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Dancing in the Dark   Machiavellian / @windingxpath As one approached the temple, there was a massive torii gate in the front that was a bright red in color. It was also approximately 33 ft tall. As one crossed the torii gate to enter the grounds, it was proper respect to the Shinto gods. Once you did that, you could continue on the grounds.These were some of the most scenic in all of Tokyo. The garden of various blooming flowers including multiple colored kiku blossoms. There was a pond on the grounds filled with koi that added to the peaceful ambiance. The temple located in the center of the grounds resembled Shinto Shrine.There was a steady stream of supplicants who arrived at the temple inside seeking an audience with Suguru Geto. Geto was a powerful Jujutsu sorcerer who had a skill that involved the removal of cursed spirits to anyone who would provide enough proper respect to him. The respect he sought usually involved groveling as well as a substantial amount of Yen. It was a profitable venture for him as well as one that fed his substantial ego.As a curse user and a Jujutsu sorcerer, Geto could actually see the cursed spirits that were vexing non-curse users. There was a difference in those who could see the curses and their various monstrous forms and the average human. The average human regardless of skin color or race was considered a monkey by Geto. He'd lost everything because of regular humans. Instead of protecting them, he wanted to milk them for all the money they had and kill them. He'd spent his youth protecting them as a student at Tokyo Jujutsu High. No more. He often pledged to himself.On this particular day a wealthy mother had brought her teenage daughter to see him. Geto entered his chamber to see the “monkeys” waiting for him. His lengthy ebony locks flowed down his back freely. They smelled of Lotus and Jasmine. He was wearing what would be considered by many to be the traditional shōzoku of a Shinto priest. The under garments and the balloon pants were a dark blue while the top that resembled a sash from his left shoulder to his right hip was actually a royal gold. “Well what have we here?” He took his position to essentially sit in judgment of the mother and her daughter.  “Please Geto-Sama. I'm desperate to save my daughter. She is being tormented by a cursed spirit. Please save her!” The mother was frantic in her supplication. The more desperate the monkeys were, the more money they gave him.Geto cast a glance toward the girl. Her shoulders were slouched forward and her eyes didn't meet his. “I see. You've brought the fee?” He remarked to the mother while studying the girl. She did indeed have a rather repulsive cursed spirit that was riding her back, pressing her shoulders and bearing down on the girl. She did look miserable. Geto almost felt sorry for the girl. Almost.“Of course! Of course! Fifty thousand Yen as you requested.” She reached into her bag to pull out a stack of bills. One of Geto's attendants took the money. It was his job to handle these fees as directed by Geto.His attention was now focused on the girl. “Sit up.” He ordered the girl. Once she did, he reached for the cursed spirit and snatched it off her shoulders. Once his fingers touched it, the cursed spirit turned into a ball of compacted energy he held in his fingertips.The expression on the girl's face was one of utter illumination. “I-Its gone! I feel better! I don't believe it!” Seeing a ball of glowing energy in his hand, both the girl and the mother fell prostrate at his feet. “Arigato Geto-Sama!” The girl repeated over and over.  The attendant who took the money started to usher them both out of Geto's presence. “There will be a message from Geto-Sama in the main hall. Please leave him to prepare.”As they were led away, Geto smirked. “I really hate monkeys.” He took the ball of energy that had formed when he subdued the cursed spirit and swallowed it whole. The handsome features of the Jujutsu Sorcerer were contorted in arrogance. This was too easy.  "Two roads diverged in a wood, and I— I took the one less traveled by, And that has made all the difference." credit: james kriet

First and foremost some warning. the following may tbe a trigger for some. I did alot in broad strokes to keep it from being too bad but there are points of the following.Child harm, Manipulation/Mental abuse from a parental figure. Murder, Torture, Brainwashing youth.    Damien’s mind found restless sleep. A nightmare flooded forward to his mind as he tried to rest. This was no make-believe monstrosity, Twisted reality no. His nightmare was very real. A flood of memories of a time passed, not the lean muscular man he was today, but a determined, stressed little boy who despite surrounded by people. Despite the new acquaintances he had been grouped with he felt very alone in the world, even more so during these memories.  This day was like any other for the young steely-blue-eyed child. The room he was escorted to was full of people older than him. Teenagers range from thirteen to nineteen. He had just clicked passed his twelfth birthday though getting a year older didn’t change anything. Except for a test that would come soon, one that would set a course for the youngster.  He had just finished getting out of bed making it to precise instructions, he would not get food till after first training. If he earned it. They started with stretches typical things to keep the body limber and room to grow muscles. Strength training and cardio came next. Constantly everyone was pushed if you thought you could only do ten pushups, they wanted you to do fifteen still complaining yelling in pain that meant you had the energy to do more.  Run further, run faster, be better, be stronger All of them here had been told the same thing and believed the lie because who wouldn't want to be an agent of good in the world? What child who now had no parents wouldn’t want to be a hero... Or a superhero if you were lucky enough to have powers. Yet none of that meant anything without training, dedication and of course loyalty to the organization helping them focus.  Exhausted and tired from the stress and strain of pressing their bodies to the limit and beyond. There was a double tap from the glass pane above looming over the work out area was a man everyone knew, loved even to a degree as well as hated to see. Dr Viktor could be a loving father figure, but he was also a source of all their pain and agony. He kept them pushing themselves to be heroes, to make him proud.  That double tap meant lining up and being given a random partner you were told to fight them until one gave up, or fell unconscious picked at random. It did not matter if you were ten or twenty you were told to find a way to win. The only stipulation was no use of powers because several people in the room were not powered. Who were training purely to be agents.  Damien, being the youngest member at twelve years old, was always at a severe disadvantage most of the time. The only saving grace? Those that lost were paired again. Beaten, battered and bruised. In some cases, barely conscious. You lost the last fight, there were consequences, and they were more than just not leaving to eat. So, by the time the numbers dwindled his youthful stubborn energy was his saving grace he was never last.   A flick of the dream goes by. Blood splatters as fists and leges pummeled his face and shoulders from older more experienced fighters. Being put into positions where he could no longer breath, or having his shoulder torn from its socket. Flick the dream moved forward to raging fists and tackling larger forms to the ground by their legs moving to their chest pummeling them in the face repeatedly screaming in anger until being pulled away. Flick of the dream After that you were sent to the mess hall to eat... Not socialize you were given only so long to eat, and if you didn't eat everything then too bad the adults would take away your food and trash it right Infront of you.  Flick forward to a new scene in a classroom. Instructors teach martial skills Muay Tai, Jiu jitsu, Wrestling, Krav Maga and more. For as long as you were here you were learning new ways to fight standing or on the ground. He was too young for firearms physically not strong enough to handle to kick back of handguns or more, besides a .22. However, that did not stop them from forcing him to disassemble and reassemble the bigger guns. Clean them and care for them even if for now in this memory he was too weak to properly wield one.  Flick the dream forward again. The pounding drums in his skull thrummed heavy as the strain flooded the brain tissue with blood. Power training was not too different from fighting class. Paired against a mirror power, in his case another Telekinetic. Here physical contact was forbidden, not that anyone had the physical strength left for a fist fight.  The person across from him was sixteen and although Damien was put into the special program for his potential at such a young age that hardly meant he was good right now, Kinetic waves lashed out at one another the pressure in the tiny room suffocatingly dense two competing waves of two thousand newtons of force. Constantly wavering and rippling in the air around them as they fought for dominance over each other. To be the victor and let out of the cramped room.  A voice outside. Viktor giving encouraging words. “You can push yourself harder. I believe in you. Be the superhero you are meant to be.” Viktor never chose a side seeming to encourage all at the same time. The sensation of blood trickling from his nose, skull thrumming.  They had been locked in a stalemate for what could have been an eternity, but Damien could feel himself slipping as the blood dripped from his nose in a clot of snot and blood. From the tiny room a child and a teenager scream at one another in primal fit of survival and rage until silence and a dull thud. A weak knock to be let out, Damien was not the one to walk away, not that he was meant to Viktor had a suspicion about the newest and youngest recruit of such kinetic promise knew he would evolve, with the right push.  Flick again through the dream Damian awoke to a disheartening sensation leather strap were taught against his wrists and ankles, the feeling of wood beneath his limbs. He could not help the automatic twitch and struggle. He knew where he was at, a dark room where he would only find pain.  “I see your awake.” Came the familiar voice of Dr Viktor The feeling of a cool sponge on his face removing the blood lines that had streaked down his face from the strenuous kinetic battle. It was a false nicety like giving a sponge bath to a death row inmate about to get the chair. “Now that you are awake Damien. I want you to lift this ten lbs. weight. “I... Can't” The weakened twelve-year-old squeaked out through exhaustion, pain and fear.  “You did it yesterday and held it for thirty minutes, and I was so very proud of you wasn’t I? Surely you could just lift it from the ground one time then, yes?” Viktor questioned him with such a voice that made you want to, to have your father proud of you again instead of the current disappointment that he was now.  “But I didn't...” Damien began to protest the fact yesterday he didn't have both fights in the same day but was cut short quickly. “But what? You were not tired with a few bumps and scrapes and a headache? You think someone who saves the country stops because he has a little boo boo? A superhero who saves the world lays down because he has a headache instead of getting up and stopping a meteor? Of course not. Now son... Lift the weight.”  To call Damiens injuries minor was a gross understatement. He had two swollen black eyes, a hairline cracked rib, a bruised collar bone arm that had been pulled out of socket but reset. His brain felt like someone had taken a molten ice-cream scoop and dug around for gold, not finding it.  Careening his head forward to even see the weight through blurry vision and swollen eyes. He tried, grunting in the attempt straining against the leather bonds that kept him aloft, but to no avail. Resting back against the board in a failed attempt through sheer exhaustion and pain. There was a long-disappointed sigh. “No please..” Damien began to beg as he felt the bounds tighten and pulled his small frame to fuller length.  “Again...” came the commanding voice, Damien struggled against the binds reaching with his mind to try and lift the weight barely scooting it on the ground to make a sound. Fear of the repercussion sending him spiraling desperate to life that stupid weight, blood once more began to pool from his nose from the strain. To no avail. Another disappointed sigh. “I know you can do this Damien..” Viktor sighed heavily shaking his head as Damien began to plead with him. “I’m so disappointed in your actions today.”  There it was. That fatherly disappointment in his voice as he nodded to an unseen individual, The binds tightened until his tiny wrists locked down to the wooden boards grinding his knuckles into the grain. Damien tried to move to give some relief but couldn't as his body stretch thin. The shoulder re dislocated which only gave temporary relief but they continued now, stretching beyond their limits. His screams filling the room in agonizing pain.  Flick forward Damien laying on top of his bed. A good moment. He saw the face of Alona, a Yong woman of Native American lineage maybe the age of sixteen. “Here Damien hold this...” She had to force it into his hands. A tiny Lily she had formed from a simple seed in her hand but seconds ago. “You will feel better soon. Alona was the caretaker of their special project group able to grow plant life from a simple seed even in the harshest of conditions. She was also able to transfer it’s life energy to another person granting them accelerated healing “Rest Damien you will feel better.” Darkness claimed him.  Flick again to the final part of the dream, He knew it was only days after his torture. He had been so weak he lost every fight without question, had been left to starve and be in solitary confinement for doing so. Till now He sat on the chest of a boy only a few years old than him maybe fourteen. He had forced him unconscious.  As Damien sat victorious of the boys chest from near feral display of aggression desperately wanting to eat. There was a tap on the glass as Viktors voice came over a loudspeaker. “Finish the job.” Causing Damien to look confused. “Today he is your most dangerous enemy, and why give him another chance to kill others when end a threat it is no longer a problem.” Damien looked to some of the others around noticing all the young kids around their age had been already shuffled out of the room leaving only nearly adults. “So, him how it’s done.”One of the older men moved to hover over Damien and the young boy grabbing his hands and placed them around the kid's throat telling him to squeeze with all he had and to not let go till Viktor says so. Damien looked bewildered at the concept he didn't want to kill this kid he was a fellow potential agent. Why do this? “Damien you are disappoint...” He did not finish the sentence as Damien squeezed the boy's neck with all his little might. Feeling him gasp and struggle in his unconsciousness, until conscious and he began to struggle but to weak battered and already low on Oxygen this struggle was over before it begun it only made the scar deeper in Damien’s mentality.  Damien acted on fear and instinct, fear of going back into a box and starving to death. Feral in his motivation and actions. Long before being able to drive, or kiss a girl. Go to prom or learn to shave. Damien had committed murder. It would not be the last. Not the last of that year or even a month. They say you never forget your first. Damien remembered the face but not the name. To many more bodies buried onto of it to bother recalling that. A total of six year spent there going through these events and more. The four years following that first kill Damien was no longer that bright eyes little boy. They had taken that from him now they had a prized murderer who would never disappoint Viktor again, well till the accident that led to his escape.  Drenched in sweat he shot up from the bed breathing heavy Steel-blue eyes darting around the room spotting things in his room purposefully to trigger his mind to realize he was not in fact back in that place...no longer a child even though going back there made him feel like it all over again.

1) Cleaning - Bowie is really quick to clean up any messes in her home, or a mess she causes in someone else’s home. She doesn’t like mess. If she causes a mess she can’t just leave it until later or let someone else clean her mess up.   2) White Noise - Bowie falls asleep to the sounds of her white noise machine every night. She has become so accustomed to it. If she travels she has an app on her phone that she uses.   3) Cuisine - Bowie loves cooking Italian cuisine, it’s the type of food she cooks the most. If you are coming over for dinner chances are you are getting something Italian.   4) Early Bird - Bowie wakes up early everyday, and never sleeps in. She loves getting up and getting things done. She feels accomplished when she has a few tasks done before work.   5) Fruity and Floral - Bowie loves fruity and floral scents. All her shampoos, conditioners, body washes and perfumes are all fruity or floral scented.

1. Red: Rowena really loves the colour red and will wear any shade of red any chance she gets. It’s her colour, she loves it, and nothing will change that.   2. Bad Sleep: Rowena is a bad sleeper, she never sleeps straight through. She always wakes up at least three times during the night.   3. Promptness: Rowena hates being late so always ensures she is early for everything. If she knows it’s a long journey or it’s going to be busy on the road, she plans ahead and leaves earlier.   4. Makeup: Rowena does her makeup every single day. She feels good when she has makeup on. She doesn’t always go full glam, in fact ‘no makeup makeup’ is her go too makeup look.   5. Odd Socks: Rowena can never wear odd socks. She always puts her socks into balls so she always has a matching pair, and never wears mismatched socks. She doesn’t understand how anyone could wear odd socks.

  Picking up his drink he took a sip, as he looked out at the view of his balcony, as he looked acorss the road, there was a park full of kids and their familys, little girls sitting on their mums knees, the boys playing football with their dads, a little girl had fallen over, and a dad had gone over and kiss her knee to make sure that it got better. He smiled at the view at first but then this feeling hit him. The realisation that no matter how much he wanted to. No matter how much he tried he would never get that, he would never have those memorys of his past his childhood, it was just like a big dark hole in his soul. Then he got to thinking how hard it must be for his own parents,. Not only did they lose their edlest son when he died in the car accident. But they had to live with the fact that their youngest son didnt actually know who they were. How hard that must be to come to terms with, It had been a while since Roman had seen either of them, he had decided that maybe for fathers day, he should send them a letter. As he picked up his pen and he began to think about what to write-      Dear dad and mum    I was going write this as a fathers day letter, but then i realised that both of you needed to hear from me so think this as a miss you letter. I'm sitting on the balcony of my flat and its a sunday as i look at the familys all enjoying the day, it dawned on me how hard it must be for you guys. Because not only did you have to live with losing Tyler you also lost me .. well the me you used to know. When i woke up from the coma it was a really hard time. Because i didnt reconise you guys, and i didnt know who you were. i had everyone everyday throwing all these memories at me, memoris from someone who didnt feel like me. At the same time i was struggling to learn how to talk and walk again, and it was hard really hard.        But i never saw it from your point of view. i never realised at the time how hard it was for you, and in my days of being on my own i have learned to reflext on the past few years. Try to understand life a little more, understand the world and family more. i have realised that the acident didnt just affect me or  Tyler it affected everyone knew our family, eveyone that was a part of our world. I'm sorry i never taken all that in to account.      Because the truth is you knew me but you didnt really know the new me, after the accident, i didnt really know me either, i'm not sure i ever will but i am trying. You helped me, you helped me without question, when i had troubles learning how to say my words and i stutterd you knew what i was trying to say, when i tried to learn how to walk again, and i was on the ground in tears at least once a day, you were there to hold me and give me strengh i needed to get stronger. When i knew i needed to get away and find my place in the world .. You were there again, giving me the help i needed. Even though it must have seen hard for you letting me go again. None of this went un noticed and i am who i am because of you.    So i guess what i'm saying is it doesnt matter that i might be a few hundread miles away from you, the fact that Tyler isnt with us anymore, the love is still there, his love is still there with you and my love for you is stil there, and im proud that you are my parents and i love you.   Roman.    Once he wrote the letter, he stood up and got a stamp, making his way outside to the mail box that was on the street, with his faithful dog next to him, he heard the dog bark and could hear a little giggle from a chilld-    "who are you seding that letter to?"   a little voice said, as Roman looked down at the little boy he smiled at him as he softy said- "To my parents" cheeking the time of when the mail box would get delivered. "Tell our parents i love them and i miss them i miss you Ro" -the next words took him off guard as he turned back to the little kid- "what did you just say .. "   But it was to late the little boy had vanished and all that was left was a white feather, from where the little boy had been standing. Roman picked up the feather, as he looked at his dog and smiled-    "you see Meg we really are family no matter how far apart we are" 

Luciana comes from a family full of hatred who are the mafia. although she hates her family for all the murders they committed, she knows that her life would also be in danger to other criminals or people who come from another mafia family. She was innocent from it all, but of course nobody would ever see it like that. Because of the family she comes from her life would always be in danger no matter what. Of course because shes old enough she decided to leave her family, friends and life and everything she achieved behind and start a new life in a new country. A few years later, she's now living inworking as a professional business woman, and time to time as a pole dancer. That was very discreet to her because she knew she couldn't trust anyone especially with criminals or who come from the mafia. She takes every precaution making sure that shes safe. Shes hoping one day to meet the love of her life who would protect her from everything and everyone that tried to hurt her.. However she knew that her father would find out no matter what and would want to protect anyone from her father or anyone he was associated with because of her. but she'd never reveal her true identity because she doesn't want to scare anyone off or because she doesn't want her family or put herself in danger. But truth be told the truth comes out one way or another. She intends to return to italy one day to reunite with her old friends but not with the family that destroyed childhood. Knowing her father knows everyone she knew eventually he would end up finding her and dragging her back home ,for now her life was perfect.

I will make this as simple as I can. Read these rules and follow them.  If you have an issue with that feel free to leave. I consider these common manners.1: I am an adult. I am above 18. I would like those I rp with to be above 18 as well. If there are any young characters then no adult content will be allowed.  Just will not happen. I would prefer that characters are over 18 as well. I will not argue thtis point.2: All subjects in TWD are mature themes. Andrew Lincoln may be the face claim but Rick here will be showing you every part of the TWD world. That goes for storylines, violence, language and sex if it happens.  I write these things with detail. If you have a problem with detail about beheadings, sexual moments or a whole lot of language then find someone else. I won't be judged for the way I write.3: Multi Para.  I do it.  Every great once in a while ill kick out a novella but I would ask people put time and effort into their writing. If you have problems with length of replies then just take a little extra time to come up with it. Better to take time to make a diamond then shovel sh*t. 4: Rick is a survivor.   He is not a perfect person nor will he ever be.  I write him with faults because that is the human condition. I want to see him portrayed accurately.5: OOC drama has no place in roleplay.  Keep it at the door. It is not needed. This space is to set our problems outside. No need for drama queens or OOC a**holes.6: Rick is a protective man. He will stand up for his friends and family. Don't make me bring out season 5 Rick...I think everyone knows the red machete.  The blood covered face in the middle Alexandria..The axe wielding killer.  Respect one another out of storylines and you will see me calm.7:Sign the rules.  I need to know that we can work together with this. I would find these are reasonable.  If you feel you need to pull the splintered branch out of your ass, go ahead and do that before we talk.  Answer me one question and then we can get going on a storyline.  It also helps to keep things organized.   So answer me this. Who is Rick's face claim?

Suguru Geto was born in Shimotsuki Village in the East Blue. He learned how to defend himself at the Isshin Dojo. He left the dojo when he discovered his skills with curses and his gifts as a sorcerer.He is 10 years older than Zoro of the Straw Hat Pirates who came from the same village.He is not related to Zoro or Kuina. He was simply born in the same place ten years earlier. 

When they saw her walking on the streets,They saw oppression, dehumanization, and inequality.Whilst they oppressed her with their visionShe wore her cape of grace, her drapes of black chiffonWhich also covered her facefree from all the judgment regarding beauty and idealsthe world was threatened by her walkAlthough her posture was humbleShe still walked with queen like graceFor she was super women and her Abaya was her capeHer Niqaab was her shield form the worlds disgraceAnd her Hijab was the crown she wore with all her graceAnd she was a true womanA woman oppressed not by her faithBut by society's obligationsShe IS a woman empowered,Empowered by her faith.

I OWE YOUname - r/s - datename - r/s- datename - r/s - dateYOU OWE MEname - r/s - datename - r/s - datename - r/s - dateUPDATE: 06.16.2024

the dance chronicles     August 12th, 1997 dear journal,   where was this fleetwood mac our entire careers before tonight? had we spent so many years hooked on one vice or another that it affected our performance? i mean, don't get me wrong, we've had a LOT of good shows over the years, but tonight? whether it was because we were all sober because it had been so long since we had been a full band in front of a crowd who wanted to see us, a mixture of both, or something different altogether, tonight was something i haven't experienced with the band for lord only knows how long.and, even at the height of the performance, at the height of the high, I was riding while being on stage again. being on stage sober, once again surviving what should've killed me, my eyes could never peel away from him. the way i saw him on the side and my mind flashed back to our one night stand a few weeks ago when it was tasked onto me to convince him even to do this special -- at least i convinced him? i don't know, things feel so different, both personally within me, but within the band, with him and i. for the first time in what seems like a lifetime, we're all on the same page. we all want to rewrite what we wrote in fleetwood mac's history book years ago.we wanted to show the world - and more importantly ourselves - that the sober us. the us free from all the liquor and drugs - could perform as well as we could back then. and honestly? i think we do it better.however, me agreeing to a whole tour after the show tonight might've jumped the gun a bit just because i don't know where linds and i stand. i don't know where we are privately, and i don't want that to leak onto the stage publically, we've done so much of that back in the 80s. and now? things are different. he stayed in rehab with me, yet all we did was f*** and fight. but during these rehearsals and this evening i remember why i fell in love with him to start with. and us being on tour together is going to make it difficult to rewrite my life without him so heavily involved, because the truth is i really can't stay away from him. there's something about him has drove me utterly insane since we were teenagers, and tonight it was as if it was like we were back in the moments of fritz, the moments where the love for the music and each other were so intertwined in the way that made beautiful moments on stage and off.but, i knew the band couldn't do it if i disagreed and i couldn't do that to them. not after tonight. not after even christine said that she was exacted to do something with the band again. i just know that lindsey and i being together, especially with both of us being single, will make things rather interesting...and i'm not sure in what way it will be yet.. can't back out now, can i? just gotta make sure the one night a few weeks ago was the only night, because out of every bad habit I've ever had, lindsey buckingham is the only one I've never been able to fully break.stevie.

Summary: A look at Etain as she grapples with what's expected of her versus what she believes and what she's discovered is truly important to her.   Notes: For May the 4th!   I wish Republic Commando had fleshed out Darman and Etain's relationship a lot more, particularly in the early stages, so I wrote this to look at what Etain's thought process and concerns might be as she pursues a relationship with Darman.     Etain paused on her way up the ladder, one foot hovering in the empty space below the next rung. She could feel it even before she saw him, before she heard his voice—an eddy of quiet excitement, of anticipation swirling somewhere just out of sight.       “Ma’am?”       She peered past the rungs to see Darman rounding the corner. In black Katarn he looked the same as any other member of Omega squad, but she knew it was him. There was his impression in the force, unique like the bends and contours of ruffled fabric, and the sense that she’d come home no matter what place lay beneath her feet.        “There’s another systems test set to start soon,” Darman said as he walked up to the base of the ladder. “They’ll be cycling the ship’s grav generators—it’ll be easier if you’re already wherever you need to be before they shut off the gravity.”       Etain cast a quick glance aside, smiling at a cluster of pipes snaking over the bulkhead without really looking at them.       “You know what, Darman?”       He grasped the ladder’s siderails, rocking forwards a little to pull himself into the ladder, tilting his chin up to look at her. It was a small motion, not requiring much—Etain was only a few rungs high, and with his height, there was maybe a head or two of vertical space separating them.       “I—” Etain paused, and then words were out of her mouth before she’d even known she’d wanted to say them.       “Sometimes I feel like I’m already right where I need to be.” She swallowed, fighting off the sudden urge to mess with the plaits of her braid.       She felt it somehow as Darman curled his fingers tighter around the durasteel. She couldn’t see past his helmet, but she didn’t need to in order to know that his lips too had curled into a smile, mirroring the one that had spread over her face.       “Three points of contact on a ladder, ma’am…” Darman said, voice lower than she’d expected it to be.       She blinked as his gloved hand enveloped hers. One of her hands had apparently migrated to her braid anyway despite her intentions, and now Darman was guiding her fingers away from a loose whorl of hair and gently pressing her palm into the siderail.       A squeeze, then his hand fell away.         “And you need to be at… the ship’s laundry facilities?” Darman asked after a beat, sounding positive. “If you need a new robe or undershirt, the droids can take care of that for you.”       He gestured to a code painted on a nearby door. Etain knew it had some kind of navigational significance, but the sequence of numbers and letters might as well have been randomly chosen for all they told her about her location onboard—just what did ‘Q’ have to do with laundry?       “Oh—” she looked around as though expecting to see a mouse droid zoom past at any moment. “It’s all droids down there then?”   “Yes—well, mostly. But that’s eh…” He bounced on his heels a couple times, moving in slow motion. “Fi’s probably the one who should brief you on that story,” he said, voice carrying a hint of the conspiratorial.       He nudged her elbow, eliciting a bit of a grin back.       “We all rotate laundry duty back at the temple,” Etain said. “It’s one of those basic chores we all participate in to keep things running, where everyone contributes.”       Or at least that’s how it had mostly been before the war, before she’d stepped into a muddy river on the run from Mid Rim-thugs and mercenaries, blinked, and had found herself thrust into a position where even her most casual words held the force of law over millions of men she hadn’t even known existed. It had been such a shock that she hadn’t even felt it, maybe hadn’t even processed it.       Maybe she finally had when, at some intangible point, she’d gone from seeing something very much unearned in Darman’s unshakeable confidence in her to finding it a well of assurance and strength for something much bigger than herself.          “I guess I assumed it’d be the same here,” Etain continued with a shrug. “That the crew would take care of laundry together, but…” She shook her head and gave Darman a wan smile, a little amused that she’d ever thought that.       He shifted in place, reflexively rubbing his shoulder.       “Can’t imagine Chief Lazetti washing my skivvies, that’s for sure.”       Chief Lazetti had been attached to the Omega-Delta joint commando team on their last op, and had interpreted ‘attached’ to mean that he could practically stick an RC designator in front of his name. There were other reasons too that Etain didn’t think much of him, and she figured it was just as well that he’d never appear on the same mess deck where Darman and the others ate, eliminating the possibility that they’d be subjected to him during meals (without ever receiving hazard pay for it too, as Fi might say.)       That was another thing she didn’t understand, why there were separate dining areas for different members of the crew. It would never have crossed the mind of someone like Masters Fulier or Zey that padawans, knights, and Jedi masters should all eat separately, and if you’d suggested to Niner that he should do the same because he was a sergeant while the rest of Omega were privates? He might even be disgusted enough to curse.         Etain pushed aside the confusion she had about some aspects of her new life, banishing it along with unwelcome thoughts about Lazetti.       “But no,” she said, “I wasn’t actually trying to come down here for washing machines. I’m trying to get back to my quarters, but the hallway—passageway—I always go through got blocked off for maintenance.”       She sighed and slid down the ladder, one hand coming down over Darman’s where he still held the siderail.       “I knew we were due for some upgrades once we docked over Bilbringi, but I didn’t expect the Falconer to turn into a construction zone so quickly,” Etain said, almost as an aside.       Darman twisted his hand around to cup hers, and she threaded her fingers through his. He liked touch, even the brief instances, like he wanted as much as possible to make up for the years he hadn’t known to miss it. Little things like that mattered for Etain too, especially when what she felt for Darman meant she didn’t feel much like a Jedi, let alone a bastion of detached, military decision-making like one of the Council generals with big sector commands to oversee.       Of course, feeling like part of you would always be at odds with something didn’t mean you were suddenly divorced from it.       Etain dug her fingers into the fabric of Darman’s glove and stepped closer to him, as close as she could with the ladder in the way. For a moment she imaged it wasn’t there, that she could stand on her toes, pop his helmet seal, and reach up just enough to—       The little things mattered.       She pulled away from his hand and stood back. Someone might look down the ladderwell, might come around the corner.       Etain smoothed out her robes that didn’t need any smoothing while Darman reoriented himself in the passageway—a little farther back now, but still facing her.         “You’ll have the ship’s layout down in no time, ma’am. Pretty soon you won’t even have to think about it,” Darman said with that nod of his, like whatever statement he’d just made was indisputable as the existence of gravity.       “I’m sure I would if I weren’t leaving at 0500 tomorrow,” she said, smiling sadly.       There’d been a request from Clone Intelligence. She wouldn’t even know the details until tomorrow morning, but it was enough to know that neither Darman nor any part of Omega were coming with her.       “In that case, I could show you a shortcut,” Darman offered. “For what it’s worth, you were already headed in the right direction for the officers’ quarters… if you decide you’d like being back there better than…being where you need to be.”       The unmoving, steady glow of his T-visor gave the impression that he was somehow holding her in place with his gaze.       He gestured to the ladder.       “You first, General.”       Once they’d both ascended, Darman led her on a route through a maintenance corridor and some kind of repair facility. A few clones and a Zabrak crewmember occupied the space, bodies half stuck inside what Etain thought was a disassembled LAAT. They acknowledged her as was practical, luckily not seeming to mind that she and Darman were skirting through their shop.       Darman led her down another passage, stopping once they arrived at a familiar line painted on the durasteel beneath their feet: a yellow strip of paint separating the officer’s quarters from the rest of the ship.       Etain stepped over the line and turned back to Darman on the other side, crossing her arms.       “I’m not sure if maneuvering around chunks of engines and ducking under bundles of cables really counts as a shortcut, Dar.”       “Every second counts, Sarge says,” he replied, clasping his hands behind his back pushing his chest out. “And Kal says it too, and they’re right. I figure I just saved you about… 30 of those seconds, Eti’ka.”       Her cheeks felt a little warmer and she instinctively checked for patterns in the force, though she already knew nobody was around to have heard that. Even if all the Mando’a you knew was di’kut and shabuir, the tone and timbre of Darman’s voice was translation enough for anyone.         A trio of electronic, gong-like sounds played over the ship-wide comm, and a steady clone voice began making an announcement.       Etain stared down at yellow paint in front of her, only passively listening to what the man was saying about the systems trial.       If those three sounds had gone off to signal combat and things went as south as south goes, there was a very real chance that something could happen, that she and Darman would never see each other again. There could be an accident or an ambush a month from now. Maybe a week. Maybe even tomorrow.       In her training, Etain had been taught a lot about love and compassion, about respect and service… She’d internalized a lot about those too, formed thoughts she couldn’t articulate into words, grappled with feelings that tugged her feet from the traditionalist path of her Jedi lineage. She could spend her life thinking about all that, doing good work in the Med Corps or Diplomatic Corps or wherever else, but right now there were millions of men like Darman with artificially severed lives, purchased in the Jedi name and raised like they were never deserving of the same love, compassion, and respect she’d always been told—always known—were due to all people.       For a moment she felt sick, her stomach twisted in knots.       A thrum spread throughout the entire ship as the gravity shut off. Darman’s boots locked flush with the deck with a hiss, and the sound drew her eyes back up to his figure all armored in black.       Millions of men like that, but only one Darman.       The voice was still coming over the comm, and she stood staring at Darman while the clone announced that the direction of travel aboard was forward and—       Up.       Etain pushed up, boots leaving the deck as zero gravity carried her over the yellow line. Warmth bloomed across her chest as Darman caught her, pulling her close with his hands cinched around her waist. Sliding her hands over to his neck, she popped his helmet seal and, breath hitched, tipped his helmet up.

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

I spy with my little eye ACCEPTANCE.I spy with my little eye a BARBECUE stand.I spy with my little eye rainbow COOKIES.I spy with my little eye DRAG QUEENS.I spy with my little eye ENTHUSIASM.I spy with my little eye FUNNEL cake.I spy with my little eye GLITTER.I spy with my little eye feeling HEAT from the sun.I spy with my little eye feeling INSPIRED.I spy with my little eye feeling filled with JOY.I spy with my little eye KISSES being shared.I spy with my little eye LEOTARDS.I spy with my little eye MEN kissing.I spy with my little eye NACHOS.I spy with my little eye feeling OPTIMISTIC about a good day.I spy with my little eye feeling PROUD to be an ally. I spy with my little eye QUOTES to inspire.I spy with my little eye RUM punch.I spy with my little eye SHADEY Queens.I spy with my little eye TACOS.I spy with my little eye feeling UNAFRAID.I spy with my little eye feeling VIVACIOUS.I spy with my little eye feeling WARM.I spy with my little eye feeling XENIAL.I spy with my little eye YELLING crowds looking happy..I spy with my little eye ZUMBA dancers.