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Cole SprouseSelena GomezLili Reinhart Camila MendesKJ ApaMädchen Amick. template credit.

NAME: JasperMIDDLE: ChrimsonLAST: RosewoodAGE: 19 yrDOB: July 7thSIGN: CancerBIRTHSTONE: RubyBREED: Fox ShifterSEXUALITY: GayPROFESSION: Model/SocialiteEYE COLOR: BrownHAIR COLOR: RedHEIGHT: 5'9"BODY SHAPE:  Slender, Slight masculinity, TonedSKIN TONE: Lite SkinSHOE SIZE: 10.5 HOBBY(S): Exploring, Rock climbing, Reading, Drawing, Collecting Moonstones. 

I'm a 37 year old female writer (happily married, mind you so don't get any silly ideas!) with over two decades of experience under my belt. I won't say I'm the best of the best, but my passion is there. At the end of the day I'm here to write. Making friends is nice, but I'm very shy and anxious, and it's easy to lose interest in my stories if I'm dealing with heavy anxiety. So please, let's not overcomplicate things. I need direction when it comes to stories. Discussion is a must before starting anything big. I ADORE banter! It's very fun and a great way for our muses to feel each other out as well as to test the waters of compatibility with other writers. I'm not fully sure I will be using Discord anymore and have deleted the one that I've been using for Astarion. I've had too many bad experiences there with people not respecting my boundaries and I've hit a limit with it. If I ever do decide to make a new one I won't be joining any servers, neither will I be making any. Any and all writing will happen here on site. My presence isn't transactional and I don't owe anyone anything aside from my very best when it comes to writing. That's it. Please don't push or pester me. I deserve a safe space here as much as everyone else. There are no time limits or writing limits with me. Give me what you've got and I will return the same amount of effort. If you have beef with other writers, that's between you and them. I mind my own business for my own sanity's sake and do not want to be involved. Thank you for reading! I just want to RP- not to be stressed out! So let's have a nice, NORMAL time, ok? 

Well, I'm back.  And I'm not 100% sure why.  I'm not sure who is going to find this as I'm not making friend requests or anything but honestly this blog is meant to be about me anyway.  I am just journaling my life.  I figured this was the best place to put it.I made it out of mania.  I'm on the meds now like a good girl.  I wonder how much more I would say if I felt I could be completely open and vulnerable.  We'll see what happens when I get my kids back someday.OK SO LET'S TALK ABOUT MY LIFEThings with the boyfriend are strained... He spent a week at his stbx wife's house trying to help her transition through their breakup.  He probably would have spent another one if I was not like, "Uhm, hello, this cannot be healthy for either one of you actually" while also reminding him that I am a biased source for information and not to actually listen to me.Let's talk about my guilt with that for a second.... It's his son's mother!  Adopted mother, and he the adopted father, but that i think makes it even worse.  Am I being a homewrecker?  They were separated for a couple years before I ever got involved and he says that he was over her before we got together but suddenly 2 months into our relationship she wants to get back with him?  And I'm around now?  And I told him "You can take a few months and try to make things work with her and I'll be cool with that but I also won't be just waiting around for you" and he was like "nah".... it was more than "nah" ok but that's the jist of it.  Should I have encouraged him more to stay with her?  UGH it's so frustrating when the Universe is like "babes, this one's on you"Also, I have a girlfriend.  Ya'll would love her.  She's swimming in fanfiction creation.  She won't even share her Tumbler page with me.  Which i find a little funny given these circumstances.  I tried to tell her about this site but it fell on deaf ears.  Sometimes she's wrapped into her own ideas and that's cool i guess.I love her to pieces, as a good friend and as a human being but I don't think I can say I'm "in love" with her, and I feel like the "I love you"s took a turn there and i don't really know how to correct them.I also have a bunch of friends, some of which who have come back into the fold and some of which are new but have been around for years now and some of which who are newer and ever so kind.  It's hard to trust the latter though.  It's almost like you have to test a friendship before you know it's real in my head.  Like, I don't believe you're gonna have my back when I'm manic but then again nobody did.  But then again I didn't have many friends to start with when I fell off the deep end.Mac MIller still lifts my spirits.  Still intimidated as hell by Ari.  Found a new solace in Spotify though, and the new artists I have found to really enjoy (Shout out Hozier)IDRK what to say anymore so I'm gonna stop saying things.  WIll update when there's another moment I feel I should

I OWE YOU.Ethan-S-5-22-24YOU OWE ME.UPDATED AS OF 5-25-24

 “Beneath the Waves”  (Verse 1) In the heart of the ocean’s embrace, Where sunlight fades and shadows trace, A secret realm of fire and might, Volcanoes slumber through day and night. (Pre-Chorus) Their fiery breath, a whispered song, Hidden from our eyes, where currents throng, Beneath the waves, they dream and sigh, A symphony of ancient lullabies. (Chorus) Oh, beneath the waves, where magma flows, A molten dance, where mystery grows, Volcanoes sleep, their fiery core, In ocean depths, forevermore. (Verse 2) Their rocky beds, a cradle deep, Where tides weave tales, and secrets keep, The Earth’s heartbeat pulses below, A fiery rhythm, a primal glow. (Pre-Chorus) And when they wake, oh, what a sight, Eruptions paint the blackest night, Lava kisses the water’s skin, A tempest born from deep within. (Chorus) Oh, beneath the waves, where magma flows, A molten dance, where mystery grows, Volcanoes sleep, their fiery core, In ocean depths, forevermore. (Bridge) Legends tell of ancient wrath, Gods and goddesses in their path, Yet even now, as tides ebb and sway, Volcanoes slumber, waiting for their day. (Verse 3) Beneath the waves, where currents entwine, Volcanoes dream, their fiery hearts align, In molten chambers, a rhythmic beat, Earth’s pulse echoing in the deep’s retreat. (Outro) So let us honor their silent might, These guardians of the hidden night, For beneath the waves, they weave their tale, Volcanoes dream, and the oceans sail. 

----General Information----Name: Choi SanAlias: Night WolfExperiment Number: NW-00187Age: 24 years oldGender: MaleSpecies: Wolf ShifterBirthplace: UnknownCurrent living: Seoul, South KoreaNationality: KoreanSexuality: GayOccupation: Underground Street Fighter----Other Information----Personality: Generally if he knows who you are he is nice and sweet, but if it is someone new he has his guard up, makes a more curious or unsure approach to things, not wanting to let anyone close in fear that they could possibly be from the agency that is trying to take him back to the lab. Background: San was born in a place god knows where, right in the facility that created him, unaware of who his mother or father was just the heavy amounts of scientists that helped him grow up. He remembers when he reached about 10 years old that when things began to become painful for his life. He remembers being strapped down to chairs, having needles poked into his arms, right into his veins, he remembered the pain of what they injected him with and the numerous experiments that they performed on him. After the experiments were done he was immediately thrown into combat training, survival, things to do with computers, anything that would help him get by in the world. Every day it was the same drill get beat up, fail a program, go hungry and bleeding for several days until he got much better at it. At the age of 18 the heavy doses of experimentation finally hit him, the first time he felt his body on fire, the first time he felt his skin rip apart and he turned into something different. A pure black wolf, he could hear the scientists applauding, so happy that they had created a man made shifter with their own hands. San was horrified but it was now his life, a human that was able to shift into an animal or at least have the tail and ears in certain situations. Once San had mastered everything he needed, climbing to the top of the ranks, mastered being able to do things even in his wolf form he was assigned to an organization of 7 other men all in black. In this organization to turned into a hitman of sorts, the rich or anyone with the money would pay to have a person or a group of people eliminated and San would do it no questions asked just so he would be able to return to the building and relax. At the age of 22 that was when he realized what he was doing was wrong, that was when his human instincts kicked in and told him he needed to run. A job that involved a family that had to be eliminated just because someone was bored made San realize he wasn't this kind of person anymore, he couldn't be this kind of person. Unable to speak about that mission he simply ran in the middle of it, ditching everything he had to escape into the darkest parts of Korea looking for a new life. Now at 24 he lives in the undergrounds of Seoul, in an abandoned building while doing Street Fighting for money, being one of the best there so he could easily earn thousands. He constantly hides himself to make sure that the agency doesn't find him again, keeping himself in the shadows the best he can.

IOU:Lily (s) 5/24YOM:Sawyer (s) 5/24   Updated:5/25

God came one day to AbrahamSaying Abe my son I have this planSee all these stars up in the skyTo your kin folk I will give lifeSo Abraham being a righteous manHad two sons all in Gods planBut being old he and his wife couldn't waitSo he laid with a female slaveMiracles from aboveIshmael and Isaac grew upBut a test came for his loveGod had asked for his trustHagar was left behindAs father and son travelled the dessertWhere he had been called to testifyHow he could pioneer and turn to rightBring civilisation to God's lightNow we all know the test was passedOr we wouldn't be here todaySpeaking of the saviours who brought us to God's wayFrom Abraham came his sonsThe messengers forever honouredIn Christianity, Judaism and IslamJacob, Moses, Elijah and JonahZechariyah, John, Soloman and NoahFrom them came Jesus and MohammedSo we say peace be upon them allAnd peace be upon this worldUnited we standFor our ancestors were oneFrom the same blood we beganFor the same Lord we bow...

Summary: Darman could smell rain on the wind that gently blew their bedroom curtains. The sun was just beginning to rise, clouds filtering the pink light into cold gray. He buried his face in Etain's hair and took a deep breath. Notes: I do not own Star Wars.     Darman could smell rain on the wind that gently blew their bedroom curtains. The sun was just beginning to rise, clouds filtering the pink light into cold gray. He buried his face in Etain's hair and took a deep breath. "Morning." She shifted uncomfortably. Her belly had officially reached massive status, though Darman would cut his leg off before saying it to her face. "Mm. Lemme just…" She flung a sleepy hand in the direction of the window, closing it with her Force powers. Darman chuckled and kissed the back of her neck. "You could have just asked me to close it, you know." "Why get up when I can…" She wiggled her fingers. Darman took another deep breath of her dewberry blonde hair; she insisted it was brown, as though she'd never seen her own hair in the afternoon light. Her shampoo smelled like sunshine and had some sort of cactus he didn't recognize on the front of the bottle. "I like doing things for you." "I know you do." She struggled to turn over in his arms. "You don't have to wait on me, Dar. You're not subservient to me." "I absolutely am." He kissed her neck, and ignored the scowl that popped up in favor of gently biting the thin skin over her pulse point. "I'm your riduur. You're carrying my child. I am subservient to you in every way imaginable, and I wouldn't have it any other way." "You're incorrigible," she grumbled. He laughed. "And how are you feeling this morning, ner Et'ika?" Etain looked dolefully down at her giant stomach and sighed. "Enormous." Darman kept kissing her neck, considering it the smarter option over confirming her opinion. "Do you want a massage?" he mumbled into her skin. "Maybe later." She caught his hand and guided it to her belly, smiling. "Do you feel your son?" He nodded, his throat going tight. There was a fluttering pulse under his palm. "He's kicking," Darman said in awe. "Yeah he is." Etain adjusted herself again and frowned at her big belly. Darman sympathized with her. He'd jumped out of larties wearing more in equipment than what his runt of a wife weighed soaking wet and seven months pregnant. "He's feisty. Like his mama." Darman kissed her cheek. "He's a pain in my shebs like his daddy," Etain corrected him. "Oh, you know I love it when you speak Mando'a, ner cyar'ika." Darman said, nuzzling her neck. He blew a snozzberry in her throat and made her laugh. "Ner jet'ika, ner mesh'lane cyar'ika, gar dinui ner runi mirjahaal. Ni kartay'li gar darasuum." "I love you too," she sighed, lacing their hands together over her stomach. "I'm sorry, Dar." "About what?" "That we never got to do this." She blinked her big, sad green eyes at him. "We deserved this, but we never had it." "What are you talking about, Et'ika?" Darman sat up, confused. Etain just looked at him patiently. "You know what I'm talking about." "I…" Darman couldn't draw a full breath. "It's not your fault. You did nothing wrong, my love." "I…" Not my girl! Not my girl! "Hey." Etain pulled his face close, pressed their foreheads together. "It was my fault. I've been using a lightsaber since I was four years old. I knew better than to try and stop one with my body." "Then why did you?" Darman whispered, shaking. "What were you thinking?" "I wasn't." She laughed softly. "I wasn't thinking, Dar. I acted on instinct and made a stupid, stupid mistake that cost me my life. I'm sorry you had to watch." "I miss you." Darman squeezed his eyes shut. "I miss you so much, Etain. I wish you could see Kad. He's… he's like you. He needs you, but he doesn't have you." "Lucky for him, he has the best dad in the whole galaxy." She kissed his fingers. "I love you, Dar. I will always love you. Ni kartay'li gar darasuum, ner riduur." "Etain," Darman said frantically, "Etain, wait—" "Daddy?" Darman shot up, instantly awake. He'd never lost that ability, even though it'd been four years since he'd seen active combat. The smell of Etain's shampoo lingered in the air. "Kad?" He held out his arms to the silhouette in the doorway. It was early; the sun had just barely risen, the gray rainclouds above Kyrimorut bleaching the pink dawn into cold gray. His son dove into his arms eagerly. "You okay, Daddy?" he asked, getting situated. "Of course, ad'ika. Just a sad dream." Darman fluffed his son's dewberry-blond hair, the same as his mother's. "Let's get some breakfast. Daddy's hungry." "Was it a mama dream?" Kad didn't seem eager to leave his arms. Darman sighed. "Yeah. It was a mama dream." "Well, that's okay then." Kad smiled. "That just means she misses you. That's what she says when I have mama dreams. She comes and sees me 'cause she misses me so much." Darman didn't want to cry in front of his son, but it was a damn close call. He forced himself to smile instead and threw off the covers. "Come on. Let's make some waffles." He reached up to close the window he'd left cracked the night before and paused. It was already closed. Notes: MANDO'A TRANSLATIONSriduur: spousener Et'ika: my little Etainshebs: buttner cyar'ika: my sweetheartner jet'ika, ner mesh'lane cyar'ika, gar dinui ner runi mirjahaal. ni kartay'li gar darasuum: my little jedi, my most beautiful sweetheart, you give my soul peace. i hold you in my heart foreverad'ika: child Maybe this is playing w the prompt a little but being a human shield is how Etain died, so *strokes her face* her death made no sense even as it broke my heart. I'm going to fix her. She's going to get a personality when she shows up in DNGG instead of just being written to provide Dar with a sad magic tradwife who thinks about nothing but how horrible the clones have it, destined for the fridge. She may even get a hobby. Perhaps a favorite color.

Summary: The absence of power isn't what makes her human. It's not in her genes, or in the crest she wears on her uniform, or in the political party she votes for.       People always think it's the memories that aren't a part of her. None of them really understand, though, that the memories are the easiest part of being Rogue. Memories are just thoughts attached to images attached to feelings. Marie can absorb those, make them her own. It doesn't matter where they come from—from her own past, from someone else's. Once they're inside her, they're hers. But doesn't it get confusing? Bobby asked her once, squinting at her as if he'd already decided the answer was yes. She'd searched for words to tell him, tell him no, don't you see? Once they're in there, it's not like havin' someone else in my brain. It's all just me. But she could tell from his expression that the meaning would be lost on him. Marie also doesn't bother trying to explain to them that it's her skin that's no longer her own. She can handle the strangers in her head; she can handle the powers that shouldn't be hers. What she can't handle is the stranger that covers every inch of her body, and keeps her at arm's length from herself. * Afterwards, after needles and condemnations and dirty looks, it's like meeting an old friend after years of separation. She keeps the gloves for a few months, still scared of what might happen—what she might do—but after a season has turned and she hasn't hurt anyone, she starts to trust. Maybe she's really at home, again. She sits in the new summer sun, feeling as shy as an eleven year-old just becoming aware of her femininity. It's an appreciation she didn't have growing up, an acute self-consciousness forced upon her by image after image of pain caused by her touch. The names and faces well up behind the specks in her eyes when she glances up at the noon-day crest of light. She sighs with the wind on her skin. No needle can grant her asylum from this, from the layers of guilt that are the basis of the power she had. She's not sure she can excise it, not even one cell at a time. * She didn't do it for Bobby, but she's sure as hell ready to kill him when she catches him with Kitty. They don't even have the decency to pretend they're doing something innocent—he just looks down, unable to meet her eyes, and, really, that's all the answer she needs. She didn't do it for Bobby. But she'd be lying to herself if she tried to pretend that she hadn't thought—hadn't hoped— Well. None of that really mattered now, did it? Marie's used to being on her own. * She's ill at ease with the X-Men. They don't quite know what to do with her, anymore, and she doesn't quite know what to do with them. Logan tries to include her, come up with ways that she can be a part of the team even without her powers, but Ororo waits for no woman, and certainly no "misguided young girl who has alienated half of her classmates." She wants to tell Ororo that being able to wear a tank top and dance until her chest burns at a club doesn't make her any less a member of the team. That losing the last traces of chains around ankles and claws emerging from her knuckles doesn't make her human. The absence of power isn't what makes her human. It's not in her genes, or in the crest she wears on her uniform, or in the political party she votes for. She isn't sure yet what will make her human, or if she even wants to be. * She gravitates to other mutants, a moth to new flames. There are others who don't compare her to what she was, all the things that they think she could have been: she likes meeting someone and not seeing a hint of disappointment flicker in their eyes when she can shake their hand. They don't challenge her right to call herself Rogue. She goes to a support group, meets some others who've been cured. Marie stays quiet, for the most part, but loves to listen, absorb the stories: here, she can do that, and no one has to get hurt. And it's nice not to feel alone. * She meets Carol outside the building on a rainy Wednesday night; between closing her umbrella and juggling her backpack, Marie can hardly see where she's going, and they would have been a fast tangle of limbs on the ground if not for Carol's hand on the small of her back. I'm so sorry, she says breathlessly, straightening up. Carol's smile widens the more Marie tries to apologize, and Marie stops when she realizes that the woman's hand hasn't moved although she's completely steady on her feet now. I'm so sorry about that, she says again, swallowing, her throat dry despite the high humidity in the air. I'm not, Carol tells her, her fingers smoothing over Marie's waist when she does let go. I'm not sorry in the least. * Carol, Marie finds out later, was there for a group of her own. Joe, she explains over coffee. They told us he died in battle. It's another six meetings (at which point Marie is thoroughly tired of talking about her feelings) before she has the courage to say yes when Carol suggests a movie. Dinner takes another three, but by then, it's Marie doing the asking. * Carol's strong—stronger than anyone Marie has ever known. She let nothing stand in her way: not her father, not the instructors who told her women weren't meant to be pilots, and certainly not Ms. Marvel. Each obstacle in her life she overcame with a single-minded determination and refusal to acknowledge that anything less than victory was an option. Marie's glad she'll never have to face Carol on the opposite side of a battlefield. * Some nights, she wakes up in a cold sweat. Her dreams are vivid splashes of color—faces she's not supposed to remember, places she's never been. Her skin crawls, goosepimples rising all along her arms, but there's no cool air coming in. She keeps her window closed at night. She scratches until pale pink turns to red, until she can't feel her heart pound with the knowledge of the last time her skin felt like this, and tosses and turns well into the dawn, swatches of light showing her things she doesn't want to see. * Y'all don't think…don't think it was only temporary? She's braved the beige-and-blue meeting room again, gloves bunched nervously in her hands, knees locked tightly together. It's the question she refused to ask those first few months, sure she already knew the answer. But a room full of heads shake at her, and Mrs. Hertzfeld tells her it's completely normal to still feel ghost sensations. Like phantom limbs, she tells Marie, patting her comfortingly on the hand, give them time and they'll go away. * I don't know what to tell ya, kid. Logan neatly slices the apple in half, eating one-half of the green fruit with a decisive clench of his jaw. If Hank couldn't find anything, why're ya still worryin'? Marie shrugs, her chin resting in her palm. He offers her the other half, and shows no fear when her fingertips brush his knuckles. Then again, he never has. It's why she likes him, and why she'll never completely trust him. * I don't think it's safe, she tells Carol, looking out the window so that she doesn't have to see the effect of her words. She's seen more than her share of disappointment and pain for one lifetime. At least this time it's for the best. But Carol's strength, the same strength she admired, refuses to hear her. Carol's hands are sure, and they know all the places that Marie—that Rogue—can't say no to, those places that she's still getting re-acquainted with, the ones Carol has helped her make home again. Carol tells her that Marie doesn't have the right to make this choice for her, and Marie knows she's right. And she finds she can't say no when her body says yes. Even now, she's the weaker of the two. * She's known all along that Carol has precognition—it's the excuse Carol used to take her on dizzying flights through the city, barely dodging buildings and trees in a mad aerial roller coaster ride. I sense immediate danger and avoid it, Carol said, with her cocky fighter-pilot's smile. I won't let anything happen to you, love. And she didn't. Every flight, they landed unscathed. Marie hadn't seen Carol's pre-cognition as it was happening, but she recognizes it immediately, even before her skin screams out with a thousand pricking needles bursting up from under the surface, even before she collapses against Carol in a helpless throe of joint-wracking pain. Carol looks at her, takes Marie's face in her hands; her eyes tremble, glaze slightly, and she just has time to whisper this my gift before the world goes white and Marie stops being Marie and Rogue is born into a world of searing agony and power. So much power. Carol hadn't lied to her: every flight, Marie lands unscathed. But in their last one, skin to skin, it's only Marie who lands, and Carol who keeps flying, aware of the danger, and shooting straight up into the white-hot glare of the sun. * Rogue knows hospitals. She knows the sound of heart monitors, the squeak of sneakers on linoleum when the uninjured party standing at the bedside can't stand to look anywhere else. She went into County General a young girl unready to face the consequences of actions she hadn't made the choice to commit, unwilling to believe that a kiss could really be responsible. She apologized through glass and didn't make it past the door until he'd been discharged. She enters New York Presbyterian three years older and lifetimes wiser, clothed from head to toe in black. She has made a vow that she will never again set foot outside without this uniform again. She recites the names to Carol, each and every one: they are a line, not a path, but a living and breathing lineage that her skin remembers. Carol's brow feels cool even through the material of the gloves; she doesn't stir when Marie's lips press down on the velvet barrier. She flies, that night, for the first time, crazy with Carol, crazy with grief, but the wind is on her skin, and then she knows, as sure as she knows the hum of power: they're all with her. There are no strangers in the map of her skin, anymore, no doubts about who she is. She is Rogue, and is everyone she has ever touched. She isn't alone. They'll always be with her.

Summary: Ordo feels he might finally be getting used to his new cadet body. And as much as he hates to admit it, he's starting to enjoy how his ori'vode and his buir now dote on him and Mereel. But now that they're returning to Kyrimorut...he's not sure how he feels about the rest of the family seeing him like this. Notes: I do not own Star Wars.     Ordo slowly awoke to the humming sound of a ship. For a moment, he just lay there, feeling oddly content. His head was resting on something warm and he could feel someone stroking his hair. It was a nice feeling and he let out a sigh, having no intention of moving. Then his eyes flew open and he jumped up with a cry. Where was he? Was he on a mission? Was he supposed to be protecting his vode? Why couldn't he remember? And why did he feel so...small? "Udesii ad'ika." Kal'buir's voice had the effect of immediately calming him, despite his...fear? Why was he afraid? Ordo was never afraid, not like this at least. Not when there was no reason to be. When he glanced at Buir, he found himself looking up at him. That bewildered him for a moment before his memories finally clicked into place. Getting captured by the Empire, him and Mereel both. Experimented on. Somehow transferred into ridiculously small cadet bodies. Sold to Zygerrians. Rescued by a vod named Fives who'd been similarly transferred to a younger body, a vod who was also a jetii. And, finally, being returned to Buir. Somehow, he both hated and loved the strange feelings that came with his new body. He and Mereel no longer had the eidetic memory of a Null. That had been a disturbing discovery. And it seemed that his muscle mass was less than it had been when he'd physically been this age the first time around. He also got afraid a lot easier than he would have liked. But at the same time, he found he now craved his buir and vode in a way he never had before. Their voices. Their touch. And, as humiliating as it was, the way they'd scoop him up and hold him close. It made him feel safe. "Ord'ika?" Kal'buir knelt in front of him and gently grabbed his shoulders. "Are you okay?" Ordo nodded, not wanting to hear his ridiculously high-pitched, child's voice at the moment. He leaned against his buir and closed his eyes. A moment later, he was gently lifted up and found he couldn't have complained even if he'd wanted to. He heard footsteps a moment later and glanced up to find Jaing had appeared in the doorway. "We're almost home Kal'buir." He grinned at Ordo. "How're you doing vod'ika?" "M'fine." He didn't think he'd ever get used to that voice. And this body didn't have accelerated aging, so he was going to have to put up with it for several years yet. A delighted shriek filled the air as Prudii pushed past Jaing, a blue-eyed, blond cadet hanging upside down from his arms. "Prudii! Put me down!" Mereel giggled. "No." Prudii grinned. "This is what you get for stealing my uj'alayi." Kal'buir smiled. "You know I would have given you your own." Mereel laughed. "But this was more fun!" At that moment, A'den and Kom'rk appeared from the cockpit followed by four more cadets. Rio, Arrow, Orar and Nuhun were physically a little older than Ordo and Mereel, but were real cadets. They'd been rescued from the slavers as well, and Kal'buir had decided to adopt them. Ordo couldn't say he was surprised. "Just finished landing," Kom'rk said. "You two ready to see the rest of our aliit?" "I am!" Mereel kept trying to twist out of Prudii's arms. "Do you...think they'll like us?" Arrow asked nervously. "They'll love you vod'ika." Kom'rk pulled him into a hug. "They'll love all of you." Ordo swallowed, thinking about the rest of his family on Mandalore. "How much did you tell them?" "Only that we found you," A'den said. "We thought the rest would be...easier to explain in person." "Is that okay?" Kal'buir asked. "Or would you rather us go and explain before you come?" "No!" Mereel had finally extricated himself from Prudii's arms and was now perched on Jaing's shoulders. "I want to see the looks on their faces when they find out!" Buir gently set him down. "Ordo?" Ordo shrugged. "Sure. I'll be fine."   Ordo refused to be carried off the ship in full view of his vode. Mereel, on the other hand, was happy enough to remain on Jaing's shoulders as they walked off the ship. It was nice to be home, despite Ordo's misgivings. But when he saw several other individuals approaching, he froze up. A hand fell on his shoulder. "It's okay Ord'ika." He glanced up to find Buir smiling gently down at him. "They're aliit. This won't change anything." Ordo took a deep breath and continued, taking in which of his aliit were present. All of Omega squad was there. Etain was at Darman's side, Kad asleep in her arms. And Bardan was there as well. "What's with all the cadet's Kal'buir?" Darman's eyes darted over their party. "And where are Mereel and Ordo?" Buir smiled. "Funny story, that." "I thought you said you found them," Corr said, looking worried. "I think they did." Bardan's eyes were fixed on Ordo, an amused quirk to his lips. Stupid jetii  powers! "But..." Etain's eyes were darting from Ordo to Mereel before finally resting on Kal'buir. "How?" "How what?" Darman glanced at his wife. Buir sighed. "First things first." He gestured the real cadets forward. "Everyone, meet Arrow, Orar, Nuhun and Rio Skirata." The cadets shuffled forward, sheepish smiles on their faces. Fi's face broke into a grin. "Su'cuy vod'ike! Welcome to the family!" "That's it?" Orar blinked. "Just like that? You're not surprised?" Jaing laughed. "Kal'buir tends to adopt any clones he can get his hands on." "What about them?" Atin motioned to where Mereel had come to stand beside Ordo. A grin broke across Mereel's face. "Come on vod, it's us!" He gestured to Ordo. "Don't you recognize Ordo's scowl?" Ordo felt his face warm as he watched his family's reactions. Everyone was staring at them with wide eyes, except Bardan and Etain. They just looked like they were trying to figure out a puzzle. Corr was the first to react. "Mereel?" Mereel trotted over to his brother for a hug. "Hey Corr." He pulled away grinning. Corr stared at him for a moment before laughing and lifting him into his arms for another hug. "Mereel, you're adorable!" Ordo shot a glare at the others. "First person who calls me adorable is going to regret it." Fi's face got a look that meant trouble. "Not sure you could really do that much." Then everyone was talking at once, asking questions. Kal'buir patiently explained what had happened, Project Rebirth and troopers getting transferred to cadet bodies. He also told them about the new allies they had on Lothal, including Jedi. Everyone was surprised and impressed when they learned of the Force-sensitive clones. "So..." Darman examined Ordo. "You're...stuck like this now?" "Evidenly." Ordo sighed. "Until we grow up again. Don't even have accelerated aging in these bodies." Not that they'd had it before either. Kal'buir had seen to that. Still, Ordo wouldn't have minded growing up quickly for a bit. He wasn't sure about being a child like this for so long. It sounded like a hassle. "I'm glad." Corr messed with Mereel's hair. He hadn't set the boy down and was hugging him like a stuffed tooka. Not that Mereel seemed to mind in the slightest. "Are you going to be okay?" Ordo was startled by Etain's touch. His senses really weren't what they used to be. "We'll be fine." He hoped he sounded convincing. "We have our aliit. I may not like this, but I'll live." Darman walked over to stand with his wife, his son tucked in his arms. "Well, at least Kad's still younger than you." Kad was awake now, watching Ordo and giggling. He still looked tiny, despite Ordo's new size. He also looked very comfortable in his father's arms. Oh no. Not this again. But Ordo couldn't help himself. He felt his cheeks redden as he walked to Kal'buir, eyes down. Buir glanced down at him in surprise before a delighted grin crossed his face and he scooped Ordo up. Ordo expected taunts from his vode as he leaned his head on Kal'buir's shoulder, but they didn't come. And he couldn't help but smile a little at last. Maybe, just maybe, this wouldn't be so bad after all. Notes: Finally got around to working on some of the Second Life one shots I promised! I have another started that should be ready before too long. Haven't started on the main sequel yet, but I'm hoping to get started on that pretty soon as well. As I've said before, I haven't actually finished the Republic Commando books yet. I know there are several things that aren't accurate to the books, but I like happy endings. So, in this universe, Etain lives and gets to raise her son with Darman and clan Skirata gets to stick together. Don't ask me how that happened though. Also, for this, Besany and Ordo haven't met. I like to think she happens to be younger in this universe and they'll still get married one day, but I doubt I'll ever write about that. Have a great day! Mando'a TranslationsYaim'ol: homecomingVode: brothersUdesii: calm downAd'ika: little oneKal'buir: papa KalBuir: fatherVod: brotherJetii: JediOrd'ika: little OrdoVod'ika: little brotherUj'alayli: uj cakeAliit: clan; familySu'cuy: hiVod'ike: little brothers

https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Vengeful_ghost

1. Morgan hates the idea of not being able to watch what she wants when she wants to. She tends to bring her Apple TV with her on trips so she can watch whatever show she needs to to fall asleep. She also can't fall asleep without the sound of the TV in the background and if it's a show she has never seen she will stay up and watch it so this is a safe way for her to pick something she knows. 2. Her study book is a big one. Despite being on vacation where she shouldn't be thinking about work, she is. She brings the book with her to constantly be reminding herself and learning about everything. She often gets the latest edition to make sure she's up to date on everything. 3. A digital camera, this one's so old school. Everyone can take pictures on their phone but the digital camera is a full other way to rememebr. She still likes to print pictures off and she just missed having one. She bought it to capture all the moments on the trip.4. A towel for the shower. Most people might bring beach towels or soemthing but Morgan hates hotel towels. She needs something comfortable and therefore when she travels she brings it. Plus she wants to make sure she's able to fully wrap up in the plush fabric. 5. A fake ring. Morgan bring this because when she goes out she can get a little wild and a fake ring is the one way to ensure she won't do anything stupid. She can easily pretend she's in a relationship and it helps keep men flirting with her at a minimum. 

Warm buttery sands that engulf Ella's delicate toes like a mother embracing her child in the morning first light. Far beyond the breakers, where ships vanish from the naked eye and beyond the horizon, where sky and water merge, lies the promise of distant lands. Sailors set sail, chasing the edge of the world seeking answers in the salt-kissed breeze as Ella's nose twitches feeling the bite of the sand like whispering  dreams.In these early morning hours is where Ella could always be found. She believed its where her parents soul's mingled and spoke to her in the churning of the sea of concerto's, sacred notes and  secrets she would find carved upon tiny seashells.A smile painted her plush scarlet lips as she thought of them and imagined their toes gracefully dancing along the whipped edges of the waves as she too danced along the shoreline thankful for the life they have given her and the  love they shared with each other  painting dreams she held to in her days.In her darkest of days and under her step mother's demanding hand it was these memories and mornings that brought the light back into her young fawning eyes. And the lessons her mother always taught her to live your life in grace, kindness and not even the blackest of nights could dim her everlasting light.