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aluminescent · 1 year

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Blackout // Epilogue // Preview

“This must be monumental for you guys.”

“Mm.” Neither Aaron nor Alex broke their gaze from the sight before them.

“Not gonna lie,” Luke continued, clearing his throat. He grunted again, and there was still a catch in his voice. “It, um—I don’t even know Agent Reid like that for me to feel any type of way.”

Aaron finally looked over at Luke, whose hands were tucked in his pockets. Indeed, there was a glint in the agent’s eyes, and his Adam’s apple bobbed. The corner of his mouth tipped up.

“You have personal history with something of this caliber, Luke.” Aaron looked away again. “Nothing to be ashamed about.”

“Mm. Yeah.”

“Okay, wait, ack—it’s caught—it’s in the—”

Luke chuckled. “She’s hilarious. He’s gonna need that.”

To this, Alex and Aaron smiled.

A few yards from them, Penelope was a poor practice of restraint, worrying over Spencer as staff assisted him into a tilted wheelchair, fretting and tutting as lines were disconnected.

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raayllum · 1 year

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In a way, they are the same story, but the first is a corrupter, and the second is a self-sacrificing giver, who defies the arrogant gods.

#3x05 #arc 1 #arc 2 #4x01 #4x04 #parallels #multi #soo tempted to change their foil tag to 'the same story' but not yet #not at home with the dead or the living

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crewel-intentions · 1 month

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Wait, Yuko, what do you mean you had "standards"? Did you... or rather, do you think Pokémon lives to be "lesser"? That trafficking them is a crime not "as bad" as doing so with a human? That's... I mean, we know there's some Pokémon that aren't the brightest, but the majority of them do seem to be just as sapient as humans are; some being more intelligent, even. It would be understandable for the past version of you to indeed see them as creatures less deserving of rights because they don't look like you or share your language, since you were... you know, a bad person.

But the way you've expressed yourself just now as if you view dealing business with human lives for profit as much more "deplorable" is... well, it makes me wonder if perhaps some of that thinking is still there in your subconscious? Please don't see this as accusative though, you've changed a lot for the better after all these years and done a lot to redeem yourself, that's for sure. I'm just wondering; do you feel there's still some trains of thought left over from your time in Team Rocket that you've yet to unlearn?

Yuko: I've always had standards that I've done my best to live by, even during Rocket. I may have been a criminal, but there are some things that even the thought of being involved with sickens me. I do not regard Pokemon as lesser, but in Rocket, if you aren't catching or selling Pokemon then you paint a target on your back. Trafficking Pokemon seemed like the least of all evils while I worked on accomplishing my own goals. You don't make it as long as I do without sacrificing a bit of humanity along the way, unfortunately...

Yuko: There are definitely some lingering ideals and thoughts from being with Team Rocket so long that I am working to unlearn. I am not a perfect person, and I am simply doing my best to be better. Please have patience while I work on this.

[Note: The inbox will now be closed to new messages. I'm sorry, but I have a very specific plan and order that i intend to answer asks for this arc, and I can't afford to keep changing that to answer new asks alongside. Thank you so VERY, VERY much for your questions!!]

#crewel-intentions #main story #main-story #yuko akiyama #sorry for no images this time #but i didn't want to make a multi-panel comic to answer this question #PS: this will be the last new message I answer as it corresponds directly to this arc #after this the inbox will be closed so I can get through the arc in a very specific way #i've had very specific plans for this arc for months so I can't really afford to keep answering new messages alongside the old #sorry :(#tw trafficking

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phosphorescent-naidheachd · 1 year

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Saturday Snippet

Some days she wonders what her life would have been like if Mal had survived.

She would have stayed with him, of course—there never was any question of that. But would they have been like the pieces of the dish she had Irina repair, melded into something beautiful and new? Or would they have been like the shards of that broken blue cup—unintentionally cutting each other with jagged edges that no longer fit together?

She’ll never know.

(That’s the hardest part, the not-knowing. The aching, empty permanence of it.)

—I’ll tell you how the sun rose (a ribbon at a time)

Premise: Mal and the Darkling die on the Fold. Alina doesn’t.

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multiversal-madness · 2 years

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Mcsm Rehatched Au - an au where Jesse dies as she breaks the command block, but through freeing the ender dragon’s soul trapped inside the block, was able to use the dragon egg as an anchor point to respawn. This however had its side effects, as Jesse turns into an Ender Dragonborn.

Her horns, eye colour and a few other things are dependent on which command tool is crafted. From left to right, up down, it’s pickaxe, sword, axe, hoe and shovel.

#Rehatched Au #mcsm #mcsm au #mcsm jesse #Minecraft Story Mode #Ender dragon #she doesn’t have wings but she does have a tail #her appearance will make arc 2 a lot more interesting #my art #Multi’s Art #also I don’t know what happened with the style change between sword and shovel it just kinda happened-

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navree · 1 year

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Who do you think the most similar characters to Aegon ii in Asoiaf ?

Oof, tricky, cuz at this point Aegon doesn't really have an arc. Aegon was very much treated as a side character in season 1, considering that we only met him halfway through the series, he's only in four episodes as a not-toddler, and the childhood episodes were more focused on Aemond's character than any of the other kids. A lot of what I and others notice in Aegon's character and potential development comes from being particularly eagle-eyed and from choices that TGC himself is making wrt his acting. It's also tricky because the book this is based on is basically a history book, and historical figures don't traditionally have "arcs" because, they're historical figures, not authorial constructs.

I think, and this is conjecture, that Aegon's arc is likely going to see him go down something of a dark path, as by all counts his "arc" is going to result in what happens after the Flight to Dragonstone, when he technically wins the Dance, and what he does at Dragonstone is pretty dark (it's another one of those scenes where I need the writers to go all out). Aegon's arc could potentially see him abandon vices to focus entirely on the war effort as a way to cope, getting more ruthless and crueler, abandoning this party boy identity he has for a colder one as he suffers not just physical injuries but deeply personal losses (the Dance is going to end with everyone Aegon has ever been close to, ever loved, except for his mother and his daughter, though Jahaera kinda comes with a big asterisk next to her, dead as a result of fighting for his succession) and has to deal with it while at the same time being a reigning king.

Based on that, on that overall through line of "going down a darker road because of the really bad shit you go through" is actually very similar to Tyrion's. I don't think it will be quite the same, as I do think Tyrion is going to eventually pull himself out of the hole he's in, whereas Aegon never entirely manages, but I think it'll be the closest.

#personal #answered #anonymous #it's actually why writing historical fiction can be very hard from a character perspective #cuz you kinda gotta put in character arcs to people who were real and had varied lives #that don't traditionally follow narrative structures #so you've gotta choose what part of the story to tell in order to craft one #it's why if i ever make my augustus biopic miniseries there's a very specific place i want to start and stop at #even tho there was still very interesting parts of his life that happened before and after #and since f&b is a full multi generational history #we know how aegon's story goes from birth to death #very few people in the dance get what we would describe as 'good character arcs' in the book #because in the book they're not characters they're being treated as real people #that doesn't mean the show can't make good character arcs for them #i think we're gonna see a pretty good one for aemond and i do HOPE they do something for aegon #considering that he is a major character he's literally the opposite claimant to the throne

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notfivefives · 2 years

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BTHB: Part 4

The fourth fill for my @badthingshappenbingo card continued from the original request from @ladylienda. Here there be angst!

Title: Have I Done No Hurt

Square Filled: Kind Restraints

Characters: ARC Trooper Fives, Captain Rex, Vokara Che

Word Count: 3,700

Summary: Fives is bound, mentally and physically, and Rex begins to see how high the deck is stacked.

Chapter: 2/4

Warnings: Restrained/Loss of Autonomy, Forced Medical Treatment, Forced Medication

Read below the cut or on AO3.

My BTHB Card

The journey from the Halls of Healing was all quick steps and hushed words between Rex and Skywalker. They went over the same few points over and over, confirming what they knew and realizing how little that meant.

We’re chasing our tails, Rex thought as they came to a halt in front of the council’s chambers. As they awaited the masters’ arrival, any sense of proactivity their brisk pace had afforded them faded. Rex watched Skywalker. Brows furrowed, arms crossed, jaw set. Rex knew all too well the tightly-wound contemplation that inevitably snapped into rash action, and - if they were lucky - ended with an unlikely victory.

But this wasn’t a battlefield.

“Sir?”

“Yeah, Rex?”

“Permission to return to the Halls of Healing, sir?” There was no need for him to stay while the council conferred with one another. Maybe it was selfish, but it was also tactically sound. “We don’t know that this isn’t a Separatist plot. And with what happened with Tup…”

He let his words hang in the air between them. Whatever doubt Skywalker had for Fives’ claims, and whatever enmity Fives had incurred by accusing the Chancellor of something horrible, it had all fallen away when the blaster bolt had struck Fives.

I can’t protect FIves from here, he thought. I don’t think I can protect him at all. Guilt stung him more intensely when the thought that Fives would never in a hundred years blame him for it.

Master Windu, Master Ti, and Master Yoda approached from the opposite end of the hallway. Rex’s eyes flickered over them, then returned to Skywalker, whose deliberation was blessedly brief.

“Granted,” he said.

Rex nodded in gratitude. Skywalker shifted his weight from one foot to the other, then inclined his chin.

“I’ll square this with the council, Rex,” he said. Rex wondered if those words were more for him or for Skywalker himself. There was a flash in his eyes, something Rex tried to put his faith in. “I won’t lose Fives, too.”

“Thank you, sir.”

Skywalker nodded, gave him a little smile. His words were a vow at best, and a promise of belligerence at worst. Skywalker turned to meet the masters; Rex hoped care for Fives would temper his appeal to the council.

As he left, Rex felt it. There was a rift between them. It wasn’t observable, and it was something he scarcely acknowledged; he couldn’t explain it, not even to himself, but Rex felt it growing day after day. Skywalker hadn’t been the same since Commander Tano left. And perhaps something had shifted between him and Senator Amidala as well. After comm sessions with her, Skywalker would be possessed of a desperation that had never been present before. Rex set it aside with all of his other hazy twilight worries that he couldn’t name or define.

He began to retrace his steps to the Halls of Healing and check over the comm messages he’d received. The messages from Kix weren’t a surprise, but the message from Commander Doom was. (Rex had forgotten the depleted 125th had also returned to Coruscant.) There were questions he couldn’t answer, and questions he wouldn’t answer. Not until he was sure he could do so in privacy, not until he knew what to say. And even if he did, if Fives was right, would he be spreading that information like an infection?

This goes the whole way to the top.

The Halls of Healing had become busier since he’d left. Not by any means bustling but certainly more awake. He received polite nods and curious looks. He found his way back to where he’d left Fives. But instead of Fives, he found an unfamiliar healer treating a youngling’s knee. He tried to ignore the wave of heat that swept over him. He knew he was in the right place. There was a reasonable explanation. They probably moved him. But where? What if the guard had taken him? What if Fives had slipped away on the table the youngling was now perched atop? That wasn’t a death befitting a soldier, and...

“Captain?”

Healer Che regarded him, her hands clasped in front of her, her expression even.

“Yes, sir?” Rex said. He straightened, and hoped that would make up for the expectant dread in his eyes.

“We moved him to a more private room,” she said. “Somewhere we can continue to treat him, and he can start to recuperate.”

Rex was thankful she answered his most urgent question, but the word private tugged at something in him. Privacy wasn’t something he or his men were accustomed to. His mind cycled through other words. Confined. Contained. Locked away. He glanced away from Che. Perhaps the thought was unworthy of him. He set aside the mistrustful semantics and met Che’s eyes.

“He’s safe,” she said. Her voice wasn’t soft. Not exactly, but it was concise and quiet, and Rex took heart in that. “I’ll take you to him.”

Rex kept pace with Che’s unhurried steps, but with each footfall, the sense that he was too late grew.

He followed her to a room in a quiet corner of a quiet hallway to a low-lit room where a privacy curtain was drawn. Che sidestepped the curtain and slipped by, barely jostling the fabric. Rex did the same, and on the other side, found Idan fastening a restraint around Fives’ left ankle. Contrition edged into the focus on his face when he glanced up as Rex made his way to the bedside.

“A regrettable necessity, I'm afraid,” Che said as she followed Rex’s eye line. “They’ll come off as soon as he’s lucid.”

Rex felt numb as he nodded and rested his hands on the bed rails. He was nothing if not practical. He knew the restraints were there for a good reason. This wasn’t even the first time in the same ten-day he’d seen a brother in this state, but seeing Fives there, unable to move, much less defend himself, set Rex’s teeth on edge. As Idan pulled a strap over Fives’ chest, he glanced at Rex, then away, his gaze there and gone like a fish disappearing beneath a rock. Rex knew he hadn’t imagined the contrition and unease he saw there. He pulled in a protracted breath, held it in his lungs and his belly, then released it.

Idan checked his handiwork, then stepped back before picking up a datapad and handing it to Che, who accepted it in both hands.

“His blood work,” Idan said as he pointed at the screen, his expression somewhere between concerned and intrigued. Che hummed as she manipulated the display, her features unreadable.

“Did…did you find anything? In his blood?” He feared the answer as much as he needed it. Just the same, he begrudged himself the quaver in his voice. If either of the healers had noticed, they showed no sign of it.

“We did,” she said with a slow, considered nod.

Idan excused himself to other duties and Rex waited for Che to continue. She set the pad on a nearby stand and, from the side of the bed opposite Rex, regarded Fives for a long moment.

“There were traces of a sedative, but there was something else too. I’m not certain how one chemical affected the other, and the other drug we found in his system is unfamiliar to me. But I recognize enough of the components and their effects that I feel confident enough to offer treatment. As close as I can tell, whatever he was given impaired his cognitive function and amplified his fight or flight response. It’s incredibly long-acting, and…” Che trailed off. Her lekku twitched and something, not anger, not quite, shadowed her features. “And it’s cruel.”

Rex’s fingers tightened around the bedrail. Whatever had leached into Fives’ veins had robbed him of his intellect and stoked his instincts into actions he couldn’t control. Che’s findings went a long way toward explaining Fives’ actions, but Rex had another thought.

“What about…” he tapped his index finger on his right temple.

“I can feel an absence there. Scans show that a procedure was done and that he’s healing without difficulty, but I can’t entirely rule out whether or not it’s had an effect on his behavior. At least, not yet, but whatever is in his bloodstream likely accounts for it.”

Rex made a thoughtful sound as he watched the peaceful rise and fall of Fives’ chest.

“I’m going to bring him out of this sleep,” Che said. It sounded like an apology. “I’d keep him under if I could, but it wouldn’t be the most effective way of monitoring improvements. Or any declines. The best we can do for him is to keep him as calm and as comfortable as we can.”

Che rested her fingertips on either side of Fives’ head, not quite touching his temples. Her eyes slid most of the way closed and her lips moved.

—

Something was calling him away from the mercy of nothingness.

“Fives?”

There was a disconnect between the sound and its relevance; the impulse to respond was fleeting. Fives’ mouth was hideously dry; he tried to swallow - there was no saliva in his mouth to truly accomplish this - and felt the pressure beneath his nose, something in his nose.

He tried to raise a hand to his face, but something around his wrist stopped him well short An unlovely sound came out of his throat as his eyes struggled open and he tried to lift himself, but met with the same result at his chest and feet. He felt the pinch of an IV catheter in the crook of his arm and the adhesive tug of the tape that was keeping it there. Beeping sounded to his left in time with his escalating heartbeat.

There was a person on each side of him, and the realization he was outnumbered as well as restrained scratched like static over his senses.

“You’re in the Halls of Healing in the Jedi Temple.”

Fives’ gaze found its way to the speaker as he continued to struggle. He blinked heavily as he looked at his captor and things became a little more focused. Blue Twi’lek woman. Stern voice, kind eyes. The healer.

“Try to be calm.” Her voice, or something that went deeper, made him want to do just that. To be calm. He wanted to be calm. So calm. But his world was unfocused and his head was spinning and he was tied down and he had to move, he had to…

“Can you tell me how you’re feeling?”

Something glib but incoherent flared and extinguished in his mind.

“Lemme go.”

To his disgust, the words came out plaintive and edgeless.

“Hey, Fives.”

That was Rex! Fives’ attention listed to the other side of the bed where his captain stood.

“Rex,” he said. He panted and blinked, trying to clear his mind. Focus, you asshole! “You need to listen. I need to-”

“No, Fives, you don’t.” Rex’s voice was grave, but there was so much worry in his eyes that Fives felt deeply and utterly sorry he was the cause. “You need to trust me. Can you do that?”

Of course he could trust Rex, couldn’t he? He’d come to him because he trusted him. Fives lifted his head off the pillow and his head spun as he looked down at himself, seeing the points at which he was bound to the bed he was propped up on. Someone had changed him into a medical gown; the burgeoning ache in his side told him he’d find dressings and bandages if he was able to see beneath. His head fell back once more, then rolled in Rex’s direction to look beyond him at the privacy curtain obscuring his view of everything beyond.

“Let me go,” Flives pleaded. He focused on each word and punctuated the phrase with a frustrated tug of his restraints. “I need to tell the Jedi!”

Rex shook his head sadly.

“I can’t do that, Fives.”

Rex sounded like he wished for all the world he could. He moved a hand toward Fives’ shoulder, but Fives shied away from the comfort he was being offered. He didn’t think he meant to. It could have been his frayed nerves. It could have been the fact that little of the contact he’d felt in the last few days had been understanding or kind. But beneath that, sour as bile, was a feeling of betrayal.

"'m not crazy."

Fives squirmed, and the heart monitor trilled faster. He was too hurt, too tired, too hot. As though the truth he was carrying was going to burn him alive from the inside out.

“I know that, Fives. I know. Once you’re well-”

“Doesn’t matter,” Fives groaned as he shook his head. It didn’t. He knew his life was over, but if he could tell someone what he knew, to get them to really hear him, at least it wouldn’t have been for nothing. “The Chancellor, the chips. We’ve gotta stop him!”

“Calm, Captain,” the admonition came from his left where the healer - he couldn’t remember her name - was looking at monitors and tapping at a datapad.

“Fives…” Rex trailed off, his brow furrowed as he frowned with all too familiar sadness and uncertainty. “Whatever’s happened, we’ll figure it out.”

“You don’t ha- have to believe me. Just listen. Please, please, just listen.”

He knew how he must look, tied down and doped out of his mind. Just like Tup.

Oh, Tup.

He felt less like the madman he’d been branded, and more like a grieving brother. And there was something else he needed someone, anyone, to know.

“The chips,” he said. He shook his head and tried to swallow away the new tightness in his throat. “It wasn’t Tup’s fault, Rex. It wasn't.”

Rex’s features grew gentler, but he remained quiet as Fives tugged pitifully at the straps and closed his eyes against the horrible, jumbled mess of his thoughts, against the memory of the Chancellor’s voice slithering rancidly in his skull.

A few words, clone. A few words and all of your brothers will do what they were designed to do at the outset. The day so much patience and planning will pay off. The day the Jedi will…

Fives’ mouth formed a silent no as he closed his eyes and choked back a sob.

“Fives,” Che said as she rematerialized to his left; he barely heard her over the rush of blood in his ears. “I want you to take a breath for me, okay? In and out.”

Haltingly, and with the aid of the oxygen, he managed it.

“That’s right,” Che soothed. “That’s good, keep that up.”

What else could he do? He couldn’t get free, could even curl in on himself. So he breathed. There was nothing and no one to bargain with, but he would have given anything for one more chance to level a blaster at Palpatine.

He wouldn’t waste it.

“We found the drug in your system. And I know it’s making things difficult for you. I'm going to give you something that should counteract it.”

He peeled his eyes open at that, and his heart stuttered when he saw the syringe in her hand.

“No,” he said. He shook his head and tried to inch backwards. “No more.”

He failed to suppress the sharp, pained sound that escaped him when he wrenched himself to the right. His body itched as sweat prickled up over his skin. Nothing budged, nothing would give way. Nothing but his limbs and his limited reserve of energy.

”Rex? Please?!”

Guilt played over Rex’s face as he looked down and away from him, but neither he nor Che were moved. Fives could only watch when Che depressed the plunger and pushed the syringe’s contents into his IV line.

That’s not fair, he thought. That’s not fucking fair! None of it was, but that was the first time those words had clawed their way so pervasively to the surface, right along all the other thoughts, feelings, and truths that had nowhere else to go. The memory of something dark and inquisitive pressing against his mind made his breath catch.

You’re clever, aren’t you? Your resourcefulness and determination are laudable, but ultimately, it is for nothing. Even if the GAR and the Jedi were to tolerate this apostasy… the Chancellor had trailed off then tutted in a mockery of sympathy before continuing. I will not let a slave with an overdeveloped sense of self destroy what is to come. You cannot stop it. You will not stop it.

A cold burn crawled into his veins. Fives cried out and gave one last hard tug at his bindings. It was useless and it hurt.

—

Rex watched as FIves faded from himself. The tempo of the heart monitor decreased, and after a few minutes, his body began to relax. His eyes were half-lidded and unseeing, and his disjointed raving faded into flinches and whimpers.

“He is going to be out of it for a while,’ Che told Rex as she checked Fives over. She didn’t seem alarmed by his state. Rex knew he shouldn’t be either, but this felt worse. “If you are staying, I can arrange to have a cot brought in for you. If you would like.”

It was not the dismissal Rex was expecting, and as he considered his response, Che disposed of her gloves and washed her hands before turning back to him.

“No, sir, a cot won’t be necessary, but I’ll trouble you for a datapad if I may.”

A smile lighted on her lips and she gave him an amenable nod.

“I don’t know what trouble Fives has found himself in, but I will help him in any way I can.”

“Thank you, sir.” That’s all Rex said, no more, no less. He stood straighter, lest he sag with relief at her words. He hoped she could feel the enormity of his gratitude that she could be - at least for now - impartial, that her duty was solely to her patient.

“Of course, Captain.”

She outfitted him with a datapad and reviewed Fives’ vitals once more. Satisfied with what she saw, she told Rex to inform her of any changes, and that she would return at regular intervals. Then she left them.

As Fives drifted, Rex skimmed the holonet, trying to glean what he could from whatever news sources had reported on Fives. Rex expected anti-clone rhetoric and irresponsible, self-serving speculation, but he found suspiciously little of anything. His finger was hovering over a link to a maybe-relavant article when his commlink chimed.

He hurriedly discarded the ‘pad and answered the call. Skywalker’s small, blue facsimile leapt into view.

“General?”

“Hey, Rex.”

Skywalker’s tone was casual, but his eyes were sharp, vexed. Rex held his breath.

“The council will speak to Fives once he’s making sense. He’s to stay in the Halls of Healing.”

“That’s great, sir,” Rex said. It truly was, but there was something in Skywalker’s demeanor that forced him to phrase it as a question.

He crossed his arms and continued.

“There’s some truth to what he was saying about biochips. Master Ti confirmed it.”

Rex’s world grinded to a halt, but he sat, and he listened as Skywalker told him what he’d learned. Biochips, viruses, behavior modification, Fives’ self-elected surgery.

“It just doesn’t make any sense, Rex. None of it.”

Rex silently agreed.

“Master Windu has ordered me to return to Kamino with Master Ti so that we can be fully briefed about the chips. Quietly.”

No doubt it was Windu’s order that rankled Skywalker. No matter how much respect Skywalker held for the man, contention had grown between them. Rex knew it was not his to regret, but he did all the same.

Skywalker nodded and his expression softened.

“How’s Fives?”

“Recovering.”

“Good, that’s good,” Skywalker said as though he were expecting no other outcome. He crossed his arms more tightly around himself and looked off to his left; his image flickered as though the machine was projecting the essence of his hesitation. Rex shifted in his seat and spared a glance at Fives. If Rex was to be ordered to Skywalker’s side, or given another duty, he’d rather get it over with.

“Sir?”

“Fives tried to save Tup, but he didn’t make it. I’m sorry, Rex.”

Rex had assumed as much, but to hear it spoken and drawn down into reality still hurt. Good-hearted, capable Tup. Brothers’ deaths were never easier despite the constancy of their nature, but Rex knew that even when this wound was no longer fresh, Tup’s absence would be felt over and over again, and not just by him. The balance the younger trooper managed to foster among the men would be gone forever.

“Thank you for telling me, sir,” Rex said with a curt, professional nod.

Skywalker looked like he wanted to say more on the subject, but Rex was thankful when he didn’t. Rex didn’t know what he would have wanted to hear, and so silence was, as it always was in those moments, preferable.

“We’re leaving right away. You’ll be under Master Windu’s command until I return.”

“Good luck, sir.”

Skywalker’s image flashed from view. Where Rex felt he was chasing his tail before, he felt like he was drowning now. What had been in Fives’ and Tup’s heads was in his and all of his men’s. The entire GAR. What else were they unaware of?

Ticking time bombs.

Fives was insensible and the outside hall was empty. Alone with his thoughts, Rex touched his head, knowing there would be nothing different there and finding no comfort in that fact. He despised himself for thinking so, but the ugly realization crept in that all of this would be easier if Fives was truly mad.

A message on his commlink announced its arrival.

“Damnit.”

Rex jerked his hand away from himself and looked at what he was being sent. The channel it originated from was encrypted. Rex’s flash of annoyance congealed into something that was mostly suspicion and bordered on alarm.

He opened it and the device displayed a still image of a stranger accompanied by the words, “Watch Out.”

#bad things happen bingo #star wars: the clone wars #kind restraints #arc trooper fives #captain rex #vokara che #lots o angst #fives is straight up not having a good time #hippa shmippa #i wonder sometimes if palpatine messed with fives’ head on top of everything else #story and angst-convenient neurology and pharmacology #Mace Windu takes thee earliest opportunity to get Skywalker off of coruscant #came to the realization that this is the first multi-chapter fic i’ve attempted in well over a decade #kind of fucking me up a bit actually #someday I’ll write one where Tup lives too

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aluminescent · 1 year

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Blackout // Chapter 45 // Preview

“Our discussions will be completely up to you and in your control.”

“You do what we say.”

This was wrong. His body was not his own. He knew this. He was theirs. Theirs.

“We can go at a slow, easy pace for just brief moments in order to help alleviate the emotions that may be overwhelming you. If I ask you a question that you don’t want to answer, you can simply tell me.”

“All the time.”

“Is there anything that you want to talk about? Why you’re not sleeping, perhaps?”

Once he processed the words, there was an immediate shift, and the room rotated with no discernable axis. A wall was a floor, a ceiling now a wall. The bed was a prison, and beyond it loomed the threat. Them. The woman and the man.

They would drug him. If he slept, they would drug him, and he would awaken—

—covered in a sheen of sweat, nauseous, and with a swelling headache.

—and then he would find—

—something slick between his buttocks.

—that he’d been violated in some way while he slept.

“—encer—you’re safe—in a hospital—no one—hurt you—”

The prospect of such a violation released a wave of distress in him. No longer soothed by tickling and numbing the nerves beneath his fingertips against ribbed corduroy, he was overwhelmed with the compulsion to score his nails against his thighs. Best that they were bare; the tension within him would come undone with each scrape of his nails upon his skin. It was an overwhelming impulse.

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raayllum · 2 years

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time for my post-trailer obligatory “cube hostage exchange theory” compilation post (first of the week) because

#me whispering 'you bitches' after reading that line in soren's short story #cube hostage exchange theory #s4 spoilers #arc 1 #arc 2 #the key of aaravos #tdp spoilers #tdp #the dragon prince #multi #parallels

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francesderwent · 2 years

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New Candidate for Bloody Liaison Facing Controversy

Things are heating up in the race for the new position of Ambassador to the Undead Immortal Magical Minority.

There are few who haven’t already been watching this story unfold with bated breath - be it because they’ve just gotten back from a lovely retreat living under a rock, or because they were, until recent news stories put the defence of vervain within all our reach, too compelled to notice such things. The position was created by executive order five months ago, one of the first moves by a world government towards enshrining our uneasy relations with the supernatural into law since the Undead Immortal Magical community made itself known to the so-called human faction three years ago. But rather than being appointed directly by the president, the new ambassador will be elected by the minority he’ll be representing; it remains unclear whether this is a conciliatory move meant to placate those who wanted a seat in Congress rather than an ambassador, or whether it’s simply because there aren’t any politically active members of the undead already known to the president (or at least any politically active members of the undead wiling to admit that they are, in fact, undead). For the first time, the struggle between different powers in the UIM world has been out in the open, with humanity able to watch in alternating helplessness and horror as our fate is decided—and it is our fate. There are other issues on the table, UV-protected windows in public spaces and so on, but the deciding factor will almost certainly be how each candidate plans to address the power imbalance between supernatural and natural.

Front-runner candidate Elijah Mikaelson certainly talks smoothly about human-immortal relations, presenting a world in which all meet at the table to make an agreement and then hold to their word, but one has to wonder if that agreement will in the end inevitably resemble the one his brother Klaus has reportedly struck up with the residents of New Orleans: abide by the rules, and you won’t be the one who gets eaten—or, at least, it won’t be fatal and you won’t remember it. Elijah Mikaelson’s proposals for the U.S. are similar: a truce which protects some humans but doesn’t come close to a guaranteed right to bodily and mental integrity for all, adding “death by vampire” and “overwhelmed free will” to the list of things the underprivileged have to worry about.

Candidate Vincent Griffith presents a more realistic vision of inter-mortal relations, one where weaker groups are empowered by weapons and spells, and justice and peace are made possible by mutually assured destruction. But some humans would rather not have to become competent vampire slayers, believing it is the government’s job to keep the immortals in check. And on the opposite side, many members of the UIM community question Griffith’s capacity to represent them, since he’s neither undead nor immortal. Witches stepped into public life at the same time as vampires, but the magical community seemingly has more in common with humans, and as such some say that the “M” should not be included under “UIM” at all. As much as we would probably prefer to treat with a man in his thirties who has some spooky abilities connected to his ancestors, rather than a very well-dressed walking corpse pushing a thousand who has to drink blood, we don’t get a vote. These were our options: an attractive offer of protection from a well-bred thug used to having his own way, and a chillingly blunt admission that we’ve entered a war of all against all and the only way out of it is to arm ourselves for the fight. But a new player has stepped out onto the scene: Stefan Salvatore, a vampire.

What’s Salvatore’s platform? For lack of a better term, it seems to be kumbaya let’s-all-get-along-ism. It’s hard not to immediately label Salvatore as naive—even though he claims to be not quite two hundred, comfortably middle-aged in vampire terms, he looks seventeen—but his vision for inter-mortal relations is all about mutual respect for one another’s humanity, even the lingering humanity of those who haven’t been human for centuries. Salvatore insists rehabilitation is possible for even the most callous immortal, a claim which he was forced to put a face to when an anonymous source named him as the perpetrator of a series of killings in the 20s. While Salvatore has not admitted his involvement in the crimes, he spoke honestly about periods in his life when he had his humanity “turned off” and his regret for the harm he caused. His spokesperson, Elena Gilbert, has even said that Salvatore would not be opposed to pursuing an extension of the statue of limitations on all vampire-related crimes moving forward, but emphasized that in this early stage it is important that we look to shaping the future before we begin thinking about reparation for the past.

Miss Gilbert herself is controversial, a rare instance of a human who appears to be deeply involved in the dealings of supernaturals—and not just supernaturals, but vampires. Comments initially attributed to Griffith noted Gilbert’s constant contact with and/or use of vervain: “It almost makes it worse. If she’s acting under her own power, she should know better than to side with them.” Griffith has stated on the record that he has nothing but respect for the humans seeking peace with supernatural elements, but his own campaign is staffed entirely by witches. Mikaelson is sometimes assisted by humans, but while never proven, there have been numerous allegations of compulsion. Salvatore is the only candidate who associates frequently and openly with humans, a fact that neither the UIM community nor the human faction is entirely comfortable with. Sources say Gilbert has received anonymous threats, but whether these threats are made by angry humans who feel she’s being disloyal, or something more dangerous, Gilbert has not stepped down. She remains a powerful symbol of what Salvatore insists is possible: humans advocating for vampires and vampires entrusting power to humans. But she’s also central to the Salvatore campaign in another way: if Salvatore can’t protect one vulnerable human in his employ, it’s doubtful he’s capable of protecting the humans of the United States of America. If anything happens to Elena Gilbert, Stefan Salvatore’s campaign won’t get off the ground.

Elena tossed the newspaper across her desk in disgust. It was the third paper to mention the threats; there had been a handful of them, but they hadn’t seemed serious, so she’d bought a deadbolt for her apartment and shrugged them off. But with the press advertising the theory that all anyone needed to do to destroy Stefan’s campaign was kill one human, it wouldn’t be long before the threats stopped being just threats and somebody took it upon themselves to remove Stefan from the race. They’d all but declared open season.

She sighed, and looked without much motivation at the rest of the paperwork strewn over her desk. There were a few interview requests she was supposed to be vetting, but she had a strong suspicion that if she made any calls now she was going to be asked for a comment about her, which was so far off message it wasn’t funny. She could take a personal day, a whole string of personal days, maybe, but who knew what would become of the Salvatore campaign in her absence? Stefan would probably confess to murder and be summarily arrested. Running for vampire president as an exercise in exorcising his personal demons was all well and good, but sometimes his search for redemption got in the way of his politics.

Elena’s phone buzzed. She dug it out of a pile of binders and checked the notification: a text from Caroline which read, Is it just me or is your mortality starting to be a liability?

Elena texted back: maybe, but I still don’t want you to turn me.

Well, I haven’t asked to turn you since high school, so I think I was due for a polite request!!

Elena cracked a smile and texted a string of human girl emojis, which Caroline responded to with fuming faces, vampires, and wailing.

Elena was halfway through constructing the entirety of the human life cycle in emojis when her office door opened, and it took her a moment to look up. She’d expected one of the interns—a gaggle of vampires, young both by vampire and human reckoning, who followed Stefan around like the worst-house-trained puppies you’d ever seen—but it wasn’t anyone from the campaign, wasn’t anyone she recognized at all.

Even after years of running with vampires, there was still no way to tell for sure who was and who wasn’t just by looking, but Elena was inclined to think this one was. He didn’t have the languid poise of some of the very old ones, and he didn’t look twitchy in the way of the very young ones; he was dressed well but not extravagantly in a plain black suit, his hairstyle was contemporary. And yet—he had a presence. She’d heard at least half a dozen drunken rants from Caroline about what it felt like for every experience and desire to be supernaturally heightened, but she’d never really given it much thought until now. But this man looked more. More vivid, more alive, more sharp.

More dangerous.

She said, “I didn’t think I had an appointment.”

“You don’t,” he said.

She waited. He didn’t move. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Quite the reverse, actually.”

Elena raised her eyebrows politely and reached under the desk for the crossbow she had rigged there.

He eyed her like he knew exactly what she was doing and clarified drily, “I’m here to help you.”

“I wasn’t aware I needed help,” she said.

“Please. You’ve read the papers.”

“The situation is being handled by the proper authorities,” Elena lied.

“The proper authorities are going to be useless until it’s too late and it’s a question of solving your murder.”

She shivered. The words were almost certainly true, but were they a threat? “Nice of you to point that out.”

“Well, it’s why I’m here.”

She rested her finger on the safety. She wouldn’t aim for the heart—she wouldn’t aim for him at all; if he was human, she could do real damage. But she could distract him and buy some time.

“I’m your new security.”

She paused, processing. He waited. She said finally, “You’re what?”

He smiled. There wasn’t a hint of fang, but in her entire life, she’d never been more sure that someone was a vampire. He said, “Your bodyguard.”

Elena stared. “I don’t have a bodyguard,” she said.

He raised his eyebrows. “I guess you do now.”

Stefan chose this moment to poke his head into the room. He waved sketchily at Elena and asked the man in the suit, “When did you get here?”

“Not long ago,” he answered. “We were just getting acquainted.”

“I do not need a bodyguard,” Elena interrupted.

Stefan collapsed into the chair across from hers and gave her a hangdog look. “What do you want me to do, Elena?”

“I want you to listen when I talk to you!” Elena said, resolutely ignoring the man in the suit, who was standing with his arms crossed and a self-satisfied smirk on his face as if his employment wasn’t in question.

“Ah!” Stefan said, lifting a finger. “I did listen to you. You said you didn’t want police protection because if there was vampire trouble they’d just get drained, and you said you didn’t want a pack of vampires following you around because it would give the impression that vampires are thugs for hire, which is contrary to our message.”

“So you listened to me, and then completely disregarded my wishes?”

“No!” Stefan said earnestly. “This is a solution.”

“I don’t see how.”

“One,” Stefan counted on his fingers, “Damon can handle vampire trouble, so you don’t have to worry about him getting hurt trying to protect you.”

He was a vampire. Elena shot a glance his way; he bobbed his eyebrows.

“Two,” Stefan said, “having Damon around won’t make it look like we’re running scared, or that we’ve sunk down to the level of violence.”

Elena stared at him. Stefan smiled blandly, as if he was making perfect sense. She said, “And why would that be?”

“He can slot into the campaign seamlessly! No one will question why he’s here.”

“Yeah,” Elena said acidly, “if he’s always walking a half step in front of me, keeping his back to a wall so he can watch the exits, I don’t think anyone’s going to question why he’s here.”

Stefan laughed. “That’s the beauty of it! He has a built-in cover story.”

She waited for the explanation, but none was forthcoming. She guessed, “Because he’s going to be working publicly on the campaign?”

“No,” Stefan said, as if she was being intentionally stupid. “Because he’s my brother.”

Elena sat back in her chair hard and looked back and forth between them. No resemblance at all. She accused, “You never told me you had a brother.”

“Stefan doesn’t like to brag,” Damon put in, drawling.

“He’s not interested in politics,” Stefan said, waving a hand dismissively, “but he owed me one, and he’s here now. My brother accompanying me while I campaign—nothing more natural than that.”

Elena said sceptically, “Is this a vampire thing?”

“What?” Stefan said.

“Is he your actual brother, like, blood related to you? Or, like, blood related to you?”

Damon snorted. Stefan said, “We have the same parents.”

“Unfortunately,” Damon added.

“I’m sorry,” Elena said, “but in the course of this campaign I’ve had to review what Stefan was doing very nearly every day for the last two hundred years, and I never heard your name once. Where have you been?”

He pulled a mock-serious face, like he was thinking hard. “Wherever Stefan wasn’t, mostly.”

Without breaking her withering eye contact with Damon, she asked Stefan, “Is he going to be a liability for us?”

“No,” Stefan said, unconvincingly.

“No more than mister allergic to control, over here.”

“Stefan had a long road to who he is today, but that’s made him the ideal person to address the struggles of Undead Immortal existence,” Elena said automatically.

Damon faked a gag. Stefan swiped a pen off Elena’s desk and threw it at him; Damon caught it an inch from his eye. For a moment Elena wondered if she should yell for an intern, but then they both chuckled and Damon tossed the pen back at Stefan at a more human speed. Stefan dodged, and the pen hit her desk lamp.

Elena gritted her teeth, and said in the calmest voice she could manage, “You have to promise you won’t say a word that could get back to the press until I or Caroline have briefed you on all the talking points, and we’ve agreed how we’re going to spin your return to the fold.”

Damon’s response to this was a shrug.

“And you can’t get trigger-happy,” she went on firmly. “The last thing we need is for Stefan’s long-lost brother to break the neck of some guy who did nothing but look at you wrong, and will inevitably turn out to have been human anyway.”

“So you’re saying when in doubt I should go straight for the carotid?” Damon said, showing his teeth.

She glared at him.

“What? That’s not always lethal.”

“It better not be,” Elena bit out.

Damon lifted his hands up in surrender. “Fine.”

“This is not a permanent solution.”

“Ugh,” Damon said. “No.”

Elena placed both hands on her desk and stood. “In case there was any doubt, I’m not happy about this.”

Stefan squirmed uncomfortably. Damon looked bored. Elena let out a frustrated breath through her nose and made for the door—this was a situation which badly required more coffee than she currently possessed—but Damon blocked her way. He hadn’t moved at a high enough speed to blur, but she was startled nonetheless, by his proximity and the heavy solidity of him.

“I have a few rules of my own,” he said.

Elena, bristling, looked at Stefan, who wriggled further down in his chair and avoided eye contact. Damon waited until Elena had returned her attention to him, and then said quietly, “Don’t advertise your comings and goings; no one should be able to know where you’re going to be before you get there.”

“I’m Stefan’s spokesperson,” Elena protested, “I have to make appointments with reporters.”

“Tell them they’ll be meeting with someone in the Salvatore campaign without confirming it’s you,” Damon said, unsympathetic. “Next rule. Vervain on your person and in your system at all times.”

“Do you think I’m stupid?”

He ignored this, and handed her a plastic bag with yet more of the dried plant in it. “And keep this on you in a reachable place. If somebody grabs you the first thing you do is slap vervain on whatever part of them you can reach and hold it there until they let go.”

“I hope that applies to you as well?” Elena said sarcastically, making a move to get past him.

He took her elbow firmly; she struggled for form’s sake but his grip was, predictably, like iron, and she didn’t really want to start out their relationship by burning him. He took a step closer until they were nearly nose to nose and looked her dead in the eye. “Last rule. Where you go, I go. Always.”

She found her voice well enough to manage, “You think I’m inviting you into my apartment?”

He released her arm, took a step back, and graced her with a smile that was all devil. “Elena,” he said, “I think I’m moving into your apartment.”

#cate fic #i wrote the news story on my phone at work on thursday #and then i wrote the rest of it in the next couple days so it has been minimally edited #this isn't going to be one of those multi chapter fics i never finish! because there is no plan and no arc #this might be all of it!!#it was just sort of a palate cleanser for me #enjoyyyy

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bookished · 7 months

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HOW TO GIVE PERSONALITY TO A CHARACTER

Giving personality to a character is an essential part of character development in storytelling, whether you're writing a novel, screenplay, or creating a character for a role-playing game. Here are some steps and considerations to help you give personality to your character:

Understand Their Backstory:

Start by creating a detailed backstory for your character. Where were they born? What were their childhood experiences like? What significant events have shaped their life? Understanding their past can help you determine their motivations, fears, and desires.

2. Define Their Goals and Motivations:

Characters often become more interesting when they have clear goals and motivations. What does your character want? It could be something tangible like a job or a romantic relationship, or it could be an abstract desire like happiness or freedom.

3. Determine Their Strengths and Weaknesses:

No one is perfect, and characters should reflect this. Identify your character's strengths and weaknesses. This can include physical abilities, intellectual skills, and personality traits. Flaws can make characters relatable and three-dimensional.

4. Consider Their Personality Traits:

Think about your character's personality traits. Are they introverted or extroverted? Shy or outgoing? Kind or selfish? Create a list of traits that describe their character. You can use personality frameworks like the Myers-Briggs Type Indicator or the Big Five Personality Traits as a starting point.

5. Give Them Quirks and Habits:

Quirks and habits can make a character memorable. Do they have a specific way of speaking, a unique fashion style, or an unusual hobby? These details can help bring your character to life.

6. Explore Their Relationships:

Characters don't exist in isolation. Consider how your character interacts with others. What are their relationships like with family, friends, and enemies? These relationships can reveal a lot about their personality.

7. Show, Don't Tell:

Instead of explicitly telling the audience about your character's personality, show it through their actions, dialogue, and decisions. Let the reader or viewer infer their traits based on their behavior.

8. Create Internal Conflict:

Characters with internal conflicts are often more engaging. What inner struggles does your character face? These can be related to their goals, values, or past experiences.

9. Use Character Arcs:

Consider how your character will change or grow throughout the story. Character development is often about how a character evolves in response to the events and challenges they face.

10. Seek Inspiration:

Draw inspiration from real people, other fictional characters, or even historical figures. Study how people with similar traits and backgrounds behave to inform your character's actions and reactions.

11. Write Dialogue and Inner Monologues:

Writing dialogue and inner monologues from your character's perspective can help you get inside their head and understand their thought processes and emotions.

12. Consider the Setting:

The setting of your story can influence your character's personality. For example, a character who grows up in a war-torn environment may have a different personality than one raised in a peaceful, affluent society.

13. Revise and Refine:

Don't be afraid to revise and refine your character as you write and develop your story. Characters can evolve and change as the narrative unfolds.

Remember that well-developed characters are dynamic and multi-faceted. They should feel like real people with strengths, weaknesses, and complexities. As you write and develop your character, put yourself in their shoes and think about how they would react to various situations. This will help you create a compelling and believable personality for your character.

#writeblr #writing advice #creative writing #writerscommunity #writer problems #writing resources #writing community #writers on tumblr #writers block #the writer struggle #writing tips #writers #uservolkova

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