#bound to outer space

[hnnny]

Tagged by @kirnet to share some recent WIPs which I have plenty of right now! TBH I have a huge backlog of art, so I’ll have to sit down and put it all together to share at some point. For now, take what I’m currently working on :)

The top 2 are from a series of portraits I want to do for some of my Fable characters, and the other is for an original project I’m working on (which I cant show everything for that, but I have a lot of art dedicated to it so far. I think I finally have a name for it though so I’ll start tagging it as such)

[bookspotlight]

The Odyssey Earth Trilogy (Rec!)

i'mma bigolas dickolas these books because they deserve them so go buy them and support rex like i made this terrible graphic just to make you buy them and you guys know i like something when i make terrible graphics about it so don't let me down here🪐🛰️

[abd-appleboxdog]

What if I made a really awesome comic about space lesbians and what if I posted progress on here

What if

[luveline]

𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐬𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐦𝐚𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐞 —send me a shy!reader request for any character (with a plot) and I'll write a >1k drabble

sirius/james introducing shy!reader to remus. and shes just like quiet and in awe, but remus loves it.

luveline's 40k party ☆ tysm for requesting! remus x shy fem!reader

James is used to your personality after months of being your lecture neighbour, unperturbed by your quiet. "It's going to be fun," he promises, handing you a cold glass of cranberry vodka. "They're nice, okay? I won't let anyone irritate you." 

He's hosting a party and had the generosity to invite you round early. He's easing you in, so to speak. It took him two weeks of steady Hellos for you to work up the courage to say Hi back, another two weeks for small talk, a month before you felt comfortable speaking to him first. If you're that shy, a party is basically torture.

"It's not about irritating me," you say. 

"I know, I'm messing." James lists his head to the left. A second later, there's a knock at the door. "Aha. Wait here, shortcake, there's someone I want you to meet." 

"James," you say after him, wet from your glass leaking down to your sleeve, "what?" 

"I asked him to come early and say hello! He's quiet and handsome and you'll love him, just don't stare at his nose." 

What's wrong with his nose? you think, alarmed. 

James opens the door. Two new voices emerge, one scratchy and a little high, the other smoother. "I need to pee so bad," the scratchy one declares, followed by bounding footsteps up the stairs. 

"You alright?" the smoother asks.

You think there's patting, a hug, "I'm brilliant! You smell really nice, Remus, like a garden." 

"Lovely."

"In a good way! Come and meet my Y/N, you remember I told you about her nice gel pens?" 

James leads the smooth-voiced Remus into the living room. You hurriedly put down your drink and stand, wiping your wet hands in your shirt. You cringe at the darkening fabric but hide your grimace as they stop in front of you. 

"Remus, Y/N. Y/N, Remus," James introduces you both. 

Remus has a scar across his nose that seems cruelly cut. There's another beside it that starts in his upper lip, both of which end in his eyebrow. You know how self-conscious it feels to be looked at, so you manage to smile and offer your hand without too much of it. He's handsome with his scars, a nice nose with a ridge and brown eyes the colour of caramelised sugar.

"Hello," Remus says, shaking your hand. His is big enough to make yours feel small. 

"I invited her early because she's more fun than the rest of our lot," James says, throwing himself down on the sofa and kicking his legs out on the coffee table. 

Remus taps your elbow very gently as if to usher you to sit and sits down beside you, enough space to be casual but too little to stop the rampant nerves that blossom in your stomach. 

Remus asks about your life. What you're studying, where you're from, if James is being nice to you. While James is touchy in the rough older brother way, scrunching your shoulder and shaking you when you're not expecting it. Remus is touchy in a different way, you find, almost as if he doesn't know he's doing it. His shoe bumps your shoe, his hand falls down between his outer thigh and your own, his knuckles touching your jeans very lightly. He spins in his seat to talk to you. 

You don't notice other people arriving, nor the scratchy-voiced friends return. All you can do is look up at Remus with wide eyes. Your nerves meld to something warmer. 

"And what do you do?" you ask him. 

He smiles like you've wandered into a secret. "I'm trying to write a book." 

"He's being a bit much," Sirius says to James, the two now loitering in the doorway with matching beers. You and Remus chatter on, unaware of their running commentary.

"It's a very strong reaction. I knew she'd like him, but I didn't think she'd like him like that." James takes a sip of his drink. Remus asks you a quiet question. You duck your head, playing with your sleeves, and Remus, the bastard, ducks his head to follow your gaze, smiling at you all the while. 

James almost chokes, pointing his bottle toward you both as though Sirius isn't already looking. "He's eating it up. I forgot how flirty he is."

"She'll be nice to him, won't she?" Sirius asks, like it's a done deal. To be fair, Remus seems enthralled with you. 

"Definitely. She's very nice. Oh, look, that's sick, she's gonna pass out." James winces as Remus takes your arm into his hand. 

Remus wouldn't do anything cruel, but James wasn't joking when he told Remus that you were exceedingly, achingly shy. He's about to step in and rescue you, but you turn into Remus' touch and pull your leg up on the sofa to make yourself comfortable. Your voice is animated, if quieter than the average person's.

"Woah," James says, beaming.  

Remus flirts almost as a defence, like he wants to get the rejection over and done with so he can move on. You've yet to reject; you're looking up at him in moderate awe, your lips quirked into an easy smile. 

"Boo!" James calls, flicking his bottle cap at Remus, who brushes it away. "Took me three weeks to get a smile out of her," he mutters. "What a dick." 

[guppybibi]

Simon is a stealthy man, obviously—it's required for his job. Though the fact isn't quite true when it comes to proposals. You could clearly tell what he had in store for you the moment he coincidentally didn't have any work to do when the weather was just right and when he suggested that it was the perfect time of year to propose relax and go on vacation to anywhere you'd like.

Of course, you play along obliviously and decide to go to a tropical place that you've been eyeing for a while now. Simon wasn't complaining about your choice either, a chance to watch the sunset together and see you in a cute swimsuit? Sign him up!

So he books you two a tropical getaway, and insists that you should use his card to go shopping for a nice little dress, yeah? What's your ring size too, love? For future reference..nothing else.

~

The trip so far has been nothing but perfect, the plane surprisingly had enough leg space so Simon was comfortable the whole time. No turbulence either, it was like God was on Simon's side this time.

When you two arrive at your destination, the fresh breeze gladly greets you and the sun's heat is making beads of sweat form on your forehead already. It seemed like the heat had the same effect on Simon as well, although he was sweating more profusely than you for some reason..He'd never tell but he was insanely nervous right now, it felt like his guts were being turned inside out over and over again.

Everything does go smoothly, you two arrive at the hotel he reserved, quickly changing into your swimsuits since you couldn't wait to go out there and take a stroll around the beach. Maybe collect some seashells as a souvenir, build sandcastles or get a tan, do whatever you want, princess. Simon's going to be right beside you the whole time, glaring sharp daggers at anyone who even dares to look at you in the wrong way. Was it too much and completely unnecessary? Maybe, but you could never be too safe in these times. Creeps were always everywhere, casually walking around in broad daylight, hidden in plain sight.

Every single thing you wanted to do or get, was done and bought. You had to say, you were pretty surprised when Simon wasn't making any sarcastic comments about how he wasn't a money dispenser. Not even batting an eye when you got something from a clear tourist scam, weird. But hey, you're really in no place to complain here. Plus, money comes back, but the memories you and Simon will make here won't.

~

Hand in hand, step by step, you and Simon walk by the shore, your eyes full of adoration as you tried tracing the glow of the sun's light on Simon's face. You couldn't tell what was more breathtaking, the landscape or the man in front of you? The sun was bound to set soon, though it never really rests, you couldn't even imagine being the sun, working nonstop with no breaks is a big no no.

Quite ironic since in Simon's eyes, you were technically his sun. You were the center of his world, everything was peaceful when he was around you. Unlike when he's in the military, it always feels like he's out of orbit.

He has to do it, his heart can't contain it anymore. He has to propose, he's going to propose. Right here, right now. It was the perfect moment, the sunset peering, maybe a few folks watching but Simon couldn't give a damn about them. This was about you.

"Love," he calls out, stuffing his hand into his pocket to get the ring box. You snap back to reality, tilting your head in acknowledgement. You were taken aback by the sight of him kneeling on one knee, holding out a box with a shiny ring inside that you were barely able to hear the words, "Will you marry me?".

Without hesitation, you scream out "Yes!" at the top of your lungs, leaving Simon chuckling, still not getting up. "Wait up, luv. I prepared a message for you, mind if I tell you it first?" You were still jumping around the place, looking like you were about to bounce off to outer space. Once you manage to collect your excitement, you nodded, preparing yourself to hear Simon's message to you.

It was all about how you were the light of his life, all of that. It was short and sweet, not unnecessarily long but truly from the heart.

It's safe to say that the both of you went home from that trip with a big grin on your faces.

[onmyyan]

(ive been spottily active lately and missed soooo much amazing stuff I'm trying to catch up still but the one thing someone mentioned to you is now running circles like an energetic puppy in my brain) yandere batfam angst with (yandere?) superfam fluff. The savior complex. The rivalry. I love your writing so much. I love how so many cool people message you and share ideas. You're awesome.

A/N: First of all you're so sweet ❣️ thank you!! I so appreciate this request and how it made my brain turn!!

In this situation let's say you've already done the whole 'neglected so you leave and trigger their yandere instincts' thing, so you've been kidnapped, bound to the manor for months at this point, but Bruce decides you've been behaving well enough to deserve a treat. He knows how cooped up you feel, he's not as delusional as the rest of his family who believe you love it there, so he takes you with him to the hall of justice, he isn't worried about you escaping after all the hall of justice is in outer space, and you're surrounded by experienced heros, you're not going anywhere.

That's his first mistake.

Clark takes to you immediately. You've got the Wayne charm but so clearly your own person, you stand away from Bruce, asking Clark earnest questions, listening oh so intently, he knows you're an adult, but your so much smaller than him, (the man is 6'3 he's bigger than most people.) he noticed the way your heart rate picked up when Bruce so much as touched you, you were scared of him, he could tell, and this is what ignites that dangerous flame inside him.

He starts by inviting the whole Wayne family over for dinner, can't draw suspicion by inviting only you, (despite that being exactly what he wanted to do) Lois makes a feast, that night you meet Clark's entire family, his son's Conner and Jon, Kara his cousin, and of course Lois his wife, they all focus on you despite trying to play it cool, Kara's around your age and asks if you'd like to go shopping with her in metropolis some day, you smile starting to nod before Bruce answers for you, "Her studies are taking up most of her time nowadays, some other time." He grins taking a bite of his steak.

Clark sets his silverware down, grinning that friendly smile of his, "Well surely she can take a little break, one day away from her studies won't kill her, besides she'll be safe as can be with Kara by her side." Bruce glares at him, he can't outright deny the claims because his own possessive need to have you by his side at all times, and because they're true, so he relents, and that's how you find yourself spending time with her, and in turn the superfam.

It doesn't take long for them to fall in love with the idea of you being there, with them, at their dinner table.

The second they're all in agreement,(about a week after getting to know you) they quickly decide you're better off with them, and when Superman breaks into the Manor one day and sweeps you off your feet, the batfamily can't do anything but watch in horror.

[honey-milk-depresso]

dating HCs for Clotted Cream and Stardust Cookie?

CRK Dating HCS with Clotted Cream and Stardust!

Clotted Cream Cookie

He’s a sucker for classy, candlelit dinner dates, so he would definitely do that with you.

He’d probably sneak the two of you out of the convocation building to the garden outside, to the place he usually goes to have time for himself.

Clotted Cream hopes you like it, he consulted with Financier to set up a nice spot with crisp white tablecloth with gold linen and fancy blue cushioned chairs to keep you comfy there. The waterfalls that forms streams of burbles as it travels along its bed, bubbling over rocks and branches behind you, the cream white pillars standing in peaceful silence and blue birds that fly around and watch the two of you on your date as the warm candles around you create the romantic atmosphere that he wants to create.

Of course being the gentleman he is, he pulls your chair for you and lets you sit down first with that charming and charismatic smile of his. His heart however is thumping so fast out of anxiety. He knows he’s got nothing to fear, but he just doesn’t want to screw up anything.

The date is quiet and peaceful, with playful banter between you two, Clotted Cream sliding a little flirty and respectful compliment here and there as the two of you laugh gently and quietly into the night, his hand on top of yours.

Top quality food is what you deserve! Clotted Cream prepared a wide variety of food for you both: with a high tea set, served on fancy plates and made by the top chefs of the Creme Republic. It’s only natural, after all.

Clotted Cream can’t help but smile warmly (or like a lovestruck idiot-) as you laughed at his joke quietly and sweetly with that beautiful smile of yours, the candles illuminating your presence in a warm glow like the angelic being you are to him. <3

Stardust Cookie

He planned a date with you across the cosmos, no surprise, but with a twist.

Stardust wanted to impress you (or at least show that he’s trying his best here) and took time to learn about Earthbread-bound concepts into the date, to make it more ✨romantic✨.

Obviously, it’s his first time even having any sort of outing with one cookie, and you’re just so important to him he’s nervous maybe he’ll flunk it. He’s foreign to this concepts and he’s scared but he wants to show he loves you dearly.

With the help of Milky Way, Space Doughnut, Gingerbrave and Friends, Stardust managed to put together a picnic for you outer space on a planet he used to find solitude in, but now he has someone to be with him and that somebody is you. He’s pretty much only got Earthbread snacks (and stuff Space Doughnut likes) and was pretty nervous whether you’ll judge him for his choices, or that they are even good in the first place. Of course, you reassure him that you’re having a wonderful time, it’s true! As the two of you enjoy the cosmos from your view, leaning your head on his shoulder and in a warm embrace.

Alternatively, it’s another candlelit dinner date but in Milky Way’s Express Train! She decided to go off duty for the day, just for you two! Stardust is immensely grateful for her help, and she and Space Doughnut acts as his two wingmen for the whole date as caterer and also the driver, Milky Way we still need you to operate this train-

Space Doughnut serves you every Earthbread food Gingerbrave and friends recommend, and just for you two they resist eating any of them although you two definitely gave them some food to share which they were happy about.

You and Spacedust look out to the window, the moving train showing breathtaking landscapes of the cosmos, galaxies swirling with such sparkle and glamour as he holds your hand in his. He briefly turns back to you, seeing you face the window with a peaceful smile before you turned to face him when you felt him staring and smiled back at him sweetly. His heart melts as he smiled back. <3

Reblogs help! ^^

[graceofagodswrath]

Humans are Feral: Part 3

This is actually a continuation of the first part, but in a different scenario. I wanted to write a story with the idea of a human pack-bonding to an alien and going feral after seeing the alien hurt. It would a be a moment where aliens realize that while humans are dangerous, this kind of loyalty they can have for anyone or thing is a rarity and should be respected.

I also wanted to play around with the ideas of aliens reacting to human courtship. I’ve seen lots of headcannons and ideas as to how aliens may react to our openness when it comes to romantic relationships. Aka alien/monster fuckers. I hate you all because I am one of you.

So I decided to mix both and go with the scenario: what if a human’s alien S/O was threatened and hurt? I love the cliche of people going rabid after a loved one is hurt, it’s so nice to see humans actually caring for each other in this day and age.

WARNINGS - Implications of sexual trafficking, death, and violence.

Inter-species relationships were not an uncommon thing. However, they were met with equal skepticism and hate as they were welcome.

When humans joined the mix of races in the outer systems, it threw off those with prejudices against such relationships. While the young race was not without it it’s own trivial prejudices, the openness at which they had to forming lifepairs with non-human beings was unexpected. As humans branched out and their strange reputation became more than simple youngling stories, another reputation began to rise. That was of humans as life-mates.

While many still spurned others for finding partners outside their races, among the community it was seen as a huge honor to have a human as a life-mate. They were deemed high-maintenance and challenging to match, yet their loyalty held no bounds.

It wasn’t long before this became a small joke among the humans. They knew their species, and the idea the outer races had of them as lovers was too good not to joke about.

While they could not quell the rising rumors and fantastical stories surrounding their species, as much as it annoyed some, others took it in stride.

Quil’ian was a xicali of the dexi-10 planetary system, from the jungle planet Huvarrh. Stunningly large beasts, xicalis resembled bipedal humanoids with two pairs of arms and four fingered hands. Smooth, iridescent skin emblazoned with unique patterns covered their bodies. In dark spaces they often glowed with their own soft bioluminescence. Two large eyes of various dappled shades sat on either side of their flat noses. Scientists theorized that humans and xicalis must have had a similar evolutionary path from an ancestor of ape-like characteristics. But where humans remained in the ground, xicalis remained in the trees, their strong arms capable of immense strength for swinging from branch to branch.

Quil’ian was such a xicali. His skin shimmered a cerulean blue so deep it rivaled the gemstones of Farcauv. His eyes were pools of amber, one his partner said reminded them of a sweet syrup called honey from their home.

Quil’ian’s life partner was a human named Amira. She was a well-respected starship engineer from the eastern reaches of the Terran homeworld. Black hair, sun-darkened skin and eyes the color of rich garden soil. She had a laugh like the singing bird calls of his homeworld, and soft words of whispered sweetness that made his legs weak. She was the light of Quil’ian’s life.

When they were about in public and chose to display their affections, it more than often drew side glances. Scathing looks. Jealousy. Yearning. Disgust. They paid no mind.

They found work together, traveling to distant worlds and exploring the nether reaches of the universe. Amira would be hired on as an engineer for a ship, while Quil’ian would work as a docker, using his natural xicali strength to move shipments and ship parts. They made quite the pair for any employer.

It was on such a job, on the freelancer starship Queen Diogovay, they found themselves in a dangerous situation. Alien Marauders had attacked, demanding all shipment and valuable items. And the captain was going to let them have it. They weren't going to risk violence and an injured crew. Until the marauders realized there were humans aboard.

Ever since humans had entered the galactum, the trafficking industry boomed. The want for humans for servitude, experimentation, and especially sexual uses made humans beyond valuable. One pretty Terran could make over several billion kronor.

Upon the Queen Diogovay there were five human crew members, including Amira. And the marauders wanted every one of them. When the pirates first grabbed hold of the ship, three of the humans disappeared while Amira and Sam stayed with the crew to try to keep the trespassers at bay.

This proved to be of no use, as the bastards pushed their way past the barriers and blood was spilled without hesitation. Quil’ian made a split second decision and grabbed both Amira and Sam, throwing the pilot over his shoulders and his mate safely in his secondary arms. Then they were booking it down the hallway.

Quil’ian had it in his head to reach one of the evac pods before the pirates caught up to them. The Captain had been against using them to try to keep the ship and goods from the marauders, but they were most likely dead now, the orders void. And Quil’ian had decided from the start his mate was his first priority.

He was several turns from the pods when a kalik hound rounded the corner and slammed into them full force. A creature commonly used for violence, it opened its massive jaws and jumped at the xicali. Pain tore its way up Quil’ian’s leg, and he couldn’t think past the feeling of the hound’s fangs tearing his calf apart and Amira screeching like a jakvy bird. Then the feeling of the hound’s fangs disappeared as soon as they sunk in.

Quil’ian opened his eyes to see Amira atop the hound, arms wrapped around its throat as she attempted to choke it into submission. Sam had a metal pipe in their hands and was slamming into the hound’s face. The two were snarling and screaming right back at the alien dog, enough fury in their eyes to rival the violent creature. And Quil’ian watched as his mate tipped her head back and sunk her own teeth into the soft flesh of the beast’s neck.

It screamed, and Sam shoved the metal pipe down its throat, flesh tearing as the pole exited through the underside of its jugular. It fell to the ground thrashing, but the two humans doubled down in their efforts until the beast stilled. Quil’ian had never witnessed a hound fall so easily, the beasts known for their dexterity.

Then Amira was by his side, her mouth covered in the hound’s orange blood. Her hands made quick work of the sweatshirt she was wearing, tearing it into a single strip to wrap around the massacre that was the xicali’s leg. Her hands were gentle, a drastic change from the viciousness he just witnessed. The xicali stared at her for a moment, then concluded he would have been just as violent had the beast wrapped its jaws around her. If anything, a shiver went up his spine, one that was not unpleasant, at the realization that his human mate was willing to go to such drastic measures to protect him.

When the binding was done, Amira and Sam did their best to haul Quil’ian to his feet, the xicali towering above them. They made their way to the evac pods, spurred on by the distant yells and screeches from the marauders. It was both surprising and not when they got there and found the three other humans preparing the pods. One of them, Kaeveon, immediately went to their aid, muttering about the captain being a “fucking fool” and how they should have jumped as soon as the pirates boarded.

But all went calm as they entered the pod. The pirates were apparently too busy searching the entire Queen Diogovay for the missing humans to consider that they were already gone. In moments they were out in deep space, heading to the nearest station they could take refuge at. Amira was tucked into Quil’ian’s side for the whole duration, the couple refusing to let the other go. They treated the xicali’s injury with the med kit in the pod. It was enough the keep the woman from fussing over him too much, though her mate admitted to himself that he was rather basking in her concerned care.

Perhaps, after this incident, Quil’ian would try to convince her to settle somewhere. Maybe back on his home planet, in a small home in the trees, with a view she would love.

I’m sorry this took forever to put out. Not my best work since I started it months ago and lost the motivation until now. My mental health hasn’t been the best these pst few months, but we’re on the up, and writing this has definitely put some inspiration back on the table. Hope y’all enjoy this smaller snippet. And I really like the possibilities with Quil’ian and Amira, so maybe I’ll have some more stories starring them.

[xoxochb]

— the perfect universe

warnings: pre marriage, angst with tons of fluff pairing: apollo x daughter of aphrodite and ares a/n: do ya’ll know that one scene in young sheldon when mary was losing her faith because that one girl died and then sheldon sits on the porch swing with her and he’s like “there’s (something) billion people on the earth what are the odds that you’re the perfect mom for me?” or something like that well I’m rewatching the show right now and I wanted to write something using that quote so here we are sorry for yapping hope you enjoy this 🫶🏼

back, forth, back, and forth, and back again. the silence of the slight breeze and your silky nightdress brushing against the stairs is all that fills your ears. the sun god’s hands rub over your knuckles slowly, taking his time going over each one as to keep you aware of his comfort. you close your eyes and take in a deep breath, letting it out as slow as humanly possible. you restrict the tears brewing in your eyes from streaming down your cheeks. a large pit had formed in your stomach when you had awoken this morning, throughout the entirety of the day it hadn’t left your body. the thoughts, the voices, scolding you for every stupid decision you make. “he’s going to leave you” “you’re going to end up alone” “what kind of god would settle down with an idiotic goddess like you?” “what speciality to you have?”

you couldn’t physically or mentally understand why these voices took up your mind. but what if he did hate you? what if he thought you had gotten hideous since your first meeting? what if he had already met another women more beautiful than you?

breathe. in, and out, he’s here, he loves you, it’s okay

“look at me, darling”

you open your eyes as soon as the sound waves travel to your ears, turning to apollo, meeting his golden eyes as asked. he cups your cheek with his free hand and pulls your head to rest over his chest, placing a kiss to your hair. he rests that same hand on your back and rubs up and down with the patterns of your breath

at last, he speaks again, “did you know if the universe was slightly more powerful the world would collapse?”

you take in his statement. since when was the god of the sun interested in outer space? you shake your head regardlesss

“and did you know if it was slightly less powerful the earth would fly away?”

you furrow your brows and lift your head up from his chest. “where are you going with this?”

“well gravity is exactly where it’s supposed to be. any less or any more and earth would cease to exist. what are the odds of that?”

“get to the point, please” you whisper and roll your teary eyes

“there’s eight billion people on this earth and you’re the perfect lover for me. what are the odds of that?”

your lips quiver, and for only a quick second you can hold back tears before your eyes deceive you and you let out an uncontrollable sob, returning your head back to its spot on his chest. you clutch at the fabric of his clothes, and release wherever water was left in your body until you had finally calmed down, every breath still shaky as you return to a normal state. you sigh and lift your head again to find the god already looking over at you

you sigh before speaking, “I don’t know why you’re so persistent to prove you love me when any other god would have moved on by now”

“the other gods haven’t been granted with the ability to know what it’s like to be in love. real love”

“you can’t love me. you of all gods”

“listen, my love” he removes both hands from around you and cups your face between them, kissing each tear that drops “if I have to bind my soul to the river styx to prove to you I will never love another woman for the rest of my life then so be it”

“you’re immortal, you’re bound to find-”

“darling, as much as I love nothing more than listening to your voice, I loathe when you use it to speak such nonsense”

“will you do it? bind your soul?”

“I would do it whether or not you trusted I’ll never love anyone else”

a shaky breath escapes your mouth. you accept his statement, aware he’s entirely telling the truth about doing what he pleases to make you happy regardless of how you feel it may harm him. slowly, but surely eventually— your lips both meet in the middle, to a kiss that would say more than words ever could (actions do speak louder than words as the mortals say). and the next morning, a vow and a binding would be made to cement tonight’s words

[lipshits-continuous]

Explanation Posts

Maths:

I explain my url (continuity in ℝ) 05/06/2022

Definition of a Ring 07/10/2022

Definition of a Metric Space 16/10/2022

Open and Closes sets in a Metric Space 16/10/2022

Convergence and Continuity in Metric Spaces 22/10/2022

Bounded and Compact sets in a Metric Space 23/10/2022

I show 0.9999...=1 30/11/2022

Linear Maps and Isomorphisms 18/01/2023

Ring homomorphisms, Ideals, Quotients, and the First Isomorphism Theorem 12/03/2023

Mutamorphic Functions (technically not an explanation post but still belongs here) 29/06/2023

Second Countability of ℝⁿ 04/07/2023

The Weierstrass Function 23/08/2023

Unbroken Workbrooks (A post about continuity written in Anglish) 19/09/2023

Countable Sets have 0 Lebesgue Outer Measure 17/10/2023

Introduction to Homotopy 05/02/2024

The Fundamental Group 16/02/2024

Continuity in Terms of Open Sets 16/02/2024

The Set of Finitely Generated Free Groups as a Monoid 01/03/2024

Intro to Topology: Metric Spaces 12/03/2024

Intro to Topology: Topological Spaces and Continuity 19/03/2024

Intro to Topology: Closed Sets and Limit Points 26/03/2024

Intro to Topology: Hausdorffness 26/03/2024

Intro to Topology: Connectedness 27/03/2024

Intro to Topology: Path Connectedness 28/03/2024

Intro to Topology: Compactness 11/04/2024

Intro to Topology: Bases and Second Countability 12/04/2024

Intro to Topology: Product Spaces 23/04/2024

Intro to Topology: The Heine-Borel Theorem 24/04/2024

Intro to Topology: Quotient Spaces 25/04/2024

Intro to Topology: Important Examples 26/04/2024

Intro to Topology: Conclusions and Remaining Questions 26/04/2024

The Dirac Delta Distribution is not an Extended Real Function 03/05/2024

The Fundamental Group of a Topological Group is Abelian 10/06/2024

Proof of the Factor Theorem 30/06/2024

A Short Intro to Category Theory 23/10/2024

An Example of When Connectedness Implies Path Connectedness 17/11/2024

Physics:

Lagrangian Mechanics 09/10/2022

Operators as Observables and Ehrenfest's Theorem 09/10/2022

[raribella]

To Say “I Love You” Right Out Loud | JJ Maybank

summary: JJ revisits his childhood and how he grew up with you through every side of life until he finally understands why this makes you so special

pairing: JJ Maybank x Routledge!reader

genre: fluff, a spark of angst

contains: a combo of “Both Sides Now” by Joni Mitchell and Love Actually (2003), mentions of death and child abuse. John B and JJ are childhood friends in this. I don’t know how to write dialogue. Drug usage (beer, weed).

word count: 6k

author’s note: I was immediately triggered by Joni’s astonishing performance at the Grammy’s and by remembering that the song is in one of my favorite movies. This is my favorite fanfiction I’ve probably ever written and I put so much time and love into this I really hope you like it.

This is a work of fiction. I do not own the characters of Outer Banks nor any characteristic of the show. I am writing this story solely for my own entertainment and the marvel or comfort of any readers.

Rows and flows of angel hair, and ice cream castles in the air; and feather canyons everywhere. I looked at clouds that way. But now they only block the sun, they rain and they snow on everyone; so many things I would have done, but clouds got in my way.

College had finally ended. They had finally done it. Against all odds and contrary to the expectations of others, the pogues were finally free to embark on their own paths. And so, they gathered for one last celebration, a bonfire near the Cat's Ass, surrounded by shotguns, snacks, and reminiscing in the familiar feeling of just being together.

Spreading themselves along the space at the Chateau's yard, most of them ended up divided the comfortable water at the tub and the warmth of the fire, their laughter mingling with the sound of running water as they shared stories of what each of them could remember of their time roaming the Outer Banks as this fearless gang; the sentiment of each flashback was being intensified from the time they spent apart. As they were the pogues, it was not like their time together was abruptly interrupted, but the responsibilities and the minor distance happened during college, and they couldn't run away from it's effects; but the memories of those days seemed tattooed into their hearts and minds as they could recall every moment in lighthearted detail.

In a corner of the Cat's Ass, JJ found himself lost in a sea of memories, surrounded by the comforting embrace of his friends. You sat beside him in the water, the coolness soothing against your skin, while Cleo and Pope nestled comfortably at his other side. Outside, John B, Sarah, and Kie laughed and joked, their voices carrying on the night breeze. As he watched them, a faint, nostalgic smile tugged at the corners of JJ's lips, his heart heavy with the weight of their shared history, thinking back on how far they had come. They had started as a trio—himself and the Routledge twins, bound together by fate and circumstance.

The tree of you lay sprawled out on the sand for what seemed like hours, your eyes tracing the ever-changing shapes that danced across the sky. Castles, pirates, turtles—your imaginations ran wild, weaving tales of adventure and intrigue as you watched the clouds drift lazily overhead. At nine years old, you had joined your brother and JJ just a few moments ago, after spending the afternoon at a friend's house watching a Christmas movie, "Love Actually," with her mother.

As you settled into the sand, JJ couldn't resist a playful jab at the movie, dismissing it as a "dumb chick flick." his mind still floated between that child-like distaste of girls and the appreciation of you tagging along with him and John B back then. You swatted at him, your tiny arms barely reaching his chest, but it only elicited a smirk from the blond pogue. It was nice for you to actually share a moment with a nurturing figure at the absence of your own mom, who had just recently left for Colorado. Besides, you had eaten a whole bag of M&M's that she bought for you to share and you really liked the movie, even if it was funny how sometimes Mia's mom would tell you to close your eyes, your ears, or how sometimes you didnt really catch why she was laughing at some weird scene. You just rolled your eyes and brushed JJ's comment off, suggesting the sky gazing then relishing in the opportunity to spend time with him and your brother.

Your days were often filled with moments like this, carefree and full of laughter, the sound echoing against the backdrop of crashing waves. JJ's mother would eventually come to fetch the three of you, ushering you inside for sweet treats and cozy nights spent squeezed together in JJ's tiny room. Or you'd spend hours playing in the grass, watching as the river met the sea, until Big John's bell rang out, signaling the end of another day. You would get home covered in dirt, JJs hair color nearing yours and your brothers, so you would have a nice shower and come out to your dad telling treasure tales and making you hot chocolate.

One day, as Big John finished building a set of three swings for you, JJ's parents arrived. Standing side by side, the couple had brought beer and peanuts to complement what your dad already had inside for the night. That day, you were playing for hours, your small frame struggling to mount the swing until the duo stepped in to help. John B had made a mess while trying to help you hop on, and  JJ stepped forward to push you, but in excited haste, he pushed too hard, and you tumbled to the ground, scraping your knee. As your first cry pierced the air, the adults rushed to your side, JJ's mother soothing your pain with stinging medicine and comforting words.

In the corner of your eye, you caught sight of JJ, guilt etched on his face as he watched you wince in pain. But your brother nudged him, urging him to shake off his guilt and claiming that this was just a mere blip in the larger scale of the adventure you lived today.

And as the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a warm golden glow over the beach, Luke took charge, setting a bonfire ablaze near the ancient tree in the backyard. The flames flickered casting shadows that stretched out against the sand. You gathered around the fire, marshmallows in hand to be skewered and toasted, laughter filled the air and echoed into the night. The hours slipped away unnoticed, so as the night wore on and the fire burned low, reluctantly, you bid farewell to your blonde friend as he left with his parents.

The life you lived was simple; living in the less fortunate side of the island, you couldnt really enjoy much more than moments like these; the food wasn't fancy, the drinks weren't expensive, your houses weren't pretty and big, so you relied mostly in home made playthings and your own imagination, but you were happy that way; the youthful innocence made all the diferences between you and the kooks be seen with rose coloured glasses, and while in the company of your brother, your best friend, and the team of parents that you saw as guardian angels, it all just seemed warm. It seemed like it would be fine.

One day, though, just as the sky turns cloudy at the end of summer, signaling the onset of storm season, JJ's demeanor shifted, casting a shadow over his usual brightness. At fourteen now, he had been seeming distant and preoccupied at school for weeks, until one day after class, he reached out to you with a heavy heart. Fidgeting nervously, his hands clammy and cold, he confided in you about his mother's illness, the weight of the words hanging heavy in the air. Knowing how much his mother meant to you both, he sought solace in sharing his burden with you, trusting you with his vulnerability. "Mumma's sick, I think... been in the hospital for a while now," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "But I can't visit because I'm not sixteen yet... I- I wanted you to know, but you can't tell John B." And as you hugged him, you promised to keep his secret, the first one you kept just between the two of you.

And as JJ clung to you and John B in the solemn silence of the cemetery, the stark reality of their loss weighed heavily upon you, casting a shadow over your once bright and colorful world.. JJ's mother's absence lingered like a specter in their home, his father grappled with the weight of his grief, seeking solace in alcohol and spiraling into a downward spiral of despair. The once vibrant hues of their family life began to fade, replaced by the darkness of addiction and aggression. JJ watched helplessly as his father's temper flared more frequently, his outbursts leaving scars both physical and emotional. The sanctuary of their home became a battleground, each day a struggle to navigate the minefield of his father's unpredictable moods.

In the aftermath of his mother's passing and the turmoil within his home, JJ withdrew into himself, building walls around his heart that even his closest friends struggled to breach. He became increasingly unreachable, his once vibrant presence dimmed by the weight of his grief and the scars of his father's aggression. Some days, he would disappear altogether, only to reappear with a purple eye hidden beneath dark glasses, a silent testament to the struggles he faced behind closed doors. And when he did show up, his demeanor was somber, his face etched with a perpetual frown as he rejected activities he once enjoyed. Even cloudgazing at the beach became a source of frustration for JJ, as he lamented the impending rain or the end of summer, his words tinged with bitterness and resignation. As you and your brother looked on, helpless in the face of his pain, you could only watch as JJ retreated further into himself, the vibrant colors of his spirit muted by the shadows that engulfed him.

The tension crackled in the air as you confronted JJ, frustration bubbling to the surface like a storm about to break. "Why won't you just watch 'Love Actually' with me, like, once? It'd help distracting you, y'know!?" you demanded, your voice tinged with exasperation. "You can't keep avoiding fun, JJ. You can't lose hope and light just because things are tough."

But JJ's response was sharp, his tone laced with bitterness. "Those things are for kooks, y/n" he retorted, his words heavy with the weight of his pain. "Pogues can't afford to indulge in luxuries like love and hope. We have to focus on surviving you know."

Your heart sank at his words, feeling the distance between you grow with each passing moment. "If you really look for it, JJ," you countered softly, your voice barely above a whisper, "I've got a sneaky feeling that love is all around. Even for us Pogues." But JJ's expression remained hardened, his walls firmly in place as he turned away, the gap between you widening with each step he took.

John B stepped in a while later, his voice calm but firm as he defended his friend. "He's been through a lot," John B interjected, his eyes meeting yours with a mixture of empathy and understanding. "Give him time, he'll come around. I know he will."

But despite John B's reassurances, the weight of your worry and frustration bore down on you like a heavy burden. Unable to contain your emotions any longer, you sought solace in the arms of your father, tears streaming down your cheeks as you poured out your heart. "I didn't mean to be petty," you sobbed, your voice choked with emotion. "But I'm just so worried about how Luke has been treating JJ. I miss him, Dad. I miss the way things used to be." And as your father held you close, comforting whispers soothing your troubled mind, you cried yourself to sleep, longing for the comfort of simpler times and the warmth of JJ's presence by your side.

A few days after the heated exchange, JJ found himself drawn to the familiar solace of the beach. As he laid alone on the sand, the rhythmic sound of the waves echoing in the background, he cast his gaze upward, chuckling at the shifting shapes and colors of the clouds above. Yet, amidst the tranquility of the moment, a pang of longing stirred within him.

Reflecting on recent events, JJ realized that he had begun to see clouds from two distinct perspectives—from the highs and lows of life's tumultuous journey. But amidst the solitude, his mind drifted to an understanding; to how he seemed to have looked at clouds like this from two different perspectives now, from up and down, and still he would recall better colorful and elusive memory of your company. He remembered the joy of pointing out funny shapes at the sky with you and your brother, laughter echoing into the vast expanse. It was a memory painted in hues of warmth that contrasted with the darker shades of recent events. In that fleeting moment of recollection, JJ yearned to return to that moment exactly, to say sorry, at least. And alone at that same beach, he felt like he had a perspective of a future for the first time in a long time. He wanted to see if he truly knew clouds at all, or if there was a new side to it.

JJ was abruptly brought back to reality by Pope's punchline of a memory of his own; he was retelling the story of how he met Cleo at college, and how she wouldn't have passed half her subjects f it wasn't for him. As the group erupted into laughter, he did the same to mask the fact that he had zoned out for a minute, but JJ's gaze instinctively sought yours, his heart yearning for the comfort of your smile. And as his eyes met yours, a warmth spread through him, his thoughts drifting to another memory

Moons and Junes and Ferris wheels; the dizzy dancing way that you feel as every fairy tale comes real. I've looked at love that way. But now it's just another show, and you leave 'em laughing when you go. And if you care, don't let them know, don't give yourself away.

At sixteen years old, you had a full understanding of the dizzying, electric sensation that washed over you whenever JJ emerged from the sea, his board in hand. It was a feeling that stirred deep within you, igniting a spark that refused to be extinguished. Yet, despite the intensity of your emotions, uncertainty plagued your heart. You couldn't decipher JJ's true feelings for you; for every significant gesture or word he offered, there was an equal measure of aloofness or distance.

There were moments when JJ's actions spoke volumes, leaving you breathless with hope and anticipation. But just as quickly, he would retreat into himself, leaving you to question whether his affections were genuine or merely fleeting. And then there were the times when he would disappear into the crowd at a kegger, his attention captured by another girl, leaving you to grapple with the ache of unrequited longing.

Fearing the consequences, you kept your emotions hidden from your brother, John B, despite his keen intuition and suspicions about your lingering glances. Instead, you found solace in the companionship of Pope and Kiara, the only other pogue girl. Your friendship with Kiara blossomed rapidly, providing a safe haven where you could confide in her about everything, including the complexities of your feelings for JJ, seeking her guidance and understanding.

In December of that same year, a vivid memory remains etched in your mind—the day JJ was meant to pick you up from work and take you to the Chateau to meet up with the rest of the crew. Kiara had proposed the idea of a secret Santa, with the stipulation that the gifts could only be candy or chocolate—She herself aiming to guarantee that she'd get a bag or two of Sour Patch Kids. As you exited the souvenir shop, clutching your own "Paradise On Earth" cap, you spotted JJ waiting for you by the Twinkie—the van John B claimed would be safer than the bike. With both hands hidden behind his back, you shot him a questioning look. "Hello?" you greeted tilting your head slightly to the side, to which he responded with a playful smile, feigning surprise at seeing you. "Oh, hello ma'am, your carriage is right here!" he exclaimed, extending his arms towards the open door of the van, one hand tightly clutching something that piqued your curiosity. Hopping onto the Twinkie, you couldn't help but wonder about the mysterious object as JJ closed the door and took his place behind the wheel.

During the ride, JJ attempted to coax the name of your secret Santa out of you, but you remained tight-lipped. Upon parking the van at the Chateau, he sat in silence for a few moments, and you studied him intently. "Oh, before I forget," he said non-chalantly, reaching into his pocket and offering you the object he had been concealing—a ceramic lobster adorned with a tiny Christmas hat, clearly crafted by him. "This is for the nativity scene you keep in your room, I just didn't have time to make the other one..." he explained, a hint of nervousness in his voice as he confessed that he hadn't received your name for the candy exchange but couldn't bear to leave you without a gift.

You stood in awe for a moment, marveling at the thoughtful gesture and the evident reference it held. JJ's apprehension melted away as your eyes met his, a radiant smile spreading across his face. "Wait, wait, wait... Are you trying to tell me that there was more than one lobster at the birth of Jesus?" you quoted, teasingly. JJ rolled his eyes playfully, completing the reference with a loud "duh!" his laughter mingling with yours as you stepped out of the car into the moonlit night, making a lighthearted entrance at the Chateau and eliciting a knowing look from Kiara towards John B.

As time passed, you welcomed Sarah into the fold, introduced by John B with starry-eyed affection that spoke volumes of their budding romance. With the dynamic between her and Kiara settled, John B wasted no time in proudly declaring their relationship to the group—a declaration met with hugs, smiles, and lighthearted jokes about not hurting each other.

One day, Sarah suggested a surf trip to a lesser-known beach nestled between Figure 8 and the Cut, its pristine beauty a sight to behold with crystalline waters and powdery white sand. As you surfed the afternoon away, basking in the warmth of the sun, you found yourself sprawled on the sand along with the rest of the group, supporting yourself on your elbows and catching your breath as you watched JJ roll a joint with practiced ease. "I like this shit," JJ declared, his voice tinged with a hint of defiance. "We can be neglected misfits or whatever, but I love leading this life with you guys. I don't even care about what people think of me! "long as I have a board and you guys, 'm gonna be saying I'm rich... Especially if I have this!" He gestured towards the joint, his words met with cheers from the group.

Your smile started weak but grew as the group cheered. In that moment, you felt a sense of family, and your appreciation for JJ weighed heavily on your chest. Despite the challenges, he had found a way to see life in a positive light, even after Big John went missing. As the wind blew sea salt into your eyes, you turned your face toward JJ. "Yeah, yeah… you know, I keep saying it… but if you really look for it, I’ve got a sneaky feeling you’ll find that—"

"Y/n, if I hear that quote just one more time!" Sarah interrupted, and the others joined in with her lighthearted protest.

With time, JJ's behavior became increasingly perplexing since after sharing moments like this, he would leave you alone, retreating into the company of the other Pogues with a suddenness that felt jarring and awkward. His focus would shift, his attention consumed by their own banter, leaving you to wonder where you fit into the equation.

It was during these moments of isolation that doubts crept in, whispering of insecurities and unspoken fears that lingered just beneath the surface. Wondering if you did something wrong, you couldn't help but feel a pang of longing as you watched JJ immerse himself in the dynamics of the group, his laughter mingling with theirs as you stood on the sidelines, a silent observer to a world that felt increasingly distant and unfamiliar.

One morning, as you shuffled through the Chateau's corridors, the aroma of breakfast lingering in the air as John B shuffled through the kitchen, you noticed JJ's door ajar. You peeked inside with the intention of wishing him a good morning, only to be met with a sight that shattered your makeshift reality of him. JJ hovered over another girl in his bed, their closeness echoing a betrayal that left you speechless.

"Hey, whoa! Sorry!" His voice softened as he realized it was you, not your brother, at the door. The shock on your face was palpable as you hastily pushed the door closed, shaking your head to dispel the image burned into your mind. Stumbling down the corridor, you muttered a distant "morning" to Kie and Pope, who were still groggy on the couch, woken by the commotion.

Throughout the day, both JJ and yourself moved in a state of flustered avoidance, exchanging glances laden with sheepish guilt. JJ's eyes mirrored the remorse of a caught wrongdoer, but you couldn't summon anger; instead, you carried the weight of hurt and confusion, grappling with the realization that he wasn't yours to claim.

As the day waned and the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the Chateau, you found solace on the hammock. With the remnants of the day lingering, you confided in Sarah about the events, the words tumbling out as the weight on your chest grew heavier. The hammock cradled you in its gentle sway as another day ended, leaving you to confront the tangled emotions that now clouded the once-clear skies of your friendship with JJ.

JJ vividly remembered June of the following year, with your birthday fast approaching. Usually, you wouldn't stop talking about how much you loved having your birthday during the summer, and everyone would plan something special to mark the occasion. Kie and Sarah would always get you fancier gifts, like a new top or necklace, while the boys made sure there was a cake to share, probably under the tree lights at another night spent at the Cat's Ass, chuckling at the stupid name JJ had given to the tub.

But this year was different. You and the girls wouldn't stop talking about this idiotic touron, Jeremy, who had apparently flirted with you when you helped him at the store. Now, your attention seemed solely focused on him, much to JJ's annoyance. He rolled his eyes and huffed aloud whenever Jeremy's name was mentioned, with Pope nudging him to keep his cool.

"He's gonna take me to a summer fair," you grimaced, looking into the mirror as Kiara clasped a necklace around your neck. Sarah and JJ hovered on the kitchen counter, Pope sat on the couch, and your brother leaned against the doorframe of your room with a protective frown on his face. John B always believed you and JJ would end up together, and he felt safe with that perspective because he knew and trusted JJ. But that didn't happen with Jeremy.

Across from him, you, Sarah, and Kie giggled with scenarios and provocations, "What if he brings you a giant teddy bear and tries to win you a goldfish?" Kiara teased, a mischievous twinkle in her eye.

Sarah snickered. "I can already picture it!"

Meanwhile, JJ fought to keep a frown from appearing on his own face. He was unwilling to let you know how he really felt about the situation, and he avoided giving his jealousy away to his friends. As you exited laughing with the guy in his car—a godforsaken Jeep, for crying out loud—JJ was still unknowingly clenching his jaw, his mouth twisted in a disgusted frown.

Sarah, the only one still outside by now, smiled to herself and snuck up on him before reaching a hand to pat his back. The gesture was meant to silently convey far more than his poisoned mind could grasp at the moment.

He chuckled at that memory; you had to endure a girlfriend of his own during college, and he watched as two or three other guys broke your heart as well—he wanted to go out there and punch them every time, but preferred that only John B externalized that thought. From those memories, he realized he had looked at love from both sides of it with you, from give and take, but years later he wasn't so sure if you'd be keen on the idea of him ever again. JJ turned to you in the tub, whispering, "Where's that lobster I gave you that Christmas?" You were a bit taken aback by his sudden recall but smiled back, mimicking the tone of his voice, "Been keeping it on my bookshelf all year long now."

John B and Sarah were now playfully arguing about the two perspectives from when she joined the group, with Kie tagging along to remind them of how they had to make amends beforehand. It made JJ come back fully into the scene. As he looked around, he realized they were sitting in couples, at least Pope and John B, and he held back a nostalgic smirk at the thought of how his younger self would react to both his old friends now "pussy whipped," stuck in relationships and breaking the "no pogue on pogue macking" rule—he didn't know love at all.

He was different too, at least Kiara said so, coming at him a few days ago before graduation with a whole "you've changed, became more yourself and know how to separate what you went through from what you are, I'm so proud you're opening the surf shop—but please make it eco-friendly" speech. It was nice to look back and realize how his years and moments with the Pogue family kept balancing out all the rest. Now he would open a sick surf shop, Poguelandia flag above it and all, right in the corner from the souvenir one you worked since you were fifteen—he didn't know if you had bigger plans than that after graduating though, but that was an uneasy thought he preferred to ignore.

Tears and fears and feeling proud to say, "I love you" right out loud! Dreams and schemes and circus crowds, I've looked at life that way. Oh, but now old friends they're acting strange, and they shake their heads and they tell me that I've changed. Well something's lost, but something's gained, in living every day.

Kiara was the first one to leave, claiming that this was really good and that she knew that with the pogues there were never really goodbyes, but that she had an early morning tomorrow with a sea-turtle project. Then, as the fire died out and the minutes turned into hours, the two couples left as well. Pope and Cleo claimed that they still had to shower before going to bed, and John B only snuggled with Sarah, pushing her towards the house. As the couple giggled, JJ noticed from his peripheral vision when you jiggled your eyebrows at Sarah, but the blonde only winked at you, pointing at the both of you at the tub before turning back. You sighed, distancing yourself from him now that you had more space in the water, and JJ held back a smile as the tree lights illuminated your pink cheeks. At twenty-two, he felt just like a teenager in that moment.

There were a few quiet minutes then, you were looking intently at him, drawing each of his features with your eyes as if trying to tattoo the image of his wet torso on your brain, but JJ didn't notice; he was lost in thought, provoked by being alone with you again. JJ realized that ever since he could remember, even though your brother was his de facto best friend and even as the group grew larger, you were there. For every phase and every belief that each one etched into him, you were there. As he looked at both sides of life, at win and lose, you were right beside him, either winning and losing as well or just supporting him emphatically through it.

Somehow he could always just recall how his pogue life acquired a rose-colored filter with you in it; he'd recall life's illusions with you at his side. You were there. You were it. And he didn't know his next step at all, but he wanted you in it; ached for it even.

He feigned cold as an excuse to get you both out of the tub, grabbing the one towel thrown onto a chair and wrapping it around you as you exited as well. He threw a familiar, amicable smile in your direction to disguise how he was, again, lost in his own train of thought. A hand rested on the small of your back as he led the two of you to the Chateau. As you got to the front porch, the other reached for your pulse gently, trying to stop you from entering. JJ became conscious of how he was dripping onto the wooden porch, but he didn't care, calling you by your nickname in a low voice. He was acting fast, planning something but also acting instinctively, intending to speak just from memory.

"Hey, uhm..." he stopped himself again as your eyes locked onto his, growing a little bit nervous now. Your eyebrows shot up expectantly, and some of your hair was sticking to your wet face. You'd be the death of him.

"With any luck, by next year, I'll be going out with one of these girls..." Your brows pinched, and eyes flashed with recognition as JJ shuffled his phone, some drops falling from his hair onto the screen before he turned it in your direction with a picture of Kendall Jenner and sliding his finger so it would also show one of Giselle Bündchen. You laughed, gulping expectantly.

"But for now, let me say, without hope or agenda, just because we finished college— even though it's at Christmas that you tell the truth." You chuckled again, but felt like you were hyperventilating, unable to believe that this was really happening to you. Much less that JJ Maybank had memorized a scene from the "dumb chick flick" you obsessed with since you were a mere child. You battled with your own feelings as you tried to let him finish.

"To me, you are perfect, and my wasted heart will love you until you look like this..." He shuffled again with the tiny screen, a smirk on his face as he turned it to you. A photo of a very old and wrinkly woman made you chuckle. Under it, it read "former surfer lady turns viral as she advises to the risks of not wearing sunscreen." You couldn't hold the cackle that left you at that, not even worried about the rest of the group sleeping inside the house, which made JJ smile widely as well.

"Oh my God! Oh my God, I love you..." A loud sigh met a sob halfway as you looked up, feeling pounds lighter after saying so naturally something you had been burying for years, feeling absurdly proud of just that. "I love you so much, what the fuck! I've loved you forever." You beamed at him again, relief written all over his face as he said it back proudly. "I'm sorry for the wait; it wasn't on purpose—Swear it." He grabbed both your cheeks as you laughed, smiling from ear to ear as his face etched closer to yours by the second. Your noses were touching already when he whispered in a low tone, "fuck, y/n..." as your mouths glued together longingly.

The world seemed to fade away as your lips met, a rush of warmth spreading through you as if the sun had risen inside your chest. JJ's touch was electric, sending shivers down your spine as his hands cradled your face gently, his fingers tracing the curve of your jawline. Every moment felt like an eternity as you lost yourselves in the kiss, the taste of saltwater, beer and weed mingling with the sweetness of the moment.

For JJ, it was as if everything he had been holding back, every unspoken word and hidden feeling, was finally pouring out into this one embrace. His heart raced in his chest as he kissed you, his mind buzzing with the realization that he had found something truly precious in you. It was a moment of pure, unadulterated bliss, a culmination of years of friendship and longing finally coming to fruition.

As you pulled away, breathless and flushed, JJ's eyes bore into yours, filled with an intensity that took your breath away. In that moment, you knew that nothing would ever be the same again. You had crossed a threshold together, stepping into a new chapter of your lives filled with love, laughter, and the promise of a future together. And as you stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, you knew that this was just what you wanted; like you were made for just that.

"I don't even want to come inside, I don't wanna-" you said, sighing mid chuckle, "don't wanna do anything right now, God, JJ, I'm like in a haze!" He clung to you, chuckling, his hands going to your arms, your neck, your hair—he wanted to touch all of you. "Always have the hammock..." he suggested, and you rushed your way there as if just walking would make you lose any time with him.

After you spent a while staring at the stars in the sky, listening to the chirping of crickets in between small, sloppy kisses, JJ sleepily muttered "I feel like I'm fucking high right now," you both laughed "like I'm floating—life accomplishment kind of thing." you swatted at his chest, lightheartedly telling him to stop being silly before readjusting in the wet towel that served as a blanket for the two of you.

Wrapped in each other's arms, you drifted off to sleep, the sound of the river running to meet the ocean lulling you into a state of contentment. In that moment, nothing else mattered except the warmth of JJ's embrace and the soft rhythm of his breathing. It was a moment of pure bliss, a fleeting glimpse of perfection in an imperfect world.

The warm rays of the morning sun gently kissed the faces of the sleeping pogues as they stirred awake, the sounds of birdsong filling the air. Stretching and yawning, they emerged from their makeshift beds scattered across the Chateau, the pull-out couch and matresses on the floor.

As they gathered outside to clean the space free of empty cans and wrapping paper, rubbing the sleep from their eyes, John B's gaze was the first one to fall upon the sight of JJ and you nestled together in the hammock, still fast asleep. He nudged Sarah first, but soon a collective smile spread across their faces as they exchanged knowing glances, a silent understanding passing between them.

"About time," Pope muttered under his breath, eliciting chuckles from the others.

John B grinned, looking at Sarah. "Looks like our boy finally made his move."

Sarah rolled her eyes playfully. "Took them long enough," she teased, but there was genuine warmth in her voice.

Kiara smirked, crossing her arms, she showed a satisfied facade even though she was jumping inside, bubbling with happiness for the both of you; the sparkle of her eyes being hard to hide. "Well, better late than never, I guess."

With a chorus of laughter and gentle ribbing, the pogues left JJ and you to enjoy your moment together, the feeling was that their little family had just grown a little bit stronger. You had woken up the moment the front door banged back against it's frame as it closed the first time, but feeling JJ's chest under your head, you decided to just keep your eyes closed, fighting a grin to show on your face at your friends' commentaries. You were home. And you only wanted to know life now if it was by JJ's side; especially if he'd be scratching your hair like he was doing just now, half a smile on his lips—"Did I take that long?" he questioned, jokingly.

"A lifetime."

If you look for it, I've got a sneaky feeling you'll find that love, actually, is all around.

[saltydumplings]

Prompt #62

"Did you figure it out yet?" they asked.

Before them, the detective startled, shooting up from where they'd been sat on their desk only to calm again once they saw their visitor's face.

"Don't you ever knock?" they asked, sighing when they got nothing but a smirk in response. "Whatever, just, come look at this."

They motioned to the wall in front of them, what had once been blank space now covered in clippings and photos and names, all bound together in a spiderweb of red string. The detective began at the centre of the mess.

"The first victim: everything else revolves around this first incident - I know it does. At a glance, the murders seemed only connected by the way they were carried out. Same weapon, same wound, but these people themselves are connected. This isn't just some serial killer going on a rampage, this is someone burying information."

The visitor raised a brow, expression intrigued. "Go on," they encouraged.

And the detective did. They went over each and every case, explaining the little details they'd missed before and the significance they held. Their hand danced across the paths of their investigation, working its way up from the centre to the outer ring and then further out still, following a single branch that led away from the rest - the one tiny lead that gave them so little and so much all at once. It was them: the killer. They didn't have their face or their name, just the knowledge of a single meeting that had derailed everything they'd originally assumed.

Their fingers froze as they reached the pinpoint. They narrowed their eyes, confused when they noticed that their string continued on from it instead of dangling uselessly as it had before. Slowly, they followed it. The red branched off from the wall, swooping down and out, and when they turned they found the end of it held against the chest of their trusted visitor.

"Civilian?" they asked. "Wh-What are you doing?"

The villain smiled down at them, curling the string around their pinkie as they took one calculated step forwards.

"Helping you," they said. Their free hand rose up to cup the detective's face, thumb tracing softly across the dark shadows beneath their eyes. "You're tired, Detective. You've worked so hard...and I simply can't bare to let you work one second longer."

[jinx-xxed]

Mission Gone Wrong

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

A/N; Coming back to retry this one after I abandoned the idea months ago :’) got some random motivation!! Also gonna preface this by saying I did in fact make up the first planet <3

Art credit to @/KasiopeaArt

Summary; Your mission for the resistance goes south, so you and Ben have to find a way to escape the First Order.

Content; Jedi/resistance AU, Ben Solo never turned AU, Jedi reader, Jedi Ben, running from the space cops, reader gets injured, Ben patches you up, saving two kids, Ben has the Solo Sass™️, piloting the Falcon :), Jedi rules be damned I’m gonna make them kiss, Ben’s family dynamic, Ben’s a mama’s boy, his parents love you, fun shenanigans, fluff

Wc; 7k

☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆.。.:*・°☆ .。.:*

“Stop! In the name of the First Order!”

The sun blazes above you, the sky a perfect blue with no clouds in sight—a contrast to the chaos happening below. The pound of your boots against cobblestone and the rapid beating of your heart fills your ears. Your breath comes in short, quick pants, your lungs burning as you try to suck in air while you run. The crowded streets of the Sandura trader outpost don’t make it easy. You dodge and weave between civilians, shouting excuse me’s and sorry’s every other second; you know that more than a few of them cuss you out in native tongues you don’t quite understand.

You spare a glance to your right, making sure that Ben is still keeping up. You’ve always been faster than him, more agile and lithe, so you have to be mindful that you don’t leave him behind. But you have no reason to worry because he’s right there with you, running just as quick from your pursuers. You can hear the heavy, plastic clanks of the Stormtrooper armor that slows them down as they chase after you. They’re too close for it to be comfortable but luckily the streets have too many civilians packed in them that they aren’t stupid enough to open fire.

Or so you’d think. With all of the commotion, people naturally move out of the way. They tuck into corners, squeeze under shop awnings, innocently clearing the path so they don’t get trampled. In doing so, they make you an easy target. You yelp as the first blaster shot is fired, wizzing right past your head and finding purchase in the corner of a building you run past.

“This is not how this was supposed to go!” Ben shouts, sweat trailing down the side of his face. His Jedi robes flutter behind him with his movements, both of your cloaks that were meant to conceal you long lost and forgotten.

“You think?!” You yell back, teeth gritting together from your annoyance. This mission was supposed to be simple. It was supposed to be easy. You were just going to set up a fuel trade with one of the bosses stationed in the outpost, pick up some extra ship parts on the way since stocks are running low. You have those at least, they slam into your side with every step you take as the bag you carry jostles about. The fuel tanks on the other hand…

The boss you had been meeting with, Kaijat, turned out to be a slimy two-facer who sold you out to the ones who offered him more credits. That naturally happened to be the First Order, their desire to eradicate the Jedi and the Resistance knowing no bounds. You and Ben had barely escaped from Kaijat’s facility before Stormtroopers circled the whole place, trying to trap you inside and imprison you. Your lightsabers had come in handy. You cursed yourself over and over for not being able to tell Kaijat’s true intentions, for not being able to see how he was going to betray you. You’d made deals with him before, you thought it would be fine. You should’ve known better—nobody can be trusted for very long anymore, if at all.

You’re ripped from your thoughts by searing pain in your left arm, a choked and startled yell coming from your throat as your running falters. A blaster shot went clean through, cutting about an inch into your shoulder. The outer layers are automatically cauterized but the deeper layers begin to bleed generously, crimson running down your skin and staining the whites of your robes. There’s a feeling of worry that blossoms at the forefront of your mind, and you know that it’s Ben with the way he shouts your name. Your bond connects you in a way that allows you to feel what the other feels, see what the other sees. You reassure him through that bond that you’re fine. You’ve had worse.

You channel your pain to your fingertips, calling the Force to you as you abruptly stop and turn. You use the Force like a second set of hands, digging its fingers into the cobblestone and cement below you, ripping it up and curving it into a sort of wall to create an obstacle that’ll buy you more time. You’ve always been more attuned to the physical aspects of the Force, using the objects and earth around you to your advantage. Ben is much better with the psychological aspects, easily being able to see into the thoughts and feelings of anyone he desires. That’s why you make such a great pair.

You both keep running, not wasting a second of the time that distraction has given you. Though you don’t look back, you know the Stormtroopers are already squeezing around the wall you made. You can tell by the way their blasters keep firing.

“This way!” You say, grabbing Ben and making a sharp left. You skid against the ground from your speed, accidentally banging your injured shoulder into the wall and leaving a smear of blood. You try to ignore the wave of nausea.

The new path seems promising, perhaps even having a way out of the outpost. Until you see the wall ahead begin to close in and you curse more than a few times. “No, no, no! Shit!” You snap. You and Ben slow your pace, coming upon a dead end. A death sentence. You beat a fist against the brick like that’ll do anything while Ben runs his hands along it like there’s a secret button you’re missing that’ll magically open it up. There’s nobody else around, nowhere to hide. Nowhere to go. You look up, trying to calculate how difficult it’d be to just scale the damn thing. There’s barely any footholds so you’d most likely just slip and bust your ass. Your hand begins to reach towards your lightsaber as the sounds of the Stormtroopers get nearer.

“Hey! Jedi! Over here!” A voice whisper shouts to you. You whirl around, searching for it. Ben does the same. “Look down!”

You do what it says and see a manhole cover lifted up by tiny hands, an equally tiny face poking out from between the gap. It’s a child, a young girl. “Follow me! They won’t find you down here!” She urges. The shouts and footsteps are getting closer. “Come on!”

You don’t give yourself a second to hesitate, forcing Ben along with you. You’re already in deep shit, you don’t think this’ll make it any worse. You both jump down into the manhole, the kid then dragging the cover back to its original resting spot so that anyone above ground is none the wiser. Just in time too, because you hear the Stormtroopers just above you, entering into that alley you were trapped in seconds before.

Looking around, you’re surprised by what you see. Somebody’s made a comfy living space of underground tunnels, outfitted with mismatching furniture like couches and chairs and tables, scraps of rugs and carpet covering the stone floors, pieces of drapes and paper clippings glued to the walls. There’s cozy lights strung along the seams of the curved ceiling, bathing the tunnels in a warm glow.

“What is this?” Ben mutters, eyes going every which way just like yours.

“Welcome to the tunnels of Sandura! Or home, as we like to call it.” The little girl from before is in front of you now, a big smile on her face. She looks to be eight. Her brown hair is messy and sticks up in all different directions, her face has smears of soot on it that hides her freckles, and her abnormally green eyes shimmer with childlike mischief. Her clothes are torn at their edges, like they’ve been worn generously or found in a trash heap.

You lift a brow. “We?”

The girl turns to shout down the tunnels. “Shamar!” There’s a pause and then the sound of little footsteps before a boy appears, looking to be only a year or two younger than the girl. You can see in their faces how they’re related, same round cheeks and pointed ears and sloped eyes. Their differences lie in the boy’s black hair, though it’s just as messy as his sister’s, and in his blue eyes.

“This is Shamar, my younger brother. I’m Almae. We’ve been living in these tunnels for years.” She says it proudly. You can tell the boy is the more nervous one of the pair as he looks you and Ben over with scrutiny. He hangs farther back, letting his sister lead the charge.

“Where’s your parents?” You can’t help but ask. You don’t sense any other life forms within the tunnels save for some rats maybe, but no people.

“They’ve been gone for a while. It’s just us now.” Shamar says it like it’s the simplest thing in the world.

Ben’s eyes narrow. He’s always so skeptical, you can feel his suspicion through your bond like it’s your own. “Why’d you save us?”

“We don’t like the First Order none, either. We know you Jedi folk, you go around the galaxy helping people and such.” Almae says, nodding to herself. “So we wanted to ask you to help us. We’ll take you through the tunnels and get you out of the city as long as you promise to take us back with ya.”

You’ll admit that’s not exactly what you expected. What you did expect was for them to ask for credits or ship parts they could resell, it’s what everybody’s after these days. That’s why you don’t like going on missions very much, you have a bad habit of coming back with empty pockets. At least when Ben joins you, he keeps that from happening.

“How do we know you’re not going to sell us out?” Ben demands, immediately going on the defensive from already being double-crossed once today.

You tug on his sleeve, pulling him to the side. “Ben, relax. They’re children.” You whisper.

“Children can still be convinced with the right amount of credits.” He retorts. “I’m trying to not get us captured.”

You roll your eyes. “I appreciate it, but read the two of them. Do they seem malicious to you?”

He hesitates, looking back at the siblings. You feel how his Force reaches out, roaming over their minds in a way that’ll leave them none the wiser. Through your bond, you’re able to get what he’s sensing. There’s no secret motive, no evil desire. It’s just hope, anticipation, and a desire for freedom, for something more than this. They just want out, they want to get away from the back-breaking jobs they had to take to scrape by, from the adults who yell at them for doing something wrong. They want to get away from always having to steal their next meal and living in the dark of the tunnels where they can’t see the sky. You feel a strong pang of sympathy in your chest, and you know Ben experiences the same.

You turn towards the kids, you crouch down to their level. Shamar shies away behind his sister, still eyeing you suspiciously. Good instincts on him. You hold out your pinky. “You pinky promise you’ll get us out of here?”

Almae grins, interlocking her little pinky with yours. “Pinky promise!”

“Alright,” you smile, “lead the way.”

Almae squeals. “Shamar! Go get your bag!” She tells her brother, shoving him towards one of the offshoot tunnels. Their bedroom, if you had to guess.

“I hope we don’t regret this.” Ben mutters once they’re gone, arms crossed over his chest.

“C’mon, they’re so cute.” You tease, nudging him. “How could we say no?” There’s a quirk of a smile from him and you know you’ve won. You always do.

Shamar and Almae come hurrying back a minute later, each with a heavy satchel slung over their shoulders. They’re full of any belongings they feel they can’t leave behind, like mementos from their parents, books, little trinkets and toys, and a few pairs of clothes. Everything else will stay behind in the tunnels, waiting for the next person to discover.

“Let’s go!” Almae says excitedly. You give her a nod, telling her to go ahead. She grabs her brothers hand and begins to walk, you and Ben following dutifully behind.

The further you get from the main living space, the darker it becomes. There’s the occasional overhead light or cracks in the foundation above luckily making your path more visible. The kids seem to know exactly where they’re going, probably traveling these tunnels hundreds of times over and using them to escape from the authorities trying to capture them for stealing. You admire their resourcefulness, even though kids shouldn’t have to live this way.

“How’s your arm?” Ben mutters to you after a while of walking in silence.

The pain had dulled, instead becoming a constant throbbing you could ignore. You’d basically forgotten about it. “I’m fine. I’ll patch it up when we get back to the Falcon.”

“Are you sure?” He presses. “I don’t want you passing out on me again.”

You groan. “That was only one time!” You laugh at the memory, even though it definitely wasn’t funny for Ben. You can tell by the way he scowls. It’d been an exploratory mission, scoping out a new planet and seeing what the resistance could make of it. You’d gotten yourself injured by one of the creatures inhabiting it and you’d brushed off your wounds until you’d passed out from blood loss. Ben had nearly had a heart attack, then having to drag your body over rough terrain and back to the ship. You’d done his chores back at Luke’s academy for a month to apologize. Besides that, he’s always been so concerned about you, acting like a mother hen with the way he frets. You certainly don’t do him any favors by constantly diving headfirst into danger. “I’m fine, I promise. You’ll be the first to know if I start feeling lightheaded.”

The siblings take a final left before Almae is shouting back at you because you’d fallen a bit behind. “We’re here! Come on, slow pokes!”

You hurry along, coming to a ladder that leads all the way up to another manhole cover. Almae climbs first with Ben right behind in case there’s danger above ground. Shamar follows, and you bring up the rear. The cover is shoved aside by Almae, the thing screeching in protest, and you have to squint your eyes as unfiltered sunlight pours in to the dark tunnels. The others climb out and you don’t hear any shouts of Stormtroopers or blasters going off so you assume it’s safe. Ben gives you a hand to help you and you gladly take it to relieve your bad arm of the strain.

Coming out of the tunnels, you immediately look around to get your bearings. It seems the path you followed brought you right to the outer border of the outpost, the wall of it standing tall directly behind you. In front of you stretches the lush jungle forest that makes Sandura what it is. The trees stretch to the skies, covered in moss and lichen, animals of all kinds roaming freely amongst the leaves above and underbrush below. Within that forest is where the Millennium Falcon waits for you, and that’s where you now head.

You and Ben take the lead this time, keeping the two kids between you to both protect them and keep an eye on them. You follow the invisible string of the Force that connects you to the Falcon, helping you find it within the massive jungle. You’d parked the ship far, far from the outpost, away from any sensors or prying eyes. It was common practice for people like you, to trek practically halfway across a planet because you couldn’t risk your ship being spotted. Especially something like Han Solo’s Falcon, just about everyone in the galaxy knew about that thing. The only reason Ben’s father had allowed you to use it today was the premise of getting in and out fast, something his ship was an expert in. Ben had sat through a multitude of rules and threats from Han, something that happened any time he was allowed to use his father’s ship. Ben swore up and down that Han loved the Falcon more than him, and sometimes you couldn’t help but think he’s right.

Honestly, you can’t blame Han either as you come upon the ship tucked into the forest. It really is a gorgeous piece of work; it looks at home between the vibrant greens of the bushes and trees. It’s huge, and the dappled sunlight reflects beautifully off its shiny silver exterior. Han takes such good care of it nowadays, showing it more attention as both of them have climbed in age. There’s not a scratch or dent on it, not a wire or panel out of place. You can’t recall how many conversations you’ve had with Han about the Millennium Falcon, how many hours you’ve spent talking and talking about all the intricacies of the ship—even when Ben would beg you to stop so he wouldn’t have to listen to his father drone on anymore. You’ve loved flight crafts ever since you were a child, there’s always something new to learn and they feel so powerful under your hands. You take to tinkering with your X-wing whenever you have free time, seeing what you can possibly improve and fix. You and Ben are some of the best pilots to come out of the Jedi academy, even rivaling Poe who’s more than happy to challenge either of you.

It seems Almae and Shamar share in your awe of the Falcon, both of their heads tilting all the way back to try and take in the whole thing. It’s impossible, you know that because you did the same when you were a kid seeing it for the first time. Even now in your late twenties, you’re still finding out new things about the ship.

“I didn’t know they were this big!” Almae exclaims, immediately running beneath the kickstands holding up the ship, twisting her body every which way in an attempt to look at it all with wide eyes.

“You’ll see much bigger ones when we get back to base.” Ben tells them, hitting the button to lower to ramp. “Come on.”

The siblings don’t hesitate to rush past him into the ship and you laugh as pure fear crosses over his face. “Don’t touch anything!” He shouts after them, hurrying the rest of the way inside. You follow behind, doing him a favor and shutting the ramp since he’s busy corralling two kids as they try to run this way and that. More laughter bubbles out of you and tears prick your eyes while you watch him, your poor, dear Ben so frazzled by a pair of children.

He finally gets them to sit down on the main couch that’s curved against the wall, then tightly securing the seatbelts over them so they can’t escape. Almae and Shamar pout. “That’s not going to work on me.” Ben tells them sternly. “I’m not risking my dad tearing me a new one because you two want to go exploring. Now just sit there and… I don’t know, play dejarik or something.” He clicks on the table in front of the couch, the holographic board game coming to life.

“You think they’ll know anything about that game? I can’t even understand it.” You mutter to him as you head towards the cockpit. The kids seem fascinated enough by the moving creatures at least.

“I know, it makes it very easy for me to beat you.” He says with a knowing smirk. You punch his shoulder.

There’s a familiar beeping and the sound of rolling metal as your droid, BB-3, comes from around the corner. You had left him behind in the ship both to avoid obvious suspicion and so that he could keep a robotic eye on it. “Hey buddy, you miss me?” You say affectionately, crouching down to run a hand along the top of his head. You love your droid, he’s been with you for years after you’d found him stuck in a garbage chute on some nowhere planet where he was going to be scrapped for parts. You cleaned him up and he’s never left your side since.

He notices the injury on your arm, one of his compartments opening to reveal the spare medical supplies you keep inside him in case of an emergency. You smile. “Aw, thanks bud but I’ll patch myself up in a bit. We need to get out of here first.” He beeps at you, rolling back and forth once.

He follows you to the cockpit where Ben’s already waiting, flipping switches and pressing buttons that have the Falcon roaring to life. You hear the kids shouts of excitement as everything powers on. “They’re fun.” You say with a laugh as you sink into the copilot’s chair.

“Uh huh.” Ben mutters. He grips the controls in his big hands, steadying the ship as it lifts off the ground. He keeps it low until you’re even farther from the outpost, not wanting to risk anything after you’d already been chased by Stormtroopers. They’ll be looking for you, for the Falcon. Once he thinks it’s safe, he brings the ship up, up, up into the atmosphere while you prepare the hyperdrive without him even having to ask. You’ve flown together enough times to know the sequence. You’ll jump to hyperspace in order to get away from Sandura, and then travel normally the rest of the way back to D’Qar in order to not blow all the fuel reserves.

You grip the chair under you as space around the viewport begins to blur, turning different shades of blue and white. You both get pushed back into your seats when the ship successfully makes the jump, speeding across the galaxy.

“What’s all that?”

You and Ben startle at the sound of the voice, turning to see Shamar peering at the control panel from between your chairs. “How did you- where’s your sister?” Ben demands, struggling to look at the kid and also keep his focus on controlling the Falcon.

Shamar shrugs. “I dunno, looking at some turret type thing.”

You and Ben both look at each other with wide, fearful eyes. The laser cannons. You’re out of your seat immediately, running across the ship and into the sectioned off compartment that houses the guns. Almae is indeed in there, about to touch the controls before you lift her by the armpits and yank her out of the chair. She yells in protest, thrashing her arms about. She manages to wheel back a fist that smacks your open wound, making you hiss and nearly drop her from the wave of nausea and pain you get. You set her roughly on the ground, your free hand coming up to clasp your injury as you wince. You feel fresh blood on your palm.

Almae instantly stops, body language changing as guilt sweeps over her. “I’m.. I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to. You- you just startled me is all. I just wanted to look around.” Her eyes are so big, so scared. “Please don’t take us back! I didn’t mean to hit ya, I swear!”

You can practically taste her fear on your tongue from how much it swells, how obvious it is across the Force. She truly thinks you’d take her and her brother back to Sandura and turn them in, leave them to sit in a jail all over again. You sigh, using your breathing to get past the pain. You guide her back to the main room where Sharma is waiting, sitting her down on the couch. She’s crying, small body shuttering as she sniffles.

“Hey, hey, listen to me.” You say softly, trying to get that strong girl you saw before to come back. She seems to calm a bit when she realizes you’re not angry, finally meeting your gaze. “It’s okay. But we told you not to move from these seats, that was for your own safety and ours. If you messed with something you shouldn’t have, it could’ve gotten us detected by the First Order or messed with the ship. We brought you both here to help you so we expect you to respect us and follow the rules we give you, alright?” You’re honest with her, but not cruel. You know that’s what children need to be able to understand, and Almae seems to get it. She nods, wiping stubbornly at her tears with a fist.

“M’sorry.” She mumbles. “I really didn’t mean it.”

“I know you didn’t. It’s okay, Almae. You’re not in trouble. We’re not going to take you back.” You say, putting a comforting hand on her head. Besides, doing that would only get your own selves arrested. “You’ll get a tour of the Falcon sometime later, I promise.” She perks up at the sound of that, nodding. You buckle her and her brother in a second time and they seem like they won’t be making any moves to escape again.

BB-3 beeps at you when you turn around, concerned by the new blood on your arm. “Yeah, yeah, I got it.” You mutter, going to plop yourself onto one of the bunks built into the wall, a heavy sigh leaving you. It’s time to finally patch yourself up, you suppose. The Falcon shudders as it comes out of hyperspace and you feel some tension release from your muscles. You’re grateful nothing decided to chase after you from Sandura.

You take one of the med kits and settle it next to you, popping it open and grabbing what you’ll need. Wipes, anti-bacterial, gauze. From BB-3 you take your small canister of bacta, something you keep hidden because of how precious it is. You begin to try and clean yourself of your blood, finding it a little difficult because of the angle. You run through more than a few wipes, leaving them stained red and scattered around you.

You’re about to try and apply the anti-bacterial before a large, warm hand encompasses yours. You look up to see Ben leaning over you, your eyes meeting. “Let me do it.” He says softly. Your faces are so close you can’t help but reach forward and kiss the corner of his mouth, making him smile. You always love his smile, the way his dimples show.

“I can handle it, Ben.” You say with a good-natured huff. “Don’t you have to go pilot?”

“It’s on auto. You’ve always sucked at bandaging injuries, just let me.” He insists. You roll your eyes, slapping the anti-bacterial into his waiting, open palm. Amusement twinkles in his eyes because he knows you always end up giving in. It’s true, you do suck at bandaging injuries because your hands aren’t careful enough for it, nor are you meticulous enough. You only are when it comes to a ship, something you can’t kill. Ben has always been more of the medic between the two of you—he has to be with the way you are—always taking such care when it comes to you.

He sits next to you on the bunk, making you scoot over to accommodate his huge frame. When cleaning your wound, he becomes so concentrated, his brows furrowing in the way you like with a slight crease to the side of his mouth. You wince as the anti-bacterial stings and he mutters out an apology, too focused for anything else. You know he’ll give you plenty of kisses for it later though, he always does. Ben coats the strips of gauze in bacta and then wraps them around your arm, not too tight and not too loose. Perfect, just like his dressings always are.

As you suspected, he takes you into his arms and kisses you plenty once he’s done. Your cheeks, your nose, your lips. He’s generous in his attention and love, the happy and gentle emotions filtering through your bond to match. It has you smiling like an idiot. When he’s satisfied, he lays back in the bunk, sitting against the wall with you between his legs. That’s when it hits you both, how tired you are. All the fighting and running, all the stress and anger, and now bringing along two kids. You look over and find the siblings asleep in their seats, heads lolling to the side. You want to follow them, want to just fall asleep in Ben’s lap. He’s so warm, and his robes are so comfortable. Easy to wrap yourself in and ignore the outside world.

But you know you can’t, you have to stay alert in case something happens, and Ben will have to get back to piloting soon. So you settle for sitting there and enjoying the way he holds you, because that’s always been more than enough.

» ☆ «

You must’ve dozed off despite your efforts because when your eyes are opening again, Ben is gone and you can feel that the Falcon is being lowered to the ground with the way it shakes and the sounds of it powering down. You sit up with a small grumble, wiping sleep from your eyes. Your legs ache in protest when you stand, exhaustion still weighing heavy on your body.

Almae and Shamar are up now too, shaking in their seats from excitement. Ben appears from the cockpit, having successfully parked and turned off the ship. He comes over to you, brushing some of your tussled hair from your forehead. “Did you sleep well?” He teases. You have half the mind to punch him again.

You settle for sticking your tongue out instead, then brushing past him to release the kids. You unbuckle their seatbelts and they immediately jump off the couch, clutching their bags against themselves. “I want you two to stick close to me, okay? There’s going to be a lot of new people and things to see. I don’t want you to get lost.” You say, holding your hands out so the kids take them. You’re glad when they oblige you, their tiny hands fitting snugly into yours.

Ben leads the way, once again pressing that button to release the ramp hatch. As it lowers, bright sunlight filters in and the fresh, damp air of D’Qar fills your nostrils.

There’s a crowd of people waiting when you exit the ship—resistance pilots welcoming you back, engineers already inspecting for repairs, captains and generals waiting for reports. It’s nothing unusual, it’s something that happens just about every time you two make a return. The rebellion hold the Jedi in such high regard that they always have to get some sort of glimpse of you, to see what you’ve been able to accomplish. You were right in taking Almae and Shamar’s hands because you can feel the way they startle and tense, too many sights and sounds coming at them. They shy away from the crowd, instead trying to hide behind you and BB-3 where it’s safe.

People begin to disperse within the minute, most having seen what they needed to see—that the two Jedi made it back alive. The rest of them part when the general comes through, her familiar gold-plated companion right behind her. Ben’s attention immediately shifts, and you smile knowingly.

“Welcome home, son.” Leia says fondly, having to reach up to cup Ben’s cheek in a weathered hand even after he tries to lean down for her. She tucks a strand of his black hair behind his big ears out of habit, even though he hates it. He’s always been self conscious about his ears despite how much you love them.

He huffs. “Thanks, mom.”

She chuckles, looking around him to greet you as well. You dip your head towards her with respect. “So, how did things go?” She asks.

You wince. “Well…”

“Kaijat betrayed us. He sold us out to the First Order, we almost got captured.” Ben’s words are blunt, his expression stony. He always gets that way when giving a mission report; he learned from his mother.

Leia curses under her breath. She seems troubled for only a moment before it disappears, a sigh leaving her. She’s always so put together, something you’ve admired about her ever since you were a kid. “There goes that, then. Did you manage to get anything? Were either of you hurt? Were you followed?”

“I got some of the ship repair parts you were wanting.” You say, motioning to the satchel you have slung over your shoulder. “I got shot in the arm, but it’s nothing too bad. Ben patched me up, of course.” Leia nods along with that, a twinkle in her eye, knowing exactly how her son takes care of you.

“And no, we weren’t followed. It’s all thanks to these two that we were able to escape.” You pull the siblings out from behind you, then holding them against you so they don’t scamper off. “It’s okay, guys. This is Leia, Ben’s mom and the leader of the resistance. She’s a powerful lady.”

Leia smiles, immediately softening. “And who are you?” She asks, trying to meet their eye level as best she can.

The kids are clearly too stunned to speak, making you laugh. It’s a big difference from how they were when you first met them. “C’mon, it’s alright. Introduce yourselves.” You whisper.

“I- I’m Almae and… and this is Shamar, my little brother.” Almae says, swallowing down her fear.

“It’s lovely to meet you, Almae.” Leia says, holding out a hand for her to shake. Almae hesitates for just a second before breaking into a smile and taking the hand. Leia does the same for her brother. “And Shamar. Now tell me, how’d you save these two delinquents of mine?” Ben rolls his eyes.

“We lived in the tunnels at Sandura, ya see, and the First Order had been there for a while. We don’t like them none, they’re all hoity toity and mean. They almost got us a few times when we were trying to get food.” Almae says, more than happy to launch into a story. She becomes much more open and expressive as she talks. “So we hear all this commotion above us one mornin’, all this shoutin’ and stompin’. I go to try and see what it is and it’s a pair of Jedi! They were running from the Order so I figured I’d help ‘em escape when they got stuck. We went through the tunnels and those stupid Troopers had no idea. Then the nice lady let us on the big ship. The big guy was kinda mean though.”

Ben glowers. “Why you-“

You smack a hand against his chest and he grumbles, crossing his arms. Leia laughs. “Well, aren’t you two brave? I have to thank you for saving the both of them. I don’t know what I’d do if anything happened to them.” She says earnestly. There’s a warm feeling that builds in your chest from her words, and you know Ben experiences the same. “I think you’ll fit right in here.”

“Really? We get to stay?” Sharma says, big eyes hopeful.

“Of course you do. We have a place for children just like you where it’s safe. C-3PO, give them a little tour of the place, will you? I’ll come find you in a bit.” Leia says, turning to the droid who’d been happily engaging in some type of conversation with BB-3.

“Oh, certainly general.” He teeters forward on his stiff legs, waving his arms at the kids. Almae looks overjoyed. You can already tell she has the heart of a mechanic in her, just like you. “Pleasure to meet you, I am C-3PO, human-cyborg relations. Please, follow me this way.”

The kids seem hesitant, instinctively looking back at you. You smile. “Go on. It’s safe here, everyone’s a friend. Just make sure to stay with the droid so you don’t get lost, okay?” You lean in to whisper, “and ask him stupid questions. He loves those.” The siblings grin impishly at you.

“You’ll come visit us, won’t you?” Shamar asks, tugging on the hem of your robes.

“Yeah, of course we will. Once you get all settled.” You promise, patting him on the back. You watch as they hurry to catch up to C-3PO; it wasn’t too hard, he doesn’t move all that fast.

“They’ll have to be transferred to one of our more remote civilization bases. This one is too dangerous and open to have children on it.” Leia says once they’re gone, both hands resting on her cane.

You sigh. “I figured. I just didn’t have the heart to tell them.” Ben’s hand finds yours, a small comfort.

“There you are!”

All three of you jolt at the sound of Han’s voice as he comes up to you with long strides, Chewie right behind him. “I was wondering when you’d come back with her.” He says to Ben, meaning the Millennium Falcon. “No issues with her, right?”

Ben sighs, automatically knowing what his father would say to him. “No, dad. Nothing happened to your precious ship.”

Han nods. “Good. Chewie and I are gonna head out for a bit. We’ll keep in touch.”

“Sure you will.” Leia mutters.

Han is about to walk up the ramp past you when he stops. “Hey, kid.”

“Hey, Han.”

“How ya been?”

You shrug. “I’ve been alright. Doing the usual.”

He nods again. “Good to hear. I’ll see ya later.” He points at Ben. “Keep that boy out of trouble.”

You can’t help the small smile on your face. Ben’s parents accepted the fact that you two were inseparable a long time ago, and they know you don’t really go anywhere without the other. Not if you can help it, at least. “I will, Han.”

When Chewie walks by, he ruffles both you and Ben’s hair with a big, furry paw—his own way of saying hello. You laugh while Ben groans, immediately trying to fix the mess. Then Chewie and Han are gone, disappearing into the Falcon and getting it powered up. That’s typically how your interactions with Ben’s father and his companion go, always short and sweet because Han is always on his way to do something, to go annoy someone in some part of the galaxy.

Leia just shakes her head. When she moves past you, she puts a gentle hand against your bandaged wound. “I want you to go see the medic when you can, dear.”

“I will, Mrs. Organa, don’t worry.” You reassure her. “Ben won’t leave me alone until I do.” She seems satisfied with that.

“Oh, and Luke wants you two to contact him within the next few days. He may ask for your return to Ossus. I believe he has some things to discuss, but it didn’t seem like there was a big rush.” She says. You and Ben share a look, wondering what your Master would have to say. You’re both too exhausted to care about it right now though. “I’ll leave you both to it. But do stop by tomorrow morning to give a full report, hm?”

“Sure, mom. We’ll see you then.” Ben says, generously leaning down again so Leia could give him a little peck on the cheek and hold him close.

She takes a few extra seconds than necessary, Ben beginning to squirm in her grasp. She sighs after finally letting him go. “I’m glad you both made it back safely. I didn’t realize how dangerous things have become. We may have to rethink how we go about negotiations so this doesn’t happen again.”

“We’ll figure it out, we always do.” You try to reassure her, even though you’re feeling doubtful yourself. The First Order is expanding, taking more planets, spreading their control.

Leia hums in agreement, trying to keep up some semblance of optimism. “I’ll have to speak to Luke, he needs to make his move. That means you both will need to be on alert.” She says, tone heavy. She waves a hand suddenly, shaking her head. “We’ll worry about it tomorrow, you two don’t need to listen to me trying to figure out a war right now. Go rest up. I need to make sure C-3PO and those kids didn’t get into any trouble.”

“Good idea.” Ben mutters, knowing those kids are probably trying to get into all kinds of mischief.

With a final goodbye, you two and Leia are going your separate ways. You stretch your arms above your head, enjoying the feeling of the sun on your skin. “Now let’s go get something to eat, please, my stomach is digesting itself. I hope they still have some of those sandwiches I like.” You say, practically drooling at the thought of those tasty sandwiches they serve in the cafeteria.

Ben scoffs. “This late in the afternoon? You’re dreaming.”

“Don’t ruin it for me.” You groan.

Even without the sandwiches, as long as you get some type of decent food, you’ll be okay. As long as Ben is with you, you’ll be okay. You know that you’ll both grab a meal together, you’ll sit side by side, never seperated. You know that when you’re done, you’ll both find somewhere quiet, preferably bathed in sunlight, you’ll curl up together looking like two puzzle pieces, and you’ll sleep for as long as you want. Because it’s what you always do, and because you earned it.

[ratcatcher0325]

A Fraction of Justice (Chapter #32)

Chapter #32. Alexander has a new obstacle in his way: Charles. Will he find a way to get rid of him or will he be surprised by what he finds?

Previous: Chapter #31

Next: Chapter #33

Word Count: 7,671 Read Time: Approx. 60+ mins

CW: adult language

Btw, DM me if you wanna be added to the tag list!

___________________________________

A Fraction of Justice

Chapter #32: An Uneasy Alliance

[Alexander’s POV]

The warmth from her hand still lingered along my back and over my chest where she’d planted her thumb. A cool rush of air replaced her touch as she set me back on my feet on the lacquered table’s surface. She’d leaned in, her teasing whisper rustling my hair as she ran her finger over my chest before I’d batted it away.  My heart usually beat to a faster rhythm whenever I was plucked up or put down. That was the natural consequence of sudden, vertical movement, after all. So why was it still knocking at my ribs now that I was settled? My face felt flushed and hot, my hair askew, and I could tell my shirt was twisted around my body at an unflattering angle, yet I couldn’t tear my eyes from hers. 

When she’d held me in her palm, gliding her fingers over my body, she’d trained her gaze on me in such a manner that it suddenly became difficult for my lungs to take in air. What was she thinking? Why was she looking at me like that? Why hadn’t she stopped, now that she’d released me from her grip? 

I wanted nothing more than to be able to read her mind and to keep my own from racing far beyond the bounds I was comfortable with. 

As she gazed down at me, seeming to tower a mile above despite being no more than a foot or two away, I felt completely rooted to the spot; a sensation, in any other instance, I would feel deeply resentful towards. She’d called me incredible, brave… I’d choose to ignore the mention of adorable… for now. 

As my thoughts swam, she tucked her chin into the heel of the hand I’d just occupied, and for some reason, I didn’t mind that she held me captive with her gaze. In fact, I couldn’t help but notice her other hand, which rested just out of my reach on the table beside me. Did her finger and thumb twitch when I glanced at them over my shoulder? 

There went my heart again, leaping into my throat. What was this feeling? Was something wrong with me? Was I on the verge of getting sick? I felt lightheaded and unsteady on my feet.

I clenched my jaw. I hated being out of control of my physical response to outer stimuli.

Just as the corner of her lips raised the smallest fraction of a smirk, and the hand that was far too close and much, much too far away at the same time, shifted toward me ever so slightly, we both heard the echo of distant footsteps from down the hall. I wondered if they sounded as thunderous to her as they did to me, as they practically throttled me from this kinetic moment of connection and snapped me back to my dissatisfactory reality. 

I crossed my arms over my chest, feeling my shoulders rise towards my ears as the chill I’d just observed across my body boiled over and my head rushed with heat. 

Not him again. 

For a few blessed moments, I’d forgotten about him entirely. 

His clattering footfalls made my jaw ache as my scowl deepened. Wasn’t it time he let us be? What was he here for, anyway? What business did he have in continuing to disrupt our routine? 

Heat continued cascading off of me in palpable, fluctuating waves as he appeared in the threshold of the kitchen. I deeply regretted the lack of another sharp object to ward him off. 

As he crossed toward us, growing ever larger within my field of vision, I hated that I could feel the impact of his wooden soles on the linoleum floor as they rattled the table ever so slightly. The passage of his body through space rustled my hair and filled my nostrils with that infuriatingly sharp scent of soap and cinnamon.

I set my jaw, craning my neck to maintain my icy stare, refusing to flinch as he cast a shadow over me. 

The awkwardness was palpable, each of us testing the waters after the storm had ceased. As the man in the bloodied sweater returned to his seat, in the very same position where I had berated him for his ignorance just minutes ago, I could see in the depths of his eyes that a thought was percolating within him. Just what it was, I couldn’t be sure. I jumped at the chance to control the conversation, before he could get a word in. 

Squaring my shoulders and tipping my chin, I raised my voice to reach him, “So, did we learn something from our time out?” 

“Alexander!” 

“Naw, he’s right… You did kinda send me to the corner, Nat!” The man flashed a smile at her. Damn. He took that in a far better stride than I’d hoped. I felt his eyes descend on me again. I couldn’t help a subtle snarl curling the corners of my mouth. He continued, “To answer your question: yeah. I had some more time to think, and I just wanted to say I’m sorry, again. You really kinda put me in my place back there and helped put things into perspective. I guess I can see how hard it must be for you to feel like people ever hear you or take you seriously. I get wanting that, and being pretty defensive about it.” 

Spare me the lecture… and, besides, it took you long enough, dimwit. Although I had to admit, this slightly more enlightened Charles gave me less cannon fodder for verbal volleys and I was left rather disappointed. I’d just need to search more closely for a slip up. 

He cleared his throat, snapping me from my inner thoughts and cast a glance at the woman to my left, nodding slightly as though going through a routine they’d rehearsed together. Slowly, he presented his closed fist, palm upwards, to me. I hated that it was bigger than my entire body. 

As if of their own accord, my features twisted into a scowl. 

The encroaching hand stopped a bit too close for comfort as fingers unfurled to reveal a metallic object, thin, rigid and embarrassingly small in the center of his palm.

 I flashed my gaze upwards to read his expression, only to be greeted by a pathetic excuse for a smile. He was clearly unsettled: good. 

Life would be considerably better if all humans responded that way to me. 

I could feel his bespectacled eyes still trained on me, as he wrestled with himself to speak, “… Go on… you can take it… I won’t bite.” 

“Thank you for granting me permission!” I snapped, my voice dripping with sarcasm. I hoped the implication that I would be more than happy to use my teeth as a negotiation tactic was clear enough to go without saying. 

He stole a glance at Natalie, who to my great satisfaction, gave him no respite and simply raised her brows and shrugged her shoulders, as if to say: You deserved that. Points for Natalie. 

Taking advantage of the fact that his gaze was temporarily elsewhere, I leaned forward, arching my body to avoid touching him, and snatched the cane from his palm. The metal was warm to the touch and a bit damp.

Disgusting. 

I couldn’t help but scowl. 

I pulled back as quickly as I’d lunged forward, taking the object with me. I had no desire to be within reach of this human I still saw as an adversary. 

I’d hoped he would jump in surprise at my sudden movement, but to my utter frustration, it seemed he didn’t even notice it was gone. Was its weight really that negligible to him? 

Without thinking twice, I held the cane by its grip, extending its arm along the length of his little finger. And with a precise swiftness, I raised the mobility aid and cracked it down on the tip of his pinky, where the nerves were dense and sensitive. 

That certainty got his attention.

“Ow!!” He whisked his hand away, pinching his injured digit between finger and thumb. He looked pathetic like that. Cowering before a man a fraction his size. I loved it. He stared down at me with a grimace, “What was that for?!”

“Clumsy me!” I shrugged, doing my best to hide the smug smile that threatened to paint my features. I tapped my right ankle with the heel of the cane, “This damned leg makes it hard to balance, sometimes!” I flashed him a devilishly angelic grin. 

Charles’ eyes widened, before his lips pressed into a thin line. He looked as though he was about to speak, but then chose not to engage. That was the correct choice. 

At the same moment, Natalie cleared her throat. I knew precisely what look of disapproval awaited me before I turned over my shoulder to see it for myself. I stared unflinchingly right back at her, my hand upon my hip, my brow arched to provoke a challenge. 

She knew better than to test her willpower against mine, and looked to the man nursing his finger as though it’d just been sliced from his hand. 

“So—“ she was desperate for a subject change, but lacked the imagination to pull it off. 

I could help with that! 

“So!” I butted in, flourishing with my free arm over my head to garner attention, since, of course, my voice would never manage to top hers no matter how much I yelled, “—So, did your intrusion have an overarching purpose or will you be leaving now?” I took a few steps toward him, neck craned to meet his gaze. His jaw hung open slightly, looking completely incredulous. 

“Alexander!” She chastised. 

“Natalie!” I bit back. 

“You can’t just ask people to leave the second they come over!” 

“He’s been here for over an hour, that’s more than enough for a social call!” 

There was a slight rattle from the table as the man in question threw his hands up, “Hold on a second. Look, I know this is all my fault…” Correct. “...Barging in here unannounced…” Exhibit A.”... Condescending to your house guest who has the brains of a scholar and the soul of a possessed Chihuahua…” Exhibit B. Deemed admissible, as it was not altogether inaccurate. “...And now I’m making things worse by sticking around when I’m clearly not wanted…” Bingo! Exhibit C. Idiots were capable of learning after all!

I cleared my throat and smiled, “Well, perfect! I’m glad we can see eye to eye on this. It’s been far from a pleasure! Goodbye!” I waved generously, about to turn my back on him, when—

“No, no, wait! Hear me out!” 

UGH! My shoulders slumped as I turned regretfully back to face him. 

“... Look, I get that I have some, well, a lot of making up to do. The second I laid eyes on you I just saw what I wanted to see. I saw your size first, and nothing else. You don’t like me. I get it. You’ve made that abundantly clear. And, I admit, I made a pretty bad first impression. But… listen, I’m still Natalie’s friend. She’s been there for me through some really tough times and, like it or not, now she’s kinda stuck with me. The whole reason I let myself in was just to check on her, since she hadn’t been to class for a long while and wasn’t responding to my messages. I’m sorry for taking you by surprise and, well, you know, not taking you seriously. But, if you’re a part of her life now, I wanna be supportive of that. Like, truly supportive. You know?” Why did I feel a sharp dig in the pit of my stomach when he mentioned how close they were? And anyway this was all saccharinely sentimental. Was he done yet? “... So… let me make it up to you. Let me help!” 

My brow furrowed and I turned to catch Natalie’s equally confused expression. I addressed him while he fished for something in his pocket, “What help? We don’t need your–” 

Before I could finish, his gigantic fist presented itself before me once more, unfurling massive fingers until it spilt its contents on the table’s surface. 

A cascade of cardboard and leather, leaflets of paper, and spines cracking on wood pierced my ears. Tumbling out of his hand was a pile of my notebooks, perhaps half a dozen, filled cover to cover with copious notes. 

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

I watched the scene play out between my dear friend and the little man on the table as if from behind a screen. As soon as Charles’s hand returned to his lap and the tiny mountain of miniature journals settled at the equally miniature man’s feet, I found myself feeling just as confused as before. 

Alexander, however, always quicker on the draw at, well, pretty much everything it seemed, was already opening his mouth to respond, his little chest puffed as his face turned red. 

Charles had clearly anticipated this, raising his hands up defensively, “Wait, wait, wait! Before you get mad. I didn’t read them! I– I couldn’t… the writing is… uh, well, you know…” Alexander crossed his arms over his chest and arched a brow, his lips tight and tense, pressuring Charles to continue, “Well, okay… one of the diagrams you’d drawn matched Nat’s open notebook, so I put two and two together… but the more I thumbed through, I could tell with how filled up these things are and all the tabs and creases and notes in the margins, you aren’t just regurgitating Nat’s lectures here. When I saw these at first, and, pardon my ignorance, but I was just kinda amazed that it seems like you’re studying as much as she is. Like, is that why she wanted to keep you a secret? Are you the one that’s helping her bump her grades up? But, the way you spoke, when you were tearing me a new asshole, which I deserved… You were using legal jargon. You were cross-examining me. It was… You knew way too much for someone who’s just been sitting at Nat’s elbow and learning secondhand from some out of context online courses. These aren’t class notes. They’re case notes, aren’t they? You’re working on something, aren’t you?” Charles’s eyes were ablaze. He was enthused at having solved a mystery, yes, but I could see a certain respect, an admiration even, for one student of the law to another. 

The flush of blood that had risen to Alexander’s cheeks had now drained and he looked pale, and almost frightened. It was a version of him I hadn’t seen since those days right before and after the surgery. He looked caught, wary, defensive, as though the top had been blown off all his well-kept secrets. Remembering how hesitant he’d been with me to share his past legal studies, I understood his dilemma. 

He couldn’t have any random human he didn’t know or trust yet knowing about his intentions, his ambitions, his goals. What if they found a way to use his greatest wishes against him? 

Poor Alexander. 

I suddenly remembered that fateful afternoon where I’d reached for him and he’d collapsed into himself, quaking, as though I was going to beat him within an inch of his life. His road to get here had been far from easy. That much was obvious. He had every right to decide what he would and wouldn’t share. 

I watched as tiny fingers searched to trace his lower lip. How I loved that funny little habit of his. 

Charles relieved him of the obligation by cracking a smile and with a terrible attempt at a British accent, quoted, “All right, then, keep your secrets…” 

Alexander’s head whipped up, brow deeply furrowed, mouth tight and downturned. He’d completely missed the reference Charles was making. It was clear he thought he was being made fun of. A cardinal sin in Alexander’s book, I knew. 

Before I had a chance to clarify and save him from earning another battle scar, Charles swooped in to damage control, trying to explain, “Aww, c’mon, man! Frodo? In that opening scene in the first movie?” 

If the little man on the table had articulated ears they would’ve shot forward at this moment. 

Little nerd. I told ya you two had more in common than you think. 

Charles continued, “Look, I figured with how big a fan Nat is, she would’ve forced you to watch the extended editions of all the films at least ten times by now!” 

Alexander’s blue eyes widened to perfect circles, as his voice pitched higher than normal, “Th-There are… M-” He cleared his throat, furrowing his brow and attempting to play it cool, continued, “Uh, ahem, I mean… They made movies out of the books?” Oh my god what a fanboy. 

“Well… Yeah! Dude, you’ve been here with Nat for how long?” Charles whipped to me, eyes aglow with that mischievous gleam I’d always admired in him, “You’ve had him how fuckin’ long and you’ve NEVER shown him the best cinematic journey of our modern times?!”

My face flushed,  “I… What? Don’t look at me like that! C’mon, cut me some slack! We’ve been just a little bit busy!”

“Nat! What the hell is wrong with you? You HAVE to show him. What have you been doing all this time? OH! We could all do a marathon again! I could bring over my deluxe editions! Remember? Your Freshman year? We stayed up until 9 am the next morning watching every extended edition back to back…” 

“Oh my GOD! Yes!” I couldn’t believe I’d forgotten about that entirely, “I had to time all my pee breaks for whenever Boromir was onscreen… I don’t care that he got a valiant death, fuck that guy!” 

“And remember that dude you were kinda into? The one with the weird hair? He kept doing a Gandalf voice for every goddamn line–” 

“It wasn’t even GOOD! Major turn off! I did not like him after that night!” 

“Yeah, fuck that guy!” Charles raised his glass to cheer me. 

“EXCUSE ME!!!” A tiny yet commanding voice cut our reminiscing short, “We are glossing over an EXTREMELY IMPORTANT DETAIL HERE! Can we  get back to what actually matters?! You’re telling me that humans have made motion picture films of J.R.R Tolkien’s master work? As in, an actual visual depiction of the stories? Is it all of them?”  “--Well, we don’t acknowledge the existence of the Hobbit movies…” Charles raised his brows and took a swig of his, undoubtedly by now, watered down drink. 

“Shut up! They’re not THAT BAD!” I brushed him off before resting my chin on my forearm to get closer to the little man on the table, “Yes, Alexander, they made movies of all the books–” 

“WHY HAVEN’T YOU SHOWN THEM TO ME?!” Poor thing, he was beside himself. 

“Wait, Alex, have y–” 

With the ferocity of a snarling beast, the little man’s head whipped to the right, his tiny pointer finger jabbing the space between his form and Charles. Without missing a beat, he snapped, “Alexander. My name is Alexander!” He spoke in a condescending tone, slowly and with emphasis as though speaking to a particularly idiotic child, “Not Alex. Not Al. Not Xandy…” He spit that one directly at me with a fire from the depths of his tiny soul, “Al-ex-an-der.” 

“Woah, o-kay. Seems I hit a nerve there. Sorry, Alexander. What I was gonna ask was, have you actually read the Lord of the Rings?” 

I expected Alexander to berate him again, but, instead he broke out into hysterical laughter. Charles looked completely baffled, wondering what he’d said to get such a reaction, “H-Have I read Lord of the Rings? You poor ignorant bastard! What sort of a question is that?” His laughter suddenly ceased and he became gravely serious, “Give me any of the battle cries within the canon. From the siege of Minas Tirith, to the Battle of Erebor, I can quote it for you, verbatim.” The tiny man, somehow looking far more sophisticated than the sweatpants and shirt he wore, had now settled into a profound aura of self righteousness, lips pursed, brows knit. He may never be able to beat someone big like Charles in hand to hand combat, but this was his alternative to throwing down the gauntlet. 

He was hungering for a way to show off. 

Little Nightmare. I couldn’t help smiling from ear to ear. 

“He’s not messing around.” Charles shifted in his seat, clasping his hands beneath his chin, before leaning forward and smirking, “Okay, sir: Theodin. Battle of Helm’s Deep. Go.” 

“Ha! That’s far too easy! And, technically, its official name is the Battle of Hornburg. That’s a common misconception. An easy mistake to make, of course, for an amatuer fan.” 

Charles’s jaw dropped in playful shock, “Did he just call me an–” 

Before he could finish, Alexander proudly recited the speech, word for word, beat for beat, with an ease and a grace known only to someone with total confidence in what he was doing. 

My heart melted into a puddle at my feet. 

“Oh my fucking god…” Charles burst into a grin. “That was awesome!” He offered his fist to bump and Alexander just sort of leaned in the opposite direction, regarding the hand hovering before him with distrust and confusion. 

Sensing he was lost, I tried to help, “You’re supposed to bump it, with your fist, like this!” Demonstrating, I pressed both of my fists together. 

Alexander’s eyes sunk behind their lids in an expression of exasperated deadpan, “Why on earth would I do that? You look stupid!” 

“Awww come on, man. That was cool as shit. I’m not even sure if I know that whole speech just off the top of my head. You clearly know your shit. I respect that.” 

I watched for the receiving end’s microscopic movements, the tensing of his jaw as he tried to hide the ghost of a smirk that dared to present itself. Doing his best to play it cool, he swallowed, rolled his eyes and begrudgingly pressed his clenched fist against the knuckle of the much larger man’s. 

Satisfied, Charles pulled away and took another swig of his drink, before addressing me, “So, did you–?”

“Oh! Me? No, no. I take no credit for any of the brilliance you see before you. He just showed up in my pantry one day exactly like that.” I leaned down again to look the little nightmare in his eyes, only to discover the surface of the table seemed suddenly deeply intriguing to him, “He’s way better read than either of us. He's quick to remind me of that on a daily basis.”

That made him smirk in spite of himself. Halfway joking and halfway with complete sincerity, he met my gaze and sighed, exasperated, bringing back an argument we’d had at least ten times before, “How are you a college graduate and you don’t know who Aeneas is?! What’re they teaching you?!”

“See what I mean?” I gestured broadly to the little blue eyed menace. 

Charles enjoyed quite a laugh at my expense. Ugh, now I had two mega-nerds to gang up on me, fantastic, “Well, clearly we can all appreciate some good storytelling, so... For real, I’m serious about bringing the movies over. You, of all the nerds, deserve to see them!”

Alexander paused, deciding whether this was acceptable to him or not. He brushed his bangs from his eyes before finally addressing the man towering above him, “... I suppose I’d tolerate your presence again under those extremely limited circumstances. Though don’t misconstrue this as some sort of alliance. I still hold you in disdain.” 

“Awww, not even after the Tolkien bonding moment?” Charles jokingly pouted with a quivering lip, as Alexander gave him the hardest stare a pair of eyes at that scale were capable of making. The larger man dropped it with a sigh, “Alright, fine. But, hey, no one said you had to like me for me to try and help. I’m not kidding about that ‘totally not a case’ you have going on. Let me do what I can to move the needle. I mean, I’ve already passed the bar and am working towards landing a partnership someday. Maybe, I dunno, maybe I’ll have some insight on it.” 

That’s when it hit me like a sudden flash of light in a previously pitch black room. 

“Wait… oh my god!” I straightened up from leaning on the table, both men turned to me with rapt attention, “I can’t believe I didn’t think of it till now… Charles, your dad, his firm… he could sponsor us!”

“IF we have a case!” Alexander reminded me through gritted teeth. 

“Right. Hypothetically. I mean your dad could help, right? In a hypothetical scenario if a law student without a degree wants to engage in a civil suit, that student must be sponsored by a professor or practicing attorney in good standing. And let’s face it, until this past semester I haven’t exactly been a model student, and even then I’ve been skipping class. I mean, the hypothetical student…” 

“You’re a painfully terrible liar, Natalie.” Alexander’s ever critical little voice once again rang in my ears. 

“Ugh, I know, Alexander, shut up!” I rolled my eyes at the little nightmare before addressing the man in the bloodied sweater beside me, “But you said you wanted to help. This is how! It could be the key to really getting this out there! If Alexander decides he wants to share it with you, that is.” 

“Woah, woah, woah. Slow down. I meant like… looking over your arguments or reviewing paperwork… I dunno about–” he threw his hands up in a defensive posture, before a little voice below him demanded his attention. 

“—Charles…” Alexander shuffled forward, his free hand motioning for the bigger man to lean in closer. Charles hesitated for a moment, eyeing the aluminum cane in the tiny man’s grip and clearly questioning if this was all a set up to earn him a sharp smack across the nose or face. Eventually, hesitantly, at Alexander’s increasing persistence and ever more emphatic gestures, he leaned down closer. When he settled, Alexander continued, his voice a piercing whisper, “Does the concept of ‘integrity’ mean nothing to you? Am I to understand your word means nothing? When you said you earnestly wanted to make up for your frankly egregious behavior did you lie?”

Charles pulled away, pouting with his arms crossed. Why did he look like a kid getting told off by the principal? A very, very tiny principal, no less, “Aww, c’mon, this isn’t fair! I do want to help. I swear! I just—“ 

“—Well, then. What’re you waiting for?” Alexander bit back with equal but opposing conviction. 

Charles stammered for a worthy excuse before arriving at what he seemed to think was an ace up his sleeve, “You haven’t even told me about the case!” 

“‘Inconsequential! This is a hypothetical scenario, remember?”

“Well, hypothetically, and… regular-thetically… My dad hates my fucking guts so…” 

Alexander flashed a glance at me, a wicked gleam in his eye, “What, did you spend too much money on cable knit sweaters?” His little chin jutted and a self-satisfied, crooked smile brightened his face. Ever the insult comedian. 

“No! Man… I–” Charles looked on the verge of spilling his guts, and then, abruptly, “You know what? It doesn’t matter. You won’t care about my sob story, anyway. And why should you? After the way I acted, I don’t blame you for not giving a shit. Suffice it to say, I’m not exactly my dad’s golden child anymore, so…”

“And what regrettable faux pas did you commit to fall from his good graces?” Alexander, ever the expert at subtly navigating emotionally sensitive subjects. 

“I didn’t do anything. Let’s just say he doesn’t… approve of me…”

“Ah…” the little man paused, the wind knocked from his sails. His face twisted into a mixture of a grimace and an attempt at a mask of sympathy, “That… does sound… difficult.” There was a hollow ring of recognition in Alexander’s voice that made me wince for him. He was no stranger to that feeling. Poor man. Both of them, for that matter. 

“You don’t have to throw me a pity party or anything. It is what it is. I’m just saying I can’t just walk up to him and ask for a sponsorship, pretty please…. Again, it’s not like what you’re dealing with, or anything. I can’t imagine…” 

“No. I… I can understand what it’s like not to… measure up… to expectations.” 

“Yeah?” Charles seemed pleasantly surprised to find this common ground with the man who neasured no taller than the liquor glass he stood beside. He even managed a soft smile towards Alexander as he continued, speaking in genuine earnest, “You’ll have to tell me about it sometime. If you deem me worthy, of course. Cheers to solidarity through mutual suffering, huh?”

He offered a toast of his glass and a wink. I expected Alexander to find some fault with this, however, instead, with a curt nod of understanding, he raised an invisible glass. I could feel the tension in the room melting with each passing moment. Thank god these boys aren’t going to kill each other after all… at least, not for now. 

Charles passed his gaze between us both, before shuffling out of his seat, “Well, I think I’ve far overstayed my welcome. Sorry, again, for all the ruckus I caused. I certainly wasn’t expecting… well, yeah, this all was gonna go way differently in my head. But, hey, Alexander I need you to make sure she…” he pointed at me with a smirk, “…texts me to set up a movie marathon, because you haven't lived till you’ve seen Aragorn ride into battle! Hold her to it for me, will you?” Alexander nodded doing his level best to keep up the mask of cool indifference about the whole thing, while Charles continued, “And, I will consider broaching the subject of your ‘hypothetical case’ with my father if you can present me with a solid argument. Alright?” 

Alexander’s words seemed to catch in his throat as his little jaw went slack. He shook his head as if to break himself free from his own disbelief, “…W-wait… You’re, you’re actually serious?” I could hear the distrust in his voice. I knew firsthand how quick he was to assume an offer of help was somehow a trap or just empty words. 

Charles seemed to understand this, as he lowered himself back down into a crouch, propping his chin along his forearm, “Was Samwise serious when he pledged his loyalty to Frodo?” 

I could swear I saw that little blonde man’s face go pink to the tips of his ears. He raised his brows, slicked his hair back, adjusted the collar of his shirt and with a truly Herculean attempt to hide the joyous smile that threatened to show how truly delighted he was, finally sputtered, “You have yourself a deal!” He thrust his hand forward, offering a handshake to make it official. 

Charles’ face lit up at the gesture, before casting a glance up in my direction. I mouthed the words “thank you” before the little man below demanded our attention once more. 

“Ahem, come on, let’s shake and be done then…” he stared at the wood grain beneath his feet as he said this. Charles, ever so gently, reached his pointer finger forward, and just as he was about to make contact with the far smaller hand, Alexander pulled back, “And don’t think this makes us fast friends, or anything approaching that. This is a purely professional endeavor. I still don’t like you.” 

I groaned as Charles laughed and shrugged, “Fair enough, dude!” 

Seeming to accept his response, Alexander pressed his palm into the offered fingertip and shook once, twice, and let go, immediately adjusting his collar and smoothing his shirt as if to occupy the hand with anything other than the human before him. 

With that, Charles stood and offered me a hug, which I accepted, warmly. He turned back over his shoulder to regard the little man, “You keep an eye on her, Alexander. Don’t let her do anything too stupid.” 

“It is a valiant battle every moment of every day.” That crooked little smile livened up his eyes as he lifted his chin in defiance up at me. 

“I hate you both!” I groaned. 

“Good!” They both chimed in unison. After we stopped chuckling, or, in Alexander’s case pretending to be above it all, Charles continued with one last farewell, “Look, it was an absolute wild ride meeting you, Alexander. Thanks for the nice new scar, blood stained clothes and possible nerve damage.” He flexed the hand Alexander had smacked with the cane. 

“Thank you for the harrowing reminder of the sociopolitical limitations of my own infuriating reality, the spike in my blood pressure and for ruining the productivity of my entire afternoon.” 

Charles flashed a salute, winking, “Happy to be of service.” 

“Invade my space like that again and I’ll carve you with a fresh design to make your face symmetrical.” 

“Ouch! Touché…” Charles seemed to take it all in stride, a winning smile never fading as he started to head out.  

After pulling on his boots and dawning his coat, he shut the door to the icy outside world behind him and we were alone again. 

The moment the door latched into place, I watched as a little body slumped with exhaustion. His shoulders drooped and he favored his good leg far more. He’d been putting on a show that whole time to stay strong. 

“Alexander?” I whispered, deeply aware of how touchy a subject this was for him. Slowly drawing my cupped hands on either side of him, I continued “I know you don’t normally like to ask for or receive help, but will you let me–” 

Instead of answering me in words, he simply shuffled over to my right hand and halfway leaned, halfway collapsed into the bed of my palm. He avoided my eyes, but I understood what he was asking for. Come here. You don’t have to be strong all alone. 

Tucking my thumb underneath his left arm, I draped my digit over his chest to help keep him from slipping while my left hand came up to meet the other and support his right side. Slowly, gently, I lifted him off the table and gathered him in my hands. He felt like he was melting into the skin of my palms. 

His head leaned against my right pointer finger. I did my best to move slowly and deliberately, trying not to rock him about too much. When I stood up, I met his gaze only to find those icy irises sparkling with a smile. He shook his head, without mustering the energy to lift it away from where it rested, he arched an eyebrow at me, “You have terrible taste in friends.” 

I bit my lip, holding back a smile of my own, “Nuh uh! No I don’t…” 

He flashed his signature deadpan look, practically rolling his eyes back in their sockets. 

“I don’t! Know why? Because I have you…” Did I feel the little pitter patter of his heart spike beneath the pad of my thumb? “You were beyond amazing. Not that you don’t already know that. I’m sorry about the way he reacted. But you, little nightmare, should hold your head up with pride.”

“I know I should! I always should! I’m me!” 

“You gonna let me finish complimenting you or not?”

“You may proceed.” 

“You just won your first case today. Before a licensed attorney, you successfully argued your case and won with flying colors. You completely turned him around using your power of persuasion. That’s something to be pretty goddamn proud of.” 

I felt the smallest pressure on the side of my thumb as his hand squeezed tight. He cracked a smile, flashing his eyes up to mine before tearing them away again. 

“Now, I’m more than happy to keep singing your praises all night long but my guess is you need to rest a bit first, right?” 

“You’ll receive no pushback from me.” 

“Wow! First time for everything!” I padded my way down the hall to the bedroom, watching for the impact of my footfalls as I went. “You sure you’re okay, after everything that happened?”

“Absolutely stellar. I drew blood, after all.” His eyes were more than halfway lidded at this point. 

I crossed my bedroom, tracking over the same corridor of carpet where Alexander had attempted to drive an eye as big as his torso from its socket. Ridiculous, brave little man. 

His arms were still loosely draped over my thumb as I stopped before my bedside table, on top of which, a tiny bed, about the size of my flattened palm, was made up with military precision. I lowered my hand and began unfurling my fingers to set him down to rest. “Alright, let’s try to tone down the bloodlust for at least an hour and get some shut eye, hm?” His eyes were already closed when he nodded ‘yes’, his hair sticking up from rubbing against my finger. 

Yet, when I released him from my grip, his arms didn’t budge. He was still hugging my thumb close to his chest. I wriggled the base of my thumb a bit, letting him know he could let go now. He only squeezed tighter to keep from being shaken off. 

Was this some sort of joke? It was so unlike him to want to be held… 

I was about to ask him what he was doing when a blue iris suddenly sparkled into view as he opened one eye, “Oh, don’t let this go to your head. I’m just cold. That’s all.” He shut his eyes matter-of-factly as though that settled it. 

I couldn’t help the huge grin that brightened my face, “Is that all? Just using me for warmth, huh? No other reason you wanna fall asleep in my hand?”

He let out a little frustrated sigh and pressed his forehead into the pad of my thumb, “You humans are so obtuse.” His brow furrowed and he wrinkled his nose in agitation, “I told you I was exhausted, now, please, let me get a moment’s peace before another one of the bumbling idiots you call friends comes crashing in through a window.”

I couldn't help but tease him, just a little, “Well if you’re just cold, I can always give you a warmer blanket. I know that’d be far better than enduring the utter torture of being held. Wouldn’t it?” 

He paused. Just for a tiny fraction of a second, but I knew I’d flustered him, and that was enough to make me smile as he finally opened his eyes to glare up at me, “With the amount of time we’ve already wasted debating this subject, I could’ve been well on my way to unconsciousness by now. Stop arguing with me and lie down and let me sleep! Don’t make me regret allowing you to do this…” 

Yes, my little liege! I did as I was told and curled up on the surface of the bed, careful not to jostle the small life in my hand as I lowered him down to the pillow. As soon as I laid still, he huffed a little sigh of relief and wriggled until he was comfortable, settling for curving his spine against the bowl of my palm, and using the pad of my ring finger for a pillow. In true Alexander fashion, he kept his arms crossed tightly over his chest, his brow creased and his lips tight around a set jaw. I didn’t think he knew how to relax even if he tried. 

With a softness I knew he was entirely unaccustomed to in his past, I brushed the tip of my thumb over his chest, just as I had done when he’d asked for comfort at the kitchen table. I watched as he melted around me. Well, melted by Alexander standards. His brow still furrowed, his body rigid and his eyes remained closed but he didn’t flinch and instead loosened his arms and, very lightly, embraced the circumference of my thumb, about as wide as his whole chest. I leaned in, voice barely above a whisper, “Since when did you become such a cuddle bug?” 

His face flushed with color as his eyes snapped open. He shoved my thumb away immediately, and stammered, “What? I’m, I’m not a–!” As he protested, he started to squirm beneath my hand, doing his level best to turn his back on me. 

“It’s okay to want to be held, sometimes, Alexander. It doesn’t negate any of the things you said today. You can be strong and want to be loved on too…” 

He snarled and pushed at my fingers, trying to free himself of any proximity to me now, little eyes still half-lidded and glassy, “I don’t need anything of the sort!”

I provided light resistance with my fingers, even hooking him around the waist and pulling him across the surface of the pillow by an inch or two. He growled, all disheveled and discontented, “Put me back on the bedside table. I can’t endure you any longer!” 

I sighed theatrically, “Well, okay… but are you sure that’s what you really want?”

“You dense creature! Did I stutter?” 

“Okay, okay! Jeez! Come here…” It’s not what I wanted, of course, but I had faith the little nightmare would come around. Wouldn’t he? Or had I just blown my chance to hold him and show him the affection I was itching to give him every second of every day? I felt my shoulders droop as I pinched him between finger and thumb and supported his legs with my opposite fingers. I was now sitting up in bed, the little man before me, his desired destination to my left. 

I held him at eye level, seeking the truth behind that prickly exterior of his, “Do you want me to leave you alone, Alexander? I’ll do what you ask me, I promise.” I truly meant that. He was left a heaving mess, dangling in the air, hands gripping my thumb as he stared at me though his brows. Poor thing, I hadn’t meant to get him this dysregulated. 

He glared at me for what felt like forever. I wished so badly he could just ask for the love and affection he so clearly craved but was far too embarrassed to acknowledge. I bit my lip, resigned to the fact that he was inevitably going to demand to be set down and left the hell alone. After all, what choice did he have? In his black and white thinking, to desire comfort from a human meant all his talk about resistance was meaningless. I sighed, wishing I could somehow impart to him I truly meant no harm, but instead began to lower him down to the bedside table. 

“FINE!” His little voice cut through the air like a razor’s edge. I blinked, stopped all movement and returned to the scene before me. I held aloft a tiny man, his body weighing almost nothing at all. My thumb pressed against his chest while my pointer finger supported his back. He had his arms crossed somewhat awkwardly over the knuckle of my thumb, as his messy bangs hung haphazardly over his expressive little eyes, “I see what you’re doing. I see what game’s afoot!”

What the hell was he talking about? My brow furrowed. I’d been stringing him along up until this point, but now he was pulling me by the nose instead. 

“You siren! You manipulative wretch! Your reverse psychology wouldn’t normally work on me, but you’ve caught me in a momentary state of vulnerability… Your charms are… somehow, against my will, taking their hold…” 

Ohhhhh. Yet another little game because god forbid we ever be direct. Jesus Christ what a drama king. 

I’d play along, then, if that’s what he needed to feel safe asking to be held, “Ahh! Yes! My spells are working! You could only resist for so long… And now, I’ll seal your fate once and for all!” Swiftly and without pausing for breath, I propped him up before me. I leaned in ever closer, and felt his body start to stiffen and squirm. As soon as a breathy “Natalie!” escaped him, I kissed his blonde rat’s nest of hair, my lips also covering the side of his face and neck. 

When I pulled back enough to see his little face, I was met with wide, bright blue eyes that stared somewhat into the middle distance, as a tiny chest heaved up and down and a little mouth stayed open and slack jawed. Just like the last time I’d dared to kiss him, all his systems seemed to go into overload. I brushed my thumb over his hair, and whispered, “How’s that for charms, huh?” He was a brighter shade of red than any tomato I’d ever seen. He didn’t say a word, just blinking, still in shock, it seemed. Poor thing. I decided I wouldn’t put him through anything else, “Get some rest, Alexander. You blew me away today. Thank you for reminding us of how brilliant you are. Go to sleep now. You’ve had a long day…” With that, I lowered him back down to the pillow, with my hand cupped behind him.

As I watched him drift off to sleep, I could only imagine what was racing through that brilliant little mind. I wanted to watch him as long as I could, but eventually the utter exhaustion of the day caught up with me too, and despite my best efforts, I fell asleep, holding the little nightmare I adored so much. 

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[drawnfamiliarfaces]

Heyo! Quick question: Do the HoMies have a common place to meet up/chill/sleep between missions, or they just bust into any of the members' canon houses?

That's a question which kept invading my brain since I discovered your stuff. I'm especially curious on how you'll tackle June being unable to leave Orchid Bay because of her role of protecting her town.

Not really? 😅 They indeed most likely will crash in each other's towns/bases/homes, after a mission/team-up or just to hang out!

Jun is indeed a complicated situation, with her canonically being unable to leave Orchid Bay, but actually in HoM, there is a ... 'development' that allows her to temporarily leave it for a brief time! ;) It's going to be partially covered in Act 2, and more in depth in flashbacks, which I'm actually very excited about, because its one of the more important parts of this AU!

But honestly, besides Jun, others are also very location bound (even if they are not restricted by a magical barrier lol), so each of them would prefer to stay on their own territory for various reasons.

Danny is in or always close by to Amity, because it has a stable portal to the Ghost Zone. Jake is more or less required to stay on East Coast/New York because he is a guardian of one of the most central magical communities on the American Continent (the other major being Orchid Bay aka West Coast).

Kim, Zak, Jenny and Ben all have their solid homebases in their respective towns (or his parents/Saturday's mansion/lab house?? in Zak's case), but they travel a lot for work. Kim and Zak are more Earth bound, while Jenny and Ben also take trips to outer space. But each of them have a place where they can recuperate.

The only vagabond out of the lot is Rex (he is like a total opposite of home bound Jun lol), by circumstances and choice, so he often crashes in one of the other HoMies places, when he doesnt travel.

While I enjoy the AUs where heroes all live/work/chill out together in one complex (remember all those times of 2012 Avengers-live-in-Avenger-tower-domestic-shennanigans?? good times lol), I don't really want HoM AU to be like that, I guess. <;D

[vlly-of-despair]

Ghosts in the Computer? It’s not what you think…

Ok I have very little to back up most of this BUT (spoilers for The Magnus Protocol so far)

I don’t think John/Martin/Jonah are stuck in the computer at all. I think they are stuck in the FEAR WORLD. Think about it, when John got sucked into the rift with Martin, he already became the Pupil and was bound immeasurably to all of the Fears, which mind you, are simply ONE being which can be extended to different ‘categories’. By the end of TMA, John wasn’t human at all. Martin even asks him,

“How much of you is even left now?”

“It’s still me, Martin. I’m still here.”

Yeah, John. Your consciousness and personality are still your own, but make no mistake my sweet man, you are full Eldritch horror now.

This could be the only conceivable way John could have survived being stabbed, then sacrilegiously torn throughout time and space. I mean, the spooky happenings and Avatars are described as this ‘Somewhere Else’ (🤨) bleeding into our world. But nobody has ever entered this other world, it’s beyond the human comprehension. Unless… perhaps you were to be the closest thing to a Fears’ grubby little Jesus and entwined further through tapes that stretched itself within this realm then ripped you through this passage…

Here is my current suggestion. Perhaps John is in the Fears layer in reality, the ‘Somewhere Else’ as I shall call it, by virtue of himself being in a sense, an extension of the Fears. As the Fears were categorized as different vital organs as a whole being, John may be an extension of this said being. The fears made manifest in a human-ish form; the fears brought in a sentient avatar. But make no mistake, John literally is fear now.

And perhaps this is what [ERROR] is as well, this mysterious creature ‘cloaked in whispers’ is John just… kind of body hopping into people (or even past Archivists which didn’t go as far along as he did in his lovely little Becoming) and trying to communicate with others who could understand him, maybe why he has recorders with him. These whispers are literally fear, he is wearing fear. He IS FEAR. And when he tries to speak, or speaks through another’s voice, he compels others to vomit up all their fear in incoherent ramblings because that is ALL THEY CAN SEE. The fear.

Fr3d1, or ‘Freddie’, on the other hand, is a device connected to the Somewhere Else long before John arrived there. My theory is that objects bound by Alchemy can act as conduits to the Somewhere Else and the Fears, such as the Fr3d1 program, and other cursed objects found throughout the series. And just as John could know into the truth of his world through the Eye, the land of the Fears can touch the minds of all worldly beings of this layer of reality, like a vast ocean… one in which John is fully submerged in.

The Magnus Institute program may have also been a program designed to seek out children who can nurture an ability to psychologically enter the Somewhere Else (as Hans Burger did in Ep 22 in his dream). Sam is being specifically targeted because HE can possibly have that capability to tap into that world and speak to John. It could also be an explanation for the act of ‘meditation’ causing reality jumps, specifically close to the Magnus Institute. Your consciousness briefly enters the Somewhere Else, and because this place resides in a world outside of the material world, you may fall back into reality misplaced. Slightly off center from your reality, and usually this journey is deadly…

Freddie, by its ability to touch the Somewhere Else, was a program designed with supernatural abilities to garner intell tied to this outer dimension. But now that John is in this dimension, he can manipulate the system to try to steer it in a direction which can ‘speak’ to the OIAR crew, try to explain his situation. You know, without the compelling, drowning, or scaring away the closest thing to allies he could have.

Now why are Martin and Jonah there? Well, for Martin, he was dragged with John and is only been able to stay alive this long because of him. He is an extension of John, and John is trying his darndest to keep him alive. The only problem is that Martin is mortal, or at least a hell of a lot more human than John. He probably can’t psychologically take the ‘I am living in fear’ quite literally, and this may be why all of the statements in Norris’s voice are about lost love, being lost in liminal spaces, or in hearing your beloved, only to be terrified by them as they are irrevocably warped into a horrific phantom of themselves. Perhaps that is all that Martin can see; that he is somewhere where he can’t escape, and John is terrifying. So very very terrifying, and wrong. He is incapable of comprehending anything else, he may even be in the Lonely state much like in MAG 170: Recollection. John can bare the weight of all of that perception, of fear, or knowing and seeing. He wished it could be horrible, but it feels ‘right’. Not for Martin though.

As for Jonah, my best approximation is that by virtue of being the previous Pupil and also being connected to the Eye so prolifically, even when dying, small remnants of him remained in the Somewhere Else as a figure of Fear much like John. However, he is much weaker on account of John both defeating him in their original universe and plain of existence, and the fact that ‘the Eye chose John’. Nevertheless, he’s still kicking around, his evil embers also fighting to communicate, albeit less so (his statements being infrequent). Perhaps the JMJ errors are the boys fighting for supremacy in the horrors mindscape. Jonah is losing, but he won’t go down and let John win without a fight.

Where does that leave us? Well, my guess is that our lovely Son of Fears needs to rise again, be called back to the material world through some sort of Alchemical ritual. Maybe by a dangerously curious guy whose life went downhill ever since he was rejected from the Magnus Institute for having a little too much empathy, but always knew his calling to tap into that power…

Hopefully he can unleash his judgement day, smite a few less than pleasurable Externals. And while he’s at it, return his boyfriend to the living world, and get rid of an annoying old man who just refuses to die.