overnight shift, a resident friend of mine at a hospital on the West Coast was placing a patient in their 20s on a ventilator. A 26-year-old woman who was hospitalized with COVID-19 recently told her story in The New York Times. A doctor at my own hospital said that he has never seen so many young people in the ICU as he’s now seeing with COVID-19.

This isn’t the type of evidence that we like to talk about as scientists—anecdotes, instead of hard data—but doctors are people too. We listen to the stories of our patients and our colleagues. We pay attention to the trends that we see on the ground. We connect the dots.

We still need better data to fully understand how young people are being affected by COVID-19, but until we can get it, we have to spread the word, and ask friends and family—no matter their age—to stay at home.

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KERRY KENNEDY MELTZER is an internal medicine resident physician in New York City.

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A New York Doctor’s Warning

China warned Italy. Italy warned us. We didn’t listen. Now the onus is on the rest of America to listen to New York.

By Fred Milgrim, Emergency-medicine resident physician in New York City | Published March 27, 2020 7:00 AM ET | The Atlantic Magazine | Posted March 27, 2020 |

In the emergency-department waiting room, 150 people worry about a fever. Some just want a test, others badly need medical treatment. Those not at the brink of death have to wait six, eight, 10 hours before they can see a doctor. Those admitted to the hospital might wait a full day for a bed.

I am an emergency-medicine doctor who practices in both Manhattan and Queens; at the moment, I’m in Queens. Normally, I love coming to work here, even though in the best of times, my co-residents and I take care of one of New York City’s most vulnerable, underinsured patient populations. Many have underlying illnesses and a language barrier, and lack primary care.

These are not the best of times; even for my senior attendings, it is the worst they have ever seen. Here, the curve is not flat. We are overwhelmed. There was a time for testing in New York, and we missed it. China warned Italy. Italy warned us. We didn’t listen. Now the onus is on the rest of America to listen to New York. For many people around the country, the virus is still an invisible threat. But inside New York’s ERs, it is frighteningly visible.

Every day, in our hastily assembled COVID-19 unit, I put on my gown, face shield, three sets of gloves, and N95 respirator mask, which stays on for the entirety of my 12-hour shift, save for one or two breaks for cold pizza and coffee. Before the pandemic, I would wear a new mask for every new patient. Not now. There are not enough to go around. The bridge of my nose is raw, chapped, and on the verge of bleeding. But I consider myself one of the lucky ones. My hospital still has a supply of masks—albeit a dwindling one—to protect me and my colleagues.

Many of my patients clearly haven’t received the message to stay home unless they’re in immediate need of professional medical assistance. Their fevers and coughs alone are not enough to even earn a test. I hand them discharge paperwork and a printout about how to prevent the spread of the coronavirus, tell them to self-isolate, and then I move on to the next person. If they didn’t have the coronavirus before coming to our hospital, they probably do now. So much for gatherings of 10 people or fewer.

Meanwhile, my colleagues tend to patients in the critical-care bay with dipping oxygen levels, patients who can barely speak and may need breathing tubes.

Earlier in the month, we were told that positive-pressure oxygen masks, such as CPAP machines, were risky, as they would aerosolize the virus, increasing health-care workers’ risk of getting infected. But in recent days, running dangerously low on ventilators, we have attempted using CPAP machines to stave off the need for medically induced comas.

Still, the increasing frequency of intubations we need to perform is alarming. Our ventilators are almost all in use, and the ICUs are at capacity. Our hospital has already received extra vents here and there from other hospitals in the region that can spare them, but those few additions are merely a stopgap. Will we soon have patients sharing vents? We wouldn’t be the first hospital to attempt that unusual and suboptimal practice, which gained traction after the Las Vegas shooting, when scores of young trauma patients were vented in pairs. But these COVID-19 patients have delicate lungs, which makes vent-sharing far more dangerous. Nevertheless, we’ve already started studying the mechanics of how to make this happen, as a last-ditch effort.

By next week, we may simply have no choice. Those hundreds of relatively healthy patients we sent home may return to the hospital en masse in respiratory failure.

On Wednesday, I greeted a patient I had discharged only one week prior. When I saw his name pop up on the board, my heart sank. He is just shy of 50, with hardly any past medical history, and he had seemed fine. Now he was gasping for air. His chest X-ray was no relief—COVID-19 for sure. I needed to admit him to the hospital, and set him up with oxygen, heart monitoring, and a bed.

Last week, I saw an elderly woman on dialysis. She had arrived with a mild cough. But her vital signs were normal—no fever. After her chest X-ray came back clear, we decided to send her home. But before her ride came, she spiked a fever to 102. Change of plans. With her age and complex medical problems, she would need to be admitted.

The next night, I saw a rolling bed wheeling past me with a resident riding on top, performing chest compressions on the patient.

Only after we pronounced the patient dead did I learn her name. She was my patient from the night before. She went into cardiac arrest before she even got a bed in the ward. My first COVID-19–positive death. The numbers have been mounting ever since.

A few days ago, FEMA finally arrived to help with this crisis. It has brought more tests, hopefully more vents, and a morgue in the form of a truck to help with the ever-growing number of dead bodies. I wonder if this help will be enough. My colleagues and I discuss this pandemic with a sardonic sense of helplessness. Some of us are getting sick. Our reality alters by the moment. Every day, we change our triage system. Each day could be the day that the masks run out. There is much we think but are too afraid to say to one another.

I do not want to see you in my hospital. I do not want you to go to any hospital in the United States. I do not want you to leave your home, except for essential food and supplies. I do not want you to get tested for the coronavirus, unless you need to be admitted to a hospital.

For those of us at the forefront, knowing who has COVID-19 won’t change our ability—or inability—to treat patients. The problem is, and will be, our shortage of healthy personnel, personal protective equipment, beds, and ventilators. A nasal swab is not the answer anymore.

If you have mild symptoms, assume that you have the coronavirus. Stay home, wash your hands, call your doctor. Don’t come to the emergency department just because of a fever or cough. Receiving a test won’t change our recommendation that you remain in self-isolation. We don’t want you to expose yourself to those who definitely do have the virus.

Social distancing, while still crucial, came too late in New York to prevent a crisis. Maybe, just maybe, extreme measures can prevent this from happening in other cities around the country.

In spite of all this morbidity, the doctors at the hospital received one piece of good news yesterday. A coronavirus patient was successfully taken off a ventilator after two weeks, a first for our Medical ICU and a victory for the staff and, of course, the patient.

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FRED MILGRIM is an emergency-medicine resident physician in New York City, currently working at Elmhurst Hospital.

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Watch New Orleans

With the country’s attention turned north, the coronavirus pandemic is exploding in Louisiana.

By VANN R. NEWKIRK II | Published March 27, 2020 2:11 PM ET | The Atlantic | Posted March 27, 2020 |

Between the time this sentence was written and the time this article is published, hundreds more Americans will likely have died from COVID-19. Hundreds or perhaps thousands more people will have been hospitalized, and certainly tens of thousands more will have tested positive for the coronavirus. At this point, making predictions about the pandemic is like riding a barrel over Niagara Falls: We can only guess how it ends, but we do know things are going down.

Here’s another prediction that’s safe to make: The city of New Orleans—and, potentially, all of Louisiana—is going to become the next front in the fight against the pandemic. Even as national attention is justifiably focused on the aggressive outbreak in Washington State and the mounting pressures on New York City’s hospitals, the virus’s advance in Louisiana has shaken local officials and doctors, and the state is already approaching a similar burden of infections and deaths as the crises to the north. There’s good reason to believe that this southern outbreak will be even more difficult to contain, and is perhaps a better harbinger of what’s to come as the pandemic spreads across the country.

The numbers already indicate that Louisiana is a global epicenter of the pandemic. Just over 1 percent of the U.S. population lives in Louisiana. But according to the COVID Tracking Project, 7 percent of all COVID-19 deaths, 7 percent of all hospitalizations, and 3 percent of all positive tests have been in the state. New York has suffered about two deaths per 100,000 residents. Louisiana is at 1.8.

To put the numbers into perspective, if Louisiana were a country, its death count would put it in the top 15 globally. The burden appears to be increasing so quickly that all of these statistics will become quickly out of date. The state reported 83 total deaths from COVID-19 as of noon yesterday. It had reported 34 as of Monday. And, as is the nature of this virus, most of the reported data represent only a snapshot of the infections that took place a week or two ago.

Hospitalizations and deaths will increase. And, if other outbreaks around the world are any example, the curve will not rise gently. The fallout in Louisiana will be most painful in the New Orleans metropolitan area, whose Orleans and Jefferson Parishes account for two-thirds of all cases in the state.

Louisiana Governor John Bel Edwards has already declared a state of emergency. In a press conference on Wednesday, he said that, despite the official numbers, he’s certain that all parishes in the state have coronavirus cases. He asked citizens to continue to stay home and follow state guidelines on slowing the spread of the virus. Like New York Governor Andrew Cuomo, Edwards also warned of a critical shortage of ventilators in the hospitals that will soon be hit with waves of COVID-19 patients. “We could potentially run out of vents in the New Orleans area in the first week in April,” Edwards said. According to state data, a third of all people hospitalized because of the virus so far have required ventilators.

Local officials in New Orleans have made even more dire pronouncements. “We are preparing to mobilize in a way that many of us have never seen,” said Collin Arnold, the city’s homeland-security director, in a separate press conference Wednesday. “This is a disaster that will define us for generations.” New Orleans Mayor LaToya Cantrell said the same day that the city expects hospital beds to fill within two weeks, and she authorized the use of the Morial Convention Center as an overflow site.

Physicians and other health professionals in the city already seem close to being overwhelmed. In a tweet on Wednesday, the former state secretary of health, Rebekah Gee, referenced stories of people reusing protective gear or ordering it from eBay. Joshua Denson, a pulmonary and critical-care physician at Tulane Medical Center and University Medical Center New Orleans, diagnosed the second confirmed case of coronavirus in the city. Now he’s currently under self-quarantine as he awaits the results of his own test for the virus. “I'm not the only one of our critical-care doctors who is on quarantine or sick right now,” Denson told me. “The big point is: If you lose one or two, it’s a big deal. This isn’t a place that’s just swimming with available options.”

According to Denson, problems particular to Louisiana might make an outbreak there worse than what other parts of the U.S. have seen. The state has one of the highest poverty rates in the country, and with that burden comes health disparities—including the kinds of conditions that appear to put people at risk for serious complications from the coronavirus. Louisiana is one of the youngest states in the country, which would seem to suggest its residents would have better outcomes, given that older people have so far been the most vulnerable to the outbreak. But about 43 percent of its adult population falls into “at risk” categories, according to the Kaiser Family Foundation. A sizable number of young adults in the state have preexisting conditions.

According to Denson, that means that New Orleans and the rest of Louisiana might be looking at a different kind of outbreak than most countries—or even New York and Washington—have seen, including widespread hospitalizations or even deaths of young people. Yesterday, Louisiana reported its first death of a person under 35, a 17-year-old in Orleans Parish.

“We’re seeing different processes of this disease than they have seen in China, at least anecdotally,” Denson said. “We’re seeing more comorbid conditions that are common to Americans, such as high blood pressure, stroke, and diabetes.”

Many common assumptions about the coronavirus pandemic are about to be tested in the U.S., in ways they haven’t been so far. The effects of the virus on populations like those in the American South—poorer, characterized by marked racial and social disparities in health status and health access, and often saddled with multiple existing conditions—aren’t yet well known. And many other southern states, unlike Louisiana, New York, Washington—all of which expanded Medicaid under the Affordable Care Act—have little in the way of public health-insurance options for those younger at-risk populations. If Louisiana (likely through Mardi Gras) was COVID-19’s foothold in the South, then America is about to learn a whole lot about how the disease interacts with some of the most stubborn and intractable health-care issues in the country.

For now, the next point of focus should be on New Orleans. It’s not Italy, not yet. But the warnings are urgent, and perhaps even more portentous in their sobriety and certainty. The state will run out of crucial resources for taking care of coronavirus patients, likely before their number peaks. Hospitals will be under extreme strain. Health-care professionals will contract the virus themselves. Underlying health conditions will make their jobs more difficult.

That means now is the time for desperate measures, Denson thinks. He’s calling for the kind of mobilization people reserve for the worst disasters—including donations of supplies and more doctors and nurses. “I hope that two months down the road, people are saying, ‘I overreacted,’” he said.

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The Rich Fled New York. Don’t Be Like Them.

You live in a cramped apartment and you’re scared. But escape is selfish.

By Nathan Thornburg, Host of The Trip podcast | Published March 27, 2020 6:45 AM ET | The Atlantic Magazine | Posted March 27, 2020 |

Hello fellow New Yorkers. You want to leave. So badly. I know. Me too. But don’t. Don’t do it.

It is absurd at this point that it’s even your choice. The bridges should be closed to all but essential traffic. The airports should be shuttered. Instead, Hertz is still renting cars at its 17 Manhattan locations, AirBnB is listing “Corona free” homes in New Jersey, and airlines are offering (apocalyptically cheap) tickets from all three New York airports to Anywhere But Here.

I know all that because I spent one morning this week Googling a dozen possible escapes, in a moment of claustrophobia and panic. I share 900 square feet with two kids and a dog. My wife is a physician who is still seeing patients. And even though I trust her precautions and protocols, I can’t shake the feeling of dread. Mixed in with the uncertainty is the certainty that everything is going to get much, much worse, as the cases spike and people I love or know or admire begin to die. My impulse is to do something—to move, to flee. I’m sure virtually everyone else in the city feels the same way.

The rational truth, though, is that I probably won’t contract COVID-19 while locked in my apartment, though I may well have it already, a holdover from those faraway early-March days when this city was a big pool of the virus and we all were just doing laps together. And if I leave, I’ll bring my germs with me.

There are already pockets of disease on Long Island, and fever spikes in the Catskills, and empty stores in Jersey shore towns that have long put up with our summering bullshit. To paraphrase the New York Post, Nantucket thinks NYC can suck it.

And though I am dreaming, hallucinating almost, of what it would be like to have a yard for the dog and the kids while we wait out the pandemic, rural communities just aren’t built for anybody’s dream quarantine. Proactive governments recognized this early on. A friend of mine in Norway, the restaurateur Nud Dudhia, had been staying with his family in their super-hygge mountain cabin. But in mid-March Norway’s government ordered everyone back to their primary residence, so that any potential health-care burden would land where the population actually lived.

In the U.S., unbelievably, whether to leave is still up to you, as is where to go. If you fled for the hills the moment you read about Dr. Li Wenliang’s death in February, then kudos. I’m jealous of your paranoia, and perhaps you didn’t endanger anyone. But if you left this week, or are planning on leaving, you are nakedly prioritizing your comfort and peace of mind over the physical health of others. Don’t start in on Donald Trump, Treasury Secretary Steve Mnuchin, or any of those faraway self-dealers unless you start by doing what you can do to be part of the solution. Stay home.

I borrowed some of this moral clarity from an aunt in Madrid. She had watched with horror and fascination as politicians in Italy (about as far ahead of Spain along the coronavirus curve as Spain is of the United States) leaked news about a planned quarantine so that, instead of being contained, the virus scattered around the country on the wings of hundreds of thousands of individual decisions. That was on my aunt’s mind as the cordon started closing in on her city. She and her partner thought about fleeing to the village of Adahuesca, but, as she put it, “there was a chance that we’d just kill all the old people there.” They stayed put.

The restrictions in Madrid make New York’s stay-at-home guidelines look like an invitation to bacchanalia (seriously, why are our playgrounds still open?). In Madrid today, you can’t walk a dog with more than one person. Police have the discretion under Penal Code 556 of fining you if you are smoking or otherwise loitering on the street. Spaniards are lovely people and frequently also insolent scofflaws, so some started taking a couple of cans and a carrot or two from their own pantry and walking them around the city, to pretend they had been out shopping. Now police demand that you show a grocery-store receipt.

If you are nervous about staying in New York, and shopping solo, and surviving, this video that everyone is sharing from the Weill Cornell ICU doc David Price should reassure you that you can do this. Wash your hands. Don’t touch your face. Smile at your neighbors.

This pandemic involves a class element, of course. This is, among other things, a Prince Charles disease, a Tom Hanks disease, splashed around the planet by the kind of world traveler I’ve become myself. In the past year I’ve been to Iraq, Kenya, Beirut, Cuba, Japan, Mexico, and beyond, for a podcast. I flew to Chiang Mai for a wedding, to Sweden for the last night of a famous restaurant. And leaving aside for the moment what I’ve done to the ozone layer, it’s safe to say that I’m exactly the kind of asshole who brought you rapidly circulating global disease. COVID-19 became a wildfire thanks to a super-spreader soiree in Connecticut and the Biogen breakout in Boston and the Mar-a-Lago miasma and that gentleman who flew from New York to Florida while awaiting his COVID-19 test results.

I imagine that few of the people who stock the bodegas and clean the subways here in New York are surprised by the exodus. Privileged New Yorkers, the kind who moved here with college degrees and an Exciting New Career Opportunity, have long held themselves aloof from the city. They are ready for the rewards—a beautiful skyline, a killer shawarma—but are often trying to skip the bill. They can’t even stomach August in New York. I get that they don’t want to stay in the embattled epicenter of a global contagion.

And by they, of course, I mean me. Except not this time. The coronavirus is running a massive social experiment on us all. The question: Can each of us put aside our dreadful specialness long enough to slow this thing? Can we grit our teeth through the eerie nights to come? Do we trust our neighbors, the dudes on the corner, the first responders, the men living in the single-room occupancy down the block, to have our back—and can they trust us to have theirs? The answer has to be yes.

We are New Yorkers. We rushed the pile after 9/11, rebuilt after Sandy, walked home during the blackout, made out in Times Square on V-J Day. We’re minting a lot of heroes at Elmhurst Hospital and Mount Sinai West this week, health-care workers who have answered the call with bravery and compassion and sacrifice. The story of New York in this pandemic should belong to them, not to the summer-home super-spreaders.

So it’s settled then. We’re going to get through this, right here, in our tiny freaking apartments. Sending love to you all.

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NATHAN THORNBURGH is a co-founder of Roads & Kingdoms and host of The Trip podcast, which he started with the late Anthony Bourdain.

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