#also conflicted between making the crack black or orange

[starwaffle345]

think im gonna give aven a massive crack in xyr abdomen for all my crossover au designs since all of them r gonna take place post-canon

[invinciblerodent]

These days I kind of can't stop thinking about how much I enjoyed the possibility of being from Orzammar in Origins, specifically because just being who you are put so much of the early game in a wholly different context.

Like, a dwarf from Orzammar has, by definition, lived literally under a rock their whole lives!! They've never left the underground, and yes, while that also makes their ignorance of surface squabbles (the mage issue, the Ferelden/Orlais conflict, everything with the city elves and the Dalish, etc.) make a lot of sense, it also comes with so many interesting new angles that I'm honestly so surprised still that I've never really seen it mentioned very often, if at all. (Even though we even get an explicit moment to reflect on it, when leaving with Oghren.)

In Origins, the moment a dwarf first steps out through the gates of Orzammar and begins the game, is a profoundly life-altering experience. Dare I say, even more so than it is for an elf or a human. Because stepping out, for the first time, they are entering an entirely new world, and for the first time, in front of them is a vast expanse of nothing but air.

The end of the prologue, it's not just a fundamental personal change that awaits you, it's also a displacement so complete, that it's absolutely dizzying to even think about.

That first time a dwarf feels the sun on their skin, they are made sun-touched, a surfacer: stripped not only from caste and kin, of identity, but also faith and memory, any favor their ancestors may have still held for them, and any possibility of ever returning, as far as they know. (Aeducan may even have a bitter little chuckle over the irony of how they could very well have just one day before shrugged off the concerns of their surface brethren completely, only to be made one of them now.)

Their whole lives, they had always been able to see the opposite wall of the cave, or at least to know for sure that it's there, along with the miles and miles of unchanging, crystal-littered rock stretching protectively over their heads-- now all of that is gone. There's nothing between them, and the infinite and ever-changing blue, grey, orange, black of the open sky they've never seen, and in the distance, there's no wall-- just glorious, humongous mounds and spires of rock jutting up into the belly of the sky, the likes of which they've only ever seen from the inside.

Orzammar, despite no sunlight ever penetrating that far, is always lit bright, and it's heated by the lava streams and pools below. A dwarf has never known anything colder or warmer, brighter or darker, never seen seasons change... the biting winds and the frequent rains in Ferelden are completely new to them, not to mention the terrifying cracks of thunder that sound like the very Stone over them cracking in two, the bright flashes of lightning illuminating the night for but a moment, or waking in the middle of the night to what sounds like countless fingers pat-pat-patting the tarp of their tent, or the fact that animals -which are varied and plentiful and wholly alien- sometimes just randomly fall into the sky, like the rumors say! They might know academically that with birds, that just sort of tends to happen, but they've never seen one take off!!

Hell, all of surface flora and fauna are completely new to them-- it's likely they've only ever seen a tree or a dog in a picture book. Flowers, they've likely only ever seen as an expensive and frivolous luxury few can afford to have for a while, and even then, they are by necessity brought in removed from their roots, dead, wilting, taken from their natural place... while here, blooms just spring up underfoot willy-nilly, not entirely unlike mushrooms at the home which is not theirs anymore.

And... there must be something organic, something comfortingly animal to the scent of hundreds of warm bodies crammed into a sealed hole in the ground-- which is just gone now. The air is fresh, clean... empty, cold, lonely. No smell of spilled ale, piss, and vomit, no thick scent of the combined breaths and bodies of all their people... no scent of belonging, the air that moves their lungs now is no longer that which has moved those of all they've ever known, and every breath washes more, and more, and more of who they once were from inside their very body.

Being on the surface, it's like being thrust into an alien world, with which all just expects you to be intimately familiar. What do you mean the grass, the bugs, the birds, the leaves are strange? What do you mean you've never eaten leaves from this plant, fruit from this tree, the flesh of this creature you've only ever heard about? They laugh when you avert your eyes from the sky and try not to think about falling into it, or when you startle at the feeling of falling water suddenly hitting your skin, as if that was somehow funny, charming.

The night, which you've never before seen fall, is a comfort from all that endless, boundless seeing- but after the Joining, not even that is a relief.

Because if you're a dwarven Warden, all the dreams you've had in your life have been nightmares.

So you cope. You learn, and adapt, and endure.

Strong and immutable, like the Stone from which you were rent.

[hopeful-puffin]

Headcannons

I realized it's been a little while since I last posted. So here are some headcannons I have pertaining to Siren (or sharks in general) to fill the gap while we wait for the first physical book to be released.

SHARKS IN GENERAL:

• All the male sharks share one brain cell. And the further you are from the castle, the less likely you are to have a turn. Meaning Siren’s gone months without and Shoal holds the current record. All the women have their own brain cells though, so there's no competition between them.

• It's not uncommon for sharks to lose a tooth at random. They're immediately replaced, it rarely hurts, and usually just pop out on their own. Some require a little bit of wiggling to get loose. It's not uncommon to go through a whole set over the course of a year.

• Speaking of teeth, yawning is a full affair. Like the bottom jaw looks like it's unhinged and all the teeth stick out and doesn't make a sound. Thinking like when a cat yawns.

SIREN:

• Dude can actually sing. But only does quietly when he thinks no one is around. His voice cracks painfully if he discovers someone else is listening.

• His singing is an eerie, almost haunting voice. Sometimes it doesn't even have actual words as he hums through castle corridors.

• Stopped when Skiff caught him as a teen. Skiff’s been trying to encourage Siren to keep doing it, but he's too embarrassed.

• Tries again when he's on his own. Realizes he misses it. Kappa catches him once and is completely mesmerized. Now he's trying to get Siren to do it again too.

• On that note, Siren has zero dance moves.

• Siren can really only belly laugh with Kappa. He can smile or chuckle around others, but Kappa’s the only one who can make him bust a gut.

• Dude, is this thing edible? Siren doesn't know. And he's naive enough to find out if asked. This is not at all helped by shark's being known to swallow anything they can fit in their mouth. Kappa, please save him.

• Favorite place to be is his head on Kappa's lap. Being belly-up like that is considered highly vulnerable for sharks.

• Sick of the colors blue, black, and silver as they were the only ones in the castle. Siren can't say he really has a favorite since leaving either. Probably orange or yellow due to high contrast? But he's conflicted after learning Kappa doesn't like his own scales

• Sometimes his scars itch like there is no tomorrow. Particularly the one across his back. Thankfully, Kappa's got him covered. It does require some serious digging though due to how tough shark skin is. So it's a bit of a workout for Kappa.

• Incredibly hard-headed. You'd think he'd have a concussion or two by now with how many times Siren bangs his head throughout the comic.

• Has no concept of what "delicious" means. The shark curse makes hunting a life-or-death decision, so the sharks have settled for taking what they can get whenever they can. It's to the point nobody really cares as long as it's edible. Having enough to eat is a luxury. As such, Siren only eats out of necessity, not pleasure or company. He has no opinions regarding what the group eats as he has no favorites. He's also content letting the rest of the group eat before he has a share since sharks can go weeks without eating.

• Painfully aware of the direction of the shark castle at all times. Will often zone out and stare off in that direction. It's like a tether of his own pulling him that direction yet it has no physical power over him. This is even after his heart is replaced as it's his blood pulling him back to the castle.

[taexual]

i’d love you to stay but that’s simply insane // JJK (21)

   jungkook is an uncontrollable lead vocalist of the campus band, and you’re a goal-oriented top student that’s known his rich and complicated family since childhood. you don’t want anything to do with each other, until each other is exactly what you want to do.

pairing: jeon jungkook x reader

genre: college au

warnings: angst but it’s for a good cause

words: 7.7k

   chapter twenty-one

The next week was, as expected, full of frustrating epiphanies each time you checked your phone and realized you had no business waiting for anyone’s call or text. Not to mention, Inna’s hopeful eyes followed you whenever you were in the same room as her; she was eagerly awaiting the moment you and Jungkook would make up.

You hadn’t heard a word from him since the last party and his family hadn’t reached out to you, either. You couldn’t help but wonder how the dinner on Sunday had gone, and what excuse Jungkook used to explain your absence – he’d have to come up with a good one because you didn’t think the chances of you two talking again were very high.

In fact, you thought they were non-existent. He’d walked away from you for the second time in just one lifetime – you didn’t think it was supposed to be you who had to take the initiative and get to the bottom of things. And Jungkook would, most likely, have too much pride to offer an explanation.

So, no, you didn’t think you’d hear from him again soon. Not in the next seven years, at least.

However, life had a funny way of throwing your expectations out of the window – as you came to learn as soon as you left your final class the next Wednesday afternoon, five days after you’d last seen Jungkook, and spotted his mother looking at you expectantly from the end of the hall.

She waved at you as soon as you caught her eye and, walking over to her, you weren’t sure what to expect – her face was the perfect mask of polite indifference, so you couldn’t guess if she was here because something terrible had happened to Jungkook, or because she was getting remarried and wanted you to be her bridesmaid.

“You look lovely, dear,” was the first thing she told you when you approached her. That was enough for you to understand that she wasn’t going to be entirely honest today – she never was – because she was here in a designer two-piece, while you were wearing a—stained from an unsuccessful attempt at lunch—gray hoodie and your favorite sweatpants. “Do you have a moment to spare?”

“Sure,” you nodded after giving her a mandatory hug hello. “Would you like to get coffee? There’s a café across the quad.”

“Oh, of course,” she nodded, allowing you to exit the building first. “I’d love that.”

The two of you crossed the campus quadrangle towards the café next to the library and neither of you said a word. You’d hoped Jungkook’s mother would offer an explanation why she was here instead of making you ask her outright – that felt impolite – but that seemed less and less likely with each silent step that you took.

“You can choose a table, I’ll go place the order,” you said once you’d reached the café, “what would you like?”

“Just black coffee, no sugar, please,” she replied and then looked around the place, smiling pleasantly at every weary-eyed student that turned to look when they saw this lady with a very expensive aura come inside. “I think it’d be nice to sit by the window, hmm?”

You gave her a nod of approval and went over to order, choosing to wait by the coffee machine so you could brace yourself for what was coming when you’d join her at your table later.

Once you finally sat down opposite Jungkook’s mother, your caramel macchiato had turned from pale orange to plain white from how much your hands were shaking. His mother thanked you and, leaning forward to purposelessly stir her coffee with a spoon, she cleared her throat.

“Something happened,” she said simply. “Am I wrong?”

You didn’t want to misunderstand her. “What do you mean?”

“Between you and Jungkook,” she clarified. “He said you were busy when he was over for dinner but I could tell that wasn’t it. He looked different.”

You looked away from her to think. You were glad that Jungkook hadn’t missed the dinner even despite you not being there with him. That was a mature decision, you were almost proud of him for it.

“I… I don’t really know what to tell you, to be honest,” you said, watching your coffee and wondering why you even bought it. You didn’t feel like drinking anything. “We got into an argument after his concert last weekend, and we hadn’t talked since.”

She nodded knowingly, without the slightest change in her expression. As if this was a normal thing that she’d expected to happen sooner or later anyway. And, because she was prepared for it, she also knew just how to proceed.

“I’m not supposed to pick sides because, I suppose, I would be biased,” she started to say, giving you a warm smile as she clutched her cup in both hands, “but I have a feeling that you weren’t the one that started the argument. Am I right?”

Inhaling deeply as you shrugged your shoulders, you replied with, “actually, that’s hard to say,” and then you took a long gulp of your coffee, ignoring the burning of your throat as the hot – and unwanted – liquid struggled to make its way down.

Jungkook’s mother watched you drink in silence. She knew you were doing it only because you weren’t comfortable admitting to her that her son had never learned how to handle conflict – and who else was there to blame for that, if not his parents?

Sighing, she finally confessed, “I told myself I wouldn’t mention this to either of you because, well, it’s really none of my business, but I was backstage before Jungkook’s last concert.”

You turned to her. Noticing the confusion in your eyes, she explained, “his father and I came back to the venue early and I had to use the restroom. One of his bandmates showed me where to find the nearest one and, as I was on my way, I saw the two of you.”

Thinking what moment in particular she could have seen, you unconsciously squeezed the porcelain cup in your hands so tightly, the china almost started to crack under your fingertips. Even worse, as soon as you realized what she was getting at, you let go of the cup so quickly, it nearly tumbled off the table, splashing the contents around.

“Oh,” you said, more alarmed by the fact that his mother had seen you force him into a cold shower, than by the fact that your sweatpants were now stained with the caramel from your drink. “I was just—”

“You kicked some sense into him,” she finished for you, nonchalantly handing you a napkin, “in a way that I’d never seen anyone do before. And,” she chuckled in a good-natured way that did not conceal the admiration in her voice, “I’m his mother.”

“That’s…” you stopped yourself, choosing to wait until the warmth on your face receded and you felt less flustered. “You don’t give yourself enough credit,” you said, still not looking at her as you wiped the table, “kids aren’t easy to raise and Jungkook was a-a... a different sort of challenge. You did your best and he loves you for it.”

She was the one who was forced to look away from you this time.

“I thought I was doing my best,” she said. “I… I know it can be hard to understand, but I’d always had his best interest at heart. His and yours. You two were like two pieces of the same set when you were young.”

She smiled despite herself, but when you dared to lift your eyes to meet hers, there was a tear glistening on her face, slowly descending down her cheek. You didn’t know if it was caused by the memory or by something else that she hadn’t said yet.

“It’s…” she tried but couldn’t find the words, “I feel—ah. I don’t know how to tell you this without making you hate me. It’s my fault that you and Jungkook were apart from each other for so long.”

She struggled to keep talking and you struggled to find a way to tell her that you already knew that.

Admittedly, it wouldn’t have been hard to reach out a hand and touch her shoulder, tell her that Jungkook had already told you about this. But, by doing so, you’d have to admit that everything was fine. That you didn’t hold a grudge. That you’d moved on.

And part of it was true – you didn’t hold a grudge. But it wasn’t fine. And you hadn’t moved on.

So, you stayed quiet, letting her continue.

“I thought it was for the best,” she said, “you two, being apart, I mean. I thought it could save you both from the damage your close relationship could do to your futures. But,” shaking her head to herself, she scoffed, “that wasn’t what happened at all, was it?”

“Hmm,” you shook your head slightly, “no, it wasn’t. There was always this gap—t-this empty space in my life. It was kind of like losing a tooth. You can get it replaced, get an implant, but it’s not the same. Even if the hole isn’t there anymore, you’re still missing a tooth.”

Another tear cascaded down her face as she listened to you, only daring to nod her head when you glanced at her – which was once, right before you finished speaking.

She noticed how you didn’t question her or asked her to elaborate; you understood what she was saying.

And she understood that you had already known about this.

“You blossomed,” she said, smiling even though there were tears in her eyes, “but Jungkook never recovered. He needed you. Probably more than you needed him.”

“No. That can’t be,” you disagreed instantly. “I—I need him, too.”

Noticing the present tense, Jungkook’s mother smiled. “Then don’t be apart from each other anymore. You’re not meant to be.”

That was simple. So simple, that it got you to smile in this ironically sad way. But because this could have been one of the last times you’d ever see her – since your future with Jungkook, despite how much you said you needed him, was very unclear – you chose not to mention it.

Instead, you figured now was as good of a time as any to come clean about the real status of your relationship with her son.

“You know…” you started, “when we first came to your house, we weren’t—we weren’t really together. We were just—”

“I know,” she said and, just when you were about to continue, she finished, “that you think so.”

“I—sorry?”

“You think you came for dinner, pretending to be dating so it would leave a good impression on his father,” she explained.

It felt ridiculous to hear her say it when she wasn’t supposed to know about it. Apparently, both of you knew a lot more than you let on.

“T-that’s… yeah. That’s what we did.”

She shook her head. “No, it isn’t. Not really. You came for dinner together.”

“Well, yes, but—”

“Sweetheart, no,” she took your hand into hers. “You’d been together from the moment you first talked to each other after all those years. And, every day following that, you were more and more together.”

Feeling the warmth from her hands wash off to yours, you asked in a hushed tone, “why do you say that?”

“Because I’d watched you grow up,” she said, a smile on her otherwise clouded face. “I know you love each other in a different way than most people. You don’t have to go on dates and get to know each other before you get attached and form a connection. You don’t have to spend months with each other to fall in love. It’s already happened. Maybe it happened even before you were born. Maybe it was written in the stars, so to speak.”

She laughed as she said that last part and—because you’d been watching her with such intensity, you didn’t blink once—you felt yourself smile in response.

Then, you asked, “do you really believe that?”

“Ah,” she leaned back in her chair, exhaling. She did seem like the sort of person who believed in the happily-ever-after and she didn’t mind this image. But, because this was nor the place, nor the time for acting, she chose to be honest with you and admitted, “normally, no. But with you two? Yes. Absolutely.”

And that meant a lot more than anything else she’d ever told you when she was busy trying to maintain the look of an untroubled, completely satisfied member of a rich family.

She was human now. And she was rooting for you – she’d always been, even if she didn’t always choose the best ways to express that.

“Do you know what he did during our last dinner?” his mother asked after a moment.

Thinking she was about to tell you that Jungkook knocked his father out, you were afraid for her to continue.

“He renounced his position as the heir to the company,” she said and you saw her tears stop, a smile spreading on her lips instead – like she was proud of him. “I’ve never seen him so determined before. I don’t think his father has, either. I… I think he’s been expecting it, though. Jungkook never expressed much interest in the family business, not unless it meant pleasing his father.”

You were shocked she’d noticed Jungkook’s eagerness to be a good son to his father, but perhaps you shouldn’t have been – she was his mother. She knew him best.

Funnily enough, she thought the exact same thing about you.

“He wants to talk to you,” she said after a while, her hand still holding yours as steam ceased to rise from your cups, the drinks inside of them gradually growing colder.

“Did he tell you that?” you asked, surprised.

“No, but that’s obvious. He’s been antsy throughout our dinner on Sunday,” she spoke, “almost like that gap you’d mentioned before was especially prominent when he was supposed to be with his family, but one member just wasn’t there.”

You felt a quick spark of honor in your chest – they still considered you to be a part of their family – but you lowered your eyes, hoping to hide it.

“What bothers me the most,” you admitted slowly, “is that his method of solving arguments is so unconventional, I can never guess what he’s going to do.”

“What do you want him to do?”

“I want him to—I…” you couldn’t finish.

You didn’t want much, you just wanted to be able to admit to yourself that every time you’d been angry at him since last Friday night, was all pretend. All because you were supposed to be angry. But, the truth was, you weren’t; you were just hurt. And what you wanted most of all was to see him.

“I want to talk to him,” you said. “Because if he’s thinking of spending another seven years not talking to me, then he better give me a direct warning, so that I can tell him I won’t do this again. I won’t go through—if he doesn’t want to be with me, I’m not going to wait for almost a decade for him to change his mind.”

“That was never the case,” his mother said. “He always wanted to be with you even when he wasn’t supposed to.”

“See, but he keeps making these decisions,” you said, “these wrong decisions. He seems like he’s learned to tell right from wrong in all of these years, and yet he still—”

“He’s trying, though, isn’t he?” she interrupted you. “He fails a lot, but he always gets back up and tries again. I love him with all of my heart, but I hated to see some of the situations he’s gotten himself into over the years. He’d had to make a lot of choices for his future and he made a lot of wrong ones. I used to think that, maybe, the only right decision he’d made, was choosing to give you some space to grow seven years ago—”

“No,” you stated immediately, your voice firm and unwavering for the first time today. “The only right decision he made was talking to me again after seven years.”

His mother’s eyes watched the expression on your face change from hopeless defeat to assured confidence, and she finally let go of your hand, but not before you saw the hairs on her skin stand up as she shivered.  

“You’re right,” she spoke, her voice in awe over how quickly you defended Jungkook even though, at the end of the day, you and her both knew you needed that space. You needed some time away from him.

She had come here with the intention of getting you to give her son another chance – because, God knew, Jungkook was taking his sweet time asking for it himself – but she could see now that her visit was largely pointless.

She didn’t need to ask you to fight for your relationship with Jungkook – you’d been fighting for it from day one.

“Talk to him, okay?” she asked, even though she knew this wasn’t going to be the end of your story. It couldn’t be. “As his mother, I even give you the permission to kick his ass if he won’t reach out to you first.”

You snickered at this and then looked at her as you spoke, “I’ve really missed having conversations like these with you. Not about Jungkook—I meant, over coffee, when it’s just us two.”

“I’ve missed that, too,” she replied, responding to your warm words by allowing an uncharacteristically big smile to appear on her face, “but we’ll have plenty of those in the future,” she added, “because we just got you back and we’re not letting you go.”

The next day, you were almost afraid to run into Jungkook because a conversation with him seemed inevitable, and you didn’t think you were ready for it.

The universe – that is, your class schedule – cared little whether you were prepared or not, however.

As soon as you were done with your last class of the day, you cautiously turned your head to Jungkook’s usual spot—across the auditorium from you—and found him already watching you.

The two of you eyed each other in an almost formal way – the way you would look at your professor as you approached her to inquire about a paper that was due – and then you both got up, packed your things, and, exchanging a yet another meaningful look, you both headed for the exit of the building, every single movement of your bodies completely in sync even though you hadn’t spoken a word to each other.

There was a mute agreement between you and him: you haven’t seen each other since the party last week, but now that you have, you simply had to talk again. Those were the rules for people like you – people who’d spent nearly a decade avoiding all conversation with each other, and had promised they would never go through that again.

You figured the first thing you’d say to each other after last week would be “sorry” but, as it turned out, your first words were your coffee orders as the two of you had automatically left the building to head to the campus café.

“I know my mom came to see you,” Jungkook broke the uncomfortable silence when you found an empty table at the back of the café. “Sorry if… she made you uncomfortable. I didn’t ask her to come, I swear.”

He didn’t start to speak because he had a lot to say. He started because, even though you came here with him naturally, without a single word, he knew you hadn’t come here just for a cup of coffee. You’d come to hear his explanation, his excuse, and, eventually and most importantly, his apology.

“I know,” you said even though you didn’t. It made sense for Jungkook not to ask for anyone’s help, though. “It’s okay.”

“But I’m glad she came,” he revealed, “because now I have an excuse to tell you that I, uh… I fucked up.”

Resisting a relieved sigh – because you’d been worried that resolving this argument would require the sort of maturity that neither of you had, but Jungkook was surprisingly determined to solve it the same way you solved all of your fights: by turning half of it into a joke – you sat opposite him and shrugged.

“Not the first time,” you said.

Scoffing, Jungkook agreed, “yeah. Definitely not. But I, uh… you haven’t done anything wrong. I was pissed at—I was pissed off and I let my frustrations out on you. And that’s not fair.”

You nodded, agreeing with the way he’d interpreted your last conversation.

“Well,” you said then, “that’s probably not the first time, either.”

He raised an eyebrow at your comment, a flash of concern appearing in his eyes before he clicked his tongue and said under his breath, “alright, open and honest. That’s good. I deserve that.”

You didn’t reply this time. You didn’t encourage him to keep going, either, but he took your silence as a sign that he’d obviously not said enough to make up for his words that night.

“I was wrong,” Jungkook said and paused. He couldn’t believe he’d spent every night the past week, trying to think of a way to say this to you, when it was literally all so simple. “I asked you to leave because I genuinely believed you’d be better without me, but I—I’ve never felt more afraid than when I saw you turn around and walk away. I thought it’d be for the best, but the thought of never seeing you again was terrifying. That sounds selfish now that I’ve said it, but I’m not saying it because I’m scared to lose you, even though I am. I’m saying this because I’m sorry.”

You’d forgotten how to blink as you watched him, and you thought you’d misheard him when he apologized. That was something that was understandable – a person did something they regretted, and they apologized for it – but Jungkook was never one who behaved in conventional ways.

And yet, he continued, “I’ve been caged my whole life, always blamed for the things I did that did not fit the person that I was supposed to be.”

Contrary to the conversation with Jungkook’s mother that you’ve had in this exact same spot, now you couldn’t seem to tear your eyes off of him as he spoke. Jungkook, meanwhile, scratched his temple with a nervous finger and proceeded to count the wooden tiles on the floor.

“But you’re not like them,” he was saying, not specifying who ‘they’ were because he didn’t have to, “no one’s ever given me the sort of freedom that you did. You’re the only one that allowed me to think about what I wanted. You’re the one who told me to act on it. As long as I didn’t self-destruct along the way, of course.”

He tried to lighten the mood, smiling as he said that last part, but your face remained stoic and, for a moment, Jungkook worried you hadn’t heard him. Or, worse – you had heard him, but he wasn’t saying the right things.

In all truth, that was precisely the case – you thought he was giving you too much credit. He’d blamed you for taking control of his life that night at the bar, and now he was thanking you for it.

You didn’t think you deserved the blame or the gratitude: you never wanted him to do whatever you commanded him to do. You just wanted him to stop making decisions that would lead him to an early grave.

“You…” he continued, more tentative now, “you’ve put up with me for so long and I was overwhelmed by the fact that there’s no one like you in my life. So, I guess, for a moment, you didn’t feel real to me, either, because how could you be? A-and so, I ended up blaming you for the things that I should have never blamed you for.”

You nodded, acknowledging it all, even the sleepless nights that he hadn’t told you about – he didn’t have to; the dark circles under his eyes said more than enough. You’d recognized them with ease because you’d seen them in your own mirror every morning this week.

And then you spoke, returning to the one point of your last argument that he hadn’t brought up.

The one point that may have angered you more than anything else he’d said that night.

“I didn’t agree to help you with your parents because of the company,” you said.

“I know,” he said.

Jungkook seemed to remember almost every part of that night – although, blissfully, he’d forgotten what he’d done after you’d left; there were bruises on his knuckles and his face to show for it, though – and you couldn’t decide if that was better or worse.

If he didn’t remember what happened, that could have been a sign that he was wasted out of his mind and that was why he’d said what he’d said. But that was a very poor excuse, considering that a drunken tongue often voiced out sober thoughts.

At least now you didn’t have to remind him of his own words – that would have made this conversation far less calm. But, at the same time, the fact that he could remember arguing with you, meant that he was sober enough to get himself in control back there. But he hadn’t. Instead, he’d allowed his instincts to take the wheel: he’d won against the alcohol, but lost against his own impulses.

Taking a deep breath, you thought now was your only chance to explain your reasons for being with him because you weren’t sure how this coffee date was going to play out just yet. And if this was the last time you’d see him, he deserved to know the whole truth.

“I agreed to help you,” you said, “because you asked me to.”

Nodding before you properly finished, he said, “I know—”

“But also,” you cut him off, your voice growing louder and then falling into an almost hushed tone as you said, “because I couldn’t say no to you. Not when you were desperate to get me to say yes. I—I had been in love with you for a lot longer than—than either of us realized, probably. And, maybe, I’d also wanted to know what it’d be like to be with you.”

Admitting that you wanted to play a relationship with him felt childish, and you couldn’t lift your eyes to meet his. But, even so, it also felt relieving.

You’d said it.

You’d admitted it to yourself and to him. You’d chosen to strip down to your vulnerability, and that was difficult and bold, but it also freed you from being the only person in the world who knew this.

“And,” Jungkook exhaled shakily, “what was it like?”

You felt your lips curl into a hesitant half-smile. “Not too terrible, surprisingly.”

He laughed with his whole chest and you found yourself leaning back a little, so you could take in the sight in front of you.

A beat passed as Jungkook recovered, a small smile still on his face. Then, you dared to speak again.

“I’m sorry I always tried to take care of you,” you spoke, each word calculated. You had already thought about telling him this, so you knew you chose your words right; you just weren’t sure what sort of reception awaited you.

Jungkook gave you a long look, his eyes accepting your apology while, simultaneously, trying to tell you that it wasn’t necessary.

“I’m sorry I always asked you to,” he countered, “and then demanded that you don’t.”

You smiled. “I’m sorry I’m starting to think you need to see a therapist.”

“Yeah,” he snickered, nodding, “don’t be sorry about that one. I…” he lowered his eyes before saying, “I’m sorry I accused you of controlling me when I’m the one who never lets you make your own decisions.”

Your eyebrows did a little dance, rising in surprise at first – because he’d said something you weren’t expecting – and then lowering into a frown – after you’d digested his words and came to the conclusion that you didn’t like the way they tasted.

“No, that’s—I can stand up for myself if I have to,” you said, defending both, yourself, and him, too.

“You can,” he didn’t disagree, sighing, “really well, too. No matter how much I try to stand in your way,” he paused for a minute. Then, he said, “I can’t. Stand up for myself, I mean. I think I can, but unless I’m hitting someone in the face, I—but I’m trying. Only, I’m not doing a very good job at it, clearly.”

He stopped talking even though he’d inhaled as if he had something else left to say. You watched him, waiting and slowly realizing that he had either forgotten what he was about to say, or he thought there was no point to say it.

Neither was the case. He just needed some time to gather the words.

When he spoke again, his voice was quieter, “I need you. A lot. And I’m sorry about that, too. I’m sorry I rely on you so much.”

You looked away, shaking your head, “you don’t.”

“No, I do,” he disagreed. “I always go back to you. I need you in my life and then I push you away, I’m—”

“That’s what I mean,” you cut him off, your voice more frantic than before. “You don’t rely on me. You want to, but you’re holding yourself back. I’m here for you. I was always here for you.”

The sound of his rapid heartbeat deafened him for a moment and he wasn’t sure if he really spoke, or if he just thought about it, as he tried to ask, “even though I don’t deserve it?”

“You—well, sometimes, you really don’t,” you admitted, not sugarcoating it because the expression on his face needed you to be truthful. “But, at the same time, I couldn’t think of any other person who would need someone to rely on more than you do.”

Now the beating of his heart wasn’t just deafening – it was painful, too, each beat like a sharp stab that did not merely scratch the surface of every organ inside of him, but seemed to suck all oxygen out of his lungs, too.

“I don’t deserve you,” he said, “and I know it would be better for me to leave. But I—well, I can’t. I… I think that maybe—uh, maybe I picked that fight with you at the bar just so you’d walk away from me.”

His hypothetical reasoning hurt almost as much as actually walking away from him did.

“What makes you think I can walk away from you?” you asked, sounding brave but only because you hid your face behind your coffee cup as you took a sip.

“You know you can,” he replied.

Lowering the cup, you phrased yourself differently, “what makes you think I would want to?”

His blood pulsed with a desperate need to hear you say that again – a dozen more times, at least – but Jungkook tried, for once, to remain rational.

He’d gone too far that night at the bar, but it gave him the opportunity to get the closure you didn’t get when you talked to him that night in your bedroom, moving past the Seven Year Silence as if it didn’t matter anymore. As if you didn’t need to talk about that ever again, even though the lost years lingered behind you like a forgotten tail that you kept tripping over each time you took your relationship a step further.

“I’m bad,” Jungkook spoke. “I’m bad for you.”

He’d said it – and that was it. He’d stepped on the tail. Purposefully this time, with scissors in hand. Only he didn’t yet know what he’d end up cutting – the past that he couldn’t seem to move on from, or himself, out of your life.

“You’re—you’re annoying as shit. Impossible sometimes, even,” you said, remembering how irritated he’d made you feel at times. And how little it mattered, at the end of the day. “But you’re not bad for me. You’re not bad, period.”

Jungkook exhaled and opened his mouth as if he wanted to argue with you further, but didn’t know how.

In the end, he didn’t think he deserved you because he thought he was too far gone, but, as you watched him, you knew that that was exactly the reason why he did deserve you. Because he only saw his flaws – always only flaws – and he refused to consider how much more of him there was.

“I never meant to hurt you. Ever,” he said, “not even when I said those stupid things—it’s all because I’m—fuck, it all just sounds like an excuse, doesn’t it? An excuse to make me feel better about staying with you despite being bad for—”

“It might sound like an excuse,” you interrupted gently, “but it’s the one part that isn’t. You’re not bad if you didn’t mean to be. You’re not bad if you’re trying to be better.”

He thought it over for a minute and then, looking up from his abandoned cup of coffee, he gave you one final excuse, “I love you. Too much, probably.”

Inhaling sharply because the confession took you off-guard, you replied with a slight tremble in your voice, “I—I love you, too. You know I do. But I don’t want that to be something that… something that you take for granted.”

That had never been his intention – which was why his stomach clenched uncomfortably after you said this – but he knew he’d been doing exactly that: treating you like you were a constant in his life. As if he’d never lost you before. As if he couldn’t lose you again.

“I know,” he said, “I didn’t mean to. We’ve already been—”

Reading his mind, you cut in, “thank you for not waiting for seven years to apologize this time.”

Jungkook had to give you a good look before he allowed himself to react. When he saw the small grin on your lips right before you took another sip of your coffee, he laughed.

“No, I’ve learnt that lesson,” he said, “I promise.”

“Just that one, then?” you bit, not cruelly.

Jungkook lowered his eyes, taking the blow in silence.

Putting your cup of coffee down, you exhaled and kindly reminded him, “you know, you, uh—you’d promised me you would think before you acted.”

“I promised to try,” he corrected, careful. “And I’m trying, really. I’ve kept my other promises to you, haven’t I? I never lied to you.”

You nodded, “sure.”

“I’m getting myself together like my father wanted,” he stated and, looking out the window of the café, he added, “but I’m not doing it for the company.”

Surprised and, consequently, alarmed, you almost didn’t want to ask him what he meant. You were afraid there was a reason – a person – that he was trying to grow up for. You were afraid he might say he was doing this for you.

Because that would mean that his determination was temporary. He’d try to behave, try to mature, try to grow but only as long as he got a reward for it. Never because that was his own goal.

“No?” you questioned lamely, your voice almost a squeal.

“No,” Jungkook confirmed, “I’m doing it so I wouldn’t lose my teeth before I’m fifty.”

Startled at first when you recognized your own words, you felt your face break into a surprised smile. Jungkook was glad you remembered.

“I’m doing it for myself,” he said then, “so I could be with you.”

You did not say anything else – but not because you had nothing left to say. In fact, it was the opposite – you had too much to say and you couldn’t choose where to start.

“I want to…” Jungkook broke the momentary silence between you but he too struggled to find the right way to begin his next sentence. Clearing his throat and straightening his posture, he tried differently, “I want you with me through everything, but only if that’s what you want, too. If it’s not, then—”

Cutting him off with an aggressive clear of your throat – you didn’t mean to, but he was spitting out his words so quickly, you couldn’t find the right moment to interrupt him – you slid to the edge of your seat and shook your head.

“I want to be with you,” you said and then added in a matter-of-fact way, “I’ve always wanted that. But I need you to talk to me. I need you to tell me what you need—do you need me to be with you quietly, or do you need me to say something? Do you need me to stay or do you need me to leave you alone? Do you—”

“Stay,” he said without hesitation. “I always need you to stay.”

Leave, his voice echoed in your mind, the night at the bar still painfully fresh in your memory.

“I need you to tell me that,” you said, feeling a lump in your throat, “when you feel like you’re not thinking clearly. When you want to do something so you’d get rid of all that you’ve bottled up inside. I need you to talk to me.”

“I—”

“Don’t say you will if you don’t mean it,” you warned, noticing the determined look on his face. “I don’t want for us to keep going back and forth, because I don’t like it when you tell me to leave, only to say the exact opposite later.”

Wincing, Jungkook was forced to remember how the night ended yet again. Not wanting it to turn into another tail that you never addressed, even though it obviously strained your relationship, he cleared his throat before explaining.

“I… I just don’t want you to feel like you’re wasting your time on me,” he said, “I—I know I keep saying I’ll try to get myself together and learn how to—well, be an adult, but no one knows how long that’ll take me to learn, least of all me.”

Jungkook expected you to hesitate but your response was immediate.

“I never asked you to promise me something that you didn’t believe in. And I know that our future isn’t clear,” you said with a sympathetic nod because he didn’t give you an excuse right now. He gave you an explanation. “I’ve always known that. And I’ve stayed so far, haven’t I? So… how about you don’t worry about how long it’ll take for you to grow up? Worry about the end result instead. Worry about making sure that, at the end of the day, neither of us is wasting our time, pretending to be bigger and better than we actually are. Worry about us becoming as big and as good as we’re pretending to be. However long that takes.”

“I feel like the only way to really make sure we’re not wasting our time,” he confessed, “would be for me to leave.”

Groaning in defeat, you said, “you’re an idiot.”

“Yeah?” Jungkook needed a moment to understand why, but he got distracted by your exaggerated groan, so he just went with it, “yeah, I probably am.”

“You tell me that walking away is the right choice one more time,” you threatened, “I swear, I will punch you. And then you’ll really need stitches.”

He’d forgotten about his wounded eyebrow and the band-aid that he’d clumsily glued on it yesterday – after he accidentally ripped the wound open and didn’t want the blood to get in his eye.

Smiling now, he asked, “I thought violence wasn’t the answer?”

“You’re too thick to hear me otherwise.”

Jungkook laughed. You realized that, despite knowing him for twenty-three years now, you haven’t seen him laugh nearly enough times to get used to the sight.

“I need you, too. Okay?” you found yourself saying, hopeful that he’d really hear you this time. “A lot. And, believe me, I make it complicated for myself enough without your help—I overthink, I get scared, I hesitate, I waste my own time. But, see, I think it’s worth it. I think we’re worth it.”

He nodded, taking mental notes to ease his uncertainty about this. He had to know that being with you really wasn’t selfish on his part.

But even with your glittering eyes on him, he still needed more reassurance.

“What do you need me to do?” he asked. “I know you said I need to talk to you, I-I get that. Okay. But what do you need me to do so you wouldn’t look back at this, and think of every minute you’ve spent with me as a minute wasted?”

You didn’t have to think long about your answer.

“I need you to give yourself a break,” you told him. “You’re not something I have to “put up with”. You’re not bad for me. I need you to understand that I genuinely love you and it hurts me when you refuse to see it.”

Ready to apologize again, Jungkook suddenly stopped himself. An apology would have only been genuine if he knew what he was apologizing for – and he wasn’t sure that he did.

“I’ve never… no one’s loved me like that before,” he admitted, his eyes low.

You shook your head because that wasn’t true at all, and it was painful to know that he’d spent his whole life thinking so. He’d gotten so used to believing that he was only loved as much as he was useful, he couldn’t even see how some love was completely unconditional.

“Yes, they have,” you said, speaking slowly because you waited for him to look at you again, “your mom—she loves you much more than you see. Let her. Let me. Learn how to stop thinking of yourself as someone not worthy of love.”

“It’s—but I wasn’t always this way,” he said, not just stepping on the tail, but gripping it tightly, too. “Seven years ago. I’d been putting myself first every day before that. But that day—that last day—t-that was probably the day when I’d made the only smart decision in my life – I did the right thing by not putting myself first. I thought of you, and I walked away.”

You and him kept going in circles -- with Jungkook beating himself up for not being good enough, and then finally giving himself a moment to breathe only to return, yet again, to the loudest voice in his head: he thought he was selfish for being with you. He thought it’d be better to leave.

His mother had thought so, too, and she’d said the exact same thing to you. You’d disagreed then and you disagreed now.

“And how’d that “smart decision” work out in the end?”

“Well—”

“It obviously didn’t,” you answered for him, “or we wouldn’t be having this conversation. But, you know what, you’re right about one thing – maybe the moment you overheard your mom say that she was worried about your influence on me, was exactly the moment you convinced yourself that you weren’t worth it. That you didn’t deserve to be loved unless you became exactly what you thought people wanted you to be,” you finished and Jungkook looked frozen, not daring—and not being able—to move a muscle. You felt the need to add, “so, you’re, uh—you’re right. You weren’t always this way. But this change—that wasn’t a good change. You hadn’t made a good decision. It was stupid. Walking away was stupid.”

It took him a minute to regain control of himself and when he did, he wasn’t sure what to say because, mentally, he was across the table, standing right behind you and holding you so tightly, neither of you was able to breathe.

“I was—” he said and almost choked, his mouth dry. Swallowing, he tried again, “I-I was trying to look out for you.”

“I understand your reasons,” you said, not needing him to explain it again. “Let’s say you were. But I’m not in the ninth grade anymore. You said so yourself, I can walk away. I know my limits.”

Jungkook nodded, keeping his respectful silence as he listened.

“You push them every day,” you added.

Blinking, he scrambled for a way to reply, “I—”

“And,” you weren’t done yet, “I let you know when you do. I tell you. And if you told me about what you were thinking, too, then we could work on it,” you paused, wondering if you’d said everything. Then, deciding that you hadn’t, you added, just to strengthen your point, “walking away is not the best solution. Not when it hurts more than staying.”

Jungkook feared what you would answer, but he still had to ask, “does staying with me hurt?”

Your skin prickled at the sound of his small voice.

“No,” you admitted.

“Does leaving?”

“Yes,” you said. “Always.”

Inhaling sharply, he longed to reach over the table and touch your hand, but he felt himself freeze again – as if this whole afternoon had been one dream, and he was now paralyzed: his mind awake, but his body still asleep.

“Come to my show this Friday night,” he finally asked, his breathing shallow while his words poured out of his mouth in an uncontrollable stream, “fight me and punch me if I’m wrong. Argue with me and completely shatter whatever was left of my ego after I fell in love with you. Leave me by myself if you’ve had too much. Walk away if you need some time to breathe while I learn how to be better. But always come back to me,” pausing because he needed one more moment to brace himself before saying this again, he asked, “stay with me, please.”

keep reading | masterlist

[tealquacks]

They Share a Kitchen: Chapter 2, Cross-i-ants

Originally posted here: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24317644/chapters/59916505#workskin

@alexalexisalexej

Remus watched Logan rush up the stairs, then looked at the recipe he’d summoned. Really, it was simple, but certainly time consuming! And what the fuck was laminated dough? Remus tilted his head, squinting. Oh, that took a lot of butter. Remus sat at the kitchen table, smiling at the recipe. He read it over and over again.

“Logan, you sly motherfucker,” he said to himself. A thirteen hour recipe, and that would fuck with everyone’s little rituals. That sort of chaos is something he could get behind. For a moment he considered barging into Logan’s room to grab the schedule, just so he could see who’d show up when.  

But for now, there was plenty of lamb and risotto to eat, warm and smelling delicious. Jan always came for breakfast about an hour after he was done, and he never cared about eating dinner for breakfast.

He heard the rustling of light footsteps. There he was now! Earlier than usual, but who cared? Remus smiled, grabbed two plates from the cupboards, and put a heaping of risotto and half of the lamb rack on each plate. Janus walked into the kitchen, yawned, and immediately walked over to the coffee maker. 

“Not even a good morning?” Remus asked, setting the plates down at the table. Janus rolled his eyes. It was fun to see Janus so disheveled, hat and cloak gone, replaced with an oversized shirt and a pair of sweatpants. He still wore the gloves, though. Come to think of it, Remus could remember every single time Janus had shown him his hands— there were five. One for each finger on each hand.

“Why don’t you take your gloves off?” Remus asked. Janus flicked him on the cheek before sitting down with a large cup of coffee. 

“Jesus, Remus, let me at least wake up.”

“But you are awake..?”

Janus snorted.

“Let me have a cup of coffee, Reem. The food looks delicious, though. This is lamb, correct?”

Remus nodded, summoning silverware for Janus and him, even though he knew Janus would only use the spoon.

“Tear a bit of the meat off and eat it before having the rest, I marinated it! I think it’ll be extra tasty. And it’s garlic! I know how much you love garlic.”

Janus rolled his eyes, but he did cut off a sliver of meat, delicately picking it up with his fork and setting it on his tongue. Remus clutched the edge of the table as he watched Janus chew, then swallow.

“It’s delicious,” Janus said with a smile, “the meat is cooked perfectly and the seasoning is exquisite.”

Remus slammed his hands on the table, then energetically flapped them about, smiling brighter than a million stars. He giggled and stomped his feet a little, taking a minute to calm down.

“You can have the rest now,” he said, still grinning. Janus nodded. As dignified as he could, he picked up the half rack of lamb in his gloved fingers. Remus watched silently as Janus’ jaw opened, then opened some more, unhinging wide enough for the half rack to slip into his mouth. Then, Janus swallowed, polished bones and all. Remus clapped, and Janus daintily patted his lips with a napkin.

“Pardon me,” Janus said. 

“You are certainly pardoned!” Remus chirped. He picked up his knife and fork, and cut into the lamb. The herbs smelled fantastic, and the knife slid through the meat so easily.

“Did you know that the Cleveland Torso Murderer dismembered his victims so badly only three of his thirteen victims were identified?” Remus rambled, mouth full, “Often the head would be missing! Or their dicks! His first victim was found chopped apart by a lake! With no head!”

Janus made a face, a spoonful of risotto right in front of his mouth. 

“The meat made you think of that, right?” 

“Cutting it,” Remus answered, “it was a doozy to make, and I’m sure as hell going to enjoy it. Oh! You won’t believe who I ran into last night!”

Janus looked at him nervously.

“Orange..?” He asked. Remus shook his head. Orange never visited the kitchen. He liked to stay out of sight. Occasionally he would pop in, but only if Remus made something with bok choy. Weird guy.

“Nope. Logan!” Remus crowed, “we had a lovely conversation and he recommended a recipe to me.”

Janus raised an eyebrow, reaching over the table with a gloved hand. Remus conjured the recipe and passed it to Janus. Janus squinted at the paper, then guffawed.

“Thirteen hours! You certainly can’t be serious. He certainly can’t be serious.”

“Oh, he is!” Remus exclaimed, “the reason he gave me the recipe and the reason he came to the kitchen in the first place was because turns out we all have little schedules. Like how we always go early so we don’t bump into Vergilius and Patton and Logan and my brother—“

“Let me stop you there.” Janus leaned back in his chair. He elegantly took a bite of risotto, then continued speaking. “We don’t eat early to avoid the others. We eat early because I like to wake up early. The self-proclaimed ‘light sides’ eat later than us because they loathe our company. Specifically: Virgil and Roman. And Patton simply doesn’t like to talk to you.”

Remus chortled. 

“Yeah, I know all that. So, tomorrow— this evening..? I don’t know, but I’m gonna make the cross-i-ants.”

Janus raised an eyebrow.

“What?”

“Cross-i-ants.”

“You know how to pronounce it,” Janus drawled. Remus smirked, slurping some lamb right off the bone. Then, he cracked it between his teeth and sucked out the marrow inside. Janus seemed unimpressed.

“Yeah, I do, but you know how I love being annoying!”

“Oh, I know you better than anyone, of course I know just what you love.”

Remus snapped his fingers. The lights dimmed, and a candle appeared on the table, bathing them in dim, romantic light.

“You do now?” He purred.

Janus pulled off his glove. He licked his thumb and pointer finger, and pinched the wick of the candle. It extinguished with a hiss.

“You love pissing everyone off.”

Remus leaned back into his seat.

“Yup. I’m gonna make the cross-i-aints, they’ll be ready at like, four o’clock pm tomorrow. I don’t remember, Logan did the math.”

Janus squinted at him as he delicately pulled his glove back on.

“Are you sure it’s a good idea..?” Janus said, “we don’t want to cause any conflict that could lead to Thomas’ mental health deteriorating more than it already has.”

Remus waved his hand nonchalantly, the lights flickering back to life.

“Fucking bullshit, it’ll be fine. I’m done with my plate, by the way, If you want the rest of my risotto.”

With that, he stood from the table and flopped onto his back, promptly sinking out and back to his half of the imagination.

—

Three am. Remus danced into the kitchen, wearing nothing but an incandescent yet slightly deranged smile on his face. His hair was all messy from tossing and turning in his sleep, dreaming of croissants and the messiness his presence in the kitchen would cause. With an energetic clap, he summoned the recipe. The dough would be easy enough to make— flour, butter, some yeast, milk, et cetera. He opened the fridge, and took out the milk. But even after getting the ingredients he needed, he left the fridge open. That’s how Logan saw him last night, by the light of the fridge.

So he kept the fridge open as he mixed the ingredients for the dough, bathed in the cold light. By the time he had to add the milk into the dough (slowly, the recipe said,) the kitchen had grown a little chilly. For a moment and only a moment Remus regretted not wearing any clothing. To warm himself up, he spun around, dancing a little before getting back to mixing all the milk into the dough. That was finished quickly. Then, he took the dough out of the bowl, and dunked his hands into the flour before kneading.

“What the fuck are you doing,” a voice snapped. Remus looked up, spotting Janus standing before him, hair messy and eyes squinting. He still wore the gloves. Did he wear them to bed?

“I’m making cross-i-ants, can’t you tell? And do you wear your gloves to bed or something?”

Janus crossed his hands behind his back.

“...No, I don’t. To be honest, I thought you were joking when you said you were planning on making croissants,” Janus said. Remus rolled his eyes, and kept on kneading.

“Look,” Remus responded, “I’m as curious as Logan is about this schedule thing, and I want to see what happens when it’s fucked with! It’ll be fun. And we get nice pastries!”

Janus raked his eyes up and down Remus’ body. He watched them move, somewhat uncaring.

“Is being nude part of this experiment?”

“No, I just felt like feeling free. Join me, be free.”

“Remus—“

Remus winked, then tilted his head curiously.

“Fuckin, snakes have two dicks. I’ve never seen your dick. Dicks?”

“You don’t need to see my genitalia.”

“Oh come on, Jannie,” Remus whined, “please? For me?”

Remus finished kneading the dough and strode over to Janus, waggling his eyebrows and shoulders suggestively. Janus scoffed, but the scoff sounded a little more like a laugh than a real angry scoff. 

“Only if you promise me two things—“

“One for each dick?”

“You’re pushing it,” Janus deadpanned. Then he walked over to the counter and leaned against it. 

“One,” Janus continued, “you cook me rabbit. You know how much I love rabbit. Secondly, put on some goddamn clothing. Please. You’ll catch a cold.”

“I’m not a human person, Jannie, I’ll be fine.”

“Do you want to see my genitalia or not.”

Remus snorted, then said “Just say dick, motherfucker. And yes I want to see your cock and balls and also your other dick.”

“Why are we friends.”

“Because you have nobody else! And I don’t either!”

“What about Logan?”

“Now that’s off topic,” Remus said. “But— Back to the topic at hand— I know just what to wear!”

Remus snapped his fingers, and he was suddenly donning a pastel pink apron that said “kiss the cook” in glittery black cursive. Remus conjured a green marker with a snap of his fingers, and started scribbling. When he pulled away from the apron, the word ‘kiss’ had been scratched out, and ‘FUCK’ had been written in its place. Janus sighed, since technically, Remus was wearing clothes. 

Janus yanked down his boxers, showing Remus what he wanted to see.

“Fuck me running, you do have two dicks! That’s impressive. How do you wear pants?”

“Like anyone else,” Janus drawled, looking away. Remus, however, intensely stared.

“Wait a damn minute,” he said after a minute, “is your dick— your dicks— bigger than mine?”

Remus pulled up his apron, and held his dick in his hand. He couldn’t really tell since Janus stood a few paces away from him, and because there were two. The human part of Janus’ face was bright red.

“We have the same body, I doubt—“

“What the fuck is going on?!?” Someone shouted. Remus whirled around, dick still out, and stared into the sleepy, raccoon-like eyes of Virgil.

“Whip out your dick, bitch, I’m making croissants!”

Virgil opened his mouth, then shut it. He turned on his heel, and walked away without another word, followed by Remus’ hysterical laughter.

—

Janus stayed a few hours, chatting idly with Remus as he mixed butter and put a bunch of things in the fridge to wait for a really long time. The recipe said four hours, but Remus decided to wait five, just to make sure the dough would be super good. 

After he took the dough out of the fridge, Patton, Virgil, and Logan strolled into the kitchen. Upon seeing the two of them, Patton gasped, Virgil groaned, and Logan nonchalantly walked over to the coffee maker. 

“Remus!” Patton squeaked. 

“Guilty as charged,” Remus said. He put the dough back into the fridge. He didn’t want to fuck up the recipe because of them.

“What the hell are you doing here?” Virgil growled, “besides… oh god, that wasn’t a nightmare, was it?”

“More like a sweet, sweet dream. But to answer your question! I’m making cross-i-ants!”

Virgil opened his mouth to say something that would probably be really rude, but Patton interrupted him.

“Sorry, what?”

“He’s making croissants,” Janus said, glaring at Logan, “from scratch.”

Logan sipped his coffee. Patton didn’t seem to notice Janus’ glare, instead looking quizzically at Remus.

“I didn’t know you knew how to cook,” he said, swallowing nervously. Remus chuckled.

“Oh, I’m just full of surprises, aren’t I?”

Virgil glared silently at him, but with enough heat to fry an egg real quick. Egg. Oh—

“Do you want a demonstration? I can make some breakfast for you all! Jannie and I haven’t eaten yet, so I can make some nice food just to prove my point! Crêpes, strawberries, maybe a bit of jam… Virgil, you can be my sous chef! What would go well with the crepes?”

“Something with protein,” Virgil answered, “like bacon. And some fruit. But I’m not helping you make it.” 

“Come on! Vergilius, Virgin, Virgie— it would be just like old times!”

Virgil hissed at him, then stormed off into the living room. Remus heard him flop down onto the couch, then turn the tv on. Logan looked at Remus, clearly curious. 

“Old times?” Logan questioned. Remus waved his hand.

“Well who do you think taught Virgil how to cook? Janus? He can’t cook to save his goddamn life!”

“I’m right here, you know,” Janus said.

“Am I wrong? You burn or overcook everything.”

Instead of answering, Janus grumbled and poured himself a cup of coffee. Remus opened the fridge, pulling out eggs and bacon. Crepes would be too hard to make while having conversation, and croissants were french enough. With a flick of the wrist he summoned a frying pan, and put it on the stove. Patton hadn't moved since the start of their conversation.

“Do you want to help?” Remus asked. Patton looked nervous to say the least, but awkwardly stepped into the kitchen. Remus shrugged, and cracked a few eggs into a bowl, quickly scrambling them. He put a bit of butter into the saucepan.

“You can start on the bacon,” Remus said. He passed the bacon and a frying pan to Patton. They stood awkwardly close to one another.

“How are the croissants treating you, Remus?” Logan asked. Remus smiled, watching the butter melt, then sizzle. He tilted the pan around, then poured in the egg. 

“Oh it’s going swimmingly! Like a fish, or a shark! Do you know lobsters have teeth in their stomachs? Imagine if humans had teeth in their stomachs and you chewed things after swallowing them! And your stomach growling was just the teeth at work?”

Patton cringed, slowly laying the strips of bacon into the pan. Remus smiled as Patton looked at Logan with his big brown eyes screaming ‘help me, oh god.’ The pan had started to heat up, and the bacon crackled while the eggs cooked. Remus mixed them slowly.

“How did the process of laminating the dough work?” Logan asked. 

“I just have to wrap butter with the dough. Pretty fuckin’ simple. I haven’t done it yet, but it’ll be easy. Even Jannie could do it!”

“What are you guys talking about?” Patton asked.

“I requested that Remus make croissants after, oh, bumping into him last night. The night before last?”

“Twenty four hours ago,” Janus answered, “and since you didn’t stick around— the lamb was delicious.”

Patton looked at the pan, then at Remus.

“Remus, kiddo, I uh, don’t mean to be rude—“

“You couldn’t offend me if you tried, puffball.”

“Uh. Right. What I wanted to ask is, um. How do you know how to cook?”

Remus cackled, smiling bright as he mixed the eggs. They were starting to cook a little bit, but he kept stirring slowly.

“How do Logan and Jannie know all about philosophy? How can they teach Thomas things while also existing as a part of them?”

Patton opened his mouth, then closed it. He shifted a little away from Remus.

“Well… I don’t know? Maybe it could be like, uh. Logan said you were a bunch of thoughts he was guilty about, like the bad imagination, so maybe since he used to feel guilty about not cooking, you got all those cooking skills! That could be how! Or— or from the Hello Fresh ad that Thomas did in your video!”

Logan walked over to the coffee machine, pouring himself another cup. 

“Do you want any cream or sugar, Logan?” Remus asked. Logan shook his head with a tight lipped smile.

“Remus’ existence is as a part of Thomas’ imagination,” Logan said, “I don’t see how cooking would be a part of that. And, him asking Virgil to cook with him like ‘old times’ implies that Remus knew how to cook before the video was published. In my very humble opinion, if anyone would know how to cook well, I think it would be Virgil and Janus, since they act as Thomas’ self preservation. So Remus knowing how to cook is a surprise.”

“Janus cannot fucking cook, I’ve said it once and I’ll say it a million times!” Remus said, “once he put wine in a bowl and said it was soup. And once he made a Bloody Mary and said that was a soup, too!”

Logan made a face as he sipped his coffee. Janus shrugged, leaning back in his chair.

“What’s the difference? I mean, a Bloody Mary has tomatoes.”

Remus giggled, and that was the final nail in the conversation’s coffin. They cooked in silence until the food was done. Patton made himself and Virgil a plate of food and scurried off into the living room, and Janus returned to his room since he’s already eaten. That left him and Logan in the kitchen together. Logan started to make himself a plate of eggs and bacon.

“I’m surprised that Virgil didn’t rip my throat out with his teeth upon seeing me. And I’m surprised Patton didn’t scurry away like a little bunny rabbit! I promised that I would make Jannie rabbit. Do you know Janus has two cocks?”

Logan blinked slowly. 

“No, that I did not. I’m also surprised that that encounter went as smoothly as it did, especially since, as you said, Virgil and Patton both dislike you.”

“Couldn’t’ve said it better myself, teach. I’m surprised Jan and Virgil didn’t get into a hissy fit. Ya know where they both hiss at one another? It used to happen all the time. Honestly it’s fun to watch as long as you have a bag of chips. Can I offer you something to drink?”

“Water, if you could.”

“Not orange juice? Or even another cup of coffee?”

Logan straightened his tie, looking awkward as ever.

“I’ve had enough coffee to wake me up for the day, any more would be excessive.”

“Why not indulge?”

“It’s not healthy.”

“Who said anything about being healthy? We are literally pigments of Thomas’ figmation—“

“—What?”

“Shut up. But we’re ligaments of Thomas’ dictation! We don’t have to worry about his health and wellness. That’s up to him to manage. We don’t have to care.”

Logan gnawed on his lower lip.

“I must be a good example for Thomas and the others,” he reasoned.

With a snap of the fingers, Remus summoned a glass of ice water with a lemon wedge on the rim and set it in front of Logan. He watched intensely as Logan picked the glass up, the ice quietly clicking against the glass. Logan sipped, eyes slipping shut. Remus rested his chin on his hand, staring at Logan with a dopey smile. The lemon smelled nice. 

He wanted to grab Logan and… something. The already blurry thoughts became already blurrier. Before him, Logan had his eyes shut. He was helpless. Truly. Like a wildebeest at the watering hole, ready to get snapped up in the jaws of a crocodile. Or held really close. Or torn apart. Or something. Remus picked up a piece of bacon with his bare hands, and ate it. He licked the grease off his fingers. 

“So, how do you think me being here will fuck up the chart?” Remus asked after a painfully long silence. He’d almost finished his plate. Logan straightened in his seat.

“Well. I doubt that Patton and Virgil will spend as much time as they do in the kitchen. Same with Roman. But we haven’t seen much of him.”

Remus snorted. God, his brother was such a fucking drama queen. 

“Roman gets his feelings hurt once and he gives you all the silent treatment and sulks about. My whole existence is an insult, he can fucking suck it up!” Remus crowed.

Logan raised his brows and blinked, lip twitching. 

“Sorry, what did you just say?” He heard Virgil growl. Remus looked away from Logan to see Virgil at the sink, washing his plate.

“I said, and I quote; ‘Roman gets his feelings hurt once and he gives you all the silent treatment and sulks about. My whole existence is an insult, he can fucking suck it up!’ And I’m not wrong.”

“Yes you are,” Virgil growled, “Roman has every right to feel the way he does since he doesn’t deserve to take any of yours or Janus’ shit.”

Remus rolled his eyes.

“God, don’t you realize that we’re literally the same person? I’m just the bits of Thomas that you’re scared of. Lower your hackles, pussycat. I’m just trying to make cross-i-aints.”

“It’s pronounced croissants!” Virgil snapped. Patton stood in the doorway of the kitchen. 

“Who’s to say?” Remus drawled.

“I’m to say!”

Remus giggled. 

“Oh come on, Virgil, I thought you hated Roman? Not as much  as I do, of course, nobody hates him as much as me—“

“That’s changed,” Virgil growled, “A lot has changed.”

“You know what hasn’t changed?” Remus asked, standing up. “I’m still Creativity. Imagination. Passion. Just like Roman. He has everything, and still acts like that isn’t enough for him because he’s a selfish motherfucker.” Remus paused. “Selfish. Shellfish. Speaking of shellfish— Did you know clams can’t see or hear? Like Helen Keller! But am I wrong? Am I? About Roman being selfish, I mean. I know I’m not wrong about the Helen Keller thing.”

Virgil glared at him. 

“Yes, you are. Roman was the one to choose to go to the wedding. See, Remus? You’re always wrong. You are evil and perverse, nothing but a fucking nuisance. So shut up before I make you shut up.” Virgil shifted, standing up straight. “I’m not scared of you anymore.”

Remus tilted his head, smiling. 

“What’re you gonna do, you two-eyed no-horn walking purple penis eater? Punch me? I’m a peppermint of Thomas’ amalgamation or whatever it’s called, a punch won’t do anything.”

Patton stepped into the space between Remus and Virgil, hands raised and an awkward smile plastered on his face.

“Look, I think we should take a few deep breaths, calm down… this has gone far enough. Okay?”

Remus looked in his eyes. Yup, he was scared. Remus grabbed one of Patton’s hands and licked it. Patton recoiled with a squeak, wiping his hand on his pants. 

“Why are you even here?” Virgil asked.

“You already asked that, dick-nips.”

“Come on, kiddo,” Patton whined at Virgil, “he just made us breakfast. We can talk about this. Sit down and have a nice conversation. It’ll be okay—“

A hand touched Remus’ shoulder. Remus flinched hard, turning to see Logan, staring at Virgil cooly.

“Need I remind you both that Remus is a part of Thomas? We all are. And we have to share the kitchen. We need to learn to exist together. Deep breaths, Virgil. He’s not here to hurt any of us. He can’t hurt any of us.”

Virgil took a deep, slow breath, staring at the floor.

“Clams, like Helen Keller, are technically immune to flash-bangs,” Remus proclaimed.

The kitchen went silent for a moment. Virgil rolled his eyes and threw open the fridge. He grabbed a jug of orange juice, and drank straight from the jug, much to Patton and Logan’s dismay. Remus smirked, and sat down at the kitchen table. Logan joined them, then Patton, who stared at Virgil. 

“What?” Virgil said. Patton gestured to an empty seat at the table. 

“He made us breakfast, and he… Logan’s right. He is a part of Thomas. Sit down, kiddo. Please? For me?”

Virgil huffed. He looked at the fridge, then at Patton, then at Remus, again.

“Fine.”

Virgil put more eggs and bacon on his plate, then sat at the table. Remus cracked his neck.

“Stress eating, Virge? I haven’t seen you do that since—“

“Since Thomas was ten, before that choir concert.”

“You made him eat until he got sick.” Remus recalled. Virgil sighed, a small smile creeping onto his face.

“Yeah, I remember. Poor kid. He didn’t go to school the next day since I convinced him he was horribly sick...” Virgil shook his head, then looked up at Remus. “Wait. That was before the split. You weren’t you back then, were you?”

Remus snorted, smiling at Virgil. Oh, he remembered being whole. All that power and control over the world around him, like a raging fire. He drummed his fingers on the table.

“It’s like, erm, a Jackalope,” he explained, “With the antlers and the whole bunny thing? Or, uh, you know what scratch that. It’s like putting a dog and a bunny in a wood chipper!”

Patton squeaked in horror, eyes wide.

“What does that have to do with anything?” Virgil asked sharply. His hands tightened on the edge of the table.

“Well,” Remus responded, “the meat of the dog and the bunny get all mixed up, and you could make, like, a sausage of it. But that doesn’t change the fact that it’s a mix of two meats. Two meats, one sausage. So yes, I was me back then, just… not separated.”

“That makes sense,” Patton said, “Like how Garnet is made of Sapphire and Ruby.”

“Incorrect,” Logan said, “a garnet is a gem made of—“

“I was talking about Steven Universe, Logan.”

“...oh.”

Virgil slowly let go of the table. 

“That makes sense. That you would remember, I mean.”

The table went silent again. Virgil ate a bit of his bacon.

“Remus,” Patton said. “When did you start cooking?”

Remus watched Virgil pick at his food for a minute. He could taste the awkwardness in the air. A perfect palate cleanser.

“Who, me?” He started. “Well after Roman and I broke apart and I got punted into Thomas’ subconscious, I started smashing shit. Left and right. I destroyed all of the imagination I had authority over, I broke every single plate and cup in the kitchen—“

“So that’s what happened! You broke it! And here I thought it was an earthquake!” Patton exclaimed. Remus glanced at him, and he sunk back into his seat.

“Anyways,” Remus continued, “I tried, once the anger faded, to give Thomas ideas. To have my creations be made, have an impact, out there in the real world. Every single fucking idea scared him. No matter how hard I pushed and pushed and… then the anger I had returned full-force. Jannie was the one to suggest I cook. I learned to make something new after destroying. Since cooking is truly destructive. It’s taking something that’s already okay and beating it into submission, heating until the flesh crackles and the fat melts into grease, it’s smashing berries and breaking bones, pulling skin and fur from meat. It… yeah. And that’s when I started cooking!”

Remus smiled brightly, but his smile was met by the other three… not smiling. Virgil looked down at his plate, focused on his bacon. Patton’s eyes were teary and big, but even then he leaned back in his seat, as if bracing to run. And Logan just stared at him, mouth opening and closing.

“What is it, teach? Octopus got your tongue?”

“It’s nothing,” Logan said, “just parched.”

He sipped his water. The table remained silent, none of them brave enough to break the silence Remus had made. Honestly, Remus couldn’t figure out what the big deal was. So what he’d destroyed everything in his path for a solid three years after being yanked apart from Roman? His anger had been nothing but righteous, and it hadn’t exactly faded. But he’d found his way to cope— by destroying things, and making mosaics out of the pieces left over. God, he sounded fucking pretentious.

Footsteps, slow and steady, came from down the hall. Remus perked up, excited to get Janus in on this conversation. He practically froze in his seat when he saw who really stood there. 

In the doorway of the kitchen stood Roman, in his boxers and a white robe. Remus stared right at him. Roman’s tired eyes went big when he saw him. Remus imagined he was quite the sight, what with the pink apron and all. Roman’s eyes flitted from person to person, growing wider and wider. Virgil and Patton stood. 

“Kiddo, it’s okay,” Patton soothed, “come here, please.”

Roman backed away, then ran out of the kitchen. Patton chased after him, but Virgil lingered at the table for a second.

“Fuck you and your fucking bacon,” he snarled. 

“You have a bit of grease on your face,” Remus said. Virgil flushed and wiped at his cheek before turning and leaving, chasing after Patton and Roman. Logan casually checked his watch.

“That’s strange,” he said, “it’s nine twenty-three. Roman usually comes into the kitchen at ten thirty. He was an hour and seven minutes early.”

Remus shrugged. He didn’t really fucking care.

“He doesn’t usually run away from me,” Remus said. Logan shrugged.

“He probably thought we had replaced him with you. But who am I to say? I don’t understand him on a good day.” Logan said.

Remus blinked. Logan sipped his water.

“You… really seem nonchalant.”

“It’s not my problem unless Thomas decides it is.”

Remus snapped his fingers as Logan sipped from his drink, watching him sputter as the water turned to white wine. 

“What—“

“You’re acting like a stone cold bitch,” Remus said, “and I know full damn well you care. Hell, I’d say you cared too much about everything. You care about Roman. Now go fucking act like it before I pull your tongue out through your teeth.”

Logan sipped the wine slowly.

“I don’t care. I don’t have feelings—“

“You literally cried in front of me last night. That bullshit won’t work on me. Now go.”

Logan opened his mouth to argue, but then shut it. He stood and left the kitchen.

Remus snapped his fingers. The wine in Logan’s glass turned back into water. He sighed and flung the refrigerator open, taking the dough out as well as the butter. He laid the rectangle of butter in the middle of the dough, then folded, folded again, following the steps of the recipe. Hopefully, the dough hadn’t been chilled too long. He folded it once, twice, then put it in the fridge again.

Thirty minutes to rest, then he had to fold again. He hoped he didn’t fuck it up.

—

Thirty minutes passed. Laminating the dough was a quick process. The next thing he knew, he was tucking it back into the fridge. Now it was ten o’ clock. An hour until Janus would come get a cup of tea and lunch. Janus always liked to make lunch himself, or at least try. Most of the time Remus made it for him and Janus paid him in a cup of tea. But an hour was such a long time to be alone! Remus did a handstand. His apron fell in his face. 

None of the others had come back to the kitchen after they ran after Roman. And he hadn’t talked to someone since they left. So to put it simply, Remus was horribly, horribly bored. For a moment he considered searing some rabbit to draw Janus out of his room. But Janus probably wouldn’t be able to tell it was rabbit by smell alone. Remus stood back up, staring at the stove. He’d been so bored that he’d cleaned, and all the leftover bacon and bacon grease were in the fridge. He’d eaten all the eggs.

Remus sighed. He’d paced the kitchen back and forth, too nervous about the dough to sink out and too bored to think of something to do other than pace. If only he had someone to talk to…

Suddenly, an idea hit him like a brick to the face. Remus flapped his hands about, then rushed to the fridge. He yanked it open and rifled through the fridge, pulling out some bok choy. He pulled out some leftover chicken stock and ginger. He grated the ginger into the stock, then started chopping up the bok choy. He didn’t really know if it would work— the dish or what he had planned — but he could hope. He set the bok choy in a frying pan with a dash of sesame oil, chopping up a bit of chicken and garlic to go with it.

The meat had started to cook when he heard someone deeply inhale behind him. Remus turned around, already knowing who would be there.

“Orange,” he crooned at the shadowy figure crouched on the table, “it’s always a pleasure to see you!”

Orange tilted his head. It was hard to look at him, since he liked to keep his appearance a mystery. At least Remus could assume they would probably look alike, since they were all regiments of Thomas’ fixation or whatever. Remus tilted his head the other way.

“You were the one that called me here,” Orange said.

“Called you here?”

“You know I love bok choy.”

Remus smiled at him, turning back to his pan.

“I’m making what I hope is going to be a nice, like, chicken soup? With some bok choy. I might add dumplings. I don’t know.”

Orange inhaled slowly. He exhaled right by Remus’ ear. Remus giggled at the sudden sensation.

“It needs more time to cook,” Remus chided. Orange hummed.

“Why do you still keep doing this? Cooking. Every day. You do not need to eat, nor do you need to drink.”

Remus cackled.

“You needn’t eat or drink either dumb fuck!” 

“Bok choy is an indulgence,” Orange replied. He appeared floating above the stove, his shifting face right in front of Remus’. 

“So is cooking. I just so happen to indulge a lot.”

“Why eat three meals like a real person? You don’t need it.”

Remus rolled his eyes.

“Plants don’t need to flower.”

Orange stared at him quizzically.

“Yes they do.”

“Fruit doesn’t need to be sweet.”

“It just so happens to taste sweet.”

“It’s a little prank of fate, my Tangerine Dream,” Remus said, thwacking Orange with his spatula, “fruit is sweet, plants have flowers, and I like to cook. It might not make sense, or it may. Humans enjoy the sweetness of fruit and the smell of flowers, and I do this solely because it’s what I love, which is a valid reason to do it.”

Orange suddenly was behind him, breathing down his neck.

“You do it to run from the emotions you hold. I can sense it inside of you. The hatred. The anger. The grief. Overpowering and strong.”

“Like ginger. Shit, I think I added too much.”

Remus dipped his hand into the boiling broth, and took a little sip. Oh, that tasted heavenly! He licked each finger clean of the golden soup, except for the middle finger. That he offered to Orange, turning around and sticking it up at him.

“Is it too strong?”

Orange picked a bit of bok choy out of the pan, and put it in his mouth. 

“I don’t give a shit.”

“Of course you don’t.”

Remus turned back to cooking. Orange definitely wasn’t the best conversational partner he could think of, that would probably be Janus or Logan, but he hated being alone and Orange’s presence was good enough. They were the only dark sides left, they might as well get along.

“So why cook?” Orange asked, “Not just for yourself, but for the others, too?”

“You remember what the Grimacing Grimace said?” Remus coughed, then spoke in his best Virgil impression. “‘Not every thought has to have some profound meaning’ or whatever he said. So I just did it.”

“...Grimacing Grimace?” Orange asked.

“Yeah, like the weird McDonald’s mascot thing.”

“No, I mean. Who were you referring to. I wasn’t there for that conversation.”

“I was quoting Virgil.”

“Virgil the philosopher, or Purple?”

“Purple.”

Orange nodded.

“But what is your motivation?” Orange asked.

Remus looked at him.

“Uh, bitch, I don’t have motivation on a good day. Nor does my brother. Maybe depression runs in the family—“

“I’m not talking about that!” Orange spat, “I’m asking you why you so suddenly decided to go play house with the others the moment Yellow got a seat at the table. What, are you scared that he’ll leave you too? Like Purple? Like Red?”

Remus added the bok choy and the chicken into the soup. He mixed it vigorously, eyes locked on the golden broth. It needed salt. That he’d add last. What it could really use was a grain or starch or something, something grounded. Wontons? No, he missed his opportunity to add that to the dish. Rice. Rice would go well with this. 

“I don’t know,” Remus said calmly, “am I scared?”

“Scared of what?”

Remus practically jumped out of his skin at the sound of Janus’ voice. Looking over, he could see Janus in the kitchen doorway, staring at him curiously.

“Scared of nothing!” Remus exclaimed. “Salutations my sweet-and-sour serpentine slanderer, what brings you to the kitchen?”

“Tea, of course, what else?” Janus asked. Smirking, he ruffled Remus’ hair as he walked past him. Remus turned his focus back on the soup as Janus grabbed his favorite mug from the cupboard, and filled it with water. Remus snapped his fingers, and the water spontaneously boiled, letting off a plume of steam before settling down.

“Lunch and conversation with your favorite person, that’s what else. Is that the right way to phrase that?”

“Oh Remus, when did I say you were my favorite person?”

“I just know I am,” Remus said with a smirk.

“I absolutely loathe you, and you make my life a living hell.”

Remus smiled.

“Oh, Jannie, I’m positively blushing!

Janus rolled his eyes, but his smile was bright. Remus stirred the soup a little more, then took some instant rice out of the cupboard. He poured some into a pot, added water, and summoned a plume of green flame. The water instantly boiled, and the rice cooked in a flash. It certainly gave Remus a face full of steam.

“What’s for lunch, Gordon Remus?”

“Asian-inspired chicken soup with rice.”

“Asian-inspired? How much of Asia? Asia is a very large place, Remus.”

“I don’t know what else to call it!” Remus exclaimed. He poured each of them a bowl of soup. “I fuckin, cooked the chicken and put it in the broth. There’s sesame oil and like, other shit.”

He set the soup on the table, one bowl for himself and one for Janus. Remus grabbed two plates from the cupboard, and gave them each a bit of the rice. Then, he sat, and dug in, eating with his hands. Janus, meanwhile, summoned a pair of chopsticks.

“So,” Janus said, elegantly sipping his soup.

“So?” Remus said, mouth stuffed with rice.

“How are the cross-i-ants?” Janus asked. Remus swallowed the rice, then squinted at Janus.

“They’re called croissants you stupid little bitch.”

Janus delicately plucked a piece of chicken from his soup, then threw it at Remus, who leaned back and effortlessly caught it in his mouth. The chair tipped backwards, and Remus slammed into the floor with a thud. 

“Are you okay?” Janus asked. 

Remus gave him a thumbs up from the floor, then righted the chair and sat.

“I’m very okay! And so are the Croissants! They’re chilling right now. I need to reread the recipe. But I think they’re gonna come out super well!”

“I’m happy you’re enjoying this so much,” Janus said. He sipped his soup, and then his tea.

Remus chugged a bit of his soup, choking on a piece of bok choy.

“Yeah, it’s nice. Messing with the light sides, making lots of food— it’s a good time. Can’t say I’ll do it every day, but it’s a nice change of pace!”

Janus nodded. He picked at his rice. Over the years, Remus had learned a good deal about snake-human hybrids, or whatever Janus was. Janus would have a big meal every day, usually breakfast, then nibble at everything else Remus made him. 

“Speaking of a change of pace,” Remus said, “why don’t you ever eat your food raw? Like a real snake?”

“It’s undignified. I doubt you’d care.”

“Nope! Not at all. Did you see Roman? I’m pretty sure he left the kitchen crying after breakfast!”

Remus giggled. Surprisingly, Janus didn’t seem very amused. Instead, he furrowed his brows.

“What?”

“Yeah,” Remus said, “he came into the kitchen at like 9:30 and saw me then fucked right off! As he should! Logan said it wasn’t in his schedule for him to be there that early— oh and I told Logan about my little idea and he said that if you took Patton’s place it would probably emotionally scar Thomas or whatever but I still think you’d do a much better job than that washed up slap-happy pappy.”

Janus blinked.

“Okay. One thing at a time. Uh. I’m not taking Patton’s place. While he is misguided, he’s trying his best. Everyone has their flaws.”

“He’s an earthworm,” Remus reasoned, “Squishy and crushable but also necessary.”

“Exactly!” Janus exclaimed. He rewarded Remus with a soft smile before continuing. “But all that aside, I think that Roman’s absence and his shock upon seeing you is my fault.”

“Because of the whole evil twin thing? Yeah, I know—“

“He probably thought you were taking his place.”

Remus barked out a laugh. 

“What?”

Janus nodded.

“His place. In their ‘famILY’ or whatever they call it.”

Remus picked up a fistful of rice, shoving it in his face before chugging down his broth.

“I don’t want a place in their fucking whatever. He can take their love and he can have it. They’re scared of me, they hate me. Even Virgil does.”

“Logan doesn’t.”

Remus grinned.

“No, he doesn’t. But I don’t want Roman’s place. Even if I could take it, I wouldn’t. How about you? If you could permanently take Patton’s place, get all the love and attention that he gets, or at least, like, get that in general, would you? What would you do for that love? People have done much worse for much less— I mean Judas sold out Jesus for thirty pieces of silver, so what would you do for everything you’ve ever wanted?”

Remus had leaned across the table. His bowl of rice had spilled on the table. Janus stared blankly at him.

“All I want is for Thomas to have a good life.”

“We all want that. What would you do for that?”

“Unspeakable things,” Janus said, smiling softly. Remus beamed back at him, sitting down in his chair. It was a little weird since he wore only the apron.

Footsteps from down the hall, and Patton stepped into the kitchen. He froze at the sight of Remus, but managed to give a little wave to Janus.

“Do you want me to get you some tea, Patton?” Janus asked, standing from his seat. Patton mutely nodded.

“I have you pegged as a Jasmine man,” Remus said, doing his best Uncle Iroh impression. Then he giggled. “Haha, pegged.” 

If Patton looked uncomfortable before, he looked very uncomfortable now. He smiled softly, and Remus returned it with a sharp toothed grin. Janus, meanwhile, filled another cup with water and held it out to Remus. Remus snapped his fingers, and a burst of fire erupted from the teacup, followed by steam.

“There, nice and hot!” Remus exclaimed. Janus put a teabag in the cup, then picked up his own tea, walking over to Patton.

“Patton and I will be talking in the common room, Remus,” Janus said. Remus nodded.

“Actually, I’d uh, like to talk to Remus for a little bit,” Patton sheepishly said, “alone, if that’s ok.”

Janus raised an eyebrow. Remus shrugged. 

“Go ahead padre,” Remus practically purred, “lay it on me.”

Janus snorted, then left the kitchen, leaving Patton and Remus alone together. Patton nervously tugged at the sleeve of the hoodie wrapped around his shoulders.

“Uh, I want to talk about breakfast—“

“I knew I should’ve cooked the bacon for less time!” Remus shouted, “Virgil loves his bacon burnt to a fucking crisp, so I have to unlearn that after cooking for him for god knows how long.”

“It’s not about the food, the food was wonderful! It’s, um. About you and me?”

Remus blinked.

“Come again? You and me?”

“I mean— an apology. I’m sorry for how breakfast went, with Virgil picking a fight. I guess I’m still a little scared of you, but I shouldn’t be, since you’re a part of Thomas too. And Virgil was totally out of line. I’m sorry.”

Remus chuckled. He snapped his fingers, and all the plates on the table floated into the sink. Then, he stood, smiling at Patton.

“I don’t need to be apologized to. And Virgil has every right to be angry at me. I honestly wish he had thrown the first punch, that would’ve given me an excuse to beat him over the head with a frying pan until his skull was concave.”

Patton stared in horror at Remus.

“Kiddo,” he said softly.

“What I’m trying to say,” Remus continued, “is that I’m a stone cold slut. I don’t want to be a part of your family. I’m not your kiddo. I don’t need to be apologized to. We’re like coworkers, and nothing more. Go back to being scared of me. It’s much, much more fun!”

“No,” Patton said, “I’m not going back to being scared of you. I’m just trying to be nice! And— and you’re being a big bully. Why can’t we get along?”

“Because you despise me.”

Patton took a step forward, slowly reaching his hand out. Remus raised an eyebrow.

“What the fuck—“

“A handshake,” Patton timidly explained, “since you say we’re coworkers.”

Remus smiled, and firmly grasped Patton’s hand.

“For a silly little puffball, you surely have a pair of cojones. Well, you wouldn’t be a father if you didn’t.”

“Huh?”

A laugh burst out of Remus’ mouth, and he squeezed Patton’s hand, shaking it rapidly. Patton squeezed back, then leaned closer to him, grabbing his shoulder tightly.

“Listen,” Patton whispered intensely, “I’m trying to be nice, I really, really am, but remember this: If you ever threaten one of my— if you ever threaten my kiddos again, or hurt them, I’ll— I’ll end your miserable existence.”

Remus wheezed in surprised hilarity, yanking away from Patton’s hand on his shoulder. God, a death threat? He’d never gotten one from Patton before!

“Janus is a horrible influence on you!”

Patton flushed, letting go of Remus’ hand.

“He said I should be more uh, decisive? Decisive and direct. I think that’s what he said. And I don’t want the people I love to be hurt.”

“They’re not people..? Logan said it himself, object impermanence kinda stops me from doing anything permanent. But it is fun to scare you until the papa bear pops out. Black bears can run up to like, twenty five miles per hour. Isn’t that neat! There is no escape from a black bear.”

“I hate this conversation,” Patton quietly squeaked. Remus rolled his eyes.

“Ditto. Let’s make like coworkers, and only talk when it’s necessary, and not waste energy by actively hating one another.”

Patton nodded. He stepped backwards into the hall, and gave Remus an awkward wave before running off into the common room with Janus. Remus sat down at the table, shaking his head.

An apology. Patton had offered him an apology. The last thing he wanted from Patton was an apology. Honestly, he could only think of three people he wanted an apology from. Virgil, Roman, and Thomas. Virgil and Roman abandoned him. And Thomas locked him away.

Remus sighed. The dough was done. All folded nicely. Now came the four hours of waiting.

—

Unsurprisingly, neither Virgil nor Roman came to the kitchen for lunch. Janus stopped in at four for dinner, and so did Patton. They took some leftovers, then ate in the common room while talking about whatever. The hours passed slowly as he sat alone in the kitchen. Remus took the dough out of the fridge. He rolled it into a rectangle, then cut it into a bunch of tiny squares, then triangles, then to smaller triangles. After that, he delicately rolled them into croissant form, then let them rest for an hour. All that was left was the baking, after so much fucking time folding the dough.

The clock said it was about 5:00 pm. Making breakfast had set him an hour back, but Logan had promised he’d come eat the croissants with him. Maybe he was just waiting to smell them bake? Remus flapped his wrist, conjuring a flat metal tray. One by one, he placed the fragile little croissants on the tray. He got milk and eggs from the fridge, and mixed them together. Afterwards, he threw the mixture away because he forgot to crack the eggs before mixing them with the milk. He sighed.

“Are you about to bake them?” A steady voice said. Remus turned away from the bowl of egg wash, smiling when he saw who it was.

“Why, yes, I am! Now, you promised me you’d have one last night. Or the night before. Whatever it is.”

Logan nodded, and sat at the table, watching Remus slather the croissants in egg wash. Suddenly, Remus became very aware of the fact he was totally nude besides the apron. Huh. That usually didn’t happen. What was he, ashamed? Never.

“My observations thus far are very interesting,” Logan said, snapping Remus out of his spiraling thoughts, “Virgil and Roman both did not go into the kitchen after breakfast, choosing to go without food. They don’t need to eat, so it’s not very worrying to me.”

“Is it now?”

Logan shook his head, then sighed.

“Well, I’m worried about how their… mental health will affect Thomas.”

Remus sighed as he put the tray in the oven, then set the timer to twenty minutes. He sat down at the table, across from Logan, watching his eyes glance over him. 

“What if we were meat?” He asked. Logan raised his eyebrow.

“I beg your pardon?”

Remus bit back a comment about begging, and thumped his foot on the floor.

“I mean, like, what would you do if you were a human? And you had all the world laid out in front of you, not just the inside of Thomas’ puny, breakable little skull. What life would you make for yourself?”

Logan sighed.

“I can’t say for certain. The only life I want is a lifetime of learning. I guess I’d go to school for chemical engineering, then get a masters in the subject, or in chemistry, then become a professor of chemistry. Maybe even biochemistry.”

Remus leaned back in his chair.

“Sounds pretty fucking solid to me.”

“It isn’t,” Logan insisted, “you know how messy humans are.”

“Like when they’re smashed with a mallet and meat goes everywhere?”

“À la Gallagher?”

“Exactly!”

“I meant emotional messiness, but you’re not wrong,” Logan said. Remus beamed at him, setting his elbows on the table.

“I know I’m not. But go on?”

Logan cleared his voice.

“Say I am a human, and I have my life planned out by the year. Chemical engineering major, graduate school, becoming a professor. This does not account for human things, like the possibility of a depressive episode or a death in my hypothetical family.”

“Depression is a bitch.”

“No, it’s a mental illness. I can say that if it were a bitch, depression would be a chihuahua. A nuisance that makes no sense to me.”

“Depression doesn’t make sense to you?”

“Chihuahua’s don’t either, hence the comparison.”

Remus laughed, eyes wide.

“Really! Oh do go on.”

“Some chihuahuas have a soft spot in their skull called a molera. 80-90 percent of chihuahuas have this spot as pups. Most of the time it closes up. Many people used to think chihuahuas could cure asthma. In the late 1800’s and early 1900’s  Mexican grooms would often give their wives bouquets with chihuahuas in them.”

Remus giggled again, leaning forward to rest his chin in his hands.

“What’s so confusing about that?”

Logan stared down at his hands, mumbling something Remus couldn’t hear.

“What was that?” Remus asked.

“I said,” Logan repeated, louder, “that I don’t understand how their eyes can be so big. And how so much anger can be stored in something so tiny. Did you know the American Kennel Club used to suggest breeders breed chihuahuas to be as small as possible?”

“Really makes you think of where we draw the line between dog and rat.”

“It’s a species thing. But I admit, I’m curious now. What would you do if you were human?”

Remus snorted. “What wouldn’t I do is a better question? I’ve basically been locked in a tower like Rapunzle for the past twenty odd years.”

Logan’s sincere eyes made him go quiet. Remus honestly couldn’t tell if Logan even cared, but those eyes made him want to scream and flip the table and jump out of the window. Fuck.

“I, uh. I would go to college for writing,” Remus said, “and filmmaking. And I’d get tattoos all over. And maybe some piercings. Things that I couldn’t undo, that nobody could undo. Then I’d write a ton of stories and make movies and scare an entire fucking generation but also make them cry and feel like they’ve never felt before. I don’t know what I would do after that. I’d probably  tragically fall from grace, and everyone gets to watch me decay from a distance as my books and movies get weirder and weirder, then at the age of fifty six and a half, I’d disappear and never be seen or heard of again.”

Remus sighed dreamily. The whole situation sounded nice. Logan, however, looked more than a little startled.

“You really have given this thought, haven't you?”

Remus nodded, leaning back in his seat.

“I’ve not just been yelling at Thomas to jump out of a moving car for the past twenty something years, I’ve been doing a lot of shit that he finds scary. But you can understand where I’m coming from, right? Sometimes the best media deals with more mature themes.”

Logan looked away, sitting painfully straight in his chair.

“Thomas doesn’t seem to think so,” Logan said.

“Oh that is bullshit! Avatar the Last Airbender has genocide and like. Propaganda and shit. Steven Universe covers PTSD and war and dictatorships— honestly, he’s not scared of mature themes. He’s ashamed of the ideas, and scared he won’t pull them off well! That’s why he won’t deal with more important subjects in his videos!”

“You don’t know that,” Logan said calmly.

“Then why would he stifle me!” He shouted, standing up so suddenly it knocked his chair over, “Lock me away like a fucking monster! Why would he leave me alone!”

Remus’ eyes met Logan’s.

“Remus, are you alright?” Logan quietly asked. Remus smiled, waving his hands about.

“Hell yeah I am, dick-dork. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“...you don’t seem to be feeling well.”

“And there’s nothing wrong with that!” Remus proclaimed.

“There isn’t,” Logan said, “but you helped me, so I feel like I should assist you. Do you want to, um, talk about it?”

Remus’ laugh turned into a sob. He left his chair on the ground, instead sitting next to Logan.

“You’d make a horrible Patton,” he joked, sniffling.

“Do you want to—“

“No,” Remus growled. 

“I’m sorry.”

Remus slammed both of his fists on the table, over and over until the pain finally registered to him, stinging and brutal. Then he stopped, as suddenly as he started.

“Why don’t you people understand that I don’t want an apology from you!” He bellowed, loud enough that it hurt his throat. “You did nothing wrong to me! Nothing! There’s nothing I should be mad at you for so I don’t deserve an apology!”

A warm hand settled on his shoulder. Logan’s. 

“Yes, you do. It’s not about deserving. Thomas sees everything as black and white, a worldview that led to your neglect. He’s going to unlearn that, learn that the world exists in shades of grey. Until the day he learns enough to forgive you, why not indulge in a bit of forgiveness?”

“I don’t need it,” Remus snapped. Logan squeezed his shoulder. It felt grounding. 

“And I didn’t need a lemon slice with my water this morning.”

Remus sat up straight, so sudden he made Logan lurch back.

“Ah fuck. You just. Fuck! You played me like the cheap kazoo I am!”

Logan raised his eyebrows, lips momentarily twitching into a smile.

“Funny. I thought that same thing about you last night.”

“We need to stop saying ‘last night’, like, seriously,” Remus joked, “it makes it sound like we’re fucking.”

“Your apron makes it seem that that is not something you would be adverse to,” Logan deadpanned.

Remus looked down at the apron. Ah, there it was. Fuck the cook. 

“God.”

“Religion.”

“Huh?”

Logan tilted his head. 

“I thought we were playing a word association game.”

“Well I mean, we have like, twelve minutes until the croissants are all done and baked! We can play a word association game until then.”

Logan nodded, shifting in his seat. Their knees bumped.

“May I begin?”

“Go ahead!” Remus said.

“Star,” Logan began.

“Sun,” Remus responded.

“Earth.”

“Rock.”

“Granite.”

“Countertop.”

“Kitchen.”

“Knife..?”

“Carving.”

“Dismemberment!”

“Dissection.”

Back and forth they went, going from dissection to cooking to flowers, only stopping when the oven dinged. Remus jumped at the sudden sound, which scared Logan, who lurched backwards until their knees no longer touched. Remus looked over at the oven, then at his knees.

“I think the croissants are done! Look at that! Wow, time flies when you’re having fun, holy shit.”

Logan blinked a couple of times, then nodded.

“Yes, it was an enjoyable time. Why did ‘pulmonary’ make you think of ‘plastic’?”

Remus shrugged.

“I didn’t know what pulmonary meant, but you connected it from lung, and I don’t know, it made me think of sarin, then saran, then plastic.”

Logan nodded, brows furrowing.

“You responded rather quickly to that word, I didn’t think you put that much thought into it.”

“My mind goes a mile a minute— lemme get the croissants. And you’re not going anywhere! You promised you’d have one.”

“That I did.”

Remus lept over to the oven, throwing the door open and grabbing the tray with his bare hands, setting the tray on the counter. God, they smelled delicious, baked and golden brown, slowly letting off steam. Logan looked at them with a straight face. For a smart guy, he really acted stupid.

“Fucking hypocrite,” Remus said, “it’s okay to show emotion.”

“I don’t—“

“Literally nobody else is here but me.”

Logan opened his mouth, then closed it again. At a loss for words. Remus sighed, and picked up two croissants off the tray. They felt so warm and delicate in his hands, like a little baby bird…

“Have you ever imagined squeezing a bird in your hands so hard it’s crushed?”

Logan blinked.

“I can’t say I have, but I don’t think it’s worth the mess. Birds belong in the sky.”

“And where do we belong?” Remus said, sitting down at the table. He gave Logan a croissant. “I mean. You have the light sides, I have the dark sides, and we both have the kitchen.”

“Interpersonal relations are not my strong suit,” Logan said, and he left it at that. He gently picked up the croissant, tearing a small piece off before putting it in his mouth. Remus watched as his eyes slowly slipped shut, Logan’s jaw closed as he savored the light, buttery layers of the croissant. Remus flapped his hands about, giggling to himself before taking his croissant and ripping it in half with his teeth. Oh, that’s heavenly!

“Oh,” Remus said, mouth full, “that’s heavenly! I can see why you chose this recipe, goddamn.”

“I chose it to study the habits of the others.”

“It’s not normal.” Remus stated. He looked at Logan, who had opened his eyes, brows furrowed. 

“I live with the others, I might as well—“

“Not the schedule, it makes you happy, so it’s meaningful. What isn’t normal is the fact that you have to act all prim and proper all the time for them to respect you. You should be able to let loose, indulge.”

“But what if they won’t listen?” Logan asked, voice shaking.

Remus snapped his fingers. Two glasses of ice cold water appeared before them, each with a lemon slice on the rim. 

“Make them.”

“I don’t think I could—“

“You are literally the brains of the operation! Not only that, but you beat me fair and square when I showed up, and I’m absolutely certain you could do it again. I’m pretty sure you could do it right now. You’re a force to be reckoned with. All of Thomas’ intellect in a sad little indigo dressed man. You’re a person, or at least a part of a person. Not a robot. Not a shell. Okay?”

Logan silently nodded. He ate the rest of the croissant, not even chewing, just setting it in his mouth and letting it dissolve. Logan swallowed, then smiled softly, so small Remus almost missed it. It felt like his heart had joined the croissant in his throat. Remus swallowed hard. Then, he smiled back, all teeth, and stuffed the rest of the croissant in his mouth. They ate in silence for a while, simply enjoying the croissants. Logan slowly sipped his water after each bite.

“What should I make next?” Remus asked. Logan looked down at the tray of croissants. Remus grabbed one off the tray, and passed it to Logan.

“Thank you. Why not something with seafood? Maybe paella?”

Remus’ eyes went big. 

“Oh, I absolutely fucking love clams and mussels! That’s in paella, right? Yeah? God, Logan, this is why we need to talk more, you fucking genius!”

“Thank you very much. I hate to ask, but would you mind if I took some croissants back to Virgil, Patton and Roman..?”

Remus leaned back in his chair.

“Leaving so soon?”

Logan paused. He stood slowly.

“I don’t have—“

“Go ahead and take them. Just leave one for Jannie.”

“I’ll only need three.”

“Take an extra for yourself, you’re the reason I made them after all.”

Logan froze like a deer in the headlights, hand hovering over the tray. Carefully, he picked up three croissants, then looked Remus in the eye. Remus nodded towards the tray. Logan grabbed a fourth. 

“Remus?”

“I’m right here,” Remus said, leaned back in his chair, arms crossed behind his head.

“I just wanted to thank you. For the croissants, and for the conversation.”

And he smiled, just a little bit of teeth showing.

Remus felt that strange feeling, the one without direction or space, just energy. Thoughts fluttered through his head, and he wanted to rip, tear, kiss mend, bake, create, destroy—

“I enjoyed every minute of it,” Remus said, throat dry. 

With that, Logan waved goodbye, then promptly left. Now Remus sat alone at the table. When would Jannie come for his croissant? Maybe he wouldn’t. Remus drummed his fingers on the table. He could stand from the table, and chase after Logan like a loyal mutt. Or he could go find Janus. Or he could take out the bok choy and split the croissants with a fellow dark side.

Instead, he sat at the table, drumming his fingers, trapped in his head.

He stared at Logan’s glass of water until the ice cubes melted. 

—

Thirty minutes later, Janus showed up. He sat down at the table, and wordlessly took a croissant. Remus drummed his fingers on the table.

“Are you okay?” Janus asked. He nibbled the croissant.

Remus snorted, waving his arms around.

“I honestly have no fucking clue!”

Janus smiled and laughed, biting into the croissant. Remus did so, too, and tried to force down the strange, directionless feeling now associated with Logan’s face.

Janus and him shared the rest of the croissants, leaving only crumbs and the tray.

[dragonrajafanfiction]

Yamata-No-Orochi (Part 1) Uncle Caesar

We’re finally getting to the tail end of the Story Quests. Thanks for reading this far if you have. :D I’m so happy writing this, I’m just plugging story beats out like a happy like choochoo train, but this took a bit of thought.

This scene does not appear in the novel, manhua, or the game, however, it logically sets up a conflict that should have been there had the MC had real relationships with the characters and actual agency in the story. 

Enjoy!

It was about 9 am in the morning when Caesar got you out of bed and dressed you up as usual. He didn’t choose anything too casual or too sexual. He chose a yellow pleated skirt, a simple cotton white blouse and warm navy jean jacket, and knee high waterproof boots and invited you out with him for the day.

“Where are we going?” You had asked him.

“Just out shopping. Whatever you like. You’ve had a hard time. So it will be good for your mental state to get out and not be shut in feeling sorry for yourself.” He replied. But his eyes are not sunny, but clouded, like the sky over Tokyo.

So you spent the day shopping after breakfast, mostly for clothes and shoes. But Caesar took you to a toy store and insisted you buy something to play with. “You never played as a kid right?” He had asked you.

“No… not really. I liked to watch movies.” 

“Pick out a game. Anything you want.”

He didn’t accompany you shopping for the toys. He stood outside, smoking the cigar with his umbrella, not minding the rain. You were concerned about Kaguya but the disturbed weather was disrupting a lot of the internet access around Tokyo and the umbrellas provided physical disguise against searching surveillance cameras. Caesar didn’t mind being out, and while you shopped, he was keeping watch.

You spent a long time pacing the shelves, back and forth until finally you settled on a Sailor moon action figure. You pick it up and smile at the signature phrasing. “In the name of the Moon, I will punish you!” You could still hear the words clear in your head.

You come out with your single doll in the small bag and you put your two fingers in a V-shape over your eye playfully, just like the heroine in the Anime.

Caesar grinned broadly, but the sadness did not leave his eyes. 

You’d spent so much time in the stores that the sun  was already going down. “I’ve made reservations for dinner. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Won’t Nono get jealous?” You snort.

“Not at all. She knows she has all my heart in her hands. But it's important to talk to you. You gave a starheart to Ruri Kazama last night. That means he reached you, right?”

“Yes, but … he’s the lead member of a yakuza group and he’s kinda out of my league.”

He waved the cigar in his hand airily. “It’s good for a young woman to raise her station through marriage in any case. But in your case, I don’t think any man is out of your league. If you think he is above you, then that’s a good thing. There are not many men like that. Much less, a man like that who you’d find attractive enough to grant a star-heart.” 

You laugh. “You sound like an old Uncle playing matchmaker.”

“I know and I hate it, but I’ve given it a lot of thought.” He grimaced. “I thought you would be good for Lu Mingfei, but he’s a stable European Hybrid who grew up in a stable household. You’re a wild thing of the White King. You’d never be a good match.” Caesar mused. “Ruri, on the other hand, knew more about you than you did about yourself. You seem to understand each other well. You clicked at the Takamagahara Club. I was pretty pissed about that but now… not so much.”

You’d walked until you reached the historical luxury district. There were restaurants here that were passed down generation to generation for hundreds of years. They survived both World War I and World War II. The bricks and mortar were older than Anjou.

He reached over your head to open a small glass door. Inside, you saw only an old Japanese man behind a counter, who looked at you through his craggy face. You figured that this place was by reservation only simply because it was so small. “Let me guess? You bought out every table in this place?”

“That’s right. Lu Mingfei helped me with the Japanese.”

“Is he doing alright?” You ask.

“Yep. He’s got that girl wrapped around his little finger.”

“That’s kinda messed up.” You say, recalling your last conversation with Chance about Izanami using Izanagi’s feelings to further her own ends.

“Well, hopefully it will turn out to be genuine.”

You shake your head smiling. “You really are an Old Uncle.”

Caesar pulls out the chair for you and you sit. “Don’t worry about ordering anything. Everything here is good.”

A waitress came and poured sake into saucers from a black bottle and you remember that you promised Caesar to have a date over Sake and this was it. You can’t believe you forgot about that but given everything that was happening it was understandable. It was more incredible that Caesar actually remembered.

Once the sake was poured, Caesar raised his saucer and you joined him in a toast. “A toast to the best damn freshman I’ve ever met.”

“And a toast to the fearless friend of justice!”

The sake was good, not quite sweet but full of the aroma and taste of rice in the alcohol.

“I want to discuss your future at Cassell after this. It’s unfortunate to say, but once this mission is over, even if I’m alive at the end, I won’t be able to shield you from the school board or anyone else.”

Your eyebrows raise. “Oh? The Gattuso heir admitting that he can’t protect a lady? Did I wake up in an alternate universe?”

But Caesar didn’t laugh or crack a smile. “It’s the official policy of Cassell College not to admit anyone with unstable blood, like yours. My family pursued Chu Zihang because they suspected him of being of poor bloodline. Had they succeeded, they would have sent him away on an island, far from human civilization. I was able to vouch for him at his trial and foil their plans, but I won't’ be able to help you if you run afoul of them because after this mission, I’m graduating, MC. I will go back to Italy and marry Nono.”

Your expression falls and you feel a trapdoor has just opened underneath you. You were still heartsick over losing Chance. But Caesar was your support staff you could lean on. Without him, you would have given into despair long ago. How could you stand on your own now? You would find a way surely but you hadn’t expected to part from him so soon.

He stares at you now and you understand the cloudy look in his eyes. “I want to make an arrangement with you. For your safety. But it will take you far away from me. So I don’t like it. But I feel it's the best for you. If you agree, then… alright.”

“Alright,” You echo. “Let's hear it.”

“We talked a little last night about how Ruri Kazama wants the Devil Clan to join Cassell and replace Hydra as the Japan Branch. But Ruri Kazama does not want to stay at Cassell and run the Devil Clan. His dream is to become a Kabuki actor and singer. He also mentioned that he recently lost his lover, and cannot help but feel extremely lonely. When he feels very lonely he looks for the loneliest girl and keeps her company. I think you can tell what I’m getting at.”

“Yes, we’re like mirror images of each other now.” You murmur. “So I will join the Devil Clan until Ruri can get them settled with Cassell College and then leave the Clan and Cassell to be a companion to Ruri Kazama?”

“You’ll be safer, and happier, with your own kind.” Caesar said, gloomily

You let out a breath. “But you’ll miss me.”

“I already do.” He reached for a cigarette and pulled it out. Old places like this didn’t mind smoking.

“Thank you for thinking of me. Of course, it really depends too on how well we get along.”

“You don't just give out star-hearts. Pursue him. I think it’ll be nice.”

The plate of artfully crafted fresh sushi was carried to you. Even though you have seen so many wonderful things in Japan, you continue to marvel at the creative ways they put rice together with fish and vegetables to make a bright and colorful display. Even the heads of the prawns served as a splashy centerpiece, their antennae waving slightly like bright orange fountains.

You eat in silence for a few minutes. Neither of you are adept with chopsticks so you just use your fingers. 

Finally Caesar broke the silence. “Can you tell me something? You mentioned Ruri Kazama would have to fight another lion. Who is this other lion? I saw that there is a mystery contender that also received a star heart.”

“He doesn’t have a name. I just call him Z, and he’s followed me my whole life. He won’t give up easily.” You lower your eyes and your chewing slows.

“Also a hybrid?” He glances at you, his blue eyes suddenly clear and sharp.

“Yes. The strongest hybrid out of all of Black Swan Bay.”

“Your old boyfriend.” Caesar looked out of the glass door at the front of the store.

“We were never really boyfriend and girlfriend. He trained me to fight. He’s specifically told me not to fall in love with Ruri Kazama.”

“Any particular reason why?” Caesar balanced the cigarette on his fingers.

“He says he knows how that story will end.” You look at him seriously. “He’s possessive and very jealous. It might not go well for Ruri if we end up together.”

“If you’re not boyfriend or girlfriend, what does he care who you end up with?” He put the cigarette between his lips and inhaled.

“I don't know.”

“What will happen if you defy him?”

“I’ll probably die. He’s the one who has guarded my life. My guardian angel. He says that he has known how to keep me alive from the very beginning. If I don’t do what he says, then he probably won’t keep guaranteeing my life.”

Caesar’s eyes narrowed and you saw the killer aura rise in his eyes. “Where can I find this Z person?”

You shrug. “He’s a mysterious thing. All these years and I still can’t figure him out. He just… has a lot of control over things that happen. Like everyone is a puppet on a string and he’s the ultimate puppetmaster. Even Chu Zihang couldn’t help but notice how fortunate it was that we ended up in the backyard of Genji Heavy Industries to hide. Or how the fortunate earthquake I caused managed to assist you in battle. He was the one who took me down to the Genji Elevator and showed me the deadpool even though Chisei Gen didn’t know about it. He was the one who told me to cause the earthquake that saved Lu Mingfei in the elevator.”

Caesar leaned forward. “So is he our ally?”

You lower your voice. “I think your purposes align. He views you as no competition to him. He only gets annoyed at my love interests. Since you are not pursuing me, he couldn’t care less what you do. But I’m telling you this, because if you do send me away with Ruri, it could have consequences both for Ruri Kazama and you.”

“A love triangle?” His eyebrows raise.

“Yes.” You chuckle. “I guess you could call it that.”

Caesar lets out a breath and a puff of white smoke. “Just when I thought I had it all figured out.”

“You almost did.” You giggle freely.

“I do have one ace in the hole. If I can guarantee your life, then that will free you right?”

“But I’m dying as an unstable hybrid… I…”

“Yes but so is that Uesugi girl. The documents in that folder said that the Black Swan Bay children only lived to age 20 and at that age they inevitably turned into deadpool. Erii was created as a dying ghost, the same as you, by the same people that created you. You’re both alive, but you are 18 and Erii is 21.”

You gasp, suddenly breathless. Z’s words to you, that the key to your survival is in Tokyo, come roaring back.

“If I can figure out the secret to how they’re keeping her alive, then you won’t need the Z person.” Caesar smiles, but it’s challenging, snarling.

“You’re kidding! You’re not seriously considering competing with Z!” You always felt that Z, deep down, was a killer, who taught you to be a killer. What Caesar was doing was a dangerous thing, putting himself in the line of fire of someone who wouldn’t hesitate to arrange his death the same way he had arranged everything else.

But Caesar was always like this, running headlong into danger and saying, ‘I’ll figure it out when I get there’. And appealing to fear would never dissuade him.

“I’m not competing for your heart, only your freedom. I don’t like men who threaten the lives of women. There’s actually more I can say, but given your position, I’ll keep it to myself.” He was still smiling that deadly smile, staring out the door as though seeing an unseen person.

“Oh… my god…” You sigh. “Well, if anyone could do it, it would be you.”

Your appetite significantly diminished. You felt cold and anxious. You wondered what Z would say if he ever appeared to you again. You wondered if Z would ignore Caesar, or if Caesar would simply disappear without a trace, as though he never existed.

You left the restaurant and Caesar pulled you close, one hand over your narrow shoulders. “You’re afraid of him. Aren’t you?”

You don’t answer, not even with a nod.

“That makes me more curious. Stay close to me then. That way, if he wants to keep you, he’ll have no choice but to show himself.”

[vannahfanfics]

Request: GrayLu; "Life in Every Breath" from Lucy's POV

Hey, Anon, thank you for waiting patiently! Here it is!

Beat of Life

Alternatum to Heartbeat and Life in Every Breath

Lucy swallowed thickly as she stared down at the heavy leather-bound tome in her lap— the Book of E.N.D. Natsu’s life was tied to this strange book, she considered as she brushed her hand over its uneven, rune-carved surface. Her hand was just as marred, littered with scrapes and bruises accumulated through the conflict with Zeref and his armor. Second by second, they were inching closer to the climax, and Lucy could not let it end with Natsu’s death. 

Gray’s breath puffed in her as he leaned over her shoulder, drinking in the book with just as much apprehension and awe. He’d calmed down after his attempt to destroy the book, thankfully, but the fact that they’d come so close to just snuffing out Natsu’s existence made anxiety churn in her belly. Or maybe it was the fact that Gray was so close, his cheek brushing against hers as he leaned in to get a closer look. She couldn’t think about that now; she had to focus. 

“I’m going to open it now,” she murmured, but her fingers trembled along the hardcover of the book. She had to in order to save Natsu’s life, but she had no idea what was ahead. However, she set her expression into a determined frown; she couldn’t be scared! Her best friend’s life was on the line! Whatever would come, Gray was right there to support her, and he iterated that by gently bumping his chest with her back and whispering, “You got this, Lucy. Let’s save Natsu.” 

Before she could change her mind, she flipped the book open. For the briefest of seconds, it seemed like the world took a deep breath in anticipation. The wind died, the discarded leaves finding respite on the cracked cobblestone; even the clouds seemed to freeze, ceasing their endless drift across the heavens. The world and everything in it was in limbo. And then, that breath was released. 

Light exploded from the book with a shrieking roar, along with a great buffeting gale that had Lucy’s golden hair flapping around her face. One of her pigtails whipped back to smack Gray across the cheek, based on his pained grunt. Then, to her amazement, the characters inked upon the age pages began to move. As if carried by the gales springing from within, they danced into the open air, swirling upwards to form great, circling, interlocked chains of words. 

“What are they?” Gray whispered in her ear. Lucy’s mouth hung open as she gazed at them, struggled to make sense of the moving and shifting characters. Gradually, the text came into focus— the Book of E.N.D., of course!

“They’re all about Natsu,” she whispered, squinting as she studied the words more deeply. Surely, these strange sentences contained a hint on how to save him! She leaned forward in her concentration, scanning and scanning and scanning, until— 

She screamed as the world heaved underneath them. The book snapped shut as it was flung from Lucy’s lap, causing the words to dissolve into the dust clouds now filling the air. As she tumbled into the air too, she reached for it, desperate not to lose the one lifeline she had to Natsu’s life. She gasped when she felt Gray’s arms wind around her waist, and then his broad, muscled chest was pressed against hers. She didn’t even have time to be embarrassed about it before they crashed back to earth. Gray groaned as his bare skin met the rough cobblestone of the street, but he had spared Lucy such an unforgiving landing; embraced by him, she just flopped into his body, and stayed there until the world finally stopped rumbling and shuddering. 

“What was that?” complained Happy, who was rubbing his head while he lay sprawled out on his belly next to them. Gray was leaning his head back, eyebrows furrowed as he gazed in the direction of the guild. 

“I’m assuming it’s Natsu, since it’s coming from where he’s fighting Zeref,” he predicted. Once the aftershocks had faded, he loosened his grip on her. Despite his help, a dull ache pounded in her head from being jostled about, so she pressed her palm to the side of her head with a small groan. When she finally regained her wits, she gasped in alarm— had she really seen something that terrible in the text? Gray yelped when she kneed him in the stomach in her attempt to crawl off of him, shambling on her hands and knees back to the book. 

Once more, she flipped it open. The words spilled out into the open air— and her worst fears were confirmed. One by one, characters were popping out of existence. 

“Lucy, what’s happening?” Gray demanded, crawling up behind her. Lucy watched with wide, tearful eyes as more characters disappeared. No! This couldn’t happen! It couldn’t end like this!

“Natsu’s hurt really bad!” she cried, and she heard Gray suck in a breath. She had to do something, anything! Just as Gray sat behind her again, she fished her magic pen out of her pocket and sucked in a breath. She didn’t know if this would work, but she had to try. Their friend’s life was at stake! She held up the pen, like a director poised to conduct a symphony— the symphony of Natsu’s entire existence. “If I rewrite the missing characters, I should be able to save him,” she asserted. Even from that mere glimpse, she thought she knew what was missing— so, one by one, she began to scrawl them in the air. 

She could feel Gray tense behind her, and she glanced down to see his fists balled up by his sides. He could only watch as his friend’s life ebbed away, and she battled to save it. It must be maddening, she thought. She wished she could comfort him somehow, and so she tried to reach out to brush his leg, just to show that she knew his pain— 

Suddenly, it felt like fire surged through her veins. It tore an anguished scream from her throat, arching her back and freezing her in the middle of writing. She’d never felt such pain; it felt like she was being torn apart from the inside out. Her teary eyes drifted to her hand, where she was alarmed to find tendrils of dark red-orange magic dying her skin and slowly snaking up her arm. 

“Lucy!” Gray exclaimed, and she could only respond with an agonized groan. Oh, it hurt, it hurt. Her body trembled violently, rattling her teeth in her skull like she was freezing, but in reality she was burning, she was on fire. Gray put a hand on the small of her back to steady her quaking body, but it sent more flares of pain through her sensitized nerves, causing her to his. 

“M-my body,” she whimpered. “It’s so hot, I’m burning!” With another painful spike of pain she collapsed, curling on her side into Gray. It hurt to touch him, to feel the sweat smearing between her flushed skin and his own, but she also felt comforted by his presence. Moaning, she pressed against him, trying to leech as much of that comfort as she could to chase the godawful torment away. 

“It must be a rebound!” she heard Happy cry. “Natsu’s magic is overtaking her body!” Gray’s hands fluttered over her skin, afraid to touch her because she whined each time the pads of his fingers hit her searing skin. She still crooned and looked up at him with weary eyes as he brushed a few sweat-slicked strands of blonde hair from her face. 

“It’s okay, Lucy, you’ve done enough,” he said and reached for the magic pen, which she still clutched in her hand. She clenched her teeth tightly; she couldn’t give up just because of a little pain! She forced herself to grab onto Gray’s shoulder and hoist herself up, though it felt like all the muscle fibers in her body ripped in doing so. “Hey! Don’t overexert yourself!” Gray ordered, but she just lifted the pen again with a few heavy pants.

“I can do this!” she said, mostly to convince herself. “If I just finish re-writing this section, then I can change Natsu’s fate.” Squeezing her eyes shut, she forced herself through the almost insurmountable task of twirling the pen through the air again, scrawling out the characters that would save Natsu from certain death. 

She gasped when a sudden coolness spread over her body, and she looked back to see Gray generated a swirling, icy wind behind her. He gave her a reassuring smile and said, “Got it. Let’s save our idiot, Lucy.” 

As the chill spread through her system and kept the fiery poison at bay, Lucy felt herself relaxing, melting back against him a bit; however, with every minute that passed, the strange black magic tendrils crawled further and further up her body. She sucked in a breath when she felt it spreading across her chest, the spines invading her nerves to feel like it was wrapping around her heart and squeezing tight. She fought through the pain, one eye screwed shut and her teeth clenched. Just a little more…!

Just as her vision began to swim before her eyes, she wrote in the last character. She slumped forward with a wheeze, her arms falling limp; her hand didn’t even have the strength to hold the pen anymore, so it rolled across the cobblestone before settling next to Happy’s paws. 

“I did it… It’s done…” she wheezed between ragged breaths. The text spiraled back down into the pages, settling within the ink, before the book flipped shut. As she pawed at her heart, digging her fingers into her skin to try and pry out the magic instinctively, she looked up to see the book fading away. Tears bloomed in Lucy’s eyes. Did it work? Or was she too late?

“Lucy?” Gray asked, and she turned her face into his chest to avoid the question. 

“I don’t know,” she admitted weakly. “I did everything I could…” Still, it felt like even that had not been enough, and she whimpered as she pressed into Gray for comfort. She needed him now, more than she’d ever needed anything before, it felt like. Tutting soothingly, Gray gently guided her so her back was resting against his chest and her head was tilted back over his shoulder, her crimped and sweaty strands of blonde hair falling over her face. 

“You did great,” he assured her in a soft whisper and brushed her hair away with tender touches. She managed a tired, serene smile just as the book faded into nothingness. Her eyes fluttered as she stared up at the blue, blue sky and the clouds drifting within. Gradually, he graze was drawn to Gray, to the chiseled line of his jaw and his messy blue-black hair and his glinting ice-chip eyes. As the sun streamed down and fell into his hair like strings of ice water, she marveled at how handsome he was, how handsome he’d always been to her. 

She thought then of all they’d been through together, and how he was here with her now, holding her so close with his hand digging into her hip like he never wanted to let her go, and she realized it. 

She wanted to tell him, but all that came out was a strained gurgling noise— that’s because her heart had suddenly convulsed in her chest, driving all the air from her body. Her hands snapped to her sternum, pushing down like she could force her heart to start beating again, but her consciousness was already slipping. No, she thought weakly as the darkness encroached upon the edges of her vision. She could dimly hear Gray calling her name, or maybe she was imagining it? She wasn’t sure. 

No, she thought again as she slipped into the blackness. I wanted to tell him that I…

Emptiness. A void. Where was she going? Where had she been? She looked around with a lidded gaze into the nothingness, and had the strangest sensation of being called home. Was that her mother’s voice? Her father’s, too? Were they together, and had they resolved their differences? She longed to go toward them, she realized as she stretched out her hand toward the gleaming light taking shape before her. And yet… And yet… Something held her back. 

“Come on!”

Whose voice was that?

“Come on!”

It sounded familiar. 

“Come on!”

Gray? That was his name. She felt a warm, bubbly feeling rise up within her as the image of a handsome dark-haired man took shape in her mind. Gray… She loved him, yes, she did. She couldn’t go yet, even though she longed to look upon her mother’s face. She still had so much yet to do, so much yet to say… to him. 

“Come on, Lucy! Don’t die!”

“I’m coming,” she tried to say, but there was no sound in this endless void. So, she turned away from the light and started running, starting searching for him in the dark. His voice echoed all around her, but yet she had the feeling of getting closer, closer, closer…

“I love you, Lucy! Please don’t leave me!”

Light exploded all around her, and then she was on her back, heaving for breath while the azure sky blazed above her. And then Gray was there, hauling her up, whispering her name as he hugged her tight enough to crush her heart all over again. Her sternum burned from where he’d been frantically compressing it, but she was alive. She was alive. He was sobbing into her golden hair, and she managed enough strength to shakily tug at the black tufts at the base of his neck. 

“Gray,” she managed hoarsely. “Gray, I’m okay… I’m okay…” His trembling hand came to her neck to feel the blood pulsing through her carotid, and she felt him melt against her. She felt tears flood her eyes at the desperate gesture, and they carved through the layer of dirt and sweat on her cheeks. He pulled back to look at her with broken eyes and an equally broken laugh, then started touching her face like he wanted to commit it to memory. 

He swept a fingertip down her cheek, over her jawline, and then swiped a thumb gently over her lip. Lucy parted her mouth ever-so-slightly, the softness of her lips embracing the pad of his finger, and blinked expectantly. 

He jerked her forward to kiss her passionately, hungrily, desperately. She fell against him as what little breath she had recovered was stolen away, and every time she fought for a gasp of air, her chest brushed over his. She tangled her fingers into the messy strands of his hair while his snuck to her waist, fixing her place while he pushed the kiss impossibly deeper. Lucy felt like he was drinking her up, savoring everything she was to make himself whole, and she would let him because she was doing just the same. When they finally broke apart they both sucked in deep breaths, then stared into one another’s eyes like they were meeting for the first time. 

“I love you, Lucy,” he murmured with another caress of her face, and despite everything, she blushed. 

“I love you too, Gray.” 

He pulled her into another hug, and they both buried their faces into each other’s necks. As she pressed the tip of her nose against his jugular, she could feel the pulse beneath. Bump-bump-bump-bump: the beat of life, of love, of passion. It was such a beautiful sound, she considered for the first time. And she wanted to hear it every day forever. 

And as Gray whispered once again that he loved her while pressing sweet kisses into her skin, she had no doubt that she would.

Enjoy this oneshot? Feel free to peruse my Table of Contents!

[crystalgirl259]

How to Train Your Dragonblood 3: The Dragonblood Alpha Ch6

Ed and Cliff shivered badly as they flew on Karloff's back over a half-frozen ocean in the middle of a snowstorm. The sun was almost completely set by now, casting the sky in a beautiful light and dark purple with a faded yellow. High above them were dozens of stars starting to appear through the clouds. On any other day, Cliff, Ed, and Karloff would have found it beautiful. But they were too focused and worried about Kai and Jay to think about it.

"He's just like his mother! She could never stay put either!" Cliff suddenly shouted in frustration at his son's stubbornness. When he first met her, Libber may have come off as a little awkward, but once he got to know her, she was strong and uncompromising and was always willing to stand up for those who were helpless. Jay was almost a perfect copy of his mother and most of the time Cliff loved it, but not today.

"He's just twenty, and a Viking; I mean there couldn't be the worst combination." "When I think of how stubborn and senseless you were back in the day..." He trailed off as his expression switched to a hopeless one. "Huh, now not much has changed actually.

"Ah, you know how he's like; he won't give up, and if Jay finds Iron Baron before we find him..." Cliff gulped in fear at the thought. He had already lost some of his closest friends thanks to that monster, he wouldn't let him take his son.

"Nothing can happen to your boy as long as Kai is with him; he's a Fire Dragonblood for crying out loud!" Ed tried to reassure his friend, but it did little to help the old chief. While he agreed that Kai was powerful and cared about Jay, he was more stubborn and careless than his son. Cliff was about to voice his concerns when he noticed something in the corner of his eyes. Below them, a crack in the ice was seen. Cliff noticed it and made Karloff fly back.

As they approached the hole in, Ed leaned on the side and grabbed the floating helmet out of the water.

Sitting back up, he handed it to Cliff who carefully looked at it. He looked back and Ed caught his concerned gaze. Cliff looked down at his dragonblood in determination and offered him the helmet to sniff.

"Find them, Karloff!" He ordered. Karloff took a sniff, memorizing the scent. The Metal Dragonblood growled and started beating his wings faster as they ascended, the storm still raging around them...

****************

It took a few minutes until Jay finally got back to reality. A reality that was getting crazier by the minute. First, he breaks tradition by saving and falling in love with one of the most dangerous species of Dragonbloods, then he loses his leg, and now his mother is back from the dead and living with dragonbloods. Why did things like that happen only to him? Right now, Libber was leading Jay and Kai through a maze of rock caves. While Jay struggled to keep up, Kai was easily able to navigate through the inner ice caves from his past experiences living in the nest for years.

"Ho-hold on! Wait just a minute!" Jay shouted as he chased after his mother through the caves, but he was steadily ignored. Libber swiftly jumped on the rocks ahead of him, motioning for him to follow.

"You can't just say something like that and run off!" He exclaimed angrily as he climbed on the rocks after her, noticeably slower and less gracefully while Kai came after him. "You're my MOTHER?! I mean what the– Do you- do you grasp how insane it sounds?!"

"She does kinda look like you," Kai called from the back.

"NOT HELPING KAI!" Jay screeched at him as they reached a steep slope that Libber climbed in seconds.

"Come quickly." She pressured the couple.

"I have questions! Where have you been all this time?!" He demanded as he attempted to climbs after her but slipped so Kai grabbed his waist and easily pushed him from behind. Jay felt his face heat up and this earned a round of chuckles from the brunette. It really wasn't easy to go through such terrain with a prosthetic leg. He had seen some of the people from Ninjago struggle and he had years of experience. Jay tumbled forward and got back on his feet right after to keep going.

"What've you been doing?! They said you were dead! Everybody thinks you were eaten by a..." He trailed off as they got out in an open, sunlit cavern where hundreds of different dragonbloods were flying around frozen structures covered in greenery. The sight brought gasped of wonder from both Jay and Kai. Kai was stunned to see such a peaceful nest. For most of their lives, he and Nya had been forced to join under that monster's rule and others were born there.

He would have never thought there was such an amazing place that was practically right next door to Ninjago.

As they step out, Jay and Kai glance at a group of baby Dragonbloods playing nearby. They both stepped back when a huge dragonblood flew right over them. Jay smiled at the multitude of dragonbloods flying freely in the open space. He got closer to the rim wherefrom above there was a creek running down the edge.

"Uh, Jaybird." Kai suddenly said and pointed up above them. Jay looked up and gasped when he saw the same Lightning Dragonblood hanging from the ceiling, his mother also holding it. The sapphire-colored dragonblood crooned as it tilted its head to look at them. Jay stared at the pair in shock. He honestly thought that he was the first dragonblood rider, yet here was his mother being so close to one. While a part of him was overjoyed that his mother was alive and well, a part of him was angry at her for being gone all these years.

He wanted to yell at her and tell her what it was like growing up with just a judgemental father and a disappointed village.

To make her feel as bad he felt his entire life. People might say he was being petty, but he didn't feel like that. But if she and the Lightning Dragonblood had a bond similar to the one he shared with Kai then there might be a chance for them to build bridges. His heart was still conflicted about this. Even though this place looked good he couldn't see what was so great about it to keep her away from her home, husband, and child.

"This is where you've been for 20 years?" Jay asked, not sure what else to say at the moment. Libber smiled and nodded as she observed him carefully, her face alight with happiness, hope, and a twinge of fear. Behind him, Kai sat down on a nearby boulder, seeing that this was a moment between Jay and Libber, not him. As he watched his boyfriend agonize on what to do, he was approached by a young Shadow Dragonblood. He chose to ignore the noirette and focused on Jay

"You... You've been rescuing them." Jay realized when he remembered what Clutch said about their fort being attacked. Libber looked around and nodded again. Jay was in complete disbelief as behind him the Shadow Dragonblood started nuzzling Kai in welcome. This caught the brunette off-guard for a second. After living with humans for five years, many of his friends and himself had had to force down their animal instincts. They didn't want to frighten the humans any more than they had.

Kai understood that the noirette didn't mean any harm, but he was worried that Jay might get the wrong idea and didn't want to upset the ginger-haired man any more than he was.

"You're not upset?" She asked a little nervously. Jay sort of was, but he didn't know how to tell her. His mother had been living among a dragonblood paradise while he had to put up with his father's disappointment and the villagers' mistrust.

"What? No, I-I don't know..." He stammered as Kai stepped away from the Shadow Dragonblood who watched him crestfallen. "It's a bit much to get my head around, to be frank; it's not every day you find out your mother is some kind of crazy, feral, vigilante, dragon lady." He chuckled awkwardly and Libber smiled sadly. Indeed, her ideas weren't welcomed. She could tell her son was heartbroken to hear how much happier she was among the beasts.

In the same way, Jay was more at ease on the back of his boyfriend.

With a quick look, the Lightning Dragonblood offered Libber a claw that she hooked her staff around and was lowered down, sliding on a wing. As soon as her feet touched the ground, the Lightning Dragonblood transformed into their human form. They were revealed to be a woman who was around the same age as Libber. She had long auburn hair kept in three separate braids behind her back and pale skin. She has a slim figure, but Jay could clearly make out some strong muscles.

She wore a midnight blue, long sleeve tunic, an orange belt, and black leggings that appear layered.

She had armbands and boots with spikes on the sides. She also had a few layers of cloth wrapped around her waist, with her left leg exposed.

"At least I'm not boring, right?" Libber replied as Jay looked around as an Ice Dragonblood in its dragon form bumped his shoulder and other young dragonbloods started coming over to look at them. They hadn't seen a Fire Dragonblood in years and the only human who was nice to them was Libber. He was hesitant to touch it but gave in when it continued.

"Well, I suppose there is that... one specific thing..." Jay muttered, not wanting to meet her eyes.

"Do you... Do you like it?" She asked as she approached him unsurely.

"I-I-I don't have the words..." He admitted, looking cautious and a bit hurt while Libber was acting like a fearful, untrusting dragonblood. But they didn't expect things to be fixed with a snap of the fingers. This was a very delicate matter. Unfortunately, Ninjago people didn't do delicate. Meanwhile, Kai was surrounded by curious dragonbloods. One dragonblood sniffed him down the clothes and then lifted him up with their bare hands. Kai was stunned as he found himself supported only by a stranger's hands.

"HEY! HANDS OFF THE MERCHANDISE YOU GODDAMN CREEPS!" He roared and they quickly backed off. Libber finally noticed the brunette and immediately got closer to him, hunching down.

"Can-Can I?" She whispered to her son, already seeing his bond with Kai. She had only caught a glimpse of a Fire Dragonblood when one attacked Ninjago all those years ago. She had been living here for about two decades and she had never seen a living, breathing Fire Dragonblood. Libber had feared that they were extinct. At Jay's approval, she crouched and dropped her staff.

"Oh, he's beautiful." She cooed as she lifted a hand for him to sniff then traced her hand through his spikey brown hair.

"Of course I am." Kai laughed along with her and nuzzled her cheek. Jay was little put off by Kai's actions, but he knew the brunette long enough to know he only loved Jay and he was prone to these animal interactions, whether he was in his human or dragon form, even though he mostly only did it in private with Jay and other dragonbloods. Jay was surprised to see his mother right in her element. She was still so beautiful as the pictures Cliff had shown him, and every one of her moves was graceful and fluid.

It spoke of years of trust and attention dedicated to the dragonbloods she had been living with.

It truly wasn't a big surprise to see her get along with Kai, an outside dragonblood, so easily. Kai watched them get along and smiled warmly, happy to see his mother and boyfriend becoming friends. Without realizing it, Libber stood on her knees and kept the brunette's head in her hands.

"Um... I'm sorry, but what's your name?" She asked and Kai chuckled.

"My name's Kai, and I've been dating Jay for almost five years now, he's a great guy." He replied with a smirk as he caught Jay blushing, only to freeze when he caught Libber's wide eyes.

"You're both dating?" She gasped as her eyes kept darting back and forth between the brunette and her son. Jay cast Kai an angry look, which made his fiery boyfriend wince, before looking back to her mother.

"Yeah... as Kai said, it's been going on for a few years now and we couldn't be happier."

"Yep, we've been talking about a summer beach wedding and a little cottage by the lakes for the grandkids." Kai laughed and was soon joined by Libber while Jay spluttered and stumbled to find any words as his face turned scarlet.

"T-That's not what's happening! I-I-I mean, we've talked a-about it but there's n-nothing set in stone, a-and things are t-tough right now and-"

"Jaybird, relax, I'm just messing with you." Kai sent through the link and Jay relaxed almost immediately. Libber quickly noticed the change in mood and it didn't take her long to figure out what was happening.

"YOU TWO SHARE A LINK!?" She screeched as if she had just been told everything she touched turned to diamonds and gold.

"You know what the link is?" Jay asked, but he wasn't that surprised. If she had been living with Dragonbloods for twenty years then she must know all their secrets and probably shared a link with one or more.

"Of course, many dragonbloods only share a link with people they trust and love the most; it's typically only shared with family members such as parents, siblings, mates, or children."

"Do you share a link with anyone around here?" Kai asked, eyeing a few locals still hanging around.

"Um, no, I don't; I've been living here for twenty years and I haven't shared a link like that with anyone, not even Wisp." She admitted, looking a little disappointed, gesturing to the Lightning Dragonblood she was riding earlier. "I'm so pleased and happy for you both that you can have something as special as that." She smiled as she wrapped her arms around her son and his boyfriend, which the couple happily returned.

"Thanks, Mom," Jay muttered.

"Um, Kai, if it's not too much bother can I please see your dragon form?" She asked, feeling very awkward asking. Kai chuckled lightly before he suddenly vanished a flash of red light and a dragon stood in his place. Libber didn't hesitate to look the red beast over, running her fingers over every scar and scale as her eyes burned every detail into her memory.

"He might very well be the last of his kind." She said without thinking.

"Thanks for the reminded." Kai thought as he trilled dejected. Jay glanced at his boyfriend and felt sorry for him. He wanted to comfort him but he wasn't sure if he was allowed to approach the Fire Dragonblood's side while his mother was inspecting him. He settled for sending the brunette as much love and comfort through their link, which Kai was thankful for. Kai then walked around her and butted his head underneath her arm for more attention.

He rolled on his back in her lap as she scratched him as inspected his neck, causing him to purr.

"Look, he's your age! No wonder you get along so well!" She gasped in delight and Jay smiled. Kai was in much better spirits. Libber was very nice and entertaining. It was quite obvious she would be since she was the mother of his boyfriend. They stood in front of each other again, Libber tipped her head up and down like Kai and mimicking his yelps of happiness. "How did you manage to meet such a magnificent creature?" She asked her son, not taking her eyes off Kai.

Libber's enthusiasm was infectious and Jay, Kai, and the nearby dragonbloods found themselves smiling and cheering.

When the couple registered her question, their smiles dropped and almost all the dragonbloods sensed it and took off faster than a Speed Dragonblood could blink.

"I found him in the woods; he was shot down and...wounded." He gulped, a little worried about how his mother would take the news about how he was the one who basically crippled Kai. When he said that, Libber frowned as she stood while Jay sheepishly fidgeted on the spot and Kai looked anywhere but her or Jay. She walked to a Water Dragonblood who was in their dragon form, missing their right back leg, and ran her hand down its jaw.

"Vapore lost her leg to one of Iron Baron's traps." She said as bent down to grab her staff and walked over to a Mind Dragonblood. "Interis got his wing sliced by razor netting, and this... oh, poor Theuros was blinded by a tree snare, and then left to die alone and scared." She whimpered as she carefully took hold of a Poison Dragonblood's hand and he leaned into her touch. Jay nodded along with her as he took a good look at some of the other dragonbloods perched around them.

Some were missing patches of scales, hard to see with their dark coloring, and others had tattered wings, no doubt from flying non-stop and whatever wound they gained from the traps.

He and Kai both stiffened, however, when she pointed to Kai's prosthetic fin.

"And what of this? Did Iron Baron or his filthy trappers do this atrocity too?" She snarled as her voice turned cold and hard as she gripped the leather and examined it and the couple instantly paled.

"Ooohh... hehe, yeah... Huh, well crazy thing is..." He gulped as he swung his arms awkwardly and walked closer to his boyfriend. "I'm actually the one who shot him down." He reluctantly confessed, only to receive a confused and angry look from his mother. "It's-It's okay though, he got me back, right baby?" Jay giggled as Kai shook his head happily in Jay's arms as he kept running his hands over his scales. "You couldn't save all of me, could you? You just had to make it even! So, peg leg!" He exclaimed and he threw an arm around Kai's neck and lifted his foot.

Libber was at a loss.

It really was the most obvious proof of the Gods' sense of humor. Her son condemned a dragonblood and in turn said dragonblood also crippled him for life. Now they love and depended on each other. Kai to fly and Jay to escape life. Kai suddenly shook him off and dove down between Jay's legs, throwing the human on his back as he laughed nervously. Libber, just as uncomfortable, got on her knees to touch Kai's snout again.

"What did your father think of your boyfriend?" She finally asked the second most awkward question for the couple.

"Uh... he-he didn't take it all that well... but then, he changed; they all did." He smiled as a crease of disapproval crossed Libber's face as she listened. "Pretty soon, dragonbloods from the nest came to live in Ninjago with everyone." Jay giggled lightly, still a little stunned at that fact, but his smile dropped when she shook her head.

"If only it were all possible." She scoffed and Jay's blood turned cold at his mother's certain doubt.

"No, really-"

"Believe me! I tried as well but people are not capable of change, Jay; some of us are just born different." She sighed as she sat up and looked at him and then at Wisp as Kai returned to his human form. Wisp suddenly took off to the sky to join the other dragonbloods. Libber sighed sadly as she remembered her last night in Ninjago. The sky was red and filled with smoke as a large Earth Dragonblood flew overhead. As it swept up, she remembered seeing a burning hall, the light illuminating the sky and revealing even more dragonbloods flying around.

Screams were heard and a giant torch was lifted.

"Ninjago was a land of kill or be killed, but I believed peace was possible." She told her son as she remembered the Earth Dragonblood falling down right in front of a charging soldier. As the man lifted his ax to kill it, he was stopped by Libber grabbing his arm. She believed that fighting would only make it worse. But it was a very unpopular opinion. That night was one of the worst raids the village had ever suffered and not only that but the Chief and his family very nearly died.

The Earth Dragonblood quickly go back up and flew away and the man looked at her with contempt.

As he ran off after the dragonblood, Libber looked at her house and saw a dragon getting in through the broken roof.

"Then, one night, a dragonblood broke into our house finding you in the cradle." She sighed as she visualized Wisp walking into the house towards a baby's cradle. As soon as Libber entered the room she reached for a sword near the door. She stopped, however, holding the blade up, when she saw the dragonblood playing with Jay with her giant claw. As she looked at the laughing baby and the dragonblood she lowered the weapon in amazement.

Kai cooed, thinking of his boyfriend as a cute, little baby.

Jay didn't know if he wanted to glare at him or bury himself in embarrassment as his face turned scarlet again.

"I rushed to protect you, but what I saw was proof of everything I believed." She smiled at the memory. When Wisp noticed her, the dragonblood accidentally scratched Jay's chin, making him cry as she turned around on the human, growling under her breath. Libber quickly took a few steps back, holding the sword up. But as she looked in Wisp's eyes, she let it go. This wasn't a vicious beast, but an intelligent, gentle creature whose soul reflected her own.

They looked in each other's eyes and a bond was born.

But then, an ax flew between them. The dragonblood retreated, howling as Cliff appeared, dodging its lightning, as he told his wife to run. Libber grabbed Wisp's wing but she shook her off and turned back to face her. Seeing her cornered, Cliff made his way through the flames to his son. She remembered his husband shouting at her to hold on like she was in danger. Once Jay was safe in his arms, the Chief looked back at his wife to see her being carried away by the dragonblood.

He watched through the hole in the roof as the dragonbloods flew further and further away from him and his crying son.

"You and your father nearly died that night, all because I couldn't kill a dragonblood." She mumbled, unable to look at her son or Kai.

"Runs in the family." Jay smiled faintly, starting to piece things together, as Kai pulled him into a one-armed hug for comfort. There were still things left unclear, but he shouldn't jump to conclusions.

"It broke my heart to stay away, but I believed it would be safer if I did." She finished and a blind man could all the years of pain and sorrow in her face and eyes.

"How did you survive?" He asked, fearing that Wisp had taken her to the nest then they both managed to escape that monster, but Libber suddenly burst out laughing.

"Oh, Wisp never meant to harm me; she must've thought I belonged here, in the home of the great Dragonblood of Creation." She beamed as they started walking closer to the edge. Down below, in a pool of water, was a huge, white, and gold creature with giant whiskers that looked like a beard and hundreds of long shining spikes jutting out from the back of his head and all over his back. Dragonbloods were flying around him and bowed down to him when they got close.

Kai's eyes widened when he saw the ancient dragonblood below them.

Creation was one of, if not the most powerful elements in the world; rivaled only by the element of Destruction and the mythical First Born. Many secrets remained about the true extent of this dragonblood's powers and abilities. Many believed it was just a myth. This white and gold dragon possessed the elements of Fire, Earth, Ice, and Lightning and could affect the physical world in ways that Elemental Dragonbloods couldn't.

"This is the Alpha species, one of the few that still exists; every Nest has its Queen but this is the King of all dragonsbloods," Libber smirked when she saw Jay and Kai's stunned faces at the sight of this giant, stunning creature. "With his icy breath, this graceful giant built a safe haven for dragonbloods everywhere." She smiled as she pointed with her staff at the ice-covered roof of the cave while they walked down.

"Wait, that's the ice-spitter? He's responsible for all that destruction?!" Jay gasped as he looked at the ice-covered roof.

"He protects us! We all live under his care and his command." She snapped, thinking he was being rude. Behind them, a group of hatchlings appeared out of the foliage and converged on a frightened and annoyed Kai. The Fire Dragonblood was only saved by Wisp scaring them off.

"All but the babies of course, who listen to no one." Libber laughed loudly as the babies flew around and hung on the King's face, unbothered whatsoever. The white and golden dragonblood rose and spun to look at them. On the hill they were on, Libber and Wisp bowed down as Jay looked at the giant's head. Even Kai felt intimidated as he crouched lower to the ground. The Alpha stood right in front of Jay, before transforming into his human form.

The Alpha was an elderly man with a long white beard.

He was wearing white robes and a conical straw hat with a tattered cape. He seemed to pull a long staff out of nowhere and walked over to them. Jay stood frozen as his mother, Wisp, and Kai was on their knees in a sign of respect. The ginger-haired man had never once seen Kai bow down to anyone, not even at the nest. This did little to ease Jay's worry as the old man came closer, examining Libber's son. His face showed no emotion as he scanned the young man up and down.

Jay gulped, getting ready to either run, beg, or just stay still as a statue.

All of a sudden, the old dragonblood transformed again and puffed a breath out that covered the two humans and two dragonbloods. Jay, being closer, ended up with his hair covered in frost before returning to his spot in the creek.

"Master Wu likes ya." His mother laughed merrily.

"Master Wu?" Kai asked as they get back to their feet, feeling like they could relax again.

"Yeah, that's his name." She replied as Jay shook his head from the frost and gasped at the impressive creature. "You must be hungry." She smiled at the couple.

"Ah, yeah, I could eat." Jay nodded.

"Same." Kai grinned as he and Jay held each other's hand.

"Good! It's feeding time." She said as she gently took her son's arm and guided them further into the sanctuary...

[susiceri]

The gifts of the beasts

Long ago, there was a planet in the middle of the eastern region of the universe. A planet characterized by the abundant animal life and the vegetal exuberance of most of the regions. A seemingly peaceful place, but one that would suffer the consequences of evolution.

This place was populated by many species, but one race stood out notably from the others. Some reptilian beings that developed over the ages, becoming more and more aware of the power they had, of the difference in strength that made them stand out from the other species.

The race was divided into several regions and made up of four tribes: the white, the brown, the black and the green tribe.

Over the generations, those beings began to become stronger, more powerful... And to crave absolute power. Their reptilian nature had evolved in a way that had left several of their characteristics behind in pursuit of the force. And that had turned them into beasts, terrible beasts that harbored little more than cruelty in their souls.

In addition, knowing that there were other tribes of the same race that could rival them for power caused them to enter into a bloody conflict throughout their planet.

Its destructive power caused great havoc, causing the entrails of the planet to churn, as if wanting to unleash a way to stop that catastrophe. And indeed, the moment the leaders of the four tribes met face to face, before the final act of that war began, the surface of the planet cracked. The earth began to tremble, to separate and to swallow part of the damage caused... When from that crack, before the leaders, the deities arose.

Five divine beings, creators and protectors of that land stood before the beasts, leaving them terrified at the vision before their eyes.

The five deities looked around, observing the destruction that plagued their home. Their gazes then turned to the leaders of the race, making them shiver with panic.

"Mortal creatures, beasts... You have disturbed the place that gave you life and shelter, the place where you have enjoyed and perished."

The four leaders remained motionless, fearing those divine creatures that gazed at them with strict eyes from their supernatural height.

"Foolish... You have a home that you have destroyed because of your lust for power." The deities continued speaking in unison, noting the uncertainty and fear that existed among the members of that race. "However, it has also been a great failure on our part in not realizing the danger you posed..."

Then, one of the deities, the one in blue, took the floor and spoke alone.

"I firmly believe that we should have intervened much earlier, since it is clear that the course you have taken is not the most successful. So, to correct this problem and prevent it from happening again, I am going to give you a gift. I will grant you the gift of intelligence, so that you can reason, analyze the obstacles that stand in the way, and resolve the situation in the most logical way instead of being guided by your instincts."

She reached out her left hand, spreading her blessing in the air.

The second deity, with the color red dominating her presence, supported the words of the previous one and added his own.

"I will grant you the ability to divide that passion that burns in your bodies. To do not only use that passion to channel your hatred and bellicosity, but for you to learn that it has use in love. Thus, you will obtain from me the gift of loving any aspect of life, that that passion leads you to beautiful actions."

Her right hand spanned the expanse before her, letting her gift reach her recipients.

A third deity, the yellow color being present in all of her being, joined her equals, giving her opinion.

"To complement those gifts, I offer you compassion. Linked to love and sometimes in opposition to reason, compassion will lead you to a better society. A quality that you certainly need very much and I hope it will serve you."

She spread both hands in front of her, letting the echo of her words float in the air until they were heard.

Having spoken those three deities, a fourth smiled closing her eyes. Her orange being gave off warmth as her eyelids opened again and she saw the beasts.

"Those gifts will undoubtedly be a great change for your lives. And it is necessary that a change on the inside is reflected on the outside. This way, I give you the opportunity to start from scratch. To create a new stage in your history that will be reflected with a drastic change. I give you the gift of transformation."

The beasts watched as the orange deity seemed to concentrate strength within her and, after that, she raised her hands to the sky. Their bodies began to change, becoming more like those of the deities, leaving behind the reptilian aspect that they had since long ago."

The last deity then looked at what the others had done. It was a good job, but they hadn't left her anything that she could grant them... Except for a small detail. Her purple face showed a smirk as she came up with the gift she would give them.

"All those gifts are very good. You can be renewed beings from now on, who can learn from their mistakes and appreciate what surrounds them. However, it is equally important to appreciate yourself... So the gift that I will give you will be a very special one, the ability to love yourself and admire the gifts that you have been given. You will be able to praise your new qualities thanks to the gift that I grant you. Vanity."

The fifth deity brought her hands to her face and closed her eyes, thus managing to imbue her gift in the spirit of those beings.

It was in this way that the race of beasts began to change their customs, making use of the gifts that the divinities had given them. Agreements were established between the four tribes, a hierarchical order in each one so that order and harmony could reign. Thanks to that love and that vanity, the search for beauty was something that began to be constantly sought, even going so far as to dedicate their lives solely to achieving perfection.

Of course, there were always individuals who did not want to abide by the norms that had been established thanks to their intelligence, nor did they want to let compassion guide their actions. But despite that, that race managed to remain in a state of relative peace and harmony for the rest of the centuries...

Until a young prince decided not to warn of the silent and ominous catastrophe that was approaching them... And he let what his race achieved in the company of the help of the deities dissolve in space.

1259 words

[loptyrs-moved]

Wilted Flowers and Jilted Lovers

Rating: Teen Word Count: 2,435 Pairing: Seth Hyde/Original Character Tags: complicated relationships, lovers to enemies, enemies to lovers, making out, aphrodisiac, hurt/comfort, angst

Original Post Date to AO3: 12/01/2019

Preview:  Gladiolus: Symbolizing strength and moral integrity; also represents passion and infatuation

They know how this goes, and it's always the same. They can't bring back the past. Their love is gone, and lost to memories. But Seth is a sucker... and he's absolutely hopeless. But so is she.

Sunset washed Cradle in rich red, purple and gold. The warm breath of summer had just ghosted over the land, bringing a heat in the breeze. Spring had been forgotten —as quickly as it came, it faded away. Seasons passed by.... just like fleeting affections of time passed.  The forest had been their place of solace — their oasis in the desert. A diamond in the rough. But not even the strongest of diamonds could withstand the fallout that came billowing over when everything fell to pieces. And since then, their place lost the magic it once had, even though it hadn’t changed much at all. The rocks were all the same. The magic crystals still grew plentifully amidst the trees.

And for several years, a pair of former lovers met here. They quarreled. They fought. They made love here… like time didn’t slip through the cracks of their fingers all those years ago. But old habits die hard. The setting sun washed over the land, streaking the cloudless sky with pink and orange against the cerulean blue. Hushed whispers echoed in the clearing. Rustling of leaves and the shuffling of feet made this forest a familiar scene between the two lovers. And like always, it hurt more than salt being rubbed in fresh wounds.

She was pinned against one of the trees, mind hazy, nerves singing from the overload of pleasure he gave her. It was sweet… and yet each kiss stung more than the last. Hands pulled at each other desperately trying to get closer without going too far. Fingers tangled in sky blue hair, pulling him deeper into their kiss. Lips and teeth spoke the truth of needing the other more than their next breaths.

“S-Seth… we… we shouldn’t be…” a breathless voice whispered as the man holding her in his arms pressed loving, tender kisses along her neck. His teeth nipped at her, leaving the most subtle of marks against her warm, russet brown skin. Sinewy, gloved fingers dug into the fabric of his black and blue military jacket as she tried her best to keep her balance, for her legs weakened from the impending threat of giving out from underneath her. She knew better. She knew better than to seek the Ten of Spades out, since the outcome of these encounters always ended up with one of them being on the other side of a blade. Or two.

It was always the same. Either one or both of them would be hurt.  Was this their punishment? Did the gods find them to be their tools of amusement? What sort of sin did they commit in the lives previous that they were doomed to continue this vicious cycle of heartbreak?

The graze of his teeth against her collarbone forced a soft moan to bubble from within her chest. “Seth…”

He pulled away for just a moment to meet her gaze. Melancholy swirled in her mismatched gold and brown eyes. They called for him. Yearned for him. The setting sun caught the specks of gold in her irises, dragging him further into their depths.  How he missed this — how he missed her. He missed the sensation of her skin flushed against his, and how her chopped, messy brown hair felt like between his fingers. How he yearned for her to be at his side once again.

But alas, such selfish wishes would never come to fruition.

No matter how many times he tried to push her memory out of his head, they seemed to always linger behind, tormenting him with sleepless nights and dreams of the love that escaped him. ��It had been years since they parted ways. Three if anyone was counting. And in those three long, agonizing years, Seth never forgot the feelings he had for Camille Fontaine. Despite their turbulent history, he still loved her. He always would. Seth loved her more than anyone could even possibly begin to fathom.

Loving Camille was natural… like second nature. And he had a hard time kicking the habit of losing himself in the heated kisses they shared. It didn’t help that they met in the same place where vibrant red and orange gladiolus grew wild. They infected the air with their subtle scent as the wind spread their pollen across the land—a rare type of pollen that made even the most composed of people lose themselves to their most carnal desires. And the former lovers were no stranger to it.  

Camille and Seth knew this part of the forest like it was the back of their hands. It was a home to memories long passed. Wildflowers once grew in abundance here. A special breed of gladiolus  flourished here, making this place special. Magical even. However… like most spells, the magic fades away, leaving behind a gilded memory best left in the past. There was only the sun, shining its bright light of all the memories they should have left buried behind, casting a shadow of what they both had become now—a farce… and the angel of death.

Seth swallowed the lump that  formed in his throat. His hand cupped her cheek, caressing her. “My feelings for you haven’t changed,” he said, his usual light, airy voice now hoarse with desire. There was a sadness that brewed behind twin hazel irises. “And I know yours haven’t either.” Her eyes avoided the earnest expression in his warm ones in fear that if she looked at him directly for too long, she would burst into tears.

Her heart screamed for her to tell him she felt the same, for it was the truth.

Camille never stopped loving Seth. How could she?

The love they have—had—was one that only came around once in a lifetime. But it was over… the moment she signed her life off to the most sadistic man in Cradle was the absolute breaking point. There was no way she could allow the man she loved for so long, and with every fibre of her being to be involved in the darkness than he already needed to be. She only did it to protect him. Why couldn’t he see that?

It was best if they forgot each other. It would have been better if they had never met.

But she knew it wasn’t what she really thought. She would have rather died knowing him for even just a moment than to live for centuries without meeting him at all.

She bit her lip, the sensitive skin threatening to split if she pressed her teeth down any harder. The taste of iron seeped into her mouth as blood oozed from the cracked skin. It was only to keep herself from letting the dams holding back a torrent of tears from splintering, and ultimately shattering.

“We shouldn’t be doing this…” Camille repeated, avoiding his gaze. Her voice was but a whisper, fearing that they would be overheard. “We shouldn’t. We can’t keep meeting like this, Hyde. ”

We don’t have the luxury to love each other anymore.

The cry of the birds echoed above as they flew above in the pink, twilit sky filled the air. They were free, soaring through the warm winds that carried them to places where it was warmer, and safer than where the lovers lost were. The sound of Seth Hyde’s heart shattering into a million pieces was like a bullet cutting through the air before it pierced its target, lodging itself deep within the flesh, and muscle as it bled with no mercy. Love was merciless. Cruel. It tore people apart. Poets sang of how it conquered all, while it was the reasons why nations went to war with each other. Love was blood splattered across the battlefield. Love was the harsh and deafening clang of swords clashing as steel met. Whoever said it would overcome any sort of conflict was a liar. A fake. A fraud. Just like the Ten of Spades.

And yet… he couldn’t help but tilt her head up to meet his tired eyes. The hint of a smile flashed in his sad, hazel irises. A thumb stroked her scarred cheek slowly. Lovingly. “You always say that, Cami. But you were also here waiting for me, weren’t you?” A hand took hers in his and squeezed. gently. Seth’s ached, and heart bled every time he and his former beloved met like this. He wasn’t a masochist, but living a life without Camille in it pained him more than anything. It nearly killed him to see her on the other side of him, threatening to kidnap the Alice that had fallen from the stars and landed in the middle of their pathetic war. To see the one he called his love fight in his name was a punishment worse than death itself.

Yet he still sought her out, wanting to rekindle things—to fix things. There was a part of them that desperately wanted things and people they couldn’t have. But just like her, he wasn’t immune to that man’s reach. Seth Hyde was caught in a vicious whirlpool, and there was no way out. They used him just as they used her for their biddings, whether it was under the guise of being a carefree and high-ranking military officer, or an assassin whose only home was in the shadows. They were two sides of the same coin, and the Jabberwock was the one deciding which one would be the other’s demise.

They could be each other’s ruin if he so wished it to be.

Camille chewed the inside of her cheek. She withdrew her hand from his. Gold and brown eyes grew cold as the sun disappeared off beyond the horizon. Night was approaching, and neither one of them could be caught out here, reliving memories that should have been discarded many years ago.

“You know why I’m here. You missed your check-ins with Dalim the last two times he came looking for you,” she said, her words sharp like the tip of her sword. “And it’s getting old.”

Seth winced. She straightened herself and slipped from his arms. The dark look on her face was one that he had grown accustomed to in recent times. The ray of hope was gone from her eyes, leaving icy cynicism in its place. “You’re wasting everyone’s time, and he’s not pleased about it. You’ve grown sloppy, Hyde, and it’s been ever since you’ve joined that little army of yours.”

Each word was a dagger, cutting into him, stabbing him — leaving his scar-ridden heart bleeding. His brain screamed for him to take her back in his arms, and hold her tight so that she wouldn’t slip away from him again. He couldn’t bear the idea of the one he called his beloved serve that sadistic monster like she was personal attack dog. But what could Seth Hyde protect? Who? He couldn’t even keep his dear sister out of their clutches, so what made him think that he could keep Camille out of their grasp.

She was too hot headed for her own good, and one day, she would fly too close to the sun and fall headfirst into her own demise. But she didn’t want his help. Camille was just as stubborn as he was. It was the reason why he loved her so much… and why he was so reluctant to let her go.

“Cami… I…”

She took a step forward, giving him a murderous glare. She slipped past him, putting a distance between them. Her hand slipped into his coat pocket, and took his written report that was long overdue, slipping another in its place. “So I suggest you get your head out of the clouds and do your job instead of fooling around. Time is of the essence. Don’t forget who you really work for, Ten of Spades.”

Words were stuck in his throat. This wasn’t the first time Camille broke his heart, but it still tore him to shreds nonetheless. He couldn’t even cry, no matter how choked up he was. Nails bit into the skin of his hand, drawing blood. He wanted to argue back with her, but how could he when he knew she was right? It would be futile now. So he remained silent as he watched Camille walk to the far end of the clearing.

“He’ll be expecting an update in the next two weeks,” Camille said nonchalantly, casting a last glance at the man she once loved. And in her eyes, Seth saw tears. If she stayed any longer, there would be no telling what would happen next. They could end up in each other’s arms… or at the opposite end of blades — like it had been for six long, painful, heart-wrenching years. But time was of the essence. And their employer was an impatient man.

“Don’t disappoint him. ”

Seth Hyde stood alone as he watched Camille disappear between the gnarled trees and all their hideous branches. Twilight blanketed Cradle. The moon was rising from where the sun sank, casting her glow on the land. The subtle scent of the gladiolus filled Seth’s nose. And it made him feel sick to his stomach. Acid rose in his throat as his chest throbbed painfully. This place was tainted. Tainted by greed. Sullied by a toxin that choked the life out of everything it touched.

He couldn’t stand to be there any longer… leaving it behind in the past… where it belonged. Tears threatened to fall as all those memories came crashing down on him with no mercy, like an avalanche. He grit his teeth. Damn it. Damn that bastard who held those he loved in the palm of his hand, threatening to crush them whenever he felt like it.

Seth shoved his hands in his pockets and a shaky exhale shook through him when he noticed a scrap of paper in his pocket. It was torn. The late report was taken by Camille when she left him in the dust, but this wasn’t part of it. And when Seth pulled it out, his eyes widened. His legs felt weak as he read the scrawl on the slip. The dams were destroyed. Tears ran down his handsome face. Hazel eyes were puffy and red, and were blinded by the torrent of overwhelming dread and fear as the words branded his brain.

He knows about us… and he’s watching. So please… let me go, so that I can let you go too. Please Seth, if you love me, forget about me. Hate me if you must. But let go of me so that I don’t hurt you anymore. Please…

[pulpwriterx]

BEN SOLO ALL THESE YEARS

Rey decided to stay on Tattoine.

The desert, after all, was her home.

Poe went back into the spice business, and even branched out to include good booze and cigarillos.

Finn joined him in yo ho, you ho,  a pirate's life for me.

And in their business?

They needed a good scavenger.

A year or  so went by.

Finn and Poe bought themselves a posh bachelor pad in Anchorhead, but Rey preferred solitude.

She knew that that both of them would have been willing to give her a shoulder to cry on, and the benefit of a man's company.

But after the way Ben died in her arms, Rey wasn’t ready to hold a man, again.

The old Skywalker farm didn’t look like it, but it was a nice place to live.

It had been Ben’s home, after all. 

He had left the outside looking run down and desolate, like no one lived there, but past the blighted door in the dusty courtayrd, it was a different story.

Typical Ben.

When you took off his mask, he had another mask on beneath that, and beneath that was a big story, a tall tale, and a pack of ever-evolving half-truths and outright lies.

He had restored the old farm, on the inside, and underneath, where the farming equipment and tanks had been, he kept a smuggler’s treasure trove.

Tunnels filled with all kinds of swag, from booze and cigarillos to old Rebel Alliance and Imperial Uniforms, and less innocent cargo like crates of blasters and pallets of coaxium.

There was also five years of food and supplies, and one of the tanks had even been converted into a vault. It was full of credits, black molded chests of Imperial gold coins, money from all over the Galaxy.

Ben had left the farm, and all it’s contents to Rey Skywalker.

He had also left the Millenium Falcon to Rey, but she hadn’t the heart to fly the ship she loved so much.

With both Ben and Han Solo dead, neither with a final resting place?

The ship was like their tomb.

The Falcon, and Ben’s secret refuge, with it’s hidden treasures; they were all, in some strange way, his legacy.

When Rey wasn’t whizzing around the stars with her friends, she led a peaceful, solitary life as the guardian of the legacy of the family that gave all for the peace that finally broke out in the Galaxy.

Besides, she wasn’t wholly alone.

Poe always let BB8 go with her, to keep tabs on her, and Threepio and Artoo were glad to finally get to go home.

It was a special place for her.

In the two years between when she and Ben killed Snoke, and when they killed the Emperor?

They used to meet at the Skywalker Farm.

Their bonds remained unbroken, even after she had rejected his offer to join him,  and they had grown closer, not just through the talks, and the laughing, and the stories, most of which were lies.

Yelling.

Pointing fingers.

Sneering.

Cursing.

Stamping feet.

Breaking things.

Throwing shit about.

Lightsaber duels.

Even the bad times, even the shit times were precious to her, now.

Rey would sit, quietly, watching the twin suns, and think about the past.

Like the time they had a horrible fight through their bond, and called each other vicious names, and threw things at each other, and smashed up their own gear, in a rage.

But then Ben had said.

“I need to see you in person, Rey.”

“Why? What can we do in person that we can’t do through our little talks?”

“We can make love. Don’t you want to? I do.”

“There is nothing like love between us, Kylo Ren!”

Ben had given her the Solo shrug.

“Then we can fuck. I'd rather fuck. I was just trying to be chivalrous.”

And somewhere in their laughter, they had agreed to meet at the Skywalker farm, on Tattoine.

Rey had no idea that Ben had a home, and it became their refuge.

Rey would lie there, in Ben's big, brass bed, and close her eyes and think about when he was there, beside her.

Those stolen days and nights where they would laugh, and fight, and screw, and cuddle under the fur blanket in the cold desert night and plan for a future they both knew would never happen.

Sometimes, she could almost feel his big body, lying there beside her, and she could smell his scent.

Hear his voice.

Feel the way her little body had moved under his big, strong hands.

Of course she would also lie there and think about their lovemaking and take care of her business.

She could have had Finn, or Poe, but Ben was like an animal, like a man in the state of nature; he had been born without shame, and he had unchained a passion in her that Rey had never known she possessed.

Not that she had been a prude, but her interest in men, and her occasional dealings with them had been, well, ordinary.

Now who the hell would she find to satisfy the unchained, shameless desire that Kylo Ren Ben Solo had awakened in her?

Rey often cried, bitter tears.

But that was life.

Love is death, life is pain, and somehow you muddle through.

***

In the second year since Ben died, Rey was walking down a busy street in Anchorhead when she saw Chewie.

They hugged, and Rey was truly happy.

She took him to Poe and Finn's and they tried to get information out of him, but Chewie would only say he was working.

As he left, he asked Rey a very honest question.

“Are you happy?”

“I am content, Chewie. I have friends, work, a place to live, enough money, and I have peace.”

“But are you happy?”

“No. Happiness died with Ben. A lot of things died for me, with Ben. Love. Hope. Any interest I had in men, poor Poe, and poor Finn. But I still have life. And I can still enjoying being content with it.”

***

A few nights later, Rey had a dream about Ben.

It was a wild, sweaty, deeply pornographic wet dream that she woke up from in the throes of the kind of an orgasm women could only have in their dreams.

Or, if they were lucky, with bad men like Ben Solo.

She sat up, throwing the blanket off.

“Rey.”

Rey's heart sang an aria.

“Ben! You found your way back? When will I be able to see you?”

But there was no reply.

Leading her to believe, alas, it had only been a beautiful dream.

***

When he had come to Oneness with the Force, Ben Solo found trouble in Paradise.

Master Yoda thought he was ready for the next step.

Master Obi Wan argued that he was too young, and had resolved none of the conflict that had brought him to ruin.

Master Anakin was more direct.

“Though a man, he is still a child. And his life has been suffering and tragedy. He is young, he has found love, and we should not cheat him of the life he has fought so hard to win. Send him back. Let him be Ben Solo, and live his life. He has many years to find the New Path.”

Ben tried to speak, to say what he wanted,  but found he could not.

“Young though he is, yes, but what life for him? Redeemed from Kylo Ren in our eyes. But what of the material world? If return he does, atone he must. But a bullseye on his back there will be!” Yoda insisted.

“That is a problem, Anakin.” Obi –Wan agreed.

“Then we will send my grandson back without healing his body. It will be broken. He will atone with his suffering.  We will send him to a distant planet to make his recovery, alone. Dependant on the charity of strangers he once oppressed.  Then let him make his way to more familiar planets, back to his identity and his home.” Anakin suggested.

“That sounds reasonable. We will give my namesake a test. But, Kylo Ren is dead. Ben Solo should not have to pay for his crimes. Then we will make it so the memory of his mask is preserved in the minds of all. But not his face. “ Obi-Wan suggested.

The others agreed.

“Speak now you may, young Skywalker. Until you find your way back, Skywalker shall you be called. Well? Back do you wish to go?” Yoda asked.

“Yes, Master Yoda. Back I wish to go.”

“Humor you have. Need it, you will.”

“But will I have to endure doctors? Needles?”

“Fear in your face, I see? Tortured you were, young Skywalker? Then your fear you must overcome.  Back you still wish to go?”

“Yes, Master Yoda. I will face my fear.”

“And Ben? No cheating? If your women, strong in the Force as they are, happen to find you? Or your family? We won’t keep them away. But if you call to them? You forfeit this chance.” Anakin told him.

“Wrong that is! In his sleep, will young Skywalker’s soul cry for help! No. Also must we use the Force to interrupt his bond. Until his test is finished. Though he will call? No answer will we allow to come.” Yoda decided.

“I agree. Only by doing the evil that Kylo Ren might have done will you forfeit your chance. Good luck, Ben.” Obi-Wan said

“I have always been with you, my grandson. If you need my strength during your trial? I will answer your call.” Anakin assured Ben

Then, Ben  fell into something like sleep.

***

He had a horrible dream, of waking up bloody and bruised on collapsing Exegol, limping or crawling out of the cave he was in, and then escaping in the still flyable remains of a crashed X-Wing

He woke up in a bacta tank, and panic seized him.

He started banging on the glass walls, screaming through the breather in his mouth.

The noise brought a Rodian in a white coat.

“Hey! Hey Dan, the big guy is awake! By the Force, he looks terrified.”

A guy his age with a moustache rushed into the room.

“Then let’s get him out. It’s OK, big fella. You’re safe. You’re in a Resistance hospital. There’s no more First Order. Nobody’s going to hurt you, here. Hurry up, Needo, help me, before he cracks the tank!”

The machine Ben was suspended from pulled him out, and he ripped all the wires off of his body, and crashed to the ground.

“No! No doctors! Get away from me!” he shouted.

Reduced to crawling away.

But there was nowhere to go.

“Its OK. There’s no torture droids here. You don’t have to get any injections. We're not going to bring you to the point of death, then put you in a bacta tank to fix you up, and then do it again.”

“You know about that?”

“The Empire did it to me the first time. I have a scar like the one on your other leg. But mine is only a few inches long. You must have really suffered.” The grey haired man said.

“I did. Where am I? Who are you? How much longer will this plexi-cast be on?”

The Rodian came with a long orange smock with the Resistance symbol on it, folded on a wheelchair.

“I’m Dan Antilles. I’m your doctor. You crash landed here, on Hoth. And you need another three weeks with that cast. Let me help you up. Now you might want to put this smock on, big fella. This is the size we usually use for Wookies.”

The Rodian helped Ben put the smock on.

It had long sleeves and it was fleecy and soft on the inside.

“I know you want crutches, but the break in your femur was bad. So, if you like being in the shape you’re in, and you want that leg to hold you up, later? Wheelchair. Nobody has to push you if you’d rather wheel yourself.”

Ben sat in the wheelchair, lifting his leg onto the platform for it.

“I can wheel myself.” He said.

“Good. I’ll show you around the place, and back to your bed.”

“Do you have a name, Big Guy?’

“Ben. Ben Skywalker.”

“Are you a Skywalker from Tattoine or a Skywalker from Arkanis?”

“Both. My grandfather was from Arkanis. His father died, and his mother became an indentured servant on Tattoine. We’re free, now, though.”

“Yeah, my family are from Corellia, but most of by father’s war buddies were from the Outer Rim. Tattoine, mostly. OK, Ben. It’s good to have you back. You scared us a little; we thought you might leave.”

“Me too.”

 ***

Snow.

Watching it snow.

Lying propped up on pillows, leaning against the wall, last cot on the ward.

A cot with a big “W” on it.

For Wookiee.

Techanically, Ben was a Wookiee, when Chewie became his godfather, he was adopted into Chewie’s clan.

Ben was thinking about Kashyyyk, actually, while watching it snow.

Thinking about how he might still be welcome, with Uncle Chewie.

Trying to get his spoon under the cast, to scratch his leg.

Watching it snow.

Blanket up to his chin, one knee up.

“...so, what happened was, there was like, a reason why Ben Solo killed Kylo Ren. More than just, you know, the war. Ben Solo and Kylo Ren, they were at the Jedi Temple together. They were friends. But they had a lightsaber fight over either the Force or a girl. I hear different things. And that's’ why Kylo Ren wore the mask because Ben Solo cut his nose off and scarred up his face...”

“Zak, can you stop talking about men? Why do you think I have my blanket pulled up?”

“You thinking about your nurse?”

“Can you stop talking to me? Forget it.”

“Sorry, Ben.”

“It’s not your fault, Zak. It’s this place.”

He looked out the window again.

Snow.

Snow.

Snow.

“I think about your nurse, too. She’s a big girl. She has to be six feet tall. And, like 200. But it’s in all the right places. And she’s a Twi’lek.” Zak said

“I’d like to jump into that girl and drown. Why isn’t she your nurse?” Ben asked

Zak shrugged.

Ben heaved himself off his cot and into his wheelchair.

“Well, I think I’ll go try to take a piss without pissing all over myself.”

“Good luck, man.”

***

The days bled into each other.

Ben finally looked inside the chest, under his bed, on the ward.

In the chest was his lost lightsaber, the blaster Uncle Lando had given him, his blaster belt, his lucky Sabacc dice, a couple of pair of coveralls, his boots, an X-Wing helmet, a money belt for under your clothes that had 500 credits in it, and a mess kit.

The X-Wing helmet had a number on it.

His Uncle’s.

“Humor you have. Need it, you will.” Ben muttered.

The plexi cast on his left leg came all the way up to his balls, and his leg always itched like it was on fire.

Meanwhile, no one asked him if he was related to  the Jedi Master Luke Skywalker.

When two weeks, and then two more passed and no celebrated persons came to claim him, people assumed that he was some distant relation.

They didn’t release him until after the cast came off, in another week.

Nobody had come for him, and he didn’t call for anyone, so he just left on his own, on a transport with hundreds of other displaced men and women with nowhere special to go.

***

The tiniest hint of a fly in the Force Ghosts’ ointment came around the time that Ben was leaving the Resistance Hospital.

General Leia-Organa Solo, also Senator Leia Organa-Solo, returned to her office on Coruscant as Senate staffers were packing up her things.

One boy almost dropped a picture of her, and Han, and Ben, and Leia caught it.

“Don’t look so frightened. I’m not a ghost.”

“But you’re dead, Senator?”

“I’m a Skywalker. We don’t just die, like other people. We have many deaths and many births, and live many lives inbetween? Less philosophically? I have too much to do to die just now. Maybe in another forty years, or so.”

The next day, after her first appearance in the Second Republic Senate, to announce that she was running for Prime Minister, Leia had an unscheduled visit in her office from Wedge Antilles.

“This had better be really important, Wedge.”

“I think it is. I don’t want to get your hopes up, but I was talking to my son, last night. He saw your broadcast and it made him think of a patient of his. A man his own age that hasn’t been far from his mind. A big guy, about two meters, nearly six and a half feet tall. Long dark hair. Dark eyes. Had lots of battle scars. This kid landed a burning X-Wing on Hoth, came out of it with his flight suit in shreds, dragging a broken leg, raving about Exegol, killing them all, and finally being a free man. Spent three weeks in a Bacta tank, recovering from a whole slew of injuries, and another three weeks in a cast up to his nuts. The patient said his name was Ben Skywalker, that his father was a Corellian starpilot and his grandfather was a Skywalker from Arkanis who grew up on Tattoine. As soon as the cast came off, Ben Skywalker got on a transport with a bunch of other kids with nowhere to go and no one to see, and left the planet. And it wasn’t until Dan saw your broadcast that he made the connection, and called me about it. Does that sound like anybody you know, Leia?”

“It does. I’ve been sitting here all day, full of blind, stupid hope. Thinking that if I’m alive, then Ben might be, too. Waiting for that call.”

“Who the hell else would it be?”

“I don’t know, Wedge. But it sounds like he’s running.”

“You need help chasing him?”

“All I can get. We need to find this Ben Skywalker. But if he is my Ben? What the hell do we do, then? Poe Dameron and Rey spread it all over the Galaxy that Ben Solo fought and killed Kylo Ren and the Knights of Ren, and then he died and became One With the Force. And the smart little bastard wore a mask, most of the time.”

“Let it go, Leia. Any way you slice the pie? Kylo Ren is dead. If Ben Solo isn’t? Give him a chance. He killed Snoke. And the Knights of Ren.  He saved Rey. He saved you. And he helped Rey kill Palpatine. I think he deserves it.”

“Well, Chewie will be happy. I’ll talk to him, first.”

***

As soon as the transport landed, Ben began his wandering.

At first he figured it as a kind of  penance, for his many crimes.

He stopped wearing shoes, or cutting his hair and beard, and all he wore was a black hooded robe, closed with a belt from which hung a metal bowl and cup, a holstered knife, and his lightsaber.

At first Ben just begged, and wandered, changing his robes for coveralls and working on freighters for his passage from planet to planet.

But as time went on, he slipped into a lonely madness.

He took to standing on streetcorners and preaching about the evils of the old world.

“Stop and look at me! I am the mistakes of the past! My mother’s brother tried to murder me, and I murdered my father in turn! With these hands! These hands! This creature you see before you was once a man! Envied by Men, desired by Women! Who desires this creature, now? Who envies this wretch, now? Who?”

By this time a small crowd would have gathered around the very tall, very gaunt man, with wild eyes and a booming deep voice inside a nest of black hair and black beard.

“It was not the Force that did this to me! No, it was the order than we tried, for centuries to put on it. Dividing it, and ourselves into Dark and Light. Jedi and Sith. Empire and Republic. First Order and Resistance. It was this blasphemy against the balance and unity of the Force that brought our Galaxy into three generations of interplanetary war! And this Second New Republic is built on the truth! The truth there is no Dark, or Light. Jedi, or Sith. Only the Force, United. As it lives in all of us, and everything! As we find the balance, within ourselves, in accordance with our form and our nature. But I know there are those that preach the old heresies. When you hear them, think upon me!”

That’s when he would unbuckle his belt and take off his robe, showing them all his scarred, gaunt, filthy body.

Ben had even made the scar of the wound that Rey healed in the ruins iof the Death Star appear in his flesh.

“Stop and look at me! I am the mistakes of the past! My mother’s brother tried to murder me, and I murdered my father in turn! With these hands! These hands! This creature you see before you was once a man! Envied by men, desired by Women! Who desires this creature, now? Who envies this wretch, now? Who? Look on me and know it is time for old things to go. You must let the past die! Kill it, if you have to! Look upon me, and remember my words.”

Sometimes they would throw money in his bowl, sometimes throw things at him.

He hoped that a crowd would martyr him, but no one ever took him seriously enough to kill him.

He slept in alleys and doorways, stowed away on ships, and felt less than human.

Ben’s will to live left him as his madness spiralled out of control. He hardly ate and hardly slept, and his starving body devoured fifty pounds of his flesh, leaving him wiry, rawboned and gaunt.

He hardly felt human, or even humanoid, anymore, because  he was hairy, and smelly, and filthy, and he scavenged through garbage to eat,  like some wild animal.

At the end of a year, he ended up on Tattoine, intending to make a grand end to it.

He would give his sermon, throw off his robes and slit his wrists and his throat with a dirty piece of glass from the street.

But another vagrant warned him that the city fathers of Anchorhead had recently hired a former First Order officer as their chief of police, and although the new Chief understood smugglers were the lifeblood of Anchorhead, he was cracking down on street crime, con men, muggers, preachers, pushers, unregistered whores, and so on.

Ben quietly wished his former comrade well, and gave up the ghost.

But life clung, annoyingly to his skeletal frame.

He lay in the same doorway for three days, and three nights, and on the third night he knew that he was near death.

“Ben.”

He saw  a bluish light in the cold, dark desert night, and rolled his eyes upward.

The face he looked into was very much like his own.

If not for the fair hair and light eyes, it might have been his face.

Ben knew his rescuer, immediately.

“Grandfather. Have you come to take me home?”

“No, Ben. I have come to comfort you, in your suffering. I understand suffering. I understand the peace that comes from enduring suffering, and triumphing over it. But I want you to live. You have suffered enough. I release you from the restraints that we have put on your bond with Rey Skywalker. Call for help. I will wait with you, until she comes. Rey will take you home.”

***

“Rey. Rey, I need you.”

Rey sat up in the dark, and knew this was no dream.

She saw and heard Ben; she saw him through their bond.

But what she saw and heard was horrible.

His face was drawn and filthy, and the hand that reached to her looked skeletal.

He was swathed in a filthy robe, lying in a dirty doorway, in a back street of Anchorhead.

“I see you, Ben. I hear you.”

“Help me, Rey. I want to come home.”

Rey jumped out of bed and threw on her clothes.

“I’m coming, Ben. Wait for me. Don’t leave me, again!”

*** 

Rey stopped her speeder by the dirty doorway and was surprised to see the tall, broad-shouldered hulking Force ghost of Anakin Skywalker.

Gently, he picked up his broken, emaciated grandson, and carried him to the speeder.

“Master Anakin!” Rey gasped.

She watched him wrap Ben in the blanket she had brought, and gently lay him in the back seat of the speeder

“Take my grandson home. And don’t let him out of your sight until he’s well, again.”

“But I don’t know anything about healing! I don’t know who to call! I don’t know what to do! Someone has to help us!”

“There’s an old man living in my friend Ben Kenobi’s old shack. He claims to be a Jedi Healer. I will go there, now, and send him along to the Skywalker Farm. I am sure that he will be able to help you.”

Anakin Skywalker walked off towards the moonlit desert, and dissappeared into a little whirly of wind-driven sand..

***

Rey sped home, in a hurry.

Threepio helped her to carry what was left of Ben Solo into the house.

“Shouldn’t Master Ben have a doctor?”

“No, Threepio! No doctor! No medical droid! No bacta tank! No needle!”

Ben was terrified, but it was the first time he had spoken.

Rey was glad that he was alive enough to speak

“Alright, Master Ben. No doctor. Master Rey, what about the man in the kitchen.”

“He’s not a doctor. Master Ben hates doctors. Don’t talk about doctors! Help me get Master Ben into the bathroom, and tell that man to start doing...whatever it is he’s going to do. Have Artoo heat up some batha broth for Master Ben. Then you and Artoo go back to the shed. It’s too much for you.”

Rey slammed the door on the dithering droid, and went through the bedroom and back into the bathroom.

Ben had managed  to get his robe off and get into the bathtub.

He was covered in bruises and scratches, and you could see his ribs and his hipbones.

What was visible of his face out of the rat’s nest of tangled hair and beard was suffused with all the misery the human race had ever endured.

Rey turned the water on.

“Let me die, Rey. Now that I’m home. I don’t want to live.”

“I want you to live, Ben. This is my miracle, not yours.”

“Grandfather wants me to live. Do you? Really?”

“Yes, Ben, I do! I love you!”

“Then maybe I will live a little longer.”

He lay quietly in the warm water as she scrubbed the dirt off of him, and didn’t protest even though she had to wash his hair and comb the tangles and rats out with oil  several times, and then wash it, again.

It was either that or shave his head.

One of the Skywalkers had left his straight razor there, and Rey had polished it and sharpened it; why she wasn’t sure, but now she carefully shaved the filthy, matted beard away from Ben's gaunt face.

“Don’t shave it all. Kylo Ren didn’t wear a beard.” Ben told her.

It was the only thing he said, but his sad eyes watched her movements.

She helped him get out of the tub, and dried him.

“Thank you.” Ben said.

Ben leaned heavily on her as they made there way into the bedroom; he was still much larger and heavier than her.

But Rey didn’t complain.

She propped him up with pillows, and fed him sips of milk and sips of broth.

“Glass.” He said.

She handed him the glass of milk, and he gulped it down.

“Don’t, Ben, you'll get sick!”

He reached for the bowl, and sniffed it, like a dog, then put it back down.

“No. Meat.”

“You’ll get sick!”

Ben slammed his fist angrily on the nightstand.

“I’M DYING! MEAT, GODDAMN IT, GIVE ME MEAT!”

Bellowing  like an angry Wookiee.

A Wookiee.

Chewbacca was Ben's godfather; he had been adopted into Chewie’s tribe, and had a Wookie name.

Kallaurra.

Angry Wild Warrior.

But she didn’t know where Chewie was and Han and Leia were dead.

“Alright, Ben. Your Uncle Chewie taught me how to make a Wookiee stew. I’ll fix you some meat.”

Rey went out into the kitchen.

She felt helpless and alone.

I don’t know him. I don’t know him, at all.

Rey closed her eyes.

And she called to Master Leia.

As usual, there was no response.

Then she called to Master Luke.

“I’m right here. I told Ben Kenobi, and Master Yoda. Make sure Ben is with Rey. Father agreed with me. They didn’t listen.”

Rey opened her eyes.

Master Luke was sitting at the table.

“No matter where I go? I always seem to end up, right back here. On Tattoine. Now I’m here in the same house.”

“You’re the JedI Healer? When did you come back?”

“Right after I thought I died on Ahch-To. I got the same treatment Ben did. It wasn’t my time. I wasn’t ready. Next thing I knew, I was alive and well, and back on Tattoine. In Ben Kenobi’s hut.”

“I wish I would have known you were so close by.”

“I wish I would have told you.”

“Master Luke, did you ever take care of someone in Ben’s condition?”

“I don’t know what Ben’s condition is.”

Rey explained.

“I have seen men as sick as Ben, and I’ve tried to heal them. Some get better, Rey, and some don’t. They have to want to live. But I’ll do everything I can for Ben. Before I founded the new Jedi Temple,  I studied Jedi healing. I wanted to save lives to atone for the hundreds of thousands I had taken. And I have taken care of Ben when he’s sick.  And I also know how to get him to take medicine. You make something he likes and put it in his food.”

“But we don’t have any medicine.”

“I brought some.”

Master Luke reached into his pocket and got a white cylinder, which he put in Rey’s hands.

She opened it.

It was full of capsules.

“What are they?”

“No. The green capsules are vitamin pills. The orange ones are bacta. Just pop them open and put them in the stew I’m going to show you how to make. It’s a Wookiee recipe that Ben likes. Chewie showed me how to make it.”

Master Luke made a stew with bantha broth, vegetables, a whole nerf tenderloin, and potatoes.

He showed her also how much of the pills to put in.

“Don’t let him gobble it. Feed him a spoonful or two, and wait a half hour, to see if it makes Ben sick. If not. Let him eat the whole bowl. Don’t give him any more tonight. If he’s not sick, tonight, he can have three of these big serving bowls, tomorrow. It’s not too much. Ben’s almost the size of a Wookie, so he eats like one. If his stomach is still alright, tomorrow, then he had have some bread, too. And don’t give him anything to drink but blue milk. If his stomach gets upset, crack one of these purple capsules into some blue milk, and get him to drink it. Make some more of the stew after this pot runs out. After a week, Ben should be able to eat normally. Don’t expect him to gain weight all at once. And don’t overfeed him. The bacta and vitamins should make him well in about a week. But it might take a couple of months before he gains his weight back.”

“REY! WHERE THE HELL IS MY FOOD! MEAT! DYING!” Ben roared.

“Is that a good sign?” Rey asked.

“I think so.  Don’t tell Ben I was here. We’re still not on speaking terms.  I’ll come back to check on him, another day. Oh, and one more thing. As soon as he feels better, he’s going to want to make up for the time you two were apart. That’s not going to happen for him, with his body in the state it’s in. Tell him to be patient. When he’s healed and gained some weight? I’m sure everything will straighten right out.”

“I wish Ben had a Jedi healer to stay with him, tonight.”

“He has one. You are a Jedi. And you have healed him, before. But be careful, Rey. Ben’s life force is at a low ebb, and he’s very sick. You can try to ease his pain, but don’t try to heal him, entirely. It would drain too much life out of you.”

Master Luke got up.

“This is the no fun part, Rey. Ben needs you, now.”

“I don’t mind at all, Master Luke. Ben is alive. I still feel better than I have for a long time. I have hope.”

“That’s good, Rey.”

Luke stood up, as if to go

“Uncle Luke? I know you’re there. I feel your presence.” Ben called out

They both froze.

“I’m sick, Uncle Luke. Are you a Force Ghost, or are you the Jedi Healer that Grandfather was going to get to come here and help me?”

“I’m the old hermit down the road, Ben. Do you want me to come to your room? I know we didn’t part on good terms. But Rey’s nervous about being alone with you, tonight.”

“Would you mind staying with me, Uncle Luke? Everybody else is dead.”

“I don’t mind at all, Ben. I’ll stay here as long as you want me to. I remember where my room is.”

 ***

As Master Luke had suspected, Ben wanted to gobble the food.

His instinct to live and his hunger had overwhelmed his will to destroy himself.

“No, Ben.” Master Luke said.

More patiently than Rey would have, as he moved the bowl away.

Ben tried to grab at it.

“No means no. Don’t get grabby with me.”

“But I’m hungry!”

“You can’t gobble the food up, Ben. You’ll be sick, and that might kill you!” Rey told Ben.

It was a very long half hour.

Ben kept trying to get the bowl, and Master Luke gave it to her and she had to move away from the bed.

He cried.

“Don’t cry, Ben. If you feel alright, you can have the whole bowl, soon. And another glass of blue milk.” Rey assured him.

“I’m hungry! I’m fucking hungry, and I’m  too weak to get out of bed and take it! Where’s my mother, Uncle Luke? Why won’t she talk to me?” he sobbed.

“Your mother is...always with you, Ben. And you’ll get better. Rey and  I will make sure.”

The half-hour passed and Luke gave Ben the whole bowl of food, and a glass of blue milk.

“Eat slowly, kid. You start gobbling, and I’ll take the bowl away.”

As he ate, slowly, for once, Ben told them what he had done for the past year.

“Why?” Rey asked.

“Rey! Don’t ask why. Ben is suffering. He doesn’t need a reason.” Luke told her.

“I have one. I was asleep in a bunkhouse, with a bunch of other men on this freighter. And I realized that killing Snoke, and his troopers, and all his toadying fucking followers I killed on my way to slaughter the Emperor didn’t make up for killing my father. Sure, Snoke influenced me. Told me to do it. But I had a choice. And I chose to kill him. I killed my father. Whenever anyone would say that to me, that killed my father? I would just think, no, Snoke made me do it. But I did it. I did. I killed my father. I loved him more than anybody in the world, even though he was kind of a shitty father, and sometimes I hated him for it. And I killed him. In such a way that he doesn’t even have a grave. When I realized all of that? It broke my mind.”

Ben snapped the wooden spoon in half.

“Just like that.”

He handed Rey the bowl and the empty glass.

Luke took the spoon, and put both halves in his hand, and closed his palm.

When he opened it, the spoon wasn’t broken.

“Your mind will heal, Ben. Just like this And before this year is out? You will see Han and Leia again. I don’t know how. But I know you will.”

“I did see Dad. He forgave me. I just can’t forgive me.”

“Ben, you saved me. You saved the Galaxy. Without you I could never have defeated the Emperor. You’re a hero. Han is proud of you. So is Master Leia. Stop torturing yourself.” Rey begged.

“Ben, you said it was time to let old things go.You’re not taking your own advice.  This is how the Sith broke you. You don’t have to break yourself. You’re free. You won.” Luke told him.

“I’m tired. I think I need to go to sleep. I had better try to get to the bathroom, first. Rey already has to take care of me like I’m a baby. I don’t want to piss the bed like one.”

Ben managed to totter into the bathroom.

Rey wanted to hover over him, but she knew he was humiliated that she was seeing him like this, at all.

She waited.

He made his way slowly back to the bed and lay down.

“I’m going to go, now Ben.To my old room.  I’ll be back when you wake up  to see how you are.” Luke told him.

He put his hand on Ben’s forehead.

“Sleep, now. And have good dreams.”

Ben fell asleep.

Rey walked back to the door with her Master.

“Will he die in his sleep, Master Luke?”

“No. Sleep will heal him. We’ll let him sleep as long as he wants to. I think I’ll go say hello to my droids. Let them know that they’ll be coming with me, when I go home. I could use the company. And you have Ben, now.”

“They’re your droids, Master Luke.”

Master Luke opened the door and walked out into the courtyard, and beyond.

She watched him, retreating into the setting suns, heading for the old shed.

He wanted to help Ben, but also?

He was glad to be home, in spite of himself.

Rey understood.

***

She went back to the bedroom.

Rey got undressed and got into bed with Ben.

She pulled up all the covers, so he would be warm.

He woke up, for a moment.

“I haven’t slept in a bed since I left that freighter. And I haven’t slept in my bed, here, for what seems like an age. I think I might sleep for a long time.”

“As long as you need to, Ben. I’ll be here.”

Rey stayed awake until he was asleep, and for a hour afterward, making sure he was just asleep.

But then she fell asleep, too.

 ***

Ben slept all through the way through another day, until the morning after that day.

Rey kept checking on him, and so did Master Luke,  but he moved around in his sleep, and he snored, and once he got up and drank some water, so she knew he was just sleeping.

That morning he walked stiffly into the kitchen, dressed in a baggy cream tunic and brown trousers.

He had a cloth belt wrapped many times around the waist so that the clothes, although they were the right lengths for him, didn’t fall off him.

“Ben, those are my father’s clothes.”

“I know. They were still here, when I came here. I wear them, all the time. The desert preserves things.”

He had bathed, and dressed but he hadn’t shaved.

“I’m growing a goatee. To distinguish Ben Solo from Kylo Ren.”

“Everyone knows that Ben Solo killed Kylo Ren. Nobody’s going to come after you, Ben. You’re a free man. You earned it.” Master Luke told him.

There was a weird sense of calm, and dignity about Ben that she’d never seen in him, before.

He thanked her politely when she gave him the serving bowl of stew with the serving spoon.

Rey had gone out and bought the most fine, expensive loaf of rich, black, seeded bread that she could find, and put it on the table.

Ben snatched up the heel, and turned it over in his hands, and then he put it under his nose and sniffed it.

“I don’t remember the last time I had bread that wasn’t stale. Or mouldy.”

He ate the slice of bread, slowly.

Rey wanted to cry.

There were tears in Master Luke’s eyes.

But she didn’t want Ben to become hysterical.

So she carried on eating her cereal and blue milk.

“Have another piece. With your stew.” She encouraged him.

“Chewie used to make this for me. When I was a kid, and I’d get sick. It’s a Wookie recipe.”

“I know. He taught me how to make it.” Master Luke told Ben.

After he ate, Ben got up and walked out onto the hot sand, barefoot.

Rey supposed he was used to it, by now.

But he came back.

“I have to get used to boots again. I still have mine.”

 ***

Ben didn’t like to stay inside, too long.

He got restless.

And when he slept at night, it was like he was dead.

After a week, Luke was right, he was much better and he had gained some weight.

Before Master Luke went home, he brought Obi-Wan, to talk to Ben while Luke was giving him a final once-over.

Their Master returned and brought Obi-Wan with him.

He spoke with Ben while Luke was examining him.

“Were you seeking a vision, Ben? Or were you trying to be a vision?” Obi-Wan asked.

“I was trying to be a vision. I wanted to spread the word about the New Path. And the Force United. And to warn people not to go back to the old ways. I wanted to use my body to show them. So I made all the old wounds and scars reappear.”

“You’re on the right path, Ben. But you must not use suffering to make your point. Yours or that of others.” Obi-Wan told him.

Ben nodded.

Master Luke pronounced him much better.

He took Artoo and Threepio and went home.

After that, Rey and Ben were on their own.

Ben quickly started getting his body to do what he wanted, again.

He took long walks in the desert.

After two weeks, he was running, in nothing but a pair of shorts, running over the burning sand, barefoot and mostly naked.

But he stopped being antsy when he was in the house.

***

Rey had to go buy some food, and Ben wanted to drive her speeder to Anchorhead.

When they got to the store where she bought the bread, and the old baker saw Ben, he came out from behind the counter.

“I can’t believe it! Young man, what’s your name”

“Ben Skywalker.”

“Was your grandaddy Anakin Skywalker? Son of Shmi Skywalker and Kylo Skywalker, who died a warrior on Arkanis, and that started all the trouble his family got into?”

“That’s me.”

“I knew your granddaddy, then. We were both slaves, here. The Jedi took him away to become one of them. But he wanted to be a pilot. Me, I got sold to a baker. Now I’m a free man and this is my shop. But Ani used to come here to visit his mother. You look so much like him. Is he still living?”

“No. But he became a pilot. And a Jedi. He died a Jedi, at the end of Clone Wars and became one with the Force.”

“I suppose that’s what he wanted. But it still makes me glad I became a baker. Did you go to that Jedi Temple? Out on Yavin-4?”

“I did. But it wasn’t for me. Too may rules. So I left, and stuck with what I love. The stars.”

“So, you’re a starpilot too? Good for you, son. Ani would have liked that.”

“I’m sure he does.”

***

Time passed them by.

Ben continued to fight his way back from the brink of death.

He fought so hard, and regained his physique and his strength so quickly that Rey began to suspect he was healing himself, using the Force

Ben had always been strong in the Force, but he had become both more accomplished and more powerful than before. There was a new light in Ben's dark, ancient eyes, and a new kind of power animated him.

The Force was with Ben, but in a form Rey had never encountered.

But, neither she nor Ben were thinking on that, or the New Path of the Force United that they were, arguably supposed to be making a way for.

No, the weightiest problem at the Skywalker farm was much less cosmic.

Most people did not know that Rey and Kylo Ren had been star-crossed lovers.

And no one knew that it wasn’t just one last kiss that Ben Solo bestowed upon Rey before he died.

That was the elephant in the bedroom.

“Rey?’

She was asleep.

“What, Ben? Have you been awake all night?”

“I can’t sleep. What if I killed it?”

“Killed what?”

“My cock.”

“I’m sure you’d be fine with another woman.”

Ben hadn’t heard that.

“How could I just let it go, like that? Fuck, I haven’t even jerked off for six months! I don’t even remember the last time I got hard. I killed it. I lost my mind, destroyed my body, and killed my cock. And I’m ugly again, and I disgust you.”

“Ben, you are not ugly. You have never been ugly. That’s all in your mind. Go to sleep.”

“Then why are you so cold, all the sudden?”

“I didn’t want to hurt you. You were like a human skeleton.”

“I’m fine, now.”

“Go to sleep, Ben.”

Ben swore.

He got out of bed.

“Where are you going?”

He jerked the bathroom door open, angrily so that the knob smacked into the hole it had already made in the wall. 

“Fuck it! I'm going to go into the bathroom and try to get it up for somebody I know who cares about how upset I am, and wants to try to make me a man, again! Me!”

But then?

He had a better idea.

And he got back into bed with Rey.

“Wait! I know what this is about. You think the last time we fucked, it killed me. That you killed me. Now, you're afraid if you touch me again, I’ll just die. Right?”

“Ben, I…you did die.”

“I was going to die anyway. I figured I might as well die hard.”

Rey couldn’t help laughing.

A little.

“Besides, how many times have you tried to kill me? As many times as I told you I was going to fuck you whether you liked it, or not. Funny how it always seems to turn me on when you try to kill me. And when I act like I’m going to fuck you whether you like it or not? You always like it. The first fight we ever had? I wish I knew that you almost cutting my face off with a lightsaber was foreplay. If I had? Instead of offering to show you the ways of the force, I would have told you that if you came with me, I was going to tie you to a table, again, and slide my tongue up your sweet Rebel cunt.”

In several years of very dirty talk, and horrible arguments and insults, that was both the dirtiest and the most horribly insulting thing Ben ever said to her.

She slapped him in the face, and he laughed.

“Don’t you dare, Ben Solo!”

“What? Don’t try that high and mighty shit on me. I’m the guy who fucks you. I know what you like. And you know, you never asked me what truths I brought back from the other side.”

He pulled the covers off the bed, and grabbed Rey by the ankles and pushed her legs open.

“Never gave a minute's thought to the Force United. Or the new path. But I’m not going to make the same mistake twice. I’m not gonna ask you if you want me to teach it to you. Because I know what you want from me.”

Ben put Rey’s legs around his shoulders.

“I’m just going to slide my tongue up your sweet Rebel cunt. I know you like that.”

If Ben's intent was to inflame them both?

It worked.

He rose to the occasion, and Rey felt anything but cold.

She was still in the throes of the orgasm he gave her as he was sitting up at the bottom of the bed, saying:

“Hard as beaker fucking steel. It worked!”

Yes.

It had.

“Ben, you horrible bastard, I’ve wanted you so much for so long!” she told him.

“Yeah. I know.” he told her.

***

All around the Skywalker farm you could hear the sound of a woman, screaming

And a man’s savage, guttural voice.

“Do you feel it now? Do you feel the raw power of the Dark Side?”

The woman’s screams grew louder and the man uttered a deep, dark, Satanic laugh.

He pinned her to the bed with his big, powerful body, and she locked her arms and legs around him screaming every time he thrust into her.

Faster.

Deeper.

Harder.

“Can you feel my power? The power of the Force United? Is this the way you want to get fucked, little scavenger? Fast and dirty and hard?”

More screams ripped from the woman’s throat.

“Yes! Yes! I feel your power. Your power! More!” the woman sobbed.

“My power? Who’s power? Say it! Fucking say it!” the man ordered, snarling through gritted teeth.

“Ben Solo! Oh, gods, gods, Ben fucking Solo!”

The woman screamed for joy, the man gave voice to another guttural laugh, and it resolved into a roar like the sound an angry Wookie makes before he tears your arms out and beats you to death with them.

Then, it was quiet, again.

***

Rather prudishly, Rey pulled the covers up to her neck.

In contrast, Ben lay on top of them, naked, his arms behind his head, his eyes closed, a happy,  untroubled smile on his face.

“That was worth fucking waiting. You are one hot little piece of ass, Little Rebel Girl. You had better come out from under those covers. I’m not done with you.”

“Can’t I go back to sleep, now?”

“Why?’

“Ben, you don’t understand. You were born without shame. I’m embarrassed. People don’t…I…I mean, I enjoy making love as much as, well, any woman, but…you have no idea what I am on about, do you?”

He turned on the light.

“Rey, I understand your ‘Who? Poor little me?’ act is what’s kept you alive through all these years, and it keeps people out of your hair. But don’t play it on me. I know better. I’m also the guy who fights with you. At your side and as your opponent, remember? So you can mince around Tattoine, acting like you are the little scavenger, a little war widow, just getting by, spending her life in elegiac genteel exile. Living with the memory of her lost love. But we both know it’s bantha shit.”

“Oh, really? And how would you know, Ben?”

“Rey, you slapped my face in a room full of smoking corpses and pools of blood and told me to quit fucking talking and kiss you. Then you wanted me to fuck you, on Snoke’s throne. You hardly gave me time to get rid of the mess and drape the curtains over the throne!  I mean, there I was, on my knees, with one foot resting on a dead man, and you’re pulling my hair and calling me a Sith bastard and telling me you’re going to come in my mouth, so I had better lick it up. Then, when I got up? You would have thought I poured honey all over my cock the way you went after it. You broke the zipper on my pants, getting it out. I had to hold your nose so you’d open your mouth so I could pull my cock out, because I thought if I came in your mouth before I fucked you, you’d cut me in half. I mean, I could hardly believe my luck.  I felt like the luckiest man in the Galaxy. Who knew you were the kind of girl who loved to give head and liked it doggie style on the throne of the Supreme Leader? I thought I might have been in love with you before that day. After? I was done. You had me. For the first time in my life, I was crazy in love.”

Rey bit her lip, to keep in a laugh, a scream of outrage, or both.

“I was carried away in the moment.” she sniffed

“This went on for longer than a moment. Hell, the first time I told you I could take what I wanted, you looked at me like, oh, Daddy, let’s fight first, and I might kill you later, but take me now, I’m all yours.”

“So what if I was immediately attracted to you? A lot of women have been!”

“Not when they were strapped to a table, killer. Rey, I was your enemy. I was the bad guy you were fighting against. I gave the orders that almost wiped out the whole Rebel fleet! And even after that, you came here to meet me every chance you got! And we never talked, here.  We talked when we were light-years away from each other. When we were together all we did was fuck. I was the Supreme Leader, I could do what I wanted. Go where I wanted. Nobody questioned me. I killed three generals who asked me what my business was with the Rebel girl. Those bloodless Imperial fucks stopped asking me stupid questions about my Little Rebel Girl after that. You were training to be a Jedi. You were the big hero of the Resistance. And you risked all that to come to Tattoine and fuck me out in the desert. When you had two guys, right there, who would have dragged their balls over hot coals just to get a shot at you. How long did the moment last? Two or three years? That’s a long karking moment, isn’t it?”

“It’s because I love you, Ben.”

“I love you too, Rey. But you are not a poor, meek, winsome little scavenger. You are a hot-blooded Force warrior. A two-tone, blood-glutted, cock-hungry hellcat who likes fast ships, bad men, high adventure, a damn good fight, and a real hot fuck. Be who you are, Rebel Girl. Some other guys might get turned off by that, but I’m Kylo Ren, remember? I love it when you’re bad. Hell, I killed myself at Exegol, satisfying our mutual battle lust. But I figured, what a way to go!”

“That’s why I was never going to touch another man, ever again. I killed you, Ben.”

“I came, and then I went.”

Ben laughed.

“It’s not funny! You gave me life and I took it back from you!”

“You didn’t kill me, Rey. Sheev Palpatine killed me. I knew I was going to die in that cave. I knew it before I brought you back. But I thought, hell, if I have to die, I might as well do it after a great victory in battle and a great fuck with the Valkryie I love. My Little Rebel Girl. And it’s not going to happen again, because I am now the most powerful Force sensitive being in the galaxy. Well, next to you. So do me a favor, and drop the act. It turns me off, and you’re insulting yourself.”

“Ben Solo, you are such a bad man!”

“Through and through. Did you think Kylo was the bad guy and Ben was the good guy? The best you can say about me is that I’m the good bad guy. Rey, my father was a ruthless pirate.  My grandfather was Darth Vader. I’m bad right down to my bones.”

“You wont tell anyone else about me, will you, Ben?”

“They already know. They’re just too terrified to argue with you. Damn, I have to piss.”

He got up and went to the bathroom.

Rey shifted around a little.

Thinking about what he had said.

Ben came back to bed.

He got under the covers, kissed her, and rolled over on his back and shut out the light.

Rey was a little disappointed, until Ben hauled her on top of him.

“OK, Rebel Girl! Your turn to be on top!”

***

The one thing that people all the way to Anchorhead would tell you about Ben Skywalker was that he had to be related to Ani Skywalker, because he looked just like him.

His hair and beard were black, and hsi etse were dark, but other than that, he was Ani all over again.

He wore the same kind of desert pilot’s clothes; in fact, Ben and his wife were poor; he might have been wearing Anakin’s clothes that he found at the old Skywalker moisture farm.

Young Skywalker and his wife, who was a nameless scavenger from Jakku before he gave her his had come right from the wars.

Ben had lived out on the old place for years, but during the wars, he was always coming and going. 

When he came to the cantina in the village without his wife?

Once he had a few pitchers of beer, he'd show you all his scars.

Take his pants down and everything, and the foolish boy didn’t wear underwear.

He had moods, but those scars meant he came by those moods, honestly.

He said he was a pilot, but all he seemed to be doing was getting his old wreck of a ship fixed up.

You might see him, running through the desert, barefoot, bareheaded, and slathered with sun protection, wearing only a pair of regulation Imperial exercise undershorts.

When he got to the village, he’d stop by the cantina for lunch.

“Training. I eat too much, and I drink too much, so I have to train like a goddamn Sith just to keep from turning into a big day tub of guts. That, and the Little Rebel Girl I married? She’s horny as an Askajian whore with a Twi'lek mother. She was a real killer, in the wars. If I ever quit banging her two, three times a day? She’d burn down the planet. But she keeps me in shape. Best exercise there is. Doing push-ups with girls. Before I met Rey? Hell, I had two or three women a week, just to keep me happy. Hell of a woman, my Little Rebel Girl. Better run home before she thinks I’ve got a girl on the side.”

Then he’d drink another pitcher of blue milk, finish his four sandwiches, and run home.

But what Ben was most famous for in the village was fighting a full grown Wookiee, and winning.

He made a lot of money doing it, too.

Ben Skywalker was the local character before the war was over, but taht wa sto be expected.

He was a Skywalker, after all; they were all characters.

In short?

Nobody suspected a damn thing.

***

After having lived by her wits from the time she was 14, and then becoming a Jedi, a warrior and the savior of the Galaxy?

The last thing Rey thought would make her happy was being a wife and keeping a house.

But somehow, just now?

It did.

At first Ben's moods were a problem, but when she discovered there were four of them, it became manageable.

Brooding Mystic, Wild Man, Happy-Go-Lucky Pirate, and Sexual Death Star.

Sometimes all in the same day.

And she had to admit, the fact that Sexual Death Star was a regular daily mood made it easier.

Ben naturally had a lot of stamina, and he was well endowed, but Rey always thought he had made sure to become a good lover to make it up to a woman for his moodiness.

But Ben knew himself, he had stocked his home with all wooden plates, bowls, and cups, and a stoneware pitcher that she he said he had thrown at a stone wall before buying.

So he got mad, sometimes and threw things and yelled?

It didn’t bother her.

Ben was always hungry, so he was always cooking, and there was always enough to eat.

They stayed in bed for days, sometimes, making love, and being goofy and just being together.

And she had not just a room, but a whole farm.

She and Ben had cleaned it up, and fixed everything, and even the old rusting farm machinery looked like art.

Ben worked on the Falcon, his ship now and there was a lot of work to do, because Rey had let it sit for a year.

Ben talked about getting in touch with “Uncle Chewie” he was thinking about getting back to work, with Rey as his scavenger.

He had a scheme in his heart, and that was a good sign.

But neither of them were ready to leave.

They went to the market in the old speeder, and brought fresh bread, and sometimes, when the moon was bright they had lightsaber duels out in the desert, and then they’d make love like lions, under the stars.

The stars that still belonged to them.

It was a beautiful little life, with just the two of them, but one day, the west wind from out behind Tattoine’s twin suns blew Chewbacca in to Mos Eisley, and there was a radio message from him.

He was coming out to the Skywalker Farm, and when he got there, they should be on the Falcon and ready to go.

Rey knew, then that everything was about to change.

[peonybane]

STAR-CROSSED: Chapter 1

Pairing: Jackson (GOT7) x Reader

Word Count: 9.6 k

Genre: Science Fiction, Angst, Fluff, Crack, Smut (much… much later, maybe...)

Summary: Being a Jack was all you had ever wanted. And now you were— one of the youngest Jacks Earth had ever sent out. It was the adventure of a lifetime. But what do you do when you lose sight of the mission: can you remain… objective?

Notes: All italicized dialogue is in Gaganis. 

A/N: So... the first two chapters of this are going to be extremely world building heavy. I promise though it will pick up after that.

Let’s see… Cephaloids, Ovitcari, Mengolki… Ah! There they were— the Ingan. Tapping on your tablet, you opened up the latest uploaded document on the newest (hopefully) allied planet, Gamma Tau 7— or as the locals knew it, Jigui. 

Just as you opened up the file to see what the local holiday was going to be when you’d finally arrive, your annoying partner (strictly platonic, mind you, despite everyone’s best efforts) plucked your tablet from your hands.

“Hey! I was reading that.”

Jaehwan looked down at you, lifted the tablet well above you head, even as you jumped for it. Fucking beanpole. “Do you ever not work?”

“Hey! I’m preparing for the mission.”

“For five months?!”

You huffed crossing your arms. “I just like being prepared, ok?”

“Yeah, and what’s there to prepare for? You do realize that you and I are the first of the ambassador program? Right?”

You looked away from him, embarrassed. Damn bastard was right.

The two of you were chosen as cultural ambassadors for Earth. 900 years of exploring space and with every new species humans met, it was the most effective means of avoiding a potentially hostile conflict. Miscommunications, as it turns out, could be kept to a minimum if species were introduced to each other slowly. Your mentoring Jack while you were in training used the analogy of introducing two pets that were going to live together: give them neutral ground and let them get to know each other slowly. 

“I know, I know. I’m just nervous.” 

Jaehwan handed your tablet back to you. “You’re worrying too much. We’ll be just fine.”

“I know.” You sighed. “It’s just… they’ve never sent anyone as young as us before.”

He made a face as he sat down in the chair across from yours. “True, I guess. But you also got to remember: this is the first humanoid like species. These are not the usual circumstances.”

You hummed your agreement. He was right. These were not normal conditions. 

The intercom system buzzed to life, the mechanical voice of the ship’s commander, LightWater, called your last name, followed by Jaehwan’s, Lee. “I’m letting you know that we will be rendezvousing with the Ingan vessel, Bandisbul within four hours. Would you like to come up to the bridge to see its approach?”

Jaehwan smiled at you before pushing the communication panel. “We’re on our way, Commander.”

Putting your tablet away in the cabinet above your bunk, you paused for a moment, looking around the room (more like a closet between you and Jaehwan) you’ve spent the last five months calling your home. 

Sure, it took a mere few days to get through the Fold Node gates, the natural phenomena that made inter-system travel feasible. The problem was that plant bearing solar systems were very rarely anywhere near the Nodes, with Earth being a very rare exception with it being in relatively close proximity to Jupiter, the only known Node found in a planet. 

Most solar systems had a Node near them… near being defined as a few lightyears outside of their outer limits. While the Mengolki had technology that allowed ships to travel faster than the speed of light, it still didn’t mean that the journey didn’t take time. Four days from Earth to Jupiter. Less than two days from Jupiter to the Gamma Tau Nebula through five Nodes. Almost five months from the Nebula to the inner rings of the Gamma Tau system. 

Leaving your room, you nearly bumped into one of the Azikil crew members. You looked up into the eyeless (well, eyes as you’d know them) face of the crew member. “Oops. Sorry. I didn’t realized you were there.”

It made a small noise of acknowledgment, the gas glands deflating a bit. The translation implant allowed them to speak in your language. The mechanical voice translated the series of gaseous exhales and clicking, “It’s alright. I understand that we’re nearing the rendezvous point?”

Jaehwan answered for you. “Yep. Can’t believe it’s already over, huh, hyung? You gonna miss me?”

You had to bite the inside of your mouth to keep from laughing. Even though you both were suppose to be using the chosen human language decided by the Interspecies Ambassadorial Program, he’d sometimes fall back into his native language, often confusing your poor crewmates.

The Azikil— a species that would best described using human descriptors as a sentient fungi— let out another puff from its gas sacs, this time dispersing a few spores, usually a sign of some sort of distress. What distress though, you weren’t sure. 

Because they were sexless, Jaehwan always liked to switch between hyung and noona, certainly not helping with their confusion. 

“I suppose I will miss you. Even though you seem to be determined to confuse us with your strange words.”

Jaehwan laughed, his eyes crinkling. “Fair enough. Anyways, official farewells are not until later. And we better get up to the bridge.”

The Azikil crew member bowed, getting out of your way. 

It was a relatively short walk and a couple of floor jumps to the bridge. Opening the hatch, Jaehwan offered you entrance first. “After you.”

You rolled your eyes, climbing up the ladder, before pushing off as you felt your weight decrease. 

Zero-g. Your stomach flipped, still not used to the sudden shift in equilibrium, despite being in it so many times.

The U.I.S. Hermes, like all human created ships, was built based on centripetal force. While the outer rings of the ship spun, creating artificial gravity (though the gravity was less than that of Earth’s for the safety of the Azikil and Ovitcari) the center, the bridge, of the ship was stationary. This mainly allowed for fewer bodies on the bridge, since the master multitaskers, the Cephaloids, could work to their full potential.

Floating in zero-g, you pressed the Cephaloid communication button the your wrist. “Permission to come on to the bridge, Commander LightWater?”

As you spoke, the holographic screen in front of Commander LightWater glowed with words written in Cephaloid script. A moment later, the mechanical voice, the voice that spoke for their species, droned, “Granted.”

You nodded, pushing off the wall and let yourself float towards the Commander as he floated in his self contained hydro-station, his arms on several different consoles, making sure that different functions were running smoothly. 

The Cephaloid were unlike any other species humans had met. They were certainly the most unique (though the Azikil certainly gave them a run for their money). 

They were similar to the cephalopods of Earth, cuttlefish, octopuses, etc. Like their genetic long-distant, Earth-bound, cousins, they were mainly soft, with only a solid beak and they needed to live in water. Unlike their cousins, they were… far more advance. With a dozen suckered arms and a pseudo-shell (protective but still rather pliant) like a squid, they were by far the most visually unique. Given the fact they had adapted to survive in the dark waters of their home world, commonly known as Atlantis, they had unique characteristics. To communicate, they used body language (changing colors and skin texture) and a form of telepathy, a form of communication that could only be used between themselves.

It was because of the Cephaloid that humans realized that there needed to be a program, a system, put in place to help guarantee peace. It took hundreds of years, but eventually, your species were able to communicate— humans would speak and the written form of their language (Cephaloid script) would appear on a monitor near them, and so long as the Cephaloid had an implant (a device provided by the Ovitari) their thoughts, mostly, could be converted to an auditory form of communication. 

You floated up to the observation window, next to LightWater as he started initiating slow down procedures. Jaehwan floated to the other side of LightWater, startling him (if the sudden defensive stance and flash of red and white stripes, textured by his skin tensing into short spines were anything to go by). 

“Lee, you are suppose to announce yourself on the bridge.”

“Yeah, Yeah. I’m sorry.”

While the sarcasm was obvious to you, you weren’t sure if LightWater could sense it as the words displayed themselves on before him. LightWater addressed you. “While tone is lost when we communicate, I believe that there was… sarcasm to his answer? Correct?”

You laughed as Jaehwan just shook his head in defeat. LightWater turned his emotionless gaze at you. Perhaps to others he would seem unfeeling, but having grown up on a human outpost on Atlantis, you could read their body language rather well. The slight shade of yellow, different from the neutral orange he mainly took on, told you that he was seeking some form of approval. “Yes, that is correct, LightWater.”

LightWater made a motion of acknowledgement before turning back to his console, his color turning to a muted cool brown. “We’re beginning slow down procedures already. I have yet to receive communication from the Bandisbul about docking procedures.”

You hummed your understanding, staring out into the endless void as Jaehwan made light conversation.

When traveling at speeds greater than light… there was no light. It was dark. Just pure blackness. It was lonely. So lonely. Sometimes, you weren’t sure how LightWater and the other Cephaloids did it. It had to be lonely up here most of the time, especially in the black. But you supposed that since their eyes were shaped differently from your own, it wasn’t too much to imagine that he didn’t just see eternal blackness. What they saw though… that would always remain a mystery to your kind, you were sure.

At about the two hour mark before the rendezvous, off in the distance, a single prick point of light slowly started to glow: the Gamma Tau star. As time went on, more and more stars regained their sparkle in the endless sea of darkness. Slowing down even further, planets and their moons added their own glows, some brilliant white, others varying hues.

“Entering the system’s outermost orbit. We should be getting the docking instructions soon. I suggest making your farewells and gathering your things.”

You reached through the hydro-barrier that contained LightWater. In return, LightWater took your hand in one of his arms. The sensation was odd, the suckers pinching at the skin of your hand and wrist affectionately. “I’ll stop by here again before I leave… old friend.”

As you withdrew your hand from the water, LightWater used his siphon to playfully shoot a small stream of water at you. The water, having just enough to force to break through the low resistance hydro-barrier, hit you squarely in the face. Jaehwan laughed at your expense as you wiped the water from your face. LightWater had the gaul to change to a deep vibrant green. Cheeky bastard.

“And I will miss you. Especially since you’re the only human that does not scream when engaging in a little squirting.”

You cringed on the inside. Jaehwan and several of the other Jacks you had trained with over the past few years took a rather accurate and naive term that you grew up with and turned it into something… else. You made a mental note to yourself to work on finding an alternative word to add to the Cephaloid-International Human Language (IHL) dictionary.

You and Jawhwan bid LightWater a final farewell before pushing off towards the ladder that would lead you out of the bridge. 

Once you were back in the low level gravity rings, you both headed back to your room. “Stop it, Jaehwan.”

“Stop what?”

“I know you’re smirking.”

“What? How?”

“You get weirdly quiet.”

“What? I can’t help it. You’re the only human I know that that’s close with the Cephaloid.”

You rolled your eyes at that as you opened your room. “Like you’re one to talk. Who’s the one who was flirting with the Mengolki twins not too long ago?”

Jaehwan shot you a dirty look as he went towards his bunk, opening the cabinets below and above his bunk. You did the same on your side as you continued, “Besides, LightWater and I grew up together. I’m… I’m going to really miss him.”

Jaehwan didn’t miss the way you paused. “You’re worried that this will be the last time you see him, huh?”

You turned back towards Jaehwan. His gaze was soft and sympathetic. He may be a bit of an attention seeking man-whore, but at the end of the day he was one of the most empathetic, kind souls you knew. “He’s getting up there in age and distinction. When he returns to Atlantis… he’ll be offered the right to breed… and he’ll be gone. Forever.”

Jaehwan pursed his lips, dropping one of the bags on his bunk. Stepping over to your side of the room, he pulled you into a hug. “I know. But at the end of the day, that’s the way of his people. There are certain things that can’t be changed. You know that.”

You sighed angrily, returning Jaehwan’s hug, your fists twisting at the fabric of his muted teal jumpsuit. “Still doesn’t mean I can’t be upset.”

“I know. I know.”

You stayed like that for a moment before pushing off him gently, turning back to your stuff. Jaehwan did the same. As the two of you finished getting your things together, Jaehwan said, “You know… if you need some comforting….”

His tone left his meaning open ended. Either he was propositioning you for sex… or he was offering to use his ‘cute attacks’ that he’d use to get his way with others. Typically, making them feel good about giving into him, but that was besides the point. 

Shaking your head, you called out, “ARGUS, engage privacy.”

The computer system, ARGUS, make an electric noise of acknowledgement, before it engaged the privacy screen that separated your side of your shared quarters from Jaehwan’s. Its hydraulics whirring as it disengaged from within the wall. “Get dressed, Ken-doll. We gotta look smart in our uniforms.”

You could hear Jaehwan grumbling from the other side of the screen. He hated that nickname. Chuckling to yourself, you began changing into your Jack blues. 

While not a military program, the Human Ambassadorial Program (HAP) realized early on that the best structure and the best training could be achieved by combining civilian and military tactics. 

You reminisced some of your earlier years as you pulled your uniform out of the only enclave that was designed specifically for dress blues. Training was hard. They pushed your physical limits, needing to make sure that you could physically handle any inhabitable planetary environment imaginable. 

As you undressed out of your jumpsuit, your eyes landed on the small depressed scar on your right thigh from where you had your nano-antibodies injected. Your stomach clenched at the memory. It was the only time you ever considered dropping from the program: you body fought the anti-bodies for a lot longer than it should’ve. You weren’t sure if you were going to survive that month from how hard your body tried to get rid of them.

Once down to your underwear, you began dressing in your blues. 

It wasn’t necessarily a military uniform, not in the conventional sense. When dressing, it didn’t have to be perfect, there were no dress checks, your hair could touch your collar, and make up was allowed, though you knew few Jacks who actually wore any. Instead, you just had to be professional in appearance. 

You wore a white button up, with black buttons. Over it, you wore an intense navy blue asymmetrical vest, making sure your lapels were pressed down firmly as you attached your Jack insignia (a four-pointed star with a ‘J’ covering the intersection of a paint brush, a back hoe, a graduated cylinder and a pen) to the left one, right over your heart. Once you were satisfied with it, you slipped on a pair of comfortable black tights, then shimmied into your matching blue skirt. Once your were satisfied that the skirt didn’t rotate too much as you shimmied into it and twisted yourself to reach the zipper, you slipped on your issued black loafers. ‘Practical, not sexy,’ you reminded yourself as you slipped them on, remembering the phrase your first mentor drilled into you when there were complaints about uniforms in training.

Before putting on your jacket, you quickly styled your hair into a fashionable bun. ‘Practical, but a little attractive,’ you mused to yourself. Being a Jack, you had to learn quickly that being attractive was a secondary thought when it came to appearances. The first was professionalism. Making sure your hair and the light makeup you wore were all in order, you grabbed your blade from the confines of under your bunk, your fingers making contact with the cold leather of its sheath first. 

Officially, the blade was ceremonial— a symbol of status, that you’d graduated from being a novice to a full-fledged Jack. Each blade was unique, designed by the Jacks that trained you. A welcoming gift of sorts.

In your hand, you withdrew the blade from its sheath, setting the knife down on your bunk. You took a moment to admire the black leather sheath, letting your fingers smooth over the subtle filigree that decorated around the Jack oath ’Amicus— Autem Semper Praesidium.’  

‘A friend— but always a guardian.’

After a moment, you took the sheath and attached it to the loop at the top of your skirt designed for it on your dominant side. Once you were sure the sheath was secure (it was difficult to attach it with the blade in it), you grabbed the knife. 

Your blade was Damascus steel, the sharp, curved edge and the ripples in the metal gleamed in the harsh artificial light of your room. The blade itself was not particularly long, only spanning the length of your palm. But it didn’t have to long— just effective.

You couldn’t find anything wrong with the blade itself since the last time you checked it, moving on to the hilt. The finger guard was simple, but a little more prominent than what you’ve seen on other Jacks’ blades. At first it made you ashamed, thinking that it was an indirect way of saying you were clumsy. But now— now, it just meant you could defend yourself for longer, if the need arose. The handle was just as beautiful and as practical as the blade. The hilt was the perfect length for your hand. The smooth, black lacquered hilt was covered in an azure cord wrap, reminiscent of the ancient Earth katana. Practical, yet beautiful. 

Once you tested the balance, you deemed it in perfect condition and slipped it into its sheath at your hip.

Once you were sure your knife was attached securely to your hip, you finally put on your navy blue jacket. Most of your pins were already on it, but a few, you took on and off constantly, those were the most precious— you didn’t want to risk losing them unnecessarily. Once you added the rest of your pins, you called out, “ARGUS, disengage privacy.”

ARGUS once again made a noise of acknowledgment before retracting the privacy screen. As the screen retracted, you turned around to see Jaehwan also ready, leaning against the side of his bunk, the chrome sheath of his own knife at his hip twinkling in the light. His uniform was similar to your own, with a few key differences. 

For one, being male, he instead wore a pair of slacks in the same shade of blue as your skirt. The collars of his vest and shirt and lapels of his jacket were replaced by mandarin collars, a design element to distinguish between places of origin: you being from the U.A.F., and him being from G.A.L. His own Jack insignia was placed on his collar.

You both looked each other up and down. 

“Spiffy. Ready to go, Savant?”

You rolled your eyes, barely keeping the small curl of a smile from your lips.

You supposed you deserved that after calling him his dreaded nickname. He just had to call you yours from your training days. 

Picking up your bags, you headed towards the door. “Can it. Just remember: I out rank you.”

There was no real bite to your tone, but if he was going to call you Savant, well, you might as take it a step further and remind him that while younger, you out rank him both in merits and time-based seniority. He only outranked you in age and height. 

Jaehwan laughed as he was quick to follow you on your heels with his own bags in hand. “If that’s how we’re gonna play, I’m going to put everything I can as high as I can in the residence once we get planet side.”

Without missing beat, you replied, “Try that and find yourself quickly taken out at the kneecaps.”

Jaehwan only laughed, making you smirk as the two of you continued to lug around you bags. Luckily, the two of you didn’t get too far before you ran into a couple of the human crew. You smiled. 

“Ahh, Lieutenant Carter!”

Lieutenant Carter looked you over, returning your smile. “I see you two are ready for departure already.”

Jaehwan replied, “Believe it. I can’t wait to have a bath. A real bath.”

You sighed blissfully in agreement. “And sunlight. Actual sunlight. No more vitamin D transfusions.”

“Noise— anything other than that drone of the ship,” Jaehwan mused, his gaze far off in the distance. 

“Food… real food….”

Being Jacks, you and Jaehwan weren’t necessarily meant to stay space side for long. You trained on all sorts of terrain— connecting with nature in a way that you were sure most, humans or otherwise, wouldn’t appreciate.

Ensign Tanaka laughed. “It sounds like the two of you can’t wait to make it planet side.”

Jostling one of your bags back onto your shoulder, you replied, “There are Jacks that go their entire lives without ever even hearing of a Phase 2 mission, let alone actually going on one. The fact that we can do this… it’s a once in a lifetime mission.”

Ensign Tanaka’s eyes softened as she smiled. Lieutenant Carter coughed. “If you two would like, we can take your bags to the transfer hold. I’m sure you guys want to see the Bandisbul as soon as possible.”

The pair of them were already taking your bags as you replied, “If it’s not too much trouble.”

As he slung Jaehwan’s heavier bag over his shoulder, Carter replied, “It’s no trouble at all. If we were you, we’d probably want a first look, too.”

Jaehwan grabbed your arm, dragging you behind him towards the bridge as you shouted your thanks back. 

A few minutes later, you and Jaehwan found yourselves floating in zero g on the bridge. Sarcastically, Jaehwan asked, “Permission to come on to the bridge, Commander LightWater?”

The mechanical voice replied, “Permission granted, Jacks. We should be in visual range of the Bandisbul soon.”

You and Jaehwan made your way to the Commander, looking out into the blackness. Well, not pure blackness. The stars were bright and the blue-purple haze of the gas planet, Gamma Tau 4 illuminated the eternal blackness. The sight was unbelievable. 

“It looks like you two have joined me just in time. The Bandisbul should be breaching the planet’s horizon… now.”

He was right. Emerging from the haze of the gas planet, over the horizon, there was a small object— nothing more than a spec. But it grew larger and larger, its shape becoming more distinguished. It lost it’s reflective glow, initially making it white. Instead, it turned into a more of a grey-red. And its shape— it first, it was hard to distinguish— you weren’t sure if the light refractions were playing with your mind.

“Jaehwan… are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“If you’re seeing an… angular ship. Then yes, I’m seeing the same thing.”

Chills started going up your spine. “Didn’t the records say that they had gravity on their ships? Shouldn’t it be round? Even if it’s just internal rings spinning, it should be still round.”

LightWater answered, “Yes. The files the mining base shared said that they were capable of artificial gravity.”

Jaehwan muttered, almost to himself as he held out his thumb and squinting, getting a rough idea of its size, “It’s not big enough to have to internal rings to produce gravity… no matter how I look at it. And it be impractical….”

ARGUS chirped over the intercom, Cephaloid script appearing on the console in front of LightWater. LightWater said, “The Bandisul is now in close enough range for visual communication. Shall I open communications?”

Your heart rate spiked. Your mouth went dry. Your first contact. Swallowing, you nodded. “Yes, please.”

LightWater turned a calming yellow as he opened the channel. 

The face that appeared on the holographic panel at the top of the observation window surprised you. You knew the Ingan were very similar to humans, practically genetic cousins. But you didn’t appreciate just how true that was. 

She was rather beautiful, her face hardened by life experiences but beautiful nonetheless. If you didn’t know any better, you would’ve assumed she had come from Earth. 

She had a strong jaw and an angular nose. Her red-tinted skin was relatively pale from the obvious lack of sunlight except for the darker lines that etched her skin, almost as if she had been sketched, the artist wanting to emphasize her contours. You could tell that on Jigui, where her skin could be warmed by sunlight, her skin would glow. You were a bit jealous actually. Her auburn hair was pulled back into a series of complicated braids, a few strands of silvering hair peaking through that mass of braids. Her charcoal grey eyes studied you, just as you had her.

Clearing your throat, you introduced yourself as the Senior Jack in Gaganis, the dominant language of Jigui. “And this is Lee Jaehwan, my fellow Jack from Earth. This is Commander LightWater from Atlantis. We are please to have meet you.”

Your words weren’t nearly as eloquent as you had liked them to be. You had spent nearly a year learning the limited Gaganis inputed into the interplanetary language library, but even so, it wasn’t an easy language to learn— with sounds that you as a human had no vocal range for and a vocabulary far more expansive than any other species. The written language was easy, an alphabet of sorts and a grammatical structure similar to the structure of the IHL. But pronunciation was a completely different matter entirely.

There was a pause after you had finished your introduction— spacial delay— before she quipped an eyebrow. “I was told that the Senior Jack was gifted with languages. But I had not expected you to be able to grasp as much of our language as you seem to.”

You were elated at her compliment, but you were careful not to show it. She continued, “I am Captain Vadovas of the Bandisbul. We look forward to hosting you on the journey back to Jigui.”

Smiling, you replied, “We look forward to it very much. And thank you, Captain, for came to pick us up.”

Another pause, then she nodded. “We should be arriving shortly. You should’ve already received out docking trajectory. Bandisbul out.”

She glanced off screen and nodded, the feed going dark immediately.

You let out the breath you didn’t realize you were holding, completely deflating and slightly pushing yourself backwards in zero-g. Jaehwan began clapping. “Well done.”

Rolling your eyes, you replied, “I guess we should start making our way to the docking bay.”

Jaehwan nodded sadly. “I’m going to miss this place.”

You patted his arm. “Me too. But we’ve been wanting this forever.”

He hummed in agreement. “We… We really should be getting back there.”

Jaehwan had already pushed himself off one of the walls towards the bridge hatch. He looked back at you when you didn’t immediately follow. “You go on ahead. I gotta say goodbye.”

LightWater eyed you curiously, his whole body lightly changed to a paler color, his nerves getting to him. As soon as Jaehwan was through the hatch, you muttered. “I’m going to miss you.”

“As am I. You are the only human I know that is tolerable.”

“That’s not what I mean and you know it.”

LightWater flashed a defensive red. He may not have been able to understand your tone, but he’s clearly picked up on one or two things about human body language. “I am reaching the end of my life cycle. I either die passing on my genes to the next generation. Or I die without completing the greatest mission one of my kind can do.”

“I know!” You sighed in defeat. “I know…. I just don’t want this to be our final farewell, old friend.”

He didn’t respond immediately. His coloring turned a more muted shade of orange— almost brown. A moment later, he extended one arm out towards you, breaching the barrier of his oversized water droplet. It took a moment before you realized what he was doing. Your eyes grew large, realizing what he was doing.

You took off your jacket and rolled up your sleeve. You offered up your hand to him. He grabbed your arm gently, the suckers pulling you towards him. Your hand entered the water and you made eye contact with him.

This was… an act of trust. Typically performed at a formal event, this was a test. A test of trust and friendship. Very few Cephaloids trusted any of the other races to touch them— they weren’t a particularly affectionate species to begin with. And for humans, at the very least, Cephaloids scared us on an instinctual level— they were predators, dangerous. Alien. 

He wanted to use this act as a good-bye.

With your arm elbow deep in the water, you watched as LightWater wrapped his arm around your own, the suckers gripping your arm even more tightly, preparing for you to reflectively fight him. You wouldn’t deny it— letting your hand being dragged closer to his razor sharp beak was… a little terrifying. But you trusted him. You knew he wouldn’t hurt you.

His mechanical voice startled you. “This may be the last time we meet in this life— but we will meet in the next. Our bond is proof that.”

You smiled gently at him, eyes watering a bit. Always the sentimental. Your gaze fell to where your arm was wrapped in his, watching as your hand made contact with the smooth, hard surface of his beak. He opened his mouth, bringing your hand to it. Your heart rate spiked, every instinct in you tell you it was dangerous like this. But in the back of your mind, you had to remind yourself, he was probably scared: his own instincts telling him that you were a threat. 

His hold on your arm let up, letting you move your hand freely. You let him enclose his beak slightly around your finger. The feeling reminded you of when a bird bit at your finger, probably thinking it was a worm or something other food. The only difference was that this beak was much larger and the touch much gentler. 

A moment later LightWater let go of you completely, letting you slip your finger from his beak as you blinked, your tears floating away in zero-g. Just before you were about to slip your hand out of the barrier, you affectionately squeezed his arm. He didn’t flinch, nor did he flash a bright red in warning. Instead, he shifted to a gentle green, his skin completely smooth and relaxed. He trusted you completely. 

You shook the fine layer of water that stuck to your arm away, letting the droplets fly around in the bridge. Inspecting your arm, your could already see the circular bruises from where his suckers pinched your skin. Your arm would be tender for a while, but the red splotches were strangely beautiful— artistic. 

Reaching for the sheath at your hip, you withdrew your knife. You brought the knife to the back of your head, your free hand pulling a single lock from your bun at the base of your hairline. Carefully, you cut the lock. Re-sheathing your knife, you offered the lock of hair to LightWater. 

“I don’t have… a telepathic image I can give you like your people would in final good-byes. Instead, I offer up a moment of our childhood.” You laughed. “You and the others would often pull out clumps of my hair if I ever got too close to you on Atlantis. I had always thought you hated me. It took me a while but I finally learned that it wasn’t to bully me. But rather it was just some dumb children who were curious and didn’t know their strength. So… I give it to you.”

LightWater gazed at you blankly for a moment before reaching out through the barrier once again, taking the lock from you. “I will… protect it. Until we meet again in the next life. I will… miss you.”

You could barely control the sniffle. “And I’ll miss you.”

“I may not be able to join you at the docking bay, but I will watch from here. And know that I will always watch you.”

“I feel safer already. Thank you, LightWater.”

LightWater flashed an array of colors, greens, purples and brown. No more word needed to be exchanged— it was too hard. 

Grabbing your jacket, you pushed off towards the hatch for the last time. As you floated past the hydro-barrier, you let your fingers dance across them, creating ripples. LightWater watched you until you were completely through the hatch.

Back on the gravity rings, you cleaned up your face a bit and re-dressed yourself properly. Crying would come later. You had a job to do. 

It took longer than you had meant, but you finally made it to the docking port. Jaehwan, along with a few other crewmen were there, waiting for you. 

“You’re late.”

“They haven’t clamped on. I’m fine.���

“You’re a shit liar you know that, right?”

You glared up at Jaehwan, getting ready to shoot him a snarky reply when the klaxon sounded, signaling that the Bandisbul has latched onto the Hermes’ docking port. After the klaxon has sounded three times, the doors, separating the two ships opened. 

Your heart thundered in your chest. Your first meeting, face to face. As the doors opened, your gaze fell first on Captain Vadovas. She was… shorter than you thought. Then you realized that the small entourage behind her was also shorter than you expected. ‘Higher gravity world,’ you reminded yourself. 

Both you and Jaehwan bowed (something the Jacks discovered was universally non-insulting) as Captain Vadovas stepped onto the Hermes. 

“Welcome, Captain Vadovas to the U.I.S. Hermes.”

She nodded. “I am glad to be on board. It is good to finally see you both in person.”

Vadovas looked over the two of you, her gaze piercing. You noted that she looked over Jaehwan far more incredulously than she did you. And honestly, you couldn’t blame her. Even amongst humans, Jaehwan was on the taller side. With angular, expressively eyebrows arching over dark, mischievous, almond eyes and full, pink lips that quipped up cutely, he was beautiful. You always thought it was odd but his large nose balanced out the rest of his face— rather than taking away from the rest of his features, it enhanced them. 

“The same, Captain.”

Turning to her right slightly, Vadovas signaled for the man behind her to step forward. “This will be your guide Jigui.”

She then said his name. You knew that you would eventually run into this problem sooner or later… you just didn’t expect it to come so soon. His name was a series of sounds— sounds that came in vastly different pitches and in such a quick concession that a human could never hope to be able to pronounce it. The male at Captain Vadovas’ side smiled kindly at you, probably noting the brief moment of panic of your face— you were never good at masking it according to Jaehwan. 

His voice was rougher, deeper than you thought it be. “For now you can just call me, ‘Guide.’”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw Jaehwan gape at him. “You speak IHL?!”

Captain Vadovas smirked. She clearly didn’t speak IHL, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t read the situation. “Yes, he speaks your language. When your… library was sent over, he studied it, making sure that he could communicate with you and to help clarify things.”

“Thank you…” you paused, considering to make an attempt at his name, but quickly chose against it. “Guide. That will help greatly.”

“Of course. I look forward to our time together.”

His gaze was intense— the smaller pupils of his eyes making the russet color of his eyes more intense, just adding weight to his already heavy gaze. The only word that you could think to describe his gaze was… bright. It made you feel nervous… but not necessarily in a bad way. 

Captain Vadovas cleared her throat, gathering your attention. “Now that you’ve been officially introduced, I’d like to make way. I believe most of your equipment was sent when you were initially suppose to arrive.”

Your guide confirmed, “Yes. Your equipment is being stored at the Science Institute of Shistanp. Are these bags yours? Is this all you’re bringing on board?”

“Yes. We ca—“

Before you finish your sentence, let alone reach for your bags that had been neatly put away against the wall, your new guide grabbed all four of the bags. As you sputtered, trying to explain that he didn’t have to carry them, he just smirked at you and was already on his way back through the hatch, the rest of the entourage following behind him, almost chasing after him. As if they intended to stop him.

Vadovas chuckled, muttering something under her breath that you did not catch. She turned back to you. “Forgive him. He’s always been a little… over zealous. I ask that you make you final goodbyes before we depart.”

She followed your guide back through the hatch, waiting for you just beyond it. 

Jaehwan broke the short revery of silence. “Interesting people.”

You glared at him. “You followed only every other word, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m surprised I got that much. Given that,” he brought his fist to his mouth, making an exaggerated cough. “I failed my rudimentary language test, like what, three times.”

You scoffed. “You’ll pick it up in no time. You wouldn’t be here otherwise.”

“Thanks. Anyways, you got anyone you need to say goodbye to?”

You showed him your hand, the circular bruises already blooming purple from the back of your hand and trailing around and up your wrist and arm. “I’ve said mine. You?”

Jaehwan smiled sadly at you after looking back at the few crewmen who had gathered to see the Ingan. “Already did. Let’s not keep them waiting any longer than necessary.”

You nodded in agreement as the two of you headed for the hatch.

Just before making that step first step onto the Ignan ship, you looked back. The docking bay was empty (the crewmen already having dispersed now that they had to prepare for detachment)— sterile— but it held so many memories. For just a short while— this was home. 

“You coming, Savant?”

You sighed, stifling a laugh. “Yeah. I’m coming, Ken-doll.”

Pulling the docking door shut, you secured it, sealing your future. Turning back around, you joined Jaehwan and Vadovas. It didn’t hit you immediately until after you shut the hatch, but the artificial gravity was higher here, the increased pressure constricting your lungs a bit— your first taste of what it would be like on Jigui. 

“Your guide has gone to drop your bags off at the cabins you will be staying for the remainder of the voyage. If you would like, we can do a tour of the Bandisbul. And then dinner in the captain’s mess.”

You nodded. “That sounds wonderful, Captain.”

She smiled, nodding. “This way. We’ll make our way to the bridge first to watch the detach.”

You nodded your understanding before repeating what she just said, to Jaehwan. To which he immediately nodded his head excitedly.

Following the captain towards the bridge, you took note of how similar the inside of the Bandisbul was to human ships. Jaehwan was like a kid in a candy shop, his gaze large and starry-eyed taking in every detail. 

The three of you stopped when a voice called out for the Captain. Turning you were met with the sight of your guide joining you. He was a little out of breath but otherwise, fine. “Your bag are in your cabins.”

“Thank you very much. The Captain was just about to take us on a tour.”

“Great! I’ll join you.”

Captain Vadovas exclaimed, “Excellent.”

She continued to lead the way to the bridge. Following behind her, you now had the chance to sneak a couple of good glances at your guide. 

Your guide had a slightly stocky build with wide shoulders, filling his uniform (a garment that seemed similar to a jumpsuit like you wore on the Hermes) out nicely. He wasn’t particularly tall (not like Jaehwan was), but he also wasn’t short, still standing quite a bit taller than Captain Vadovas. And he wasn’t quite as pale as the Captain either, whether that was his natural complexion or if he been recently exposed to sunlight, you weren’t sure. His skin was also lightly tinged a red tone.

Like Vadovas, his skin was covered in patterns, except… his were lighter in color and you could only see them peaking out from under his sleeves and collar of his uniform. Since the marking stopped at the underside of his jaw, you would have almost thought he was human. 

Emphasis on the almost.

Following the contour of his high cheekbones and temples, along his sharp jawline, were lines of iridescent skin. As they reflected the sterile light of the corridor, their color, the way they shifted slightly with color with his every step— from blue to green to purple to white and back again— reminded you a little of the abalone shell your father found on one of his geological expeditions. It was… odd. But incredibly beautiful.

The blue of his markings complimented his round, russet eyes. Long eyelashes (Mother Nature was cruel: readily gifting long eyelashes to the males of any species) hid the deep creases of his eyes. Strong, angular eyebrows balanced the gentle curve of the markings along his temples. You thought his nose was round, like a button nose from the front, but from the profile, it was straight as an arrow. Below his nose, his lips were thin, but surprisingly soft looking given then he’s been in the extremely dry environment of a spaceship.

His umber brown hair was cut in a style that the closest analogy you could find was an undercut. The hair left longer was tied back in a topknot, giving him a clean, but almost aggressive appearance.

You glanced away sheepishly as he looked your way, probably feeling the weight of your glances on him. After a moment, you hesitantly glanced back up at him again. He was smiling a bit, smile lines emphasizing the contour of his lips and jawline. You couldn’t help how your cheeks flushed red briefly as you realized he had caught you staring at him.

Sooner than you expected, you arrived at the bridge. As you entered, the crewmen, a total of three that you could see, turned to stare at you and Jaehwan. You swallowed, suddenly feeling nervous under the weight of their curious stares. Captain Vadovas introduced the two of you to the crew. Once introductions were in order, she ordered for them to detach. You and Jaehwan were led over to the observation window. The pair of you watched, wide-eyed. 

It was a strange feeling. The Hermes had been your home for almost half a year. As the Bandisbul detached, it hit you just how fast the rings of the Hermes rotated as the Bandisbul detached in a straight trajectory. The two of you stood there is awed silence as the Hermes became smaller and smaller, the further out you flew towards Jigui.

Once it was out of sight, the two of you rejoined Captain Vadovas and your guide. “Shall we begin the tour?”

“Yes.”

Captain Vodovas led you all around the ship, her and your guide explain everything the best they could. Like most other spaceships, it was compact and designed for efficiency. Slightly different though in purpose from what you were used to. The Bandisbul was built to transport miners to and from the astroid belt back to their home planet once they’ve completed their circuit.  

Some stops were short, such as finding the head of the ship, very important, especially since you felt like you’d need to relieve yourself soon. Other stops were longer… much longer. Jaehwan was in heaven in the engine room, staring at one of the greatest invention neither of you knew existed— a cold fusion reactor. 

After much prodding and reminding him that there was food at the end of this, Jaehwan finally allowed you to pull him away from the ‘magical’ engine room. The tour continued on a little longer before you ended up at the captain’s mess. 

Entering the room, you were surprised by how… intimate it was. It wasn’t overly decorated, but there was a tapestry on the wall. You walked over to it, admiring the weave. It was a simple scene, a cliff, crashing waves, and Jigui’s twin moons. “It’s beautiful… the detail amazing.”

“Thank you. It’s been in my family for several generations. Shall we?”

Captain Vadovas indicated for you to sit down as she took her own seat. It was a square table, each of you taking a side. As the four of you waited, your friendly guide made some idle small talk.  You had often worried about your guide being stiff and cold like you had read about in the journals of past Jacks, but it seemed like you were blessed with that being false in this case. 

While the conversation was a little awkward at first (idle chitchat not necessarily translating quite as nicely as you thought it would), you welcomed the distraction. Especially for Jaehwan.

Neither you nor Jaehwan were looking forward to another meal of dehydrated, packaged food— the gloriously named MRE (meal ready to eat), especially when it would be compromised of foods neither of you had ever seen.

A knock at the door caught your attention. As the Captain bade them to enter, a wonderful smell hit your nose. A wirey, small male entered, followed by a young female, each carrying a plate. As the plates were set down in front of you, you said your thanks to who you assumed was the head chef of the ship in Gaganis. The food in front of you was so familiar and yet, so different. 

Steam rose from the roasted cutlet of meat— some of sort of poultry if the texture and shape were anything to go by. Covered in some spices, it smelled delicious. Next to it was a small pile of vegetables, also roasted and covered in herbs from the looks of them. The vegetables reminded you of some that you’d seen on Earth: turnips, peas, rhubarb, and onion. There was also a piece of what looked to be a flat bread with some unmilled grains of some kind that looked similar to oats.

As if yours and Jaehwan’s stomach shared one mind, they roared their demands in sync with each other. Your cheeks flushed red and from the corner of your eye, you could see the way Jaehwan’s ears turned scarlet as the four Ingan turned to stare at you. Sheepishly, you tried to explain, “It’s… been a while since we saw real food.”

Your guide was the first to laugh, relaxing the atmosphere of the room immensely, getting the others to join in. Captain Vadovas smiled and said, “I was going to apologize for the similicity of your first Ingan meal… but it seems that I should never have worried.”

She turned to the male and asked him for something, you weren’t sure what though— you were too busy drooling over the food in front of you. As he and his assistant left, Captain Vadovas and your guide began eating. You and Jaehwan mimicked them, grabbing the utensil that looked like a fork, except that it was two pronged instead of four, and the great universal tool: a knife. 

As you ate the first bit of meat, you couldn’t help but moan happily. It was so… good, the flavor being a cross between chicken and the tanginess of red meat.

Your guide laughed again. Turning red, you couldn’t help but shoot him a pointed look, forgetting for a moment that you were suppose to be cordial. He just gave you a lopsided goofy grin. “You act like you’ve never eaten food before.”

Mouth stuffed, Jaehwan answered, “After months of nothing by MREs this is like the food of the gods.”

Your guide inquired, “MREs?”

Between mouthfuls you explained, “Dehydrated, freeze dried food— Meals Ready to Eat. Exploratory vessels like the Hermes aren’t big enough to house a hydroponics bay, a cryo-static freezer, nor a real kitchen. So, we’re issued MREs instead. Disgusting but nutrient packed.”

Your guide made a face before going back to eating own meal, clearly much more… content with his meal than before.

Soon the crewmen from before returned, this time with bottles in hand. He handed each of you one and disappeared out of the room once more before you could express your thanks. Opening the bottle, you were glad to find it was water and not something else. You weren’t sure if your stomach could handle a new liquid on top of new solids. Especially after only eating MREs for months.

The conversation flowed easily and Jaehwan was becoming more and more confident, slowly picking up bits and pieces of Gaganis, just like you said he would.

As the dinner wrapped up, your guide asked, “What does ‘Jack’ mean? I cannot find it in the library.”

You replied, “It comes from an old Earth phrase, ‘jack of all trades, master of none.’ Jacks, as ambassadors of sorts, need to be skilled numerous different areas. Kind of as a means of not only being able understand numerous different parts of different cultures, but give perspectives that specialists might not see otherwise because they see the universe through just one lense. It’s also the best method of introduction. Having as few… aliens as possible on your planet at one time in the beginning has been the best course of action in the past when the Interplanetary Alliance meets new species. By only sending two representatives, but skilled in multiple areas, it’ll allow for easier and perhaps quicker integration if your people choose to join the I.A.”

His brows knit together, listening to you intently. You could tell he didn’t understand everything you said, but he seemed to understand enough. “A rather interesting phrase, I like it very much.”

He smiled at you and you returned the gesture. Captain Vadovas interrupted. “You must be tired. It will be a few days before we reach Jigui. Your guide will take you back to your cabin.”

As the four of you stood up, you said, “Thank you, Captain. Lead the way.”

Your guide smiled once more at you, holding out his hand, indicating for you and Jaehwan to leave first. Once out into the corridor, your guide led you through several halls until you arrived at a hall with four doors. “Since this is normally a mining transport vessel, each of you get your own room. Lee is over there,” he pointed to the door kitty corner from the door you stood in front of. “And you will be here.”

He pointed to the door you stood in front of. “I will be in that one if either of you need anything or wish to speak.”

Your guide pointed to the door directly opposite of your own and next to Jaehwan’s. 

You smiled at him. “Thank you very much.”

“Of course.”

He bid you both goodbye before he entered his cabin. As soon as his heavy door closed, both you an Jaehwan relaxed. Jaehwan was the first to break the silence. 

“He seems… nice.”

You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. You knew that tone. It only meant trouble. “Why would you say it like that?”

Jaehwan hesitated before replying, “Male instinct. Goodnight.”

Before you could stop him to question him even further, he was already in his cabin. Under your breath you muttered, “Little shit.”

Entering your cabin, you noted that it was rather homey… for a space cabin that is. It was still nothing but a metal box. But there was an actual bed, not a mattress put on a set of cabinets to maximize space like you were used to. You could actually stretch out a bit. You could only imagine how excited Jaehwan must be not to have to sleep either on the ground if he wanted to stretch out, or in a fetal position on his bunk because of his height. There was a wooden desk tucked away in the corner. 

Behind the desk was a beautiful tapestry of a dormant volcano, the slopes of it covered in green but the crater at the top of it remained ashen in color. The sleeping fiery titan sloped down across a valley filled with flowers you had never seen before. The valley ended abruptly with the sudden drop of a cliff, giving away to violent waves crashing up on it. In the sky, the sun hung high in the sky with the ghostly gleam of one of the moons hanging on the horizon. 

You ran your fingers over the fine embroidery. So much detail and patience went into it… it was absolutely amazing. 

Jostling yourself out of your admiration, you reminded yourself just how uncomfortable you had gotten in your uniform. Grabbing one of the bags your guide had placed on your bed, you pulled out your old t-shirt and cotton shorts. Both of them were Jack issued, but the t-shirt held a special place in your heart. 

It was covered in little messages from your fellow Jacks— your friends. You traced over Miranda’s elegant hand writing, telling you how much she was going to miss you, how proud she was of you. You couldn’t help but smile at Jin’s blocky ‘chicken scratch.’ Rather than telling you he’d miss you, he just gave you a list of all the things you needed to remember to do to take care of yourself. Forever the mother hen.

As you read over each and every message, you eyes welled with tears. All the emotions that had been building up in you over the last few months finally gave way. Between saying goodbye to LightWater, leaving home, the stress of making a good first unofficial impression— the floodgates opened. 

Clutching the shirt to your chest, you cried, letting all of it out. It was cathartic, just letting it all out in such a primal way. After what felt like far too long, you finally calmed down. Wiping the snot and tears from your face, you felt so much better. You felt like you could finally relax, like you could really breath for the first time today. 

Once you had changed out of your uniform and dressed in your pajamas, you stood there, looking around the cabin that would be your space for the next few days. In a burst of restless energy, you felt incredibly awake. There wasn’t much do to in your cabin, so you slipped on your work shoes— the eternally useful tennis shoes— and left your cabin with tablet in hand.

You wondered around the ship, taking in every detail, making sure that you kept track of where you turned and when so you could get back to your cabin. After a while, found yourself in one of the few places on the ship with a view into the great blackness. It was like an observation deck of sorts, a bench was placed against a wall, the perfect height for viewing out the four feet across circular window.

As you sat there, you felt drawn in by the sight before you. On the horizon of sorts, you could see the astroid belt. The line of rock split the near blackness in two. Off in the distance, the only other identifiable body in the darkness was the Gamma Tau star, illuminating the astroid belt, making it sparkle.

Jigui wasn’t observable yet— the light of the star drowning it out at this distance.

It all looked familiar and yet… so different. 

2,500 days— seven years before you’d be on your way back to Earth again.

You felt so small by the thought of being so far away from home for so long. And yet, you couldn’t help but be excited at the prospect of the unknown.

Chapter 2 <ACCESS DENIED>

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[capricornus-rex]

Two Sides of the Coin (3)

Chapter 3: Picking Up A Lead | Jidné Sheedra x Cal Kestis

Summary: Hell-bent on exacting revenge and retrieving the Holocron, the dreaded Darth Vader is now on the hunt for the young Jedi Knight, Cal Kestis. Under the assumption that he still possessed the artifact, while fueled by the intrigue of the boy’s strength and skill with the Force, the dark lord hires the bounty hunter, Jidné Sheedra, to track him down and have him delivered alive. However, the task becomes a trial for young Jidné, as she faces a conflict that tests her beliefs of a scarred past she had hidden for so long.

Also in AO3

Tags: Fem OC, Jidné Sheedra, Force-Sensitive! Fem OC, Bounty Hunter! Fem OC, Jedi! Fem OC

Chapters: Part 1 | Previous: Part 2 | Next: Part 4 | Masterlist

3 of ?

As Jidné got out of the castle, her stomach plummeted to her feet and her legs transformed into limp noodles—barely doing their job and instead dragged her along in every step. It was gradually sinking into her that the person who gave her the job was one of the most feared figures among the Jedi. She clutched her abdomen, crumpling the center of her jacket while waiting for the entry ramp to unfurl.

Not wanting to look back over her shoulder, she knew that she’d have the safety and privacy she needs within her vessel: a Dynamic-class freighter that she personally retrofitted and anointed the Crescent Scarab. It was a fine work of art that she greatly took pride in, so much so, that she has modified everything to her liking. She darted to the lounge of the ship, lousily putting down the canister and then splaying herself over the sofa.

Coming from the cockpit, an ID seeker droid acknowledged her arrival and greeted her. Its multiple claws on its tentacles flowed and twitched as its single eye panned left and right, scanning its owner.

“Hey, Eye-Dee Three,” Jidné greeted back.

The droid named ID-3, formerly Imperial property of another probe droid variant, is the only other passenger in the Scarab besides the pilot, Jidné herself. The droid chittered in its raspy, monotonous string of notes as it hovered closer towards its owner.

“Yeah, I’m okay, just… felt like jelly is all,” she brings her hand on the top of the black droid’s flat dome for a head.

The young bounty hunter detached the holster from her belt and set it down on the table, right next to the canister of credits. She stared at both objects for a good long minute, contemplating and pondering her strategy on how she’ll begin with this contract. Jidné reached out for her weapon holster first, taking it with both hands and then unbuttoning the flap—a polished, silver emitter pokes out of the lining.

She gently tilted the holster downward until an enough length of the weapon inside slid out. She caught the shaft before it could completely fall off. She rolled the hilt across her hand, feeling and tracing for the etchings, curves, and dips of the design. She held it high and proud, in the same way as she finished constructing it, the tassel that she knotted around the ring of her pommel caught her eye. Two strands, unequal in length, dangling at the very end of the hilt. The longer strand had seven turquoise beads, at the end of its thread is a cluster of feathers—three to be precise—though the wear and tear was very obvious; the short one had four beads of the same color but lacks a feather.

“Feathers are almost gone,” she hummed, fiddling the remaining tufts.

Her heart skipped a beat—it always does, even though she has done this many times. In her hand, the cold metal of the lightsaber’s sleeve stung the nerves of her palm. A small, somewhat satisfied smile curled along her lips—the weapon had brought her good memories, but also nightmares—and that smile became fleeting like a comet. Her thumb ran across the metal finish of the body and found the switch, the idea of igniting it was seductive—a temptation that she has no strength to fight back.

The snarl of the ignition took her breath away. A vibrant purple blade bore out of the emitter, its glow colored the paleness of her cheeks and reflected against the gloss of her brown irises.

“Jedi, huh?” she muttered to herself.

“Beeee-deee, trill?”

“That’s right, ID, we’re after a Jedi,”

Jidné sighed, and then switched her saber off before tucking it back into the pouch.

When her legs finally regained their strength, she walked to the cockpit and beckoned her droid companion—who still hovered close to her side—and joined her in the seat. As she put herself into work mode, she recalled the very helpful detail that Darth Vader gave. She breathed out a resigned sigh that drowned in the hollow hum of the Scarab’s engine revving up.

In a galaxy that stretched a thousand times more than the eye could see, how is she going to narrow down to finding a single Jedi?

“Say, ID, how likely are we to stumble into a redheaded Jedi on the run?”

“Beee… chirp!”

Jidné chuckled at the response, “I figured as much.”

With little base information she has, she knew she had to be resourceful. Lately, she’s picked up murmurs from Baz’s stronghold—as well as the gossips in the cantinas she frequented in Modala—that bounty hunters were also after a Jedi, solely for the bounty on his head, not because Darth Vader had hired others behind Jidné’s back or the other way around.

While gossip wasn’t exactly the best source material, she had to make do. The young bounty hunter swallowed her pride and entered the coordinates of her first stop.

Upon seeing the coordinates on the computer, ID-3 erratically chittered in protest.

“We have no other choice, buddy. They’re the closest we can get to the target,”

ID-3 lowed in disagreement, submitting to Jidné’s decision and continued assisting her in the ship, much to his chagrin. His owner sensed the disdain and petted its flat dome again.

“Don’t worry, you’ll stay close to me, right?”

“Beeep!”

Jidné smiled and boosted the ship’s throttle, following their course to Ordo Eris.

——————————————————–

Jidné piloted the ship with great care, evading the rock debris and asteroids that floated within the orbit. Her destination was dead ahead: one of the biggest rocks in the field, a needle of the infrastructure built within, a fiery orange glow encircled the central crater’s inner rim.

“I really don’t like this place,” she complained to no one in particular—except herself.

She slowed down the speed of the freighter until she got close enough to the outpost. A red blip flashed on her screen and vanished seconds after spotting it. There was a noticeable gaping crack of the arena’s ray shield wall that protects the outpost from the elements outside the planetoid, the young hunter added that to her list of questions once she lands.

The Scarab docked on the empty arena. It wasn’t entirely new for her see it devoid of animals and sentient creatures fighting for dear life, though it was a better sight than the deafening chorus of wild cheers mingling with animal roars. The Scarab’s landing gears disturbed the floor of the arena, creating clouds of sand around its pads, the exit ramp unfurled for Jidné and ID-3 to alight the ship.

A trio of bounty hunters approached her, there were more standing by the arena’s walls as well. Shortly after, they gave way for their Umbaran boss clad in silken, luxurious violet robes—he stuck out like a sore thumb around the orange light that filled his colosseum. For someone with sallow, prominent cheekbones and paper-white skin, he moved quite flamboyantly—contrast to his sickly appearance—perfectly matching up to the vibrancy of his rich, violet robes.

“We need to talk, Sorc,” the bounty hunter abruptly began, not having time for the dilly-dallying.

“Well, well,” he spoke in a singsong manner. He rubbed his goatee as he swayed. “It’s been way too long, dove. Come, come!”

Jidné didn’t come closer, even though Sorc beckoned her with his fingers covered in rings, so much so that the fingernails were the only ones exposed.

“Oh come on now, little dove, you act like we didn’t have history together!”

The bounty hunter rolled her eyes and shook her head, “Don’t call me that. Plus, that history was basically me being your delivery girl of animals and captives. It’s no big contract, just a sideline.”

“Ah, but you gave me a lot of good stuff for my arena! When you worked for me back in the day, I never ran out of customers—always looking for some mauling, goring, and all that crazy stuff!”

Completely uninterested of Sorc’s rambling about his business of arena fights between humanoids, humans or sentient beings against wild, senseless animals, Jidné cut to the chase.

“I don’t have time for stories, Sorc,”

“Of course, you aren’t. But, you know, intel—”

“Isn’t your expertise,” Jidné finished the sentence, even though that wasn’t exactly what Sorc was going to say. She put her hands over her waist, “But you’re the only one I know who could give me just that. Think of it as a compliment.”

The Umbaran pursed his lips, he opened his palm right in front of her. Fishing two gold chips out of her pocket and then tossing them to the hand, his fingers greedily caged the money into his fist and hurriedly tucked them into his robes.

“Always so hasty,” he rolled his eyes and smacked his lips. “Alright, what do you wanna know?”

“A boy. Redheaded Jedi.”

Sorc Tormo purred a long “Ahh” and wagged his finger at the girl, a mischievous grin stretching ear-to-ear on his pale white face.

“Handsome?”

Jidné’s eyebrows pulled together, creasing her forehead.

“I don’t see how that’s relevant, but okay, I guess?”

A throaty snicker rumbled from the Umbaran, still wagging his finger at the girl in a more teasing manner—it was almost childlike.

The surrounding bounty hunters subtly showed signs of hostility towards Jidné, her eyes already caught their movements with the slightest of side-glances: the ones standing closest to them were tightening their grips around their blasters, the ones who were a little far away but still within earshot had their hands slowly wandering towards their holsters.

She got the hint. Apparently, the Jedi was a prize indeed.

“Now that is an interesting subject—even for you, sweetheart!” Sorc Tormo guffawed, leaning to his knees while keeping his eyes on her.

She pointed at the damage with her thumb over her shoulder, without needing any words to make out the question, Sorc Tormo immediately has the answer.

“Ah!” he clicked his tongue. “We got a little… caught by surprise.”

“One hell of a surprise, if you ask me,”

“Oh honey, you don’t even know the start of it!” he swatted the air with his hand.

“He did that, didn’t he?”

Sorc Tormo’s boisterous guffaw startled the young girl as she awkwardly watched him laugh straight at her face. When he still hasn’t gotten all of the laughter of his system, he’s still chortling as he swings his arm at the air.

“Aww, ya shoulda see the baby go! Slashing away and getting chocked up by my pets and men. Crowd was wild, I had a full box that day!”

“You don’t know where he is, but you’ve seen him,” she insinuated.

Sorc got carried away with the compulsive need to tell it all, a force of habit, from the way she picked up his words, it was clear as the eye-straining color of his gaudy robes—the redheaded Jedi has engaged with the Haxion Brood.

“And you’re after him, too?”

“Hey, it pays the bills, sweetie!” he throws his arms to his sides, solely focusing on the topic of money. “Honestly, I could care less about the kid, but knowing the price on that pretty head of his, you really can’t blame us tryna make honest work, eh?”

“He’s mine!” she snarled, taking two steps towards Sorc.

Immediately, his bounty hunters became defensive of him, stopping her in her path by pointing the barrels of their rifles at her. That didn’t scare her, though, she takes another step close to the point that the holes of the blaster press against her body. She shot a dirty look at the pair of bounty hunters.

“If there’s one thing I hate: it’s competition.” She added.

Sorc chuckled, unintimidated and kept up his lurid façade, he gestured his hand in a circular motion that covered Jidné’s front.

“From what I could read in all this defensiveness, I strongly deduce that you have a contract out to get him.”

“Good job, man, do you want a prize for that?” she sardonically rebutted, keeping up with the Umbaran’s sarcasm with her own flavor.

There was no constructive reply from Sorc, other than another throaty chuckle. The girl’s patience is being stretched thin by the minute, not until she’s satisfied of filling the gaps that Darth Vader left in the job description.

Her sarcasm was quickly replaced with an imposing snarl through the clench of her teeth, “What else do you know?”

“He travels with that little gray grub that owes me a shitton of money!”

“A lot of little grubs owe you a shit-wad of money, Tormo, you’re gonna have to be much more specific.”

The syndicate boss sighed, often forgetting that this little bounty hunter was a persistent one—too persistent for her age rather. He shooed away his bounty hunters from being human barricades between Jidné and himself. They eased up, leaving a gap for Sorc and Jidné to converse with less distractions, but they still kept an eye on the girl—wary of her movements as she’s already starting to be aggressive.

“Alright, alright, fine! Your redhead is with the ship called the Mantis—it’s an S-161, you’ve been a mechanic part-time, right? You should know what that looks like. Now, for the grub that baby boy drives around with—he’s a stubby, little guy. Kinda old, wiry hair, bald on the top.”

“The companion—is he human too?”

“No, that grub is a Lateron. Stout, little thing. Four arms.”

Jidné tossed one last golden chip at Sorc, to which he skillfully caught into his hand; he fluidly slipped it into the inside pocket of his robes, making a soundless clink with the others, as he watched Jidné turn her back at him and walk away.

“Pleasure doing business with you, dove! Don’t be a stranger!”

“I plan to be!” Jidné clapped back before fully disappearing into the ship.

Sorc Tormo watched Jidné prep up the freighter, he even giddily waved goodbye at her to which she repaid with a fed-up rolling of the eye; she ignored him after that, focusing on the dashboard monitors of her ship as she eagerly flies the ship out of the rock. The freighter’s throttle blew at the entire arena—everyone’s capes and coattails flapped and smacked against their legs wildly as Jidné maneuvered the ship to face the gaping crack of the outpost’s wall.

“Are we gunna go after ‘er, boss?” one of the bounty hunters asked.

“Sure. It might be fun to have the baby boy and the baby girl together—they either kill each other or save each other, whatever and whichever works,” Sorc thought out loud, he rubbed his goatee with his ring-covered fingers and a grin stretched across his wrinkled, sallow face. “A ransom… no, a fugitive’s bounty on her head too! Yes, that would be very delicious. Go on now, SHOO!”

All of the bounty hunters dispersed, whooping in glee and greed as they gathered into their crude ships, bringing along the HURID-class droids for added muscle and brawn. Sorc Tormo stood idly in the exact spot he’s been staying in ever since Jidné came until she left, he listened to the barbaric laughter and chatter among his men; that greedy, coy grin never melted in his face—the only thing that ran around his brain was the idea of having sacks upon sacks of credits delivered to his private chambers, rewarded for the joint bounties of the Jedi and Jidné.

[stella-monstrum]

Rob Zombie; "Why it's time to step outside the confinements of his own box."

For close to four decades,

 Rob Zombie has brought nonstop psychedelic grooves and a rockstar presence while gracing his own music and the silver screen with gut-churning, drug-tripping visuals. He not only commands quite the presence in films (whether his own successes or others’), but also makes appearances within many other horror soundtracks. There’s no denying that Zombie is a bloodied savant who has stayed incredibly consistent. 

[ᴿᵒᵇ ᶻᵒᵐᵇᶦᵉ. ⁽ˢᵒᵘʳᶜᵉ: ᴳᵒᵒᵍˡᵉ ᴵᵐᵃᵍᵉˢ⁾]

(Written by Stella, edited by Jacob J.)

(Side note; tumblr’s photo formatting is a pain)

Let’s take a dive into his music before getting into his film library. From 1985-1997, White Zombie released six albums (between studio and compilations). La Sexorcisto: Devil Music Volume One didn’t break into the Billboard 200 chart until a year after its 1992 release. Shortly thereafter, it became the hot and groovy bong success of the band, going on to sell two million copies. Astro Creep 2000, their final and fourth studio release, was their first and only album to chart within the Top 10 of the Billboard 200 in 1995. Up to this day in 2020, “White Zombie” has been featured in 47 TV, film, and video game soundtracks, from Beavis & Butthead to Pen15 to Bride Of Chucky (which includes a personal favorite moment of mine), amongst many others.

After the disbandment and separation, Zombie continued on his solo journey. He has gone on to release six studio albums, with a seventh on the way in March 2021, titled The Lunar Injection Kool Aid Eclipse Conspiracy. A multitude of hits—eight to be exact—sat within the Top 10 of the Billboard 200 records. 

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Zombie’s extensive film career is a “Super Beast” on its own. 

He has been very vocal about gaining inspiration from 1920s-1980s horror culture. In many interviews, he’s cited Stan Lee, Bella Lugosi, Alice Cooper, and Steven Speilberg as being responsible for molding the brain that we know today. 

Some of his influences include:

George A. Romero’s Dawn of the Dead (1978)

A Clockwork Orange (1971)

Texas Chainsaw Massacre (1974)

The Cabinet of Dr. Caligari (1920) 

The Shining (1980)

Zombie’s upbringing in the carnival industry alongside his family is another key influence.

[[I’ll only be focusing on Zombie’s live-action films here.]]

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In 2000, Rob made his directorial and (very memorable) screen debut with House Of 1000 Corpses. 

It took three years to be released because of quarrels with major production companies regarding the film’s majorly aggressive themes of torture, blood, violence, sex—not to mention his arrogance with MGM, fighting to get rights back from Universal. Eventually, Lionsgate bit the bullet, albeit with the major stipulation of having Rob edit it down much further so House could pass with a “tame” R rating. 

[[House of 1000 Corpses: Rainn Wilson as taxidermy merman (Source: Tumblr—and if you’re brave, you can view the scene here.)]]

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In 2005 and 2019, the franchise’s next two installments—Devil’s Rejects and 3 From Hell—were released. The franchise is heavily influenced by the shocking, sickening, and unforgettable ’70s classic Texas Chainsaw Massacre. It follows a family of psychotic, sadistic, and bloodthirsty (if I’m being honest) necrophiliacs. They kidnap, kill, torture and brutalize anyone who gets in their way. At the end of Devil’s Rejects, they somehow manage to survive a police shootout, escape prison, and waltz on into Mexico (as seen in the franchise finale 3 from Hell).

Look, it’s all complicated.

Main Characters from the franchise:

Captain Spaulding—Sid Haig

Baby Firefly—Sheri Moon Zombie

Otis B. Driftwood—Bill Moseley 

Momma Firefly—Karen Black (recast as Leslie Easterbrook after Karen’s passing)

(Other notable appearances throughout: Chris Hardwick, Rainn Wilson, Danny Trejo, Dee Wallace, Ken Foree, and Diamond Dallas Page.)

⁽“ʰᵒᵘˢᵉˢ ᵗʳⁱˡᵒᵍʸ”, ᵈᵛᵈ ˢᵉᵗ﹔ ˢᵒᵘʳᶜᵉ﹔ ᵗᵃʳᵍᵉᵗ.ᶜᵒᵐ⁾

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The notorious/controversial Halloween (John Carpenter, 1978) remakes from 2007 and 2009.

(ᵃ ᵛⁱᵉʷ ᵒᶠ ᵗʰᵉ ᵇᵒˣ ᵃʳᵗ ᶠᵒʳ ᵗʰᵉ ʰᵃˡˡᵒʷᵉᵉⁿ ʳᵉᵐᵃᵏᵉˢ ⁽ˢᵒᵘʳᶜᵉ﹕ ᵃᵐᵃᶻᵒⁿ⁾)

Look, this is a remake that you either adore or hate with a burning passion. If you’re a horror fanatic, you know what’s up with the original.

I personally adore Zombie’s take. The fact alone that he gave us an entire background story as to why Michael became the psychotic slasher that we’ve come to know and love. Plus, with an increased suspense and gore factor? Worked incredibly well and did justice (in my opinion).

The film made me feel bad for Michael, with moments of child Myers in therapy, particularly his love for making masks to pass the time while he was locked up and the touching family moments between him and his mother Deborah (Sheri Moon).

ᵈᵉᵇᵒʳᵃʰ ᵃⁿᵈ ᵐⁱᶜʰᵃᵉˡ ᵐᵉʸᵉʳˢ ⁱⁿ ʲᵃⁱˡ ᵗʰᵉʳᵃᵖʸ. ⁽ˢᶜʳᵉᵉⁿᶜᵃᵖ, ʰᵃˡˡᵒʷᵉᵉⁿ. ˢᵒᵘʳᶜᵉ﹕ ᵍᵒᵒᵍˡᵉ⁾

[Michael’s cell in the 2007 Halloween remake. (Source: Google)]

Add in the supporting cast of Michael McDowell (Loomis), Brad Douriff (Sheriff Leigh), Scout Taylor-Compton (Laurie Strode), etc., and I honestly think that it came together very well as a remake.

The films rated relatively low, but they did gross higher than the budgets that they originally had to film on. Again, I’m not going to give much attention to the higher-ups of critical perception—it all comes down to personal taste.

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“Lords of Salem” (2013) 

[[Promotional art for Lords of Salem. (Souce: Google Images)]]

A film that’s centered within Salem, Massachusetts, 

this film—you guessed it—tackles witches, occultism, possession, Satan, and all the usual topics. Heidi (Sherri Moon) is a radio DJ who gets sent a mysterious record that’s labeled as being from “The Lords.” From then on out, shit gets a little dicey and admittedly, very disjointed. You can’t fault the cast here, and I loved the visuals that they were going for. However, with set schedule conflicts and multiple rewrites, which led to essentially running out of time to film? As a whole, what looked great on paper just couldn’t be done justice.

My FAVORITE sequence within the film (SPOILERS): 

I can forgive the disjointedness solely because of how mind-boggling and brilliant the film’s history and proper visuals were. Also, we got to see Dee Wallace, Judy Geeson, and Patricia Quinn as creepy and badass witches who moonlight as Heidi’s landlords. Also Meg Foster who leads their coven? Can we talk about what a femme-fueled power cast that is?!

[[Left to right: Patricia Quinn as Megan, Dee Wallace as Sonny, and Judy Geeson as Lacy Doyle. (Screencap, Lords of Salem. Source: Google) ]]

[[Meg Foster as coven leader Margaret Morgan. (Screencap, Lords of Salem. Source; google)]]

Like I said prior, the film gets a little wild. If you’re...well, buzzed prior to watching, it may make a little more sense. 

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“31” (2016)

[[Film poster for 31 (Source: Google)]]

[Synopsis from IMDB; “Five carnival workers are kidnapped and held hostage in an abandoned, hellish compound where they are forced to participate in a violent game, the goal of which is to survive twelve hours against a gang of sadistic clowns.”]

Here, we clearly see that Zombie is invoking his childhood growing up within carnivals. In a 2013 interview with LA Weekly, Zombie divulged more about it:

“When we were kids, my parents would [work at the carnivals], and me and my brother would get dragged along to these things all the time and have to work.”

He went further on to say;

 “Yeah, and it's not the nicest world. As a kid, you get exposed to the crazier underworld of the carnival. Me and my brother, when we were very little, we'd be inside the haunted house playing all day. So, already, what people are paying money to be scared [of], we're just playing in because it's fun. We saw the inner workings behind the machines.”

(”31″ trailer, source; Youtube)

Once again in this film, Zombie brings a powerhouse cast:

Jeff Daniel Phillips as Roscoe Pepper

Meg Foster as Venus Virgo

Malcom McDowell as Father Murder

Judy Geeson as Sister Dragon

Richard Brake as Doom Head

You can view the entire cast at IMDB here.

Set in 1976, Zombie stays true to his nods. Again, depending on taste, this is a huge hit or a wild miss with mindless homicidal violence, campiness, and climbs across the monkey bar of standards that we’re used to seeing from him.

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So at this point, you’re probably wondering why I think that it’s time for Rob Zombie to step out of the confinements of his own box...

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It’s no secret that Zombie sticks to only a small group of tropes: 

Slashers, families or groups of homicidals that lack remorse, the occult, etc. There’s no shame in sticking to what you know. Hell, Zombie has seemingly cracked the code over the past two decades that he’s been in the film industry that so many directors still don’t seem to get.

IMO, despite whatever you personally feel about the films mentioned above- I feel like we’re living a freaky groundhog day repeat within Zombie’s filmography. 

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Now, if it ain’t broke, why fix it? Look, I’m not saying that Zombie has to change anything. However, I would love to see him tackle some other nuances that we’ve already seen from him in small doses.

- Children: We haven’t seen Zombie exactly take on what horror films depict kids as. Sure, he made a breakout and impeccable choice with young Michael Myers (Daeg Faerch) back in 2007. I personally would adore to see a reimagined (NOT remade) Children of the Corn on acid, one we all know Zombie can tackle and turn every existing view on its head.

- Witchcraft, The Occult, Satan, Voodoo:  Zombie genuinely had a phenomenal concept (on paper) for 2012’s Lords of Salem. It was unfortunate that they ran out of resources and ran into unfortunate circumstances on set while filming. 

The film wasn’t a total tank, though, given how inspiring and insane all the visuals were throughout the 1 hr, 41min film. I am absolutely positive that, given a full-force opportunity, Rob could rectify the mess that was out of his control. We completely saw that he provided visuals that left quite the impression, and he could take those taboo subjects by the goat horns.

- Animals (not the human form): It’s no secret that Rob and his wife Sherri are ethical vegetarians. It would be so tongue and cheek to see them take on such topics as animals getting their revenge, or even vegetarians torturing carnivores. This twist on the formula would make for an interesting viewing.

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2.) In regard to time periods, 

Zombie stays within—and pays homage to—the 1970s and 1980s quite a bit. Obviously, those are the eras that Zombie personally loves the most when it comes to filmmaking. However, it would be very interesting to see him take on current day settings. 

Zombie has such a unique viewpoint. Given changing climates in politics, human decline/growth, the economy, etc., he would do work that could easily put Ryan Murphy to shame.

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3.) He could also do with some different casting every now and then.

Let me preface this by saying that I adore every repeat casting choice that Zombie has made for his films. 

Of course chemistry is a huge thing, and sticking to his friends is a very smart choice. However, he also has the potential to make new stars, boosting the power of those that may be under the radar. He can support those new stars with cameos from classic actors that we haven’t seen in awhile. I can’t begin to even fictionally cast those who fit the bill, but I do believe that with the “Zombie Touch,” he can bring so much more fresh air to the usual casting.

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There’s no doubting what Rob Zombie is clearly very good at. Despite mixed reviews from the horror world and critics, it’s time that his fans open their eyes to new possibilities. Of course, there are die-hards, but digging your feet in further doesn’t allow the growth of horror and its ever evolving themes.

[[ʳᵒᵇ ᶻᵒᵐᵇⁱᵉ, ˢᵒᵘʳᶜᵉ﹔ ᵍᵒᵒᵍˡᵉ ⁱᵐᵃᵍᵉˢ]]

This theory has been on my mind for a very long time—since 3 from Hell came out. I’m sure, in his usual fashion, we won’t be seeing any new films from Rob anytime soon (what with his new album set to release in March 2021, not to mention the toll that the pandemic has had on Hollywood.)

Still, it never hurts to challenge the set standards and ways.

[argylemnwrites]

It Couldn’t Wait Another Moment - Chapter 15

Pairing: Drake Walker x MC (Riley Liu)

Book: The Royal Romance (Canon Divergent from Book 2, Chapter 15)

Word Count: ~4900

Rating: R (all the adult language - what can I say, Drake swears)

Summary: A much needed conversation, part two.

Author’s Note: Thought I would have this up yesterday, but my Vikings broke my heart, so I couldn’t bring myself to do final edits. Merry Christmas to those who celebrate! This chapter is not even remotely holiday themed, but it contains one of my favorite scenes in this story, so I hope you enjoy it!

This series diverges from TRR canon, where instead of waiting to discuss his relationship with Riley until their last night in NYC, leaving her a note while Liam is proposing to her, Drake tackles this topic as soon as possible after Tariq makes his statement and Riley’s name is cleared. To catch up on this series, you can find the previous chapters in my masterlist (link is located in my bio).

It was pitch black out when Drake awoke to a faint tapping sound. He checked his phone. It was 3:26. He figured he must have imagined the noise and rolled over, trying to go back to sleep, but the noise returned. It was a knock on his door - light, but insistent. Drake was tempted to ignore it, but deep down, he knew who it was. So he shuffled over, flipped the lock, and cracked open the door. 

“You know it’s 3:30 in the morning, right?”

Liam nodded. “I apologize. I couldn’t sleep and I thought maybe… But you’re right, it was rude of me to come by at this hour. I’ll just-”

Drake cut him off with a groan, swinging the door open fully and gesturing for Liam to enter. “No, come on in.”

But Liam didn’t enter, instead pausing in the doorway for a moment before he spoke, “Actually, I was hoping you might want to go fishing.”

Drake blinked a couple of times, trying to clear the fog of sleep from his mind. They hadn’t gone out, just the two of them, in a long time. And given their most recent… conversation, it seemed like an odd choice. But Drake had stuck around to support Liam, so if he needed to go out fishing in the middle of the night, well then Drake would be going with him. “Yeah, okay. Just gimme ten minutes.”

So Drake brushed his teeth and got dressed, grabbing the fishing rods, the lawn chairs, and the tackle box before making his way down to the private garage. It was just Liam there when he arrived, so either Bastien had cleared a private outing, or Liam was ducking out without his security team knowing. It didn’t matter much to Drake either way. He just loaded their gear into the back of his car and moved to hop into the driver’s seat, but Liam called out, “Actually, do you mind if I drive?” Drake shrugged and walked around, sliding in on the passenger's side and settling in for the short drive to their usual spot. Except instead of turning right after passing through the palace gates, Liam turned to the left.

“Uh, where are you going?”

Liam glanced over at Drake before returning his eyes to the road ahead of him, “There’s a different lake I want to visit. I hope you can forgive me this break from our typical routine.”

Once again, Drake found himself shrugging. Not knowing how long of a trip they’d be taking, he leaned his head against the side window. It was dark enough out that he couldn’t see much of the scenery, but he knew they were basically heading east. They drove for well over an hour, not talking, just listening to Liam’s classical music playlist, the one he used when he needed to think. Drake didn’t know what was going on, so he let Liam drive on without any questions about where or how or why. They just drove and drove, and eventually, tinges of orange and pink started to appear in the sky. As the sun began to peek above the horizon, Liam turned off the main road onto a smaller frontage road. After about five more minutes, he pulled over to the side and stopped.

“We’re here,” was all he said before he got out of the car and went to grab his half of the gear from the back. Drake followed his lead, carrying his rod, chair, and the tackle box down a gravel path, Liam just a few paces ahead of him. It was a short and easy hike, leading to a large, crystal-clear lake. The area Liam had chosen was basically a meadow, but there were thickly forested patches along the shoreline, giving rise to large hills and mountains just beyond. Across the lake, Drake noted a grand estate.

He had no idea why they were here and not at their usual lake just west of the capital, but Liam had already set up his chair and was threading his line through the guides. So Drake placed his own chair next to Liam’s, opened the tackle box in between them, and started prepping his own line. Soon enough, they were casting out, the sky lightening in color by the second as the sun continued to climb upwards. They were both silent at first, but after several minutes, Liam broke the ice.

“So, Olivia’s aunt is behind the attacks.”

Drake whipped his head over to the left, trying to gauge Liam’s mental state. That must have been why Olivia came to the palace two days ago. It certainly explained the surge of activity triggered by her visit. Liam didn’t make eye contact with Drake, choosing instead to stare out over the water as he continued to fill him in on the situation.

“She wore a wire yesterday, securing recordings of her aunt talking about the whole thing. Lucretia’s initial plan was to kill any degree of public approval I had before I abdicated, leaving Olivia poised to take the throne. Olivia somehow managed to convince her that we were sleeping together and to give her more time so that she could eventually get pregnant and a Nevrakis would become the heir to the throne.”

“Wait, her aunt thought you two were sleeping together?”

“Olivia didn’t disclose how that even became a point of conversation with her aunt, but Lucretia brought it up unprompted very early on in Olivia’s surveillance, so it must have been part of her ploy to get the initial confession out of Lucretia. Regardless, it was effective. While Olivia was informing me of her aunt’s aims, Lucretia was scrambling to strike deals with her co-conspirators since they were no longer a necessary part of her scheme.”

“How’d that work out for her?” 

“About as well as you would expect. Turns out people who are willing to destroy and kill to gain power don’t respond kindly to being cut out of a coup. Lucretia started naming them all without Olivia even asking because she was planning on having the two of them take out the other key agents in the attacks, all of whom were looking to kill Lucretia at the first opportunity after she dismissed them from her plan.”

“Ah, classic Nevrakis family bonding.”

“Heh. Olivia made a similar remark. Regardless, the strike teams will deploy today to bring the parties involved into custody. Hopefully, things will be well coordinated enough that no one will be forewarned and able to flee. One other insurgent in particular is someone we absolutely need to arrest. His name is Anton Severus, and he and Lucretia seem to be the ringleaders.”

“I’ve never heard of him.”

“We hadn’t either. Initial research turned up some… strange connections to Olivia that we’ll need to investigate further. However, this photo was even more interesting.”

At that, Liam grabbed a small piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and passed it over to Drake. He nearly dropped his fishing rod when he saw the face on the paper.

“It’s that Justin prick!”

“Indeed. Seems he was working under an alias.”

“What the fuck, Liam? He was Liu’s press secretary. He spent a shit-ton of time with her one-on-one. He could have-”

“Drake, this whole situation is a disaster. If you have concerns about the vetting that went into hiring this man, I suggest you take it up with Bertrand. There is something else I thought it prudent you know regarding him, though. He arguably stood to gain the most from the initial scheme concocted by him and Lucretia. Understandably, it sounds like he is the most upset by her recent change in strategy.

“From the way Lucretia talks about him, not only is he highly dangerous, but he also has access to key information Lucretia has been collecting. This includes the findings obtained by the PI that was following you in New York. Apparently, the goal there was a titillating piece surrounding you, me, and Riley. Unfortunately, we think it is highly probable that he will have leaked the information obtained thus far to the press given Lucretia’s description of her conversation with him. So I apologize, but it is likely you and Riley will gain some media attention.”

“So will you.”

Liam shrugged at that, “Yes, well, that comes with the job description for me. That’s not exactly the situation for the two of you.”

“Was warning me about this why you brought me out here?”

“No, that was something I obviously needed to do, but that’s not why I wanted us to go fishing.”

“Why, then? Why today?”

“It's all just been... It's been hard to handle all the…” Liam trailed off. Drake couldn't remember the last time he was at a loss for words.

“Yeah, you've had a lot of shit to deal with.” 

Liam chuckled. “I think that safely qualifies as an understatement.”

Drake smiled softly, letting the quiet of the surrounding nature keep the moment still and peaceful. When Liam got like this, it was best not to ask a lot of questions. just let him talk when he felt like it. So they sat there, lines dipping below the surface of the water. The fish weren't biting, but that didn't really matter at all. They were both silent for many minutes, but eventually Liam started talking.

“My mind is just so full all the time. As soon as I think I have a handle on one topic or issue, another one just worms its way deep into my brain. Being out here, it's nearly like all those conflicting ideas can just float away from me. For the first time in weeks, I feel like I can breathe, that I can decompress even slightly. I know that I can't escape the realities of my life forever, but this is a nice reprieve. So thank you, Drake. Thank you for indulging me, even if I did wake you before 4 o’clock.”

Drake nodded, “Of course, Liam. you know I'd do…”

Liam's eyes drifted over to Drake's as Drake trailed off. He wasn't sure if he had the right to finish that thought. A few months ago, there was literally nothing that Drake wouldn't have done for Liam. He couldn't imagine a single thing. But now, after everything with Riley... Well, saying something like that seemed pretty fucking disingenuous.

But Liam just shook his head sadly, “Even after I said horrible things to you the other day.”

Drake frowned at that, “Liam, I deserved nearly all of it. I should be the one apologizing. You have a shit-ton of crap to handle everyday, and my pissy attitude should not have to be part of it.” He kept his eyes focused on the water, ashamed that he couldn’t even figure out how to be the first one to apologize. But Liam chuckled lightly, seeming to be oblivious to Drake’s pain and guilt.

“Drake, since when are you worried about your attitude around me?” 

He let out a sigh before he responded, “Pretty much whenever I can tell you’re stressed.”

“But that shouldn’t be how this works,” said Liam, “We are supposed to be equals, my title be damned. That can’t happen if you are tiptoeing around me when my life becomes stressful.”

“See, I knew you would see it this way. But you’ve gotta understand that the shit you face is so much worse than the shit any of the rest of us face. I gotta be more careful with you than you are with me. Besides, you look out for me, too. You gave me a place to stay, you let me duck out and do my own thing when I get antsy, you find me lots of high quality whiskey.”

“Are you kidding me, Drake?”

He smiled at that, glancing over at Liam, “Just a little. My point is that we both have been there for each other.”

Liam shook his head. “But don’t you see, Drake, that everything you just listed didn’t really impact my life in any major way. Doing those things for you required very little sacrifice. You, on the other hand, just aggressively reminded my brother that you have uprooted your entire life for me. You put long-term plans on hold to be there for me.”

“You were a prince, Liam. Now you’re the fucking king. You made the best accommodations you could for me given the situation. I did the same. It’s no one’s fault that your life doesn’t allow you the flexibility that mine does.”

“Be that as it may, I worry I’ve taken you for granted, that I’ve treated your support as a given. You altered major life plans for me. That shouldn’t be taken lightly.”

Drake waved his hand through the air, almost as if he could swat away Liam’s concerns, “Trust me, it’s really not a big deal.”

“Your screaming match with Leo would suggest otherwise.”

“Eh, Leo was just being an ass and things got outta hand.”

Drake dropped his eyes to the lake’s surface, watching his line cut through the water. He could feel Liam’s stare on the back of his neck, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it. Maybe, if he just sat there quietly, Liam would let it go. Accept his statement as the truth.

“So this is what you meant about keeping your attitude from me when you think I’m too stressed to handle it.”

Drake sighed slowly, rolling his head around to look at Liam. He didn’t know what to say, but his silence kind of confirmed Liam’s statement.

“I don’t need you to turn yourself into an emotional martyr for me, Drake. I would never want that for you.”

“That’s not what this is, I just-”

“Drake, I think you do it without even thinking about it. It’s become nearly reflexive for you. Remember at my coronation, after Riley was forcibly removed from the palace?”

Drake nodded. While the overall events of that night were burned into his brain, he honestly didn’t remember the details all that well. He’d been a mess. Chasing after Riley. Thinking he’d fly out to New York. He’d gone from being convinced that she was going to be this gnawing presence in his life, happily engaged to Liam and just out of reach, taunting him as the possibility that was never meant to be, to being terrified she would not even be a small part of his life anymore. It was in that moment that he decided if he ever saw her again, he would be grateful to fill whatever role she wanted for him in her life, even if that meant opening himself up to excruciating pain in the end. “Yeah, that one was pretty hard to forget.”

“As soon as I got visibly upset, you jumped into action, planning and organizing. You even told me you would go to New York, and I just assumed that you were doing that for my sake. But that wasn’t your primary motivation, was it?”

Drake closed his eyes and shook his head, “I needed to make sure she was okay. I just wanted to be there for her.”

“You loved her already, didn’t you?”

Liam’s question gave Drake pause. He’d never really bothered to think about when he’d fallen for Riley. It was just one of those things, where one day it had just hit him out of nowhere that he was completely gone on her. They’d been eating breakfast with Hana and Maxwell at Applewood the day after finding the photographer’s ID badge. She’d been giving him shit in response to some comments he’d made about mimosas and after a few moments of bickering, she’d stuck her tongue out at him, as if that would win her the argument. It had just been so stupidly silly, so damn playful, so completely her that he’d just known. And that had been it. He’d never really bothered to try and figure out when he actually fell in love, at least not until this moment.

“I think so,” he finally spoke, barely getting the words out. It felt so shameful, to admit out loud that he was in love with Riley. That he’d been in love with her for a long time at this point. It was stupid to get hung up on this. He’d moved to a new country for her. Of course Liam knew he loved her. But to explicitly state it felt wrong. Dirty. Cruel.

The silence of the surrounding nature felt unbearable. But after a painful minute or two, Liam finally responded to Drake’s confession.

“I wish you would have told me how you were feeling. I wish both of you would have told me, but I really wish you would have told me.”

“Liam, I-”

“Let me rephrase that. You should have told me. The rejection would have never been pleasant, but I would have handled it. Romantic feelings go unrequited all the time. But you lied to me, if not outright, then certainly by omission. And that Drake, is the aspect of this whole mess that I am struggling with the most. I always trusted you to be the one person in this world who was honest with me, to never have an ulterior motive during our discussions. And I’ve lost that faith, Drake. That is what hurts the most.”

“I know, Liam. I’m so sorry.”

“See, this is why you can’t just decide that you need to hide your actual emotions from me. Regardless of whether or not my royal obligations are intense, there needs to be mutual honesty between us.”

Drake shook his head roughly, “It wasn’t all about protecting you. That was part of it, sure, but it was more complicated than just that. I wasn’t exactly trying to be noble.”

“Why then?”

“I don’t want to make excuses here, Liam. I know I fucked up.”

“I just need to understand, Drake. I need to make sense of all of this. So please, just talk to me openly.”

Drake took a breath, trying to organize his thoughts before he started, “It was self-preservation really, and I know that’s selfish of me, but it’s the truth. It was going to be bad enough in the end when she chose you. That alone was going to hurt like hell. I just couldn’t stand the thought of you knowing about it.”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“I was convinced that she was going to choose you once she cleared her name.”

“Is there some reason you thought that, or…”

“Previous experience mostly. It’s not important, though.”

“It kind of is, Drake. You are talking about this like it was some foregone conclusion that she wasn’t as interested in you as she was in me, when all I have is evidence to the contrary.”

Drake let out a huge sigh, his shoulders sagging in the process. He wasn’t sure if this topic was wildly embarrassing or just uncomfortable, but they were here now, and Drake didn’t see a way out of it at this point. “Over the years, there have been quite a few women who’ve tried to use me to get close to you. Some just feigned interest until you guys were introduced. Others seemed to have researched me and my interests pretty extensively, letting things escalate between us for quite a while before they suddenly didn’t have time for me. Usually, that was right after they met you. It didn’t take long for me to learn the drill.”

“And you thought Riley was doing the same thing? Drake, she hadn’t even heard of Cordonia when we wandered into that bar.”

Drake mustered up what was left of his courage before continuing, “I think she would have accepted your proposal that night. We snuck outside for a bit. Talked a little. We kissed. I don’t know. We both made it pretty clear that was it for us. It felt a lot like goodbye.

“Then after you got engaged and she came back, I don’t know. Things were different. She kept bringing up us actually being together. It was a strange shift, and part of me just couldn’t believe that she really wanted to be with me. I  kept wondering if she was just looking for comfort after being publicly rejected and I was the best option. So I kept telling her we should wait until she cleared her name to talk about our future. And I braced myself for the day that would happen and she would realize she could have you again. That she could go off and be with who she actually wanted.”

“You told me about your relationship the day after she cleared her name.” Liam’s voice was quiet, but calm. Understanding. Gentle.

“I know it’s not an excuse, Liam. But I just didn’t really think that she had any deep feelings for me until she told me she loved me that night. Some part of me couldn’t shake the thought that whatever the hell was going on between us was about to come to an end.”

“But it didn’t.”

“No. It didn’t.”

They both sat there, still and silent. It was tense, to be sure, but unlike the other day, Drake didn’t sense any anger rolling off Liam. He knew he was much calmer, too. Maybe they had just needed to purge their more toxic thoughts before they could have this conversation. Or maybe it needed to happen outside of the confining, binding walls of the palace. Out away from pressures and obligations, away from nosy servants and nobles. Maybe that was why Liam had wanted to go fishing. Maybe deep down he knew this was the only way either of them would talk. But that didn’t explain his choice of location.

“Why here?”

“What was that?”

“I am just trying to figure out why you wanted to come out here to… wherever the hell we are to have this conversation.”

“Valtoria. That’s where I brought us.”

“Okay, so why Valtoria?”

Liam sighed, looking around and fully taking in the surrounding woods and meadows. He was silent, with only the lapping water and the hum of last of that year’s cicadas filling the air. Eventually after several painfully long moments he answered.

“You know how Valtoria has been vacant for decades? Well, it was going to be hers.”

“What are you talking about, Liam?”

“I was going to offer her the title of Duchess of Valtoria.” He kept looking around, almost as if making eye contact would be unbearable.

Drake's mind raced as he tried to figure out what the hell he was talking about. It only took a few seconds for him to realize the truth behind it all. “You couldn't marry a commoner. You had to make her fucking suitable match.”

Liam winced at that, finally turning his head to face Drake. “I was trying to give her a home. I wanted Cordonia to feel like her country, not my country. But yes, Drake. I was also looking to appease her critics on the council. Titling her was a needed formality.” 

Drake let Liam's words wash over him. He knew that Liam himself didn’t really care that Riley came from poverty, had clawed her way to a working class lifestyle. But somehow, the fact that he would have elevated her to noble class before marrying her rubbed him the wrong way just the same. His discomfort at the idea must have shown on his face, because Liam spoke again after a brief moment.

“Come on, Drake. I know it’s your reflex to hate the nobility, but surely that wouldn’t apply to her?”

Drake shook his head. “It’s not that.”

“Then what is it? Why would the mere formality of titling her upset you?”

“That’s not…. It’s just… No one needs to change anything about her.”

A faint smile crept across Liam’s face at Drake’s reply, even as he squinted his eyes in disbelief, “My god, who are you and where have you hidden Drake Walker?”

“What?”

“That was dangerously close to romantic, my friend. Certainly more saccharine and sweet than anything I have ever said.”

“Bullshit, Liam.”

“Fair enough, but you have to admit that was far more sentimental than you usually act.”

“Jesus, Liam. I’m not saying that to be romantic. I just don’t like the fact that you wanted her to change who she is to marry you.”

“It was never about changing her. It was merely adding a formal title.”

Drake squinted at Liam, trying to figure out how he could be so oblivious, but then it dawned on him. Riley hadn’t let Liam see her as she really was. She’d kept things light and polite. She’d never laid into him. Never opened up to him. She had kept playing at being princess the whole way through.

“Tell me, Liam -  how many times have you heard Liu swear?”

After a couple of seconds, Liam said, “My answer is that I can’t recall her ever swearing, but I can guess that is not her typical behavior based on that question.”

“She called me a ‘goddamn motherfucking asshole’ within her first few days here,” Drake responded, shaking his head with a smile, “You may not have asked her to change who she was, but…”

“You’re saying she just felt compelled to act differently around me.”

“I think so.”

Liam was quiet for a few moments, likely thinking about everything that had been said. Eventually, he shook his head, “Well, I think there’s some form of irony buried in this whole situation. Apparently, there have been many women out there who acted differently around you to get to know me. The one woman I actually wanted to get to know was acting differently around me as she fell in love with you.”

“Liam, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be, Drake. At least not for that part. I will certainly accept your apology for hiding your feelings from me and prolonging the uncomfortable situation. But the rest of it is just life. I fell for someone, but she fell for someone else. There’s no reason for her not to be with the person she loves if he loves her in return.

“I’m not blameless in this whole mess. You were right; I just assumed she was interested in me. I could blame the entire dynamic of the social season, but that wouldn’t be proper. I am a grown man, and I should have recognized her waning interest in me.”

“No, you were right. We should have talked to you sooner.”

“And I probably shouldn’t have offered up being my mistress without asking about her feelings surrounding my relationship with Madeleine. There is plenty of blame to go around.”

“Excuse me, you what?”

“It’s not my proudest moment, Drake, but I was desperate and grasping at straws. Looking back, I certainly could have done better there. However, I am guessing you have some moments you wish you could redo in this whole debacle?”

Drake was still trying to process the fact that Liam had apparently asked Riley to be his side piece, but he knew his overall point was valid. They both had made mistakes here. And maybe it was time to leave those mistakes in the past and start moving forward. So Drake just nodded, a gesture Liam returned with a smile before he looked out over the lake again. The silence between them wasn’t entirely comfortable, but it certainly felt closer to normal than it had in a long time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Riley poured the couple at the bar two more IPAs, then quickly glanced around the room, trying to see if there were any other customers who needed another round. Not seeing any obviously empty glasses or anyone trying to flag her down, she started loading up a tray with dirty glassware to bring into the back to get cleaned.

After her breakdown her first night back in New York, she’d resolved to not think about Cordonia, and she honestly felt like she’d done a pretty good job. One of the afternoon bartenders had quit unexpectedly, so she volunteered to pick up some extra shifts, which not only kept her busy and distracted, but also helped her earn some much needed cash.

She gotten some texts from Maxwell and Hana, but she’d kept her responses light and casual. She really was doing fine. She just had to convince them of that fact. If they kept asking her how she was doing, she would fixate on everything that had happened, and the would be the opposite of helpful. She needed to keep moving forward, and then she would be able to move on with her life.

Riley carried the heavy tray into the backroom and loaded up the industrial dishwasher. After washing her hands, she went back out front, but the sight in front of her stopped her dead in her tracks. She knew that hair. She knew that face. But that hair and that face were supposed to be in Cordonia, not scanning the room awkwardly, clearly looking for someone.

“Hana?” she finally called out when she found her voice, “What the hell are you doing here?” 

Tags: @addictedtodrakefanfic @kingliam2019  @dcbbw @mfackenthal @jovialyouthmusic @iplaydrake @gibbles82 @drakewalkerisreal @riley–walker @thequeenofcronuts @notoriouscs @butindeed @thesumofmychoices @texaskitten30 @yaushie @cosigottahavefaith @thequeenchoices @katedrakeohd @feartheendlesssummer @sirbeepsalot @ladyangel70 @ao719 @ooo-barff-ooo @octobereighth​

@sunnyxdazed @lilyofchoices

[snowflake-of-destruction]

would you ever uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh write uhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh monster scarf

Take what I wrote before getting distracted by something shiny. I’m not going to proofread it or attempt to remember how this came to be. Read more because 1) length 2) suggestive themes in one part. Warning: It’s dumb, but, I mean the whole premise is crack

It was all because of Roxas.

Those words were a perpetual reoccurrence in Axel's second life. The reasoning behind countless life decisions, good and bad, but predominantly the former since he couldn't bring himself to consider even the ones with heavy consequences if they involved the man that had breathed life and love back into his existence. In particularly romantic times, the fiery keyblade wielder would claim that it was because of Roxas that his lungs filled and emptied and he continued to exist, every exhale a tribute and whisper of the blonde's name. Such claims though were usually met with rolled eyes and uneven blotches of red that looked more like hives or fever than blushing and were all the more endearing for it, paired with a grumble that he shut up and stop being so cheesy from the object of his affection himself.

They were also paired with less life and death actions. It was all because of Roxas Axel got his head stuck in between the slots of the banister in Elsa's ice palace and had to be carved free and then wait for the remains to melt off him. It was all because of Roxas he had to keep buying new clothes, and not just because of tears and popped buttons that were casualties of overeager fingers but because ice cream once a day and sometimes more, replacing meals, was not something he could sustain and remain a rail now that he was fully human without the magic metabolism of a Nobody perpetually in his ideal state (Roxas had crowed that Axel may one day even have an actual ass to speak of, and after the redhead's subsequent, calculated pouting had been forced to show him how he appreciated what ass Axel did have now). It was all because of Roxas and his insistence on buying what was on sale, and that he knew best and paint always ended up more faded when applied to large areas than on paint chips that the walls of their apartment were such a very bright green that it scared Xion's dog, Dinah. Though it was Axel's fault partially for not questioning Roxas's knowledge when he knew full well that he'd once had to teach Roxas and Xion what paint was.

This time, it was all Roxas's fault that the scarf collection began.

What was Axel supposed to do but add a new ever present accessory to his wardrobe when Roxas ran over to a stall in the Agrabah market without even being summoned by the ever present yelling of one of the vendors trying to entice passersby and only managing to produce an intimidating cacophony of conflicting overzealous squawking that tended to repel Axel for one ( though he supposed it had to work on some people if they kept doing it) and ran back with a stretch of silken material in brilliant emerald interspersed with gold swoops and coils and clutches of blue and red flowers in busy bunches trailing through the air behind him like a banner?

"It's the color of your eyes!" Roxas had exclaimed in explanation, throwing the prize around Axel's neck, smiling brighter than the glaring sun, intensity enough to cast away every bit of grating sand and even more grating annoyance that Yensid had sent them to the desert world for the fourth time that month when he knew for a fact Sora and Kairi were both available but kept getting assigned new worlds, and keeping his hands twisted in the ends so he could use the scarf as a yoke to pull Axel's head down in order to kiss him without the need to stretch or press himself close enough enough that a simple kiss would lead to distracting thoughts and temptations not fit for a public marketplace.

Warmth settled in Axel's chest beyond even the usual warmed caramel slow melt that Roxas tended to inspire as the redhead reached up and pinched the water soft material of the scarf between two fingers and slid the calloused pads of his fingers along its coolness. "Thank you, I love it. I used to wear scarves a lot back in Radiant Garden before...." his smile turned sheepish and slightly pained in the way it still too often did when speaking even of happy memories from his first life as Lea. "Well, before." When Roxas let go, he looped the scarf a few more times around his neck, pulled to make the loops loose, and tucked the ends under. "Looks good," he said with far too much confidence for someone without a mirror and wearing a yellow and orange kurta and pants to blend in with the locals that didn't as much compliment the colors of the material circling his neck as directly contest them.

"You don't match," Roxas had done his part to inform him. The scarf would bring a pop of color to Axel's usual wardrobe of mostly black.

"I know," Axel seemed to relish the words, a smile crinkling the corners of eyes that lit in a way that Roxas could only compare to the times Axel greeted friends after long absences.

It became a self-perpetuating cycle. Axel would wear scarves because Roxas would buy them and look so immensely pleased with himself that his partner was surprised he didn't start humming. Roxas continued buying them because Axel looked at each one like it completed him.

Then it carried beyond that. Far beyond.

Roxas slacked to just taking pictures of interesting scarves he saw and sending them to Axel's gummi phone. Twilight Town hardly ever dipped below temperate, and even though many of the scarves Axel now owned were pure fashion statements, most were thicker and several of the infinity scarves were now part of woven together, braided scarf trios that increased their thickness as well as their propensity to clash hideously with whatever Axel wore, something he seemed to consider a bonus instead of a deterrent, ever the enigma, the man who considered walking outside without making sure his winged eyeliner was perfectly even a crime and was occasionally known to vainly fuss over his hair as if tending a firstborn child, but now took glee in mixing stripes with checks. Besides, Axel now owned scarves in the double digits. Roxas felt silly carrying on with impulse buying. They could be a fun fallback birthday or holiday gift now, but how many scarves did Axel really need?

The answer to the question Roxas luckily hadn't asked aloud was answered after he came home one night to see Axel cooking dinner with a scarf knitted to look like a giant strip of bacon that he hadn't seen before.

"New present from Namine?" After the artist had spent a month with Rapunzel, Eugene, and Cassandra (an event that caused the Guardians of Light to start taking bets on whether the handmaiden had influenced the length of her stay until Namine had upset all assumptions by announcing she was moving to Todayland and then proceeded to spam Kingstagram with pictures of her with Wilbur Robinson) she'd come back with several new talents she now was very likely to send examples to her friends. They'd already been sent matching knitted beanies in sea salt blue and a set of looped potholders.

"No, I've had this for a bit," Axel had answered vaguely, and Roxas had accepted it, easily distracted by the fact that the bacon scarf and a novelty apron with a racing ketchup and mustard bottle and the caption "I relish the fact that you mustard up the will to ketchup with me" was all Axel was wearing to cook dinner.

"Xion isn't home?" he asked unnecessarily.

One burnt dinner later, Roxas found himself with his wrists tied together with the bacon scarf, whining in protest as Axel pulled away and left him lying alone and terribly neglected on the bed, muttering under his breath about blindfolds as he searched through his top dresser drawer.

"Your scarves are hanging up in the closet. Remember? I got you that scarf rack to hang them all off of." It technically had been advertised as a hanging tie rack but a tie rack wasn't something they needed.

"Those are only some of the ones from you, a few everyday ones and ones I want to display," Axel tossed out casually like the sentence was perfectly normal as he slid open the second dresser drawer down--the one Roxas knew to skip over when he was putting away clothes after his turn doing laundry because Axel had started using it for overflow from the memory boxes of old papers, WINNER popsicle sticks, and the like he kept on the top shelf of the closet--only to have it explode with multicolored material that had apparently been shoved into every nook the dresser drawer had to offer, compressed until it became spring loaded. Axel did not appear to be bothered by the comical display. "My less important scarves are in here. Might need another drawer soon." It's said absently, the blissful unawareness of the hoarder who doesn't see a problem.

Roxas constricted the muscles of his stomach in an attempt to sit up without use of his arms or hands and turned toward his boyfriend, amused.  "You have been hiding scarves?"

"Not hiding," a slip of defensiveness entered Axel's voice. "The box in the guest room is just because I haven't gotten a chance to unpack the ones Isa sent from Radiant Garden yet."

"Your old scarves?" That changed things in Roxas's eyes. He wouldn't make fun of any attempt of Axel's to regain and reclaim a happier past.

"No, the Restoration Committee had a town garage sale as a community event. I told Isa to buy me any interesting pieces and send them with the next gummi ship. I think he threw in a couple he bought too." Axel faced the bed with a bright red woolen scarf with white reindeer and snowflakes in one hand and a flimsy thing with cherry blossoms that had probably started its life as a woman's shawl in the other. "Is the mood still on or do you want me to help you out of that knot?" He gestured toward Roxas's tied hands with a flick of the hand that sent a waterfall ripple down the cherry blossom scarf.

"Mood's a little off," Roxas wriggled his wrists to keep feeling in his hands. "But nothing that can't be reclaimed. One question first though. There's a whole box in the guest room....besides the drawer and the scarf rack?"

Axel shoved scarves back into the drawer by the handful, only keeping out a thin black and blue striped fuzzy cashmere. "Nobody's using the third bedroom since you moved into mine. I don't see a problem. I'll move the box in here."

"The problem isn't cluttering the bedroom," Roxas trailed off as Axel approached the bed.

"Then what's the problem? They make me happy."

"...Then I guess I'm happy."

The decision that there was no problem just added to it. Scarves no longer confined to hiding spots were now found draped over lamps like decoration, hanging from fan blades like streamers, discarded on chairs when ones that were worn were taken off under the excuse they were just forgotten when the truth, that space to put them away neatly was limited, was apparent. They multiplied as if breeding. Roxas feared he'd have to host an intervention. Xion, for her part, was ready to co-host, insisting that Axel's collection wasn't normal. "I have a seashell collection. It doesn't take over our whole apartment!"

Intervention proved not to be necessary though. Axel got the situation under control on his own, after a fashion at least. It started with losing control entirely, and before that, a trip to Monstropolis.

[And then Axel buys a scarf that turns out to be alive and have a mind of its own. Whoops. It plays nice and docile for awhile but then starts strangling him or jumps off his neck to strangle someone else when it becomes enraged seeing so many of its fellows lying “”dead”” around the Sea Salt Trio’s apartment. They would make quick work of the scarf but it has many, many places to hide in camouflage and proves able to swap its pattern with another scarf if it touches it. Thus the hunt begins. But who is hunting who? ]