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scottymcgeesterwrites · 4 years ago

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Final Fantasy III Review

Year: 1990

Original Platform: Famicom

Also Available on: Nintendo DS, iOS (DS port), Android (iOS port), Ouya (Android port), Steam (Android port), PSP (iOS port)

Wii/3DS/Wii U Virtual Consoles and Nintendo Classic Edition releases are only in Japan.

Version I Played: DS

Synopsis:

Four orphans (originally only named by the player, DS remake gives them names) fall into a crevice after a sudden earthquake. There, a mysterious crystal warns them about the oncoming darkness that will engulf the world. The four orphans must band together to restore the balance between light and dark.

Gameplay:

ARE YOU READY TO GET YOUR ASS BEAT?

YOUR BALLS ROCKED?

I’m warning you – this is the most difficult Final Fantasy game to date.

There are no ethers - only elixirs, which you should definitely reserve for the hardest battles. Also, phoenix downs cannot be found in stores - only in treasure chests and as dropped or stolen items from enemies.

The gameplay returns to that of the original Final Fantasy – turn-based combat and the Job System, only this time the Job System is greatly expanded. Vikings and Geomancers and Bards and Dragoons and the list goes on. Summons are introduced to the series via the Evoker job, which later gets upgraded to Summoner. The expanded Job System allowed for greater customization of your four characters than in the original Final Fantasy.

This game is notable for the Onion Knight. In the beginning of the original Famicom game, the default job is Onion Knight. If you continue playing as an Onion Knight, your stats remain relatively low. However, if you dare to play the entire game as an Onion Knight and reach level 99 – the Onion Knight suddenly turns into the most powerful job in the game.

The DS remake does things a little differently. Instead of the Onion Knight, you start out as a Freelancer – a new job that has a little bit of everything. However, the longer you use the Freelancer job, the weaker you become. This is a good incentive to have players naturally explore other jobs.

The unfortunate feature of the DS remake though is that the Onion Knight is ONLY available after performing sidequests via wireless with friends. This is impossible to do now since the wireless features for the original Nintendo DS (and also the Wii) have been discontinued. HOWEVER. Playing the DS remake through Steam allows you to unlock the Onion Knight by completing at least 25% of your bestiary. You will then receive a message via the Mognet to start the sidequest.

Final Fantasy III is notorious for its high difficulty. The trick mostly lies in constantly switching between jobs and finding the right balance for the right moment. However, changing jobs requires you to level up that job. This means grinding – lots and lots of grinding. Insane amounts of grinding. This is Final Fantasy: Grind City.

In retrospect, Final Fantasy II was hard as well, yes, but more in a stupid way. Leveling up there was annoying but people could find tricks around it like finding weaker enemies and purposely hitting yourself and healing yourself to raise your HP or defense stats.

Final Fantasy III is difficult but it hurt so good. This game turned me into a masochist. There's two types of video game rage - the good and the bad kind. The bad kind is usually because the game's mechanics are irritating or virtually unplayable. The good kind is cursing out loud but then saying, "I'LL GET YOU NEXT TIME!" and actually being pumped about trying again because you see it as a challenge.

The game has an explosively difficult finale. The finale takes place in the Crystal Tower, which is surrounded by Ancient’s Maze. You have to walk through the maze, then through the tower, then fight multiple bosses through other events which I won’t spoil here. The entire ordeal can pretty well take up an entire hour. At least (in the DS version, I don’t know about Famicom) you can save before entering the Crystal Tower. But if you ever need to venture out into the world map again to get something you forgot, you have to go through the Ancient’s Maze. Once you enter the Crystal Tower, you cannot save the game. It’s one long shot to the final of final bosses. In the Crystal Tower, you get to walk around seemingly endless and maze-like floors such as this:

YAY.

Seriously though - I still enjoyed the challenge and thought it was epic. If you're going to hit me hard, you might as well go all out. Nothing in this game is held back. Also, the expanded job system allowed you to try out so many different things.

I tried for the longest time to play Final Fantasy III on an emulator but for some bizarre reason, I couldn't save, not even on save states. When I have the time, I definitely want to go back to that, try a different ROM or something, and experience the original. But I played enough of the original to know how hard it is. I died right away when I ventured outside the first town.

The DS remake mostly retains the difficulty of the original, which I admired, unlike the watered down PSP Anniversary Editions of Final Fantasy and Final Fantasy II.

Graphics:

The original Famicom game definitely has a lot more going on than the first two Final Fantasy games. Battles are still 90% black space but the rest of the game is 8-bit Heaven.

The DS remake is AMAZING. I would argue that Final Fantasy III DS is really the first great Final Fantasy remake. They got a chibi thing going on and it works here. It’s cute without being obnoxiously cute.

The FMV sequence for the DS is staggeringly beautiful.

I also kind of laugh at this one part where Luneth and Ingus are arguing and it’s the equivalent to a stock photo of two people arguing.

I only wish they added an ending FMV. That would have been the cherry on top for the remake.

Story:

Final Fantasy III is kind of like crossing the original Final Fantasy with Final Fantasy II. The story is wider in scope and more epic. The fictional world is much more interesting. The score has a wider repertoire. You fly many different airships. It also begins what I like to call the "Crystal Trilogy." Final Fantasy III, IV and V, as you'll read later, are quite similar in their general plot, which utilizes crystals as important plot devices.

There’s more to the story than people give credit for. You venture into the world and run into secondary characters who have their own stories, such as Cid, Desh, Princess Sara (reference to the original Final Fantasy), Prince Allus, Priestess Aria, and even four imposters of the four heroes of light. You save towns with a variety of problems, from a village cursed by a genie to finding a missing precious stone for the dwarves. Then you discover the truth behind the world you live in. . .

The DS version elaborates on the story by giving the four orphans names: Luneth, Arc, Refia, and Ingus. This sharpens the story by connecting more dots. The DS story starts with Luneth and Arc as childhood friends. They later meet Refia, a runaway who was tired of her guardian's blacksmith trade, and Ingus, a knight of Sasune who protects Princess Sara. I was disappointed by one rather misleading thing in the DS remake. The opening FMV sequence seemed to imply that Priestess Aria plays a wider role in the story – she doesn’t. That disappointed me.

As I’ve said already, the DS version is a wonderful remake of the original. I very highly recommend it. It enhances everything about the original and more. The remake's heroes hardly get any recognition in other Final Fantasy media and that’s a shame.

Music:

As Final Fantasy games keep getting bigger, so does the score. Uematsu shone here. He did some unique things for a Japanese composer at the time. An example is the illusion of having chords in the track Crystal Cave.

Final Fantasy III’s soundtrack is twice as long as Final Fantasy II’s. I’d say that out of the entire Famicom/NES era, this game probably has the best soundtrack. The battle theme has a sexy bass with more drums added to it. Eternal Wind, the world map theme, is definitely the greatest map theme in an RPG. Period. It truly gives the feel of wandering around a fantasy world.

The DS version reinvigorates the entire score. I loved every second of it.

The way Uematsu composed the final of the epilogue is reminiscent of how John Williams does his finales in the credits for Star Wars or Indiana Jones films. In this case, he references the Final Fantasy Main Theme at the end of the credits.

The result is a wholesome feel to the game. Final Fantasy III has a fantastic score that is perfect for closing the 8-bit era of Final Fantasy.

Notable Theme:

I'm split between Eternal Wind and Priestess Aria's Theme. Fortunately, the DS opening cinematic includes both. It has a great orchestrated rendition of the classic themes.

youtube

Verdict:

The hardest out of all the Final Fantasy games (so far). At the same time, there’s so much to enjoy – but it’s not for everyone. Because of the difficulty, I would save this game for last. There’s something about this game that actually gives me a true “final fantasy” feel. The final stretch is so kick-your-nuts-hard that nothing else in the series can compare to it.

If you go for the DS version, however, that can be a tad bit easier. Just a tad. A smidge. Nothing more. It’s one remake that I highly recommend. They did a good facelift on both the game itself and the story. The DS version was adapted into Android and then ported into Steam, so you can get it there.

Direct Sequel?

No.

#final fantasy iii #final fantasy 3 #final fantasy #black mage #red mage #square enix #nintendo #nintendo ds #video games #rpg #fantasy #magic #onvideogames

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myherogroundzero · 5 years ago

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happier (dabi x reader)

A/N: this is like OOC but for a reason! it’s like, he wouldnt be OOC with other characters but you grew up with him so it was different, dont question it. i worksd really hard on this and im proud of it. i hope you all enjoy and YES i am all for that Touya/Dabi theory. it makes perfect sense (edit: i literally forgot to mention that i totally changed his backstory LMAO but i felt like this fit my story better sorry 🥺)

word count: 1.8k

warnings: i mean, heated kissing? angst, parental abuse (verbal, but not really mentioned)

•••••

you held onto his hands, dancing around the playground while your parents fought and his mom just watched. that’s what the two of you did every time your parents argued the way they did. he helped you escape from the hatred you listened to everyday so you could feel that glimmer of hope that they always tried to take from you.

“feeling better, y/n?” his voice was kind and soft and his smile made your fears disappear.

“yes, Touya, thank you.”

you grinned at him before you stopped moving and gave him the biggest hug you’d ever given. he giggled as he hugged you back. even though the two of you were only four, him wrapping his arms around you made you feel safer. what could go wrong when you were in the arms of your best friend?

“of course. you look better when you’re happier!”

II.

“you’re always at work, you never spend time with us!”

“maybe that’s because i’m trying to earn money to take care of this family!”

a 10 year old should never have to endure this. tears welled up in your red, puffy eyes as you remember the latest fight your parents had. you couldn’t take the screams and abhorrence so you ran. you didn’t know where your feet were taking you until you stood, shaking and sobbing in front of the Todoroki household. you wiped at your eyes before hesitantly knocking on the door. you stared at your feet and played with the hem of your shirt as you waited for the door to open.

when you heard creaking, you looked up immediately. your watery eyes met with the soft grey ones of Touya’s mother, Rei. she bent over to wipe off your tear-stained cheeks, the gentleness of her touch making you melt.

“are they fighting again, love?”

when you opened your mouth to respond, the only thing that came out was the quiet, pained sobs that you’d been holding back. that had been answer enough for her, and she quickly ushered you into the house.

you sat in the kitchen with her, your legs crossed as you sipped the tea that she’d made specially for you. the two of you just talked until you calmed down a little bit. soft footsteps brought you away from your current conversation and to the entrance of the kitchen, where you were met with a tired looking Touya.

“y/n? is everything okay?” he yawned and rubbed his eyes as he spoke, his voice mellow despite his exhaustion. you got up and walked to him, giving him a hug without uttering a word. he, of course, hugged back.

“dance with me, Touya?”

he smiled softly before taking your hands and dancing with you, his mother as your audience. the two of you spun around as though you were the only people in the world. nothing else existed in that moment, just you and Touya and your dancing. a smile had replaced the heart wrenching look on your face. dancing with your best friend made things better, even when life seemed to have been falling apart before your very eyes.

“you know, you should smile more often. you look prettier when you’re happier.”

III.

15 was not your favourite age, to say the least. your parents never stopped arguing and it’d become even harder to deal with. when they spoke to you, it was always short and harsh. they made sure you knew they didn’t want you, and they didn’t want each other either. you sat upstairs in your room holding a pillow over your head to block out the incessant screams from the voices that once soothed you.

you were at your breaking point and you knew that. nothing seemed to make you happy anymore. you kept headphones in your ears turned up at max volume to tune out the fighting every single day. it was the only thing that made you feel anything anymore. the romanticisation of life in songs gave you spurious hope.

you supposed it was easy to idealise life when you were living, but you were only existing. you vividly remembered the day the life had left your eyes, even though you weren’t dead. you were no longer who you once were. you felt like you were overreacting with your emotions. your parents never hit you or anything. sure, they fought nonstop, but you had a roof over your head and food to eat and clothes to wear. what right did you have to be upset with your life?

you sighed quietly before getting your phone out and sending a text to Touya, asking if he’d be willing to come over. he always knew what to do and say when you got like this. your phone buzzed in your hand and you smiled at his speedy reply before reading that he’d be right over.

☆☆☆☆☆

you walked to your window after receiving Touya’s text that he was there. you opened it and smiled down at him.

“there’s a ladder on the side of the house,”

he gave you a thumbs up before going to retrieve the ladder. you giggled softly, turning to go sit on your bed while you awaited his return.

minutes later, you saw disheveled red hair crawling through your window. he looked at you and grinned, going over to sit next to you when he’d made it through. you wrapped your arms around his neck while his were secured around your waist. the warmth of the hug made a funny feeling erupt in your stomach. likewise, Touya’s heart was fluttering at your touch.

“Touya, will you dance with me?”

he stood up, pulling you close to his chest. your arms rested around his neck like they had when you were sitting. the two of you swayed slowly, a comfortable silence taking over as you just enjoyed each other’s presence. you relished the protectiveness of his embrace. he rested his head gently on top of yours, making your heart pound.

he stopped moving abruptly before pulling away slightly to look at your face. his eyes scanned over every perfect imperfection that made up your beautiful appearance. his brows furrowed and he bit his lip, deep in thought. his eyes stared directly into yours, making you squirm. you got nervous under his unwavering gaze, so you shifted your head and looked to the side.

he gently held your chin and moved your head back to its previous position before placing a loving kiss to your lips. you kissed back with more force, the neediness exposing how deprived of love the two of you really were. his grasp on your waist tightened and your hands found their way into his hair, pulling gently. his tongue slid over your lip and you opened your mouth to allow him access. you pressed into him as much as you possibly could, a soft moan escaping your lips.

in that moment, nothing and nobody else mattered. it was only the two of you pouring your hearts out to one another, holding onto each other tightly out of fear that you might never see each other again if you let go.

when you pulled away to breathe, Touya took the second to look you over again. when he looked at you he saw his whole life in your eyes. he fell in love with you when you two were kids, and that love has only grown stronger since then.

“y/n, i want to make you happier.”

IV.

you were now 19 years old and you hadn’t seen Touya in two years. he disappeared when he was 17, leaving you confused and brokenhearted. you’ve felt this emptiness ever since he left, like you were missing one half of your already damaged heart. you missed him. his smile, his laugh. you missed his lips and his hugs but most of all, you missed dancing with him.

you didn’t think you’d ever see him again, but you remained hopeful that maybe your paths would cross once again. at first everyone thought he’d been kidnapped. however, as you thought more and more about it, you had come to the conclusion that maybe he ran away. you knew how his father treated him and his siblings, even Rei. you wouldn’t blame him if running way was his only option, but why didn’t he tell you? or better yet, why didn’t he take you?

you laid on your bed, still trapped within the hate and anger of your parent’s house. all you could do was wonder if things would get better. you wish, above all things, that you could go back to when things were better, when you were happier.

by 21, your parents had kicked you out and with no job or house, you had nowhere to go. so you sat on a bench near the very park you used to play at with Touya. the darkness of the night sky was making you drowsy. your eyes were fluttering closed when the shadow of a tall man blocked the moon from illuminating your figure. your eyes shot open and you looked up, your eyes being met with familiar blue ones on an unfamiliar face. there were stitches and burns all over him, his hair completely black.

he stared at you, not knowing what to do or say. you felt in your heart that you knew him, but you didn’t recognise him.

“Touya?”

his eyes welled up with tears for the first time in a long time.

“y/n.”

you covered your mouth to muffle the sound of your quiet cries before you stood up and hugged him. he hugged back tighter than he ever had before.

“Touya, what happened to you? why did you leave? you didn’t say a thing to me, you just left!”

“i know—“

“you could’ve at least told me!”

“i’m sorry—“

“i felt so lost, Touya, you left me alone.”

“y/n, please. i didn’t mean to hurt you.”

tears spilled like a waterfall, your gasps for air breaking his heart. he really had no intentions of hurting you.

“y/n, i truly am sor—“

you cut him off be smashing your lips against his. he stumbled back slightly before regaining his posture and kissing you back.

“i missed you so much, Touya.”

“i missed you too, love.”

you held onto him like you’d lose him again if you let go. he held you with just as much protectiveness and love. the two of you swayed slightly, the moon shining, illuminating your tear stained cheeks. finally, for the first time in five years, your life didn’t feel like it was slowly crumbling before you. you wouldn’t say you were happy per se. but the two of you dancing in the light of the gleaming moon brought you back to when you were younger.

as crazy as it sounds, you missed who you were back then, when the two of you were dancing through the angry voices of your parents. when you were dancing through the mess you called your lives. he brought you back to those times, though. he brought you back to when you were happier.

#dabi #dabi x reader #touya x reader #touya todoroki #todoroki #villain #bnha #my hero academia #boku no hero academia #x reader #x you #reader insert #anime

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az3422 · 4 years ago

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SCP Foundation

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PeppersGhost's Proposal, I guess.

K/O Failure Scenario Hub » SPC-001 » PeppersGhost's Proposal, I guess.

rating: +263+–X

You are now connected.

[13:04] Topic is "Fuck credentials, fuck passwords, fuck secrecy, fuck everything. Just, fuck in general. Fuck like it's the end of the world, because it is. Fuck me, please oh lord im so alone | Welcome! If you're still alive to read this, good luck finding someone to talk to."

[13:04] DrTsega: Hello? Anyone here?

[19:32] DrTsega: I'll take that as a no, then.

[22:48] DrTsega: I can't be the only one left.

[22:49] DrTsega: Hey Queg, are you still running?

[22:49] Queg: Hello, DrTsega. What can I do for you?

[22:49] DrTsega: thank god

[22:50] DrTsega: !backscroll 10

[22:50] Queg: [04:33] SgtYitay: I've looked through the entire building

[22:50] Queg: [04:33] SgtYitay: Everyone is dead

[22:50] Queg: [04:33] AgentCaleb: No shit

[22:50] Queg: [04:33] AgentCaleb: I know nobody uses this thing anyway but DAMN it's been EMPTY

[22:50] Queg: [04:34] AgentCaleb: You think it's just the two of us?

[22:50] Queg: [04:37] AgentCaleb: You still there

[22:50] Queg: [04:39] AgentCaleb: Saaarrrrge

[22:50] Queg: [04:50] SgtYitay has been disconnected (Ping timeout)

[22:50] Queg: [18:22] AgentCaleb: oooookay well i think im gonna call it quits then. If anyone sees this tell my husband I love him

[22:50] Queg: [18:22] AgentCaleb: lol jk i'll see that dogfaced whore in hell 👍🕶👍

[22:51] DrTsega: hmm

[22:52] DrTsega: !seen Agent Caleb

[22:52] Queg: AgentCaleb was last seen 8 days ago saying: lol jk i'll see that dogfaced whore in hell 👍🕶👍

[22:52] DrTsega: shit

[22:53] DrTsega: shitballs

[22:53] DrTsega: shitmonkeys

[22:55] DrTsega: shit the nail on the head

[22:55] DrTsega: okay

[11:16] DrTsega: Good morning. If anyone sees this just ping me, I'll stay around as long as I can.

[09:48] DrTsega: I'm still here

[14:26] DrTsega: !quote CaptSumner

[14:26] Queg: CaptSumner: I may be shitting out of my pee parts but FUCK YOU I will WALK IT OFF

[14:26] DrTsega: haha what

[14:27] DrTsega: Good times, good times.

[14:28] DrTsega: I wish Sumner wasn't lying dead in the bathroom

[14:29] DrTsega: or anywhere, for that matter

[14:33] DrTsega: but especially the bathroom

[08:01] DrTsega: I'm still here

[12:55] DrTsega: Man, if anyone sees this later I'm going to look really pitiful

[05:51] DrTsega: okay I can't sleep so I guess I might as well do this

[05:52] DrTsega: !settopic Check the backscroll. Look for "Start here"

[05:52] Topic is "Check the backscroll. Look for "Start here""

[05:52] DrTsega: Start here

[05:53] DrTsega: If you're still alive to read this, congratulations. You survived.

[05:54] DrTsega: You also have access to working internet and enough knowledge about shadow governments to visit a (previously) private communications channel, so, hey, good on you.

[05:55] DrTsega: As a reward for being such a cool and alive person, I'm going to tell you the story of how we ended the world.

[05:55] DrTsega: For context, though, you'll probably want to start by reading a certain document…

[05:56] DrTsega: Actually, you can probably just skim it. A lot of this won't make sense to you anyway, so who cares?

[05:57] DrTsega: Anyway. I'll go find the link. If memory serves, they declassified everything when they realized we were all gonna die.

[06:13] DrTsega: How are these servers even still up? Isn't that just the craziest thing

[08:22] DrTsega: Found it.

NOTICE FROM THE CENTRAL INTELLIGENCE COORDINATION

AND PROJECTS OPERATION COMMAND OFFICE

There is nothing new to report regarding SPC-001 at this time.

Test subject displaying the results of his exposure to SPC-001.

Project #: SPC-001

Selachian Pugnātorial Capabilities: Individuals enhanced with SPC-001 display a dramatic improvement in pugilistic prowess and have consistently proven capable of easily dispatching 90% of squaloid entities in simulations, even with no prior training. Furthermore, SPC-001 subjects have reported a radical elevation in coastal requiescence position retention, even when under assault from extragranular sedimentary weaponry.

Project Components: SPC-001 is a manmade chemical substance which augments the biological strength and dexterity of human beings. After initial exposure to SPC-001, subjects will undergo a steady increase in muscle mass over the following 72 hours, accompanied by heightened energy levels and adroit perception of their surroundings. Increased lung capacity and resistance to deep-sea hydrostatic pressure are common side effects.

Following the DREAD PORPOISE COMMUNION and the subsequent activation of the ALL HANDS ON DECK PROTOCOL, SPC agents embedded in the food industry began introducing discreet amounts of SPC-001 into numerous products intended for public consumption. Centre researchers have projected a full global saturation of SPC-001 to be achieved by the year ████. In the event that the DREAD PORPOISE COMMUNION ends before global saturation can be achieved, more aggressive means of SPC-001 dispersal may be undertaken to prevent a complete End-of-World K/O Failure Scenario.

Nascency Impetus: On May 16, ████, all observed selachian entities across the globe simultaneously demanifested, including those in SPC captivity. No selachian entities or evidence of the continued presence of selachian entities have been observed since. A Maximum State of Emergency was declared soon after by the Executive Pugilist Assembly and the phenomenon was codified as the DREAD PORPOISE COMMUNION. It is the belief of the Assembly that the selachians are congregating in preparation for the FINAL CONFLICT, an event foretold by Elder Pugilord Azmanititas in the Centre's original constitutional documents in 1451.

[08:23] DrTsega: Did you get all that?

[08:23] DrTsega: No? Okay, I'll break it down for you.

[08:26] DrTsega: I was part of a group known as the Selachian Punching Centre. An organization dedicated to fighting the menace that plagued our oceans. "We punch underwater so you can live on the land." That's what we used to say.

[08:27] DrTsega: I know what you're thinking.

[08:29] DrTsega: Yes. It was us keeping you safe the entire time. The Centre safeguarded mankind for centuries. Civilization as we knew it wouldn't have been possible if we weren't around. Our influence was unparalleled, extending to every level of every government, changing the course of world events, yet remaining a complete secret from everybody, which was really quite tricky.

Then, one day, the selachian menace disappeared. Our immediate reaction was one of disbelief, followed by euphoria, followed by raucous celebration. We danced. We drank ourselves stupid. We sang the songs of our forefathers. The orgies weren't officially sanctioned, of course, but boy howdy-doo were they tremendous.

Sadly, our revelry wasn't meant to last.

"DREAD PORPOISE COMMUNION", the Assembly called it. The prophesied gathering of every selachian, big or small. Every sharp, slimy, putrid horror that haunted our dreams, coming together in one place to bring about the end of all other life on our beautiful, green planet.

"But fear not," said our trusted Assembly. They told us that the human race would fight back. They said that when the selachians returned with their armies and squaloid murder-drones, we would be ready.

And they were right. We were ready. Thanks to SPC-001, we managed to get the entire human race fighting fit. At first people were alarmed when everyone started getting super ripped for no apparent reason, but then they realized it was awesome and the panic died down. Within a few months, every man, woman, and child was a lean, mean, punching machine. Even babies had abs you could wash your clothes on. It seemed like everything was going fine.

And that's how it went for the first couple of years: fine. Sure, boxing had to be outlawed once folks could punch with the same Newtonian force as your average car crash, and there were a few riots now and then over tank top shortages, but for the most part everything felt normal.

Year three, people started getting antsy. We had kept ourselves busy at the Centre by devising new weapons for selachian warfare, but every innovation felt hollow with a lack of anything to use them on. We grew listless. Surely the assault would begin any day, right?

Year four. There was an aura of dread hanging over the whole organization. I remember sitting in the Site-71 cafeteria, eating pickled cabbage and creamed corn salads with my comrades, when I finally heard someone ask aloud what we'd all wondered in the dark corners of our heads.

"What if they don't come back?"

It was Simmons who said that, of course. Of course. I kicked him in the face—a punch would have really hurt him—but the damage was done. It's a scary thought, losing your purpose in life. Faced with that kind of existential ennui, it's no wonder that everyone responded by flipping their shit. Hersberger screamed and started smearing her salad all over her face. Gertzler stabbed his fork tines into his cheek with no visible emotion. Bühler just broke down and cried until his tears turned to blood.

But Schwartzentruber was downright fuming. Started shouting all sorts of obscenities. Said he'd shove his fist down Simmons' throat and rip out his toenails from the inside. And Simmons was all defensive, "you all were thinking it" and that kind of stuff. The two kept going at it. We shouldn't have just sat there and watched, but no one thought fists would ever get involved. How could we have known?

I remember the entire cafeteria going silent. One moment, the two colleagues had been arguing. Next thing we knew, Schwartzentruber was wearing Simmons' face around his arm like a bracelet. Fist went straight through. Nobody knew what to say. Hersberger just picked the brain matter from her hair. There was no finishing our dinner after something like that.

We all tried to write it off as an isolated incident, an unhinged employee who forgot his own strength in a moment of pure emotion. That illusion was shattered when reports started coming in from the other sites. Similar incidents were happening all over the world, and within a few weeks it wasn't just limited to SPC personnel. These arms were made for punching, and that's just what they did.

As time went on, it became harder for us to fight the itch. Punching bags were laughable at that point, so instead we invented punching blocks out of a titanium-concrete composite. Even fashioned them into the shape of selachians to help take the pain away, but it still wasn’t enough. Whenever we came close to a cure, someone would end up atomizing the equipment with a flick of the wrist and we'd have to start over.

Eventually, one day I walked into the cafeteria and found the floor covered in what must have been two inches of blood. I thought maybe a pipe had burst until I saw Bühler sitting on a table in the corner. Guy was slathered in viscera from top to bottom, and he was wearing human heads around his arms like they were snap bracelets. I asked if he wanted to talk, but he didn't answer. He just stared at his fists and trembled. Then, in the blink of an eye, he was dead, hole in his beefy chest so big I coulda driven my Grampy's Volvo through it.

That was what broke me, I think. I had never seen someone self-pugilate before. I didn't know how many people were still alive in Site-71, but I knew that I would not perpetuate the carnage. I gathered some medical supplies from the surgical augmentations lab and tied a tourniquet around my burgeoning, well-defined bicep. Carefully, I injected myself with the nearest substance that resembled an anesthetic and bid my guns goodbye.

Screaming, writhing, I hacked off my arm using only a pair of rusty toenail clippers. Needless to say, I was dizzy from pain, blood loss, and the 5 CCs of green apple daiquiri I'd injected myself with, but somehow I managed to drag myself back to the cafeteria to cauterize my stump in the kitchen's oven. Barely clinging to consciousness, I set the oven to preheat, wrapped my stump in a tent of foil, and stuck it inside, turning regularly to promote an even cauter and applying a light baste to keep it moist.

When the bleeding stopped, I went back and repeated the process with my other arm. The second time was harder, I think. With no free hands remaining, I was forced to grip the toenail clippers with my teeth. I also ran out of baste. It was the most agonizing experience I could ever possibly fathom, but here I am. Alive. My cannonball deltoids still ripple with pugilistic vigor now and then, but the stubs are too short to be lethal.

And that's it. That's my story. That's how I ended up here, barricaded alone in an underground facility, typing on a keyboard with my tongue. I haven't been able to get in touch with any other Centre sites, and I can't leave the building. Every day I lose a little more hope. My personal hygiene has suffered, too—partly because I can't look at a pair of clippers without bursting into tears. My toenails are getting really long now. I'll probably have to use a pair of scissors or something. I could even use that electric carving knife I got for my birthday. Hell, I think there's a chainsaw in the supply closet. No shortage of options, really.

Even if I'm alive now, there's no telling how long that will last. Sometimes I hear people punching on the reinforced doors, desperate to break in and claim another victim to slake their drunken punchlust. Someday they may succeed. There's enough food left around to keep me going a while, though just for a while. I've kept my mind occupied and my spirits up by watching Dr. Cavender's Walking Dead box sets, but I can feel that post-Season-Six quality drop looming just around the corner.

Maybe this was their plan all along. Maybe they just left the planet, knowing full well we'd destroy ourselves. Maybe when the last human has passed their final breath, the selachians will return from wherever they went and feast on our tight, sculpted corpses. Or maybe they're happier where they are now. Maybe they're not coming back. I hope that's not the case. As much as it pains me to say it: I miss them.

I miss sharks.

[23:19] DrTsega: With all the squats I've been doing, I could probably pop their heads between my fucking thighs.

[23:20] DrTsega: pop 'em just like cherries. hell yeah

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beautifulbuckys · 5 years ago

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(Animal) Crossing Bridges

Word Count: 2.1k

Ship: Bucky Barnes x Y/N (platonic to romantic)

Description: You introduce Bucky to Animal Crossing!

Warnings: swearing, fluff :)

A/N: hi sorry ive been dead, enjoy

"Buckyyyyyy!" You groaning, shaking the sleeping beefy figure. You'd been doing this for ten minutes. Every thirty seconds, you'd give him a shove to wake him up. However....he wouldn't seem to budge. Deciding to wait a few more seconds, you gave him a final shove.

"Bucky!"

Suddenly, the brunette's eyes shot open. He let out a heavy sigh, covering his face with his hand. You knew it wasn't too bright because you hadn't drawn the heavy, grey curtains. The room was still dark, just light enough to make out all the objects in front of you. Bucky liked his room, it was his querencia. He felt safe inside his room because it's somewhere where he can control everything. That's exactly why you're waking him up too! Today is March 20th, and the new Animal Crossing game came out! You wanted to introduce Bucky to the game, as he'd been searching for a new hobby. You'd been playing the game since you were little. The thought of running a town with cute little animals was like heaven to you. Just strolling around, chatting with adorable Isabelle and hitting villagers with nets was entertaining.

Glancing at the clock, you felt a spike of panic. You were running late! You yanked Bucky out of his plaid comforter.

"Ow, Y/N! What the hell is going on?" He barked. You guess you accidentally shoved him into something, because he was rubbing his bicep was he approached the bathroom.

"No time to get dressed! Brush your teeth and then we're out of here, pretty boy!"

You could hear the dull groan from the bathroom. Chuckling, you left the room and jogged down the steps. Once you made it to the living room, you bolted to the shoe rack to grab your sneakers. Humming as you tie them, you heard footsteps coming from the stairs.

"Ready to go?" You asked, turning around. You clearly expected it to be Bucky, but it wasn't. You were greeted with the tall, blonde, god who'd been roaming around since 5 this morning. Thor was grinning at you. His eyebrows were raised in a questioning manner. He was wondering where you were rushing off to at 8 in the morning.

"Morning, lady Y/N! Where are you off to in such a hurry?" He asked, beaming at you with curiosity.

"We both have the same question, pal," Bucky said as he approached the two of you, "Where are we going this early in the morning? Gonna miss the new Starbucks drink or something?"

You sighed, "No! We're going to GameStop!"

"GameStop?!" Both the men exclaimed in confusion. You figured they were confused for different reasons.

"What in the heavens is GameSt-," Thor began to ask until you shoved Bucky out the door.

Once you made it outside, you felt the apricity. It was a charming morning, the temperature was slightly chilly, the wind nipping at your nose. The mix of the bright sun and the crisp breeze was selcouth. You were from the west, where it was practically always summer. No cold weather. As you and Bucky made it to the streets, you marveled at the way the sun hit the buildings towering above you. It reminded you all over again why you moved out east. Feeling the cold wind yet again, you tucked your hands into your jacket pocket.

"So, Y/N, care to explain why we're going to GameStop at approximately," He looked down to check his watch, "8:13 in the morning?"

You looked up at him with a grin. "Bucky, do you not know what today is?" You asked. He shook his head, his face displaying a puzzled look. You giggled.

"It's March 20th! Today's the day that Animal Crossing: New Horizons comes out! Isn't that exciting!?" You shouted with excitement. People looked at you, clearly judging your excitement at such an early hour. To be honest, though, you couldn't really care.

"What the hell is Animal Crossing?" Bucky asked, taking you to no surprise at all. You'd been waiting for him to ask so you could spend the rest of the walk explaining.

That's exactly what you did. For 30 minutes, you two walked, you explained the game in its entirety. You didn't forget about Bunny Day. He asked numerous questions, varying from villager questions to questions about Isabelle. You described your favorite character, Sherb, a goat introduced in Pocket Camp. He didn't find it funny when you told him some people will beat up their villagers. You seemed to get him excited. He was walking with a pep in his step, each stride getting him closer to GameStop.

"Y/N, what do I need to play this?" Bucky questioned, now interested in getting the game for himself.

"You need a console called the Nintendo Switch. It's handheld, but if your old man eyes can't see it, I can hook it up to the TV for you." He giggled at the quip.

As you began approaching the store, you noticed how empty it was. Either it was closed or you and Bucky were very lucky. Bucky approached the door, opening it for you. You thanked him and practically skipped into the store.

"Hello!" The older man behind the cashier cheered. He seemed to be the only worker in the store. The other employees might be outback. His wide smile invited you and Bucky into the GameStop. "How can I help you two younglings today?"

"Hi sir, me and my friend here were just wondering if you had a switch in stock?" You asked. You purchased the switch as soon as it came out. You'd played so many other games on it, it was your love. The other switch was for Bucky.

"Do you want a lite, regular or do you want the special edition switch?" The worker, who's name was Ken, questioned. Bucky asked the difference between the three. Ken was a big help to Buck, explaining the differences and why there's a special edition.

"He'll take the special edition," You cheer, with much approval from Ken. "Can we also get two copies of Animal Crossing: New Horizons please?"

Ken quickly helped the two of you. He checked you and Bucky out, which you paid for. Bucky was unhappy you paid for him but there was nothing he could do about it. You two were off to the compound, picking up some coffee on your journey back home. Both you and Bucky were looking forward to playing together. Bucky had so many ideas for clothes he wanted to make himself. He even offered to try to recreate a dress from your closet. Now, Bucky had a distraction. When he was upset, he could play the game with or without you. With that being thought of, you were happy to introduce the game to him. He was clearly so excited to play a game with no violence or scary noises.

Once you made it home, you were greeted with Sam on the couch., "Motherfucker! Get this ugly ass ape off my island!" He yelled. He was clearly the only one on the main floor.

"Gee, you oughta think Nick was paying us a visit," Bucky laughed to himself. He always found jokes about Nick were hilarious.

You immediately scurried to the couch to see what Sam was doing. He was playing Animal Crossing! You sat next to him, immersed in watching him play the game. Sam was wacking the ape character Al with a net. Bucky seemed to notice what Sam was doing and began to walk away. You noticed he was uncomfortable and walked away. You figured you'd tell Sam about you and Bucky's adventure later.

Following Bucky into his room, you carried your bag with you. Once you made it to the familiar dark room, you plopped the bag onto Bucky's cluttered bedside table. He reached into the bag and pulled out his special edition switch.

"You ready to play?" He asked with a smile on his face. You nodded and retrieved your switch from your room. You popped the cartridges into your consoles and began playing.

You both were silent for a while until Bucky looked up at you. "What two villagers do you have?"

"Antonio and Wolfgang, what about you Bucky?"

He turned his screen to show you. You saw a greenish elephant with purple eyeshadow and recognized her as Opal immediately. The winged eyeliner helped you identify the sassy and snooty villager. He walked closer to the famous green tent that belongs to Tom Nook and saw a lovely brown doe. You smiled at the fact that Bucky had one of your favorite villagers, Fauna. She was always so sweet and generous. At a young age, she had your heart. He turned his screen back to him, and you listened to the noises his switch made. You could hear the sound of him weeding, which put a smirk on your face.

"Whatcha smiling about over there, cutie," He said.

"Once you finish weeding, sell it to Tom Nook. You'll find the bell count funny,"

"Tom Nook is a capitalist crook!" Sam said as he passed Bucky's room. Both you and Bucky laughed at Sam's comment. The comment also helped you realize the door was wide open. Bucky leaped off his bed and shut the door. Returning to his bed, he whelved in his blankets. Not because he wanted to hide from you, he just was so focused.

The next few days you saw Bucky less and less. He was cooped up in his room playing Animal Crossing. The only time you really saw him was to grab snacks. So, you had an amazing idea! Animal Crossing sugar cookies! You knew Bucky would love them. He has a massive sweet tooth, and he'd love the Animal Crossing crossover! With the idea in your head, you got to baking. You snuck off to Tony's lab to 3-D print a cookie cutter. While that was printing, you began the baking. You found a simple sugar cookie recipe and followed it to a T. When you got to the part where you needed the cookie cutter, you asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to have one of the agents on the training floor run it up to you. Once the agent, who ended up being a baker herself, ran you up the cookie cutter, you cut them and began baking them. When you popped them in the oven, you immediately began working on the two colors of green frosting. You squealed you were so excited! Later on, you finished the cookies. You asked F.R.I.D.A.Y to let Bucky know you're coming up and began your trip. You carried the cookies, frosting and all, and knocked on Bucky's door.

"Come in!" Bucky yelled.

You walked into his room, and to much surprise, his curtains were drawn! "Animal Crossing change your mind on the light?" Bucky laughed at the comment and looked up at you. He gasped at the sight of the cookies.

"Oh yeah! I made these for you," You laughed, handing him the glass plate with the vibrant cookies. You watched Bucky immediately shove one into his mouth and moan with delight.

"They good Buck?"

"SO GOOD!" He yelled, viciously chewing on the cookie. You scrunched your nose at the sight of him chewing while talking. You slowly backed to the door and walked away. While you were walking, you heard a muffled 'thank you!' and some mumbling.

On your way downstairs, you checked the time. It was almost 8 at night, and you still hadn't had dinner. You approached the kitchen and made a quick salad. Once it was prepped, you made your way into your room. After you made it, your phone buzzed on your bed. Hustling over to check it, you realized it was a text from Buck!

Bucky Boy: check your inbox thingie on animal crossin

You quickly grabbed your switch and selected Animal Crossing. Getting gifts was a great part of Animal Crossing that you loved! It was always so fun seeing what people decided to give to others, it was really kind. Once the game loaded, you made your character run to the inbox area. You found a postcard written by Bucky.

To the beautiful Y/N, Thank you for the cookies. They were amazing and I have to return the favor once I figure out how to turn on the oven. JK I know how to turn it on, but I can't bake. I'm sending you this here instead of talking in real life because honestly, I'm shy. Long story short, I love you. You introduced me to this escape and I'm grateful. But I liked you before that too...I promise. Um...enjoy the gift. -Bucky

You teared up at the sight of Bucky's sweet yet awkward words. Quickly, you accepted the gift and opened up your inventory to get it.

There it was. A dress from your closet made in Animal Crossing. Made by the sweetheart Bucky Barnes.

And you loved it.

#bucky barnes #Winter Soldier #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barns x reader #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky barnes x you #marvel #mcu #fanfic #marvel fanfic #marvel studios #captain america #marvel cinematic universe

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ace-pervert · 4 years ago

Text

Ive finished watching eleven seasons of rupauls drag race and now feel I am ready to briefly review each season

S1: A good start though it must be said, ONGINA WAS ROBBED! Also there was favoritism.

S2: Not a bad season but at least somewhat ruined by Rupauls rather overt favoritism towards Tyra and dislike of Pandora. While I didnt like Tyra on the show his callout of the entire drag community after leaving drag has given me massive respect for him and feels like karma for RuPauls rather blatant self promotion and attempts to turn himself into some kind of rolemodel. But aside from the callout and Jujube, and Pandora the season is unmemorable.

S3: The top three were all highly skilled and the winner seemed to deserve it though that was later put into doubt after it came to light that Raja had worked with RuPaul before the show aired, and lets be honest Manilla Luzon was much more talented.

S4: One of the best seasons in drag race history, has the best music video, and Sharron Needles is hands down the most influential and versatile queen in drag race history. The only bad part, aside from the editing against phi phi, is Latrice Royal, who, and I feel this needs to be said, wouldnt have been in the top four had Willam stayed, and certainly wouldnt have made top five if Alaska had been allowed to join, mostly because she kept showing a similar outfit, her not being a particularly good actor, being thrown off really easily, and quickly relying on a shtick.

S5: Good season, but I feel that Roxxxy really did end up in the top three only because Visage and Ru love drama and the Jersey Shore look that was at the time Roxxxy Andrews trademark look, and the Coco Alyssa drama was really dull, neither deserved to be as high as ended up, and ultimately both queens are unmemorable.

S6: Not a bad season but i'm not a fan of Courtney Act or miss Lake, mostly because I think they both get away with looks that really they shouldnt have gotten away with, though arguable so did Bendelacreme. Though it was nice that there wasnt any drama, and Bianca del Rio is really funny.

S7: Ive tried to come up with words to describe this season, I cant, its just that bad. No not bad just dull, really dull and awkward, and the worst part is that its not the queens who drag the season down, the queens themselves are fine and Pearl stands out as being a particularly interresting person when not on drag race, its RuPaul being a tool off camera and coming up with challenges that play to the queens weaknesses rather strengths.

S8: Unfortunately I found Bob the Drag Queen so attractive out of drag that I stopped caring about what he looked like in drag with the end result being that I have no idea if hes a good drag queen. But ignoring the moments where I was drooling over Bob it was a good season with some truly great outfits,and a good Snatch Game, that wether for good or bad did very quickly become the Bob the drag queen and Kim Chi show, making it in hindsight the second most plann

S9: The season started off with an appearance by Lady Gaga , whose reviews of the outfits consisted of little more than name dropping and not much else, unintentionally setting the tone for a dull and awkward season with a cheerleading challenge that causes one person to crack a rib and another to almost permanently lose their ability to dance, a Reality Star Rusical that is well just dull, painfully bad lipsinks, uninterresting outfits, and perhaps the blandest wierd drag queen in the history of the competition. Its also in this season that introduced the lipsink for the crown format that I personally despise as it takes the power away from the viewers and puts it back in Rupauls hand.

S10: Solid season, mostly focused on returning contestant Eureka but the other contestants are given enough focus that it feels natural. The challenges are interresting to watch, the snatchgame is funny, and the dresses are well made. The top four are all stars in their right and the winner of that season could have easily been any of them, making this the only season where a lipsink for the crown made sense.

S11: Starts off strong with people like Miss Vanjie, Brooke Lynne Hytes, Nina West and Yvie Oddly revealing a high degree of skill both as actors and as dress makers. Unfortunately the blatant favoritism of Rupaul, the judges, and the producers towards Silky Nutmeg Ganache (honestly they seem like a nice person in real life, but on the show they just seem like a tool), unimaginative challenges, distracting and irritating cameos by former drag race contestants including by Bianca whos dull and unentertaining appearance shows exactly why contestants shouldnt return at all, a rusical so god cringeworthy you'll pray for death (Trump the Rusical), the worst snatch game in drag race history, and painfully predictable twists result in a terrible season, with the only interresting things being the romance between Vanjie and Brooke (they broke up four months after the last episode before the reunion due to conflicting schedules), Miss Vanjie being well himself, Nina Wests acting, and Yvie Oddly's outfits .

S12: Havent seen it, but lets be honest this season is the one where the star is a sex offender. By now many fans have analysed the season and its become clear that the person who was intended to be the focal point and possible winner was Sherry Pie, which means that editing them out for very well known reasons also makes them the focal point just in a different way than intended. Hell it wouldnt surprise me if this season becomes known as the one with Sherry Pie, not the one where the winner won. Though it might also be the last season that RuPauls on, as there are rumors that hes stopping with drag race.

The Christmass Special: To short for a christmass special, to much like the other episodes to be special, to blatantly commercial to be Christmass, and to scripted, even by drag race standards, to be drag race.

And now for a review of the Judges themselves

RuPaul: On the outside a warm, outspoken, well meaning person whose done things which are truly groundbreaking. But beneath that warm exterior beats the stone cold heart of a businessman. He's calculating, manipulative, greedy, has no qualms about setting queens up for failure, and ultimately hasnt done much that could be seen as groundbreaking. Perhaps the worst part is that its clear that in terms of humor , mentality and fashion hes never left the 70s, which combined with his callous way of treating the enviroment (as shown by his fracking empire) and his history of transpobia, makes him a liability to the show. Even if you manage to ignore all of that, the show is ultimately about the drag queens, not about Rupaul, and Rupauls attemps to make it about him really drag the show down

Michelle Visage: Shes a mother of two teenagers with a stay at home husband pretending to be a bitchy whore on a tv show about drag queens, yeah thats her career. Now in truth thats not the biggest issue, the biggest issue is that shes got hangups and makes the same jokes over over again and that after being on the show for ten years she hasnt developed as a judge so the routine, to paphrase miss Visage herself, has been done to death. In truth the show needs something other than the same damn shtick and same damn comments all the time, and if she cant do it then she should quite so someone else can do it for her. Ok maybe thats the second biggest issue, the biggest is that she kisses RuPaul's ass untill it shines brighter than a mirror.

Valentino Rice: Good judge, and had great chemistry with the other judges.

Ross Mathews: Cute guy, wierdly charming, and interacts well with the others.

Carson Kressley: He comes across as a very tired, very frail, very gay but very very very dull ninety year old man, which makes sense given the fact that his entire career is based on being gay, and hes, well old. Ok hes not really old, hes 50, but on camera he looks and acts closer to 150. And the issue isnt that hes gay, its that hes doing a shtick, a very dull and fairly offensive shtick. Possibly the worst choice for a judge, and the show jumps in quality whenever hes not there.

Now for a few things that just bug me.

Favoritism: Unfortunately one of the biggest issues of the show is that seasons tend to be structured around Queens who are intended to be the winner, or at least the hero, from the get go, which has the advantage of allowing the creators of the show to change the structure and challenges from season to season, but also makes it hard to watch if the season is blatant in its favoritism, if the intended winner isnt that good, or if the winner gets eliminated for one reason or another.

Cameos by former contestants: Cameos are a great way to get people to say "I know that person" which is great in a tv show because you know that the cast wont change in the next episode, but not great in a competition where all it does is take away screentime from competitors and giving it to competitors who most likely did not do well enough to win in their own drag race, and even if they did, the show is not about them, but about the current contestants. As such if Ru wants them to return he should put them in All Stars.

Cameos by celebrities: Add nothing. Its drag race not the red carpet, i'm watching for the up and coming drag queens not famous people trying to boost their careers.

Adding politics to the show: No, just no. Dont do things like Trump the Rusical, dont have steven colbert do a voiceover, theres no way that can go well and it comes accross as virtue signaling. If Ru wants to do something good he should double the prize money and have half of the money go to a charity of the winners choosing, or stop fracking.

Adding politics outside of the Show: Drag queens are celebrities and entertainers, as such are constantly in the public eye and dependent on being in it for their income which means that anything they say in public, wether its gossiping, or discussing politics, needs to be viewed as being some form of self promotion. Now this might make things difficult for them, but it is a well known part of being an entertainer so it can be assumed that they were well aware of this before they joined Drag Race. If they do want to talk about politics without being viewed as self promoting, they are free to make an anonymous account on one of the many sites, like tumblr, where its assumed that no one knows who the other people are.

Family Friendly Drag: Lets be honest its men shoving their cocks up their own asses while dressing up as women, and naking refferences to sex, for the sake of entertainment. Thers nothing family friendly about it. Nor should there be as part of the appeal of drag is that its something that is restricted to adults. Likewise they arent heroes, they are entertainers, not doctors, not construction workers, entertainers no more worthy of praise then a person on a sitcom.

Drama outside of Drag Race: While drama on the show is to be expected and is part of what makes it entertaining, drama outside of the show is different its more personal and something that in truth should not be shared. However by presenting it as gossip on various shows they are saying its part of the show, which is unhealthy at best.

Final note.

While I am critising the Drag Race, I am not doing it because I dislike the show, I am infact a big fan of the show but at the same time I want to get my thoughts out there see how others view these topics.

#drag race #rupaul

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luxusnoname · 5 years ago

Text

A Long Forgotten Ache, Pt.1 (Xigbar/Vexen)

Summary: Being a Nobody is easy without all of those messy emotions weighing you down. Still, Xigbar gets to thinking and maybe he misses it a little. Or, rather, he misses someone. But he never goes about things in a straightforward way. The first half of a two part fic.

Characters/Pairings: Xigbar/Vexen

Rating: T (swears, fighting & some blood, nbd)

Word Count: 2.6k

Author’s Note: Part two is technically done, but I definitely want to do some quality edits before posting. Both parts were actually written last year with inktober prompts, but ended up fitting together nicely as one story. I made a lot of improvements to this portion and want the continuation to be on that same level. So in the meantime… Happy 2/4 ^^

~~~

A Long Forgotten Ache

When Xemnas asked Xigbar who he wanted with him on a recon mission in a world with no magic, the freeshooter was perhaps too quick to volunteer Vexen. He could tell that answer wasn’t exactly what the Superior expected.

“Are you… Quite sure? You wouldn’t rather have Xaldin or Lexaeus accompany you?”

“Look, I know he’s the resident egghead and not exactly our best fighter, but he’s the only one around here with an eye as sharp as mine. Well, almost.” Xigbar grinned and pointed to his good eye to reinforce the point. “Yeah the other two have brute strength, but I could really use his intuition on this one.”

That, of course, was only part of the reason. Vexen was also incredibly fun to agitate. The rise he could get out of him wasn’t the same as it used to be, but it was better than anyone else in the Organization. Plus, they hadn’t spent much time together since becoming Nobodies. He would lie if he wasn’t a little curious as to how much of Even was still left. But personal curiosity and entertainment didn’t make for a good argument, so he said nothing more.

Xemnas hummed to himself, considering. “I suppose that would work. But see to it that he’s capable of defending himself without his magic, should there be any difficulties on the mission. You’ll depart at the end of the week.”

Xigbar gave a flippant salute as he summoned a corridor to the academic’s lab. “You got it, boss.”

As expected, Vexen was less than pleased with Xigbar’s request. Something about his talents being best utilized for research, having no interest in a fruitless recon mission, and honestly Xigbar kinda stopped listening at that point because it turned into a full on laundry list of reasons why he had better things to do and he would not be wasting his time with this.

“See, but here’s the thing,” Xigbar cut in a few minutes into the scientist’s rant, knowing full well he’d be there all day otherwise. “I’m not just asking you politely. These are orders straight from the top.”

Vexen sputtered, nearly dropping his beaker full of who knows what chemical. “Lord Xemnas himself picked me for this assignment?”

“Well, I made a case for you but yeah, boss man’s orders.”

Vexen finally turned from his experiment and narrowed his eyes at the freeshooter. “If you made a case for me, then I suppose my only way of getting out of this is to make a case against myself. Provided, of course, that’s an option.”

“Heh, you’re welcome to give it a shot,” Xigbar shrugged, “be my guest. But I really doubt he’s gonna budge on this one. I was pretty convincing.”

“We’ll see about that…”

In the next morning’s meeting, Vexen made his case. Or, rather, he tried to make his case. It had only been five minutes and most of the Organization was tuning out. Luxord shuffled and cut his deck, starting up another game of solitaire. Xaldin leaned back in his seat, appearing to nap with his eyes closed. Zexion rolled his eyes as the others quietly chatted amongst themselves. Eventually Xemnas cleared his throat, interrupting the academic and regaining the attention of the meeting.

“While your research is of remarkable importance to the Organization, so is this mission and every other mission we undertake. Do you mean to suggest that the orders I give are frivolous?”

“Of course not, but Lord Xemnas-”

The Superior shot him a withering glare that silenced him once and for all. “My word is final, Number IV. You are going on this mission and I’d rather be certain that you’re prepared for it. Whatever form that preparation takes is up to Xigbar.”

As Xemnas disappeared from the room, uncomfortable glances were exchanged among the remaining members before leaving to begin their own missions. Xigbar shot Vexen a smug grin, receiving an irritated huff in return.

After the meeting, the scientist pulled him aside in the Grey Area. He was slightly subdued after Xemnas’ scolding, but Xigbar could tell if he had emotions that he’d be fuming inside.

“While I believe our Superior has far too much confidence in you, I have no other choice but to comply. So how would you like to do this?”

His lips curled into a cheshire grin. “Meet me back here later tonight and I’ll brief you on the mission. Tomorrow morning, we’ll spar so I can test your readiness.”

Vexen gave no indication that he would comply as he stomped off into a corridor, but Xigbar knew he would show. He may grump and argue until he’s blue in the face, but he followed orders. That was one thing that hadn’t changed about him. About Even.

Xigbar caught himself smirking - no, smiling - at the thought of the academic’s Somebody name. Huh. Despite it all, maybe he hadn’t changed much himself.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning found Xigbar waiting for Vexen in the Hall of Empty Melodies. It was his favored room for training because of all the different ways he could manipulate it with his spatial powers, but he also found himself going there to organize his thoughts when his own room became too stifling. He perched himself on the balcony, one knee drawn nearly up to his chest and the other dangling over the edge.

It wasn’t often that Xigbar found himself pondering his past life. He was essentially still Braig, after all, just without all of those messy emotions. And boy had Braig been a mess. Drifting through life and never getting too attached to any person or place for long, bonds weren’t really his thing. It was strange when he found himself becoming one of the Apprentices.

Ansem was never much more than his employer, to be honest. The man had taken him in, sure, but the guy was the king of Radiant Garden. To consider him a colleague would have been laughable. Really, he spent the most time with Dilan and Aeleus. They were two of the only people he’d ever considered friends. He got on their nerves and he knew it, but he never pushed it too far (though they might argue with that.) But they never got seriously upset with him. Not like Even.

Even. The academic was skeptical when Braig showed up. Understandably so, but did the cold shoulder really have to be so cold? It was no surprise that the man was a master of ice magic; everything about him was frigid, from his stuffy posture to the very air around him. But it only made Braig want to get closer, to get past the ice and warm him up…

Heh, now those were some thoughts he hadn’t had in a while. All in all, it hadn’t been too bad there at the end. He had coworkers and a routine and a life. A place to call home, despite never having asked for any of it.

And then he gave it all up.

Did he regret it? Sometimes.

There were moments, when they began falling to darkness, when he considered the consequences of his actions. He hadn’t meant for them to be caught up in everything, but then again, how could it have been avoided? He never once went back on his word to the old man, but he’d be lying if he said there were never nights where the guilt gnawed at him, moments he looked at Ienzo and saw a boy that would never truly grow up because of him.

But that was the old life. He stirred out of his thoughts and assessed the room below him. Vexen wasn’t there yet, but would be showing up soon. Xigbar dropped down onto the main platform. He wasn’t sure what to expect from this fight, but he was hoping to be surprised.

Even had never been the physical type, relying on his magic for self defense. But there was a noticeable difference between Even and Vexen. Despite lacking emotion, there was something about him that suggested fire beneath the Nobody’s icy surface. Or so Xigbar hoped.

“Apologies for being late, I didn’t want to be here.”

Xigbar smirked at the approaching scientist. “About time. I was starting to think you got cold feet and stood me up. You ready?”

“If I have to be,” he grumbled.

With a nod, Xigbar unzipped and shrugged off his coat. The freeshooter still had the standard uniform of black shirt and pants on underneath, but made a show of dramatically rolling his shoulders and cracking his neck. He snuck a look at Vexen, who was watching with no expression save for a raised eyebrow.

“You failed to mention we’d be disrobing for this,” he muttered, his eyes drifting up and down Xigbar’s form. The freeshooter wondered if he was conscious of it or not.

“C’mon, you call this disrobing?” Xigbar barked out a laugh, peeling off his gloves and throwing them down. “Don’t tell me you’re going commando under there.”

“Well of course not, but-”

“It does wonders for mobility, trust me.”

With an exaggerated sigh, Vexen grumbled to himself as he shed his own jacket. Xigbar couldn’t recall ever having seen the man’s arms bared before - well, mostly bared. His broad shoulders had always been obvious, so it shouldn’t have been too surprising when the scientist wasn’t as scrawny as he’d imagined. Of course, Xigbar couldn’t really talk because apart from Zexion, he was definitely the smallest of the Apprentices in both stature and mass. He gave an appreciative nod before getting into a fighting stance.

Vexen copied the motion as best he could. His form was a little loose, suggesting the lack of experience that Xigbar had expected. But that’s why they were there, right?

He knew the answer before he even asked, but gave Vexen the benefit of the doubt anyway. “You ever done this before, Snowflake?”

“No,” he admitted, “but I don’t seem to have much of a choice in the matter, now do I?”

“Damn straight. After I’m through with you though? You’ll be more than ready for the mission.”

At Vexen’s nod, Xigbar gave a silent countdown. Three. Two. One. Without giving Vexen a moment to think, he lunged and closed the distance between them, hoping to catch him off guard with a swift uppercut. To his surprise, the blow was deflected with relative ease. He took a step back to reassess his opponent.

“Well well well,” he huffed, “I should’ve known the nerd could block a punch. I was gonna take it easy on ya, but now…”

Trailing off, he moved back in and followed up with a series of hooks and jabs, all of which Vexen managed to block. And with each passing second, each failed attempt, the scientist was looking more and more smug. He knew the freeshooter had underestimated him.

As they circled each other, the room silent save for their labored breaths and footfalls, Xigbar grew impatient. He hadn’t managed to land a single hit yet. It wasn’t as if he’d gone into the sparring match with the express purpose of beating on the academic, but he just didn’t understand how he was doing so well. Sure, Vexen wasn’t exactly firing back, instead focusing all of his efforts on defense, but Xigbar was no stranger to a fist fight. So what gives?

And it was then that he remembered Vexen’s signature wasn’t a weapon at all, but a shield. Well, he’d just have to give him something he couldn’t block that easily. He locked eyes with the academic before lunging again.

As expected, Vexen was ready for the attack, dodging the first hit and continuing to deflect the rest. After a few more unsuccessful blows, Xigbar saw his opening and took it. The freeshooter threw all of his weight into a tackle, grabbing the man’s wrists as they both went down.

He sat up, slightly dazed and his own body sore from the fall, but kept the scientist’s arms pinned to the ground. And the momentary look of shock on Vexen’s face - if he could feel shock, anyway - was well worth it. The scientist looked down to see Xigbar straddling his waist and shot him a sneer.

“I didn’t realize this was a grappling match as well,” he hissed between shallow breaths.

Xigbar gave a toothy grin. “Can’t have you being the only one full of surprises, now can I?”

He kept Vexen pinned a few seconds longer, looking down at him. The academic was a mess of blonde hair and faux anger, his chest rising and falling in an uneven rhythm as he caught his breath. He glared at Xigbar, waiting for him to say or do something. Daring him to make a move. And so without a second thought, Xigbar dipped his head and pressed his lips to Vexen’s in a fleeting kiss.

Or, what was meant to be fleeting. The kiss was unexpectedly returned, Vexen’s mouth parting with a quiet ‘mmph’ before falling into sync with Xigbar’s. Something sparked in the sharpshooter’s chest - a long forgotten ache, right where his non existent heart should be. He pulled back, unable to keep his jaw from going slack as he stared down at Vexen. The man’s face was a mirror of his own, almost as if he was equally surprised at the reciprocation. Unless… he felt it too? Xigbar almost thought he saw color beginning to tinge the man’s cheeks when-

CRACK.

In his moment of distraction, Vexen had freed his right hand and swung with all of his remaining strength, landing a solid blow against the freeshooter’s face and effectively knocking him off.

Xigbar clutched at his bleeding and likely broken nose, eye wide with shock. His breath came in gasps as he stared at Vexen. “… the fuck?”

Vexen stood up and grabbed his jacket, furiously brushing his hair back into place. His face was definitely turning red and for a moment Xigbar could swear he was looking at a flustered Even, not the heartless Nobody that had just decked him.

“I’ll see you on the day of the mission, and not a moment before.” He gave the sharpshooter one last glare before disappearing into a dark corridor.

Xigbar couldn’t even think straight as he tried to process everything that just happened. The fight was over quicker than expected. Shit, had he technically lost? Did he just get his ass handed to him by Vexen? All because of some… stupid tingling in his chest that shouldn’t have even been there in the first place. Or at least, it hadn’t been in a long time. Why had he done that?

He laid down, head thunking against the floor as he clutched at his still bleeding nose. Well, maybe it wasn’t all bad. Vexen wouldn’t be telling anyone about their little match after that stunt, so at least his dignity was spared. But that was the least of his concerns at the moment.

In private, Xermnas had confided in him that regrowth of one’s heart was theoretically possible. It was gone now, but he still felt the ghost sensations of a pulse, the flickering of a flame that had long gone out. Maybe there was something to that theory after all. Not that he’d be reporting this back to their Superior any time soon. Or ever.

Instead, it might be worth it to look into the phenomenon on his own. And if he played his cards right, Vexen might willingly help him. He allowed himself a chuckle before closing his eye. After all, research was easier with a partner.

#xigbar #vexen #organization xiii #xigvex #kh #posting b4 i chicken out.#or disappear for a few months again.#hope this isn't terrible i can't write a kiss to save my life OTL

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goldstonegolem64 · 5 years ago

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Ok I know ive post this three time now but the first post was just a mess and the second was and still a mess that didn’t save any of my edits. So this one as all of my edits. Ok I have been having this though bouncing around in may head for about a few days now after watching She-ra for the first time and had the though how can I add my own flair to it. So I had this idea for another Fan-Fic called Theta Squad. I might write this after I Finish hope return as just another one of my side projects I didn’t I'll think about now onto the plot and Main cast

Plot

Are story begins after the battle that killed The Kings of the Kingdom of Snow Force Captain Durge waited at a meet up for the rest of his squad after they were separated . Only to find out that only five member of his squad survived.Them being His son Jace, Blaze a pyromanice, The team Medic Quirrel, A sniper Named Millie, and a Shock troop named Zote. An after seeing his remaining troops loss of morale and the will to fight .Durge decide take his remaining troop and Leave the horde.Three years later of living/ Hiding in the Kingdom Plumeria .War came knocking at their door again. This caused Durge and the other to rejoin the war but this time to work under Brightmoon .Now Theta Squad must now prove their loyalty to the Rebellion ,help train the new She-ra , Face their past and Save as many people from the horde’s control as possible

Characters

Durge

Age 45

Height: 6′.3″

Race Lizard man

Ability and traits Poisonous bite, Razor Claws. Super human strength, And able to breath under water for a hours

Looks; Purple and gray scales and Yellow eyes.

Durge was a young mercenary when the Horde landed in the fright Zone. At first his original mercenary tried to fight off the Horde not for money but for the fear that the horde was a danger to the world. Sadly they failed and Durge was the only one who survived the fight and was given a choose by Hordak either die here or join him and serve as his new Force Captain. He choose to join and was given commanded of Theta Squad a strike team made to eliminate any problem that could stop the horde. He enjoyed doing this killing the horde;s enemies and taking more territories. But that changed when a Mission to eliminate a Rebellion Stronghold but the intel was wrong and Theta squad destroy a Village of innocent people . As he looked around the destroyed Village the cry of a child could be heard . Durge followed the crying and found a small Magicat child crying for his mom or his father. This put into perspective how many children he had orphan and Some what . To make up for this He took the boy and named his Jace and promised him that he would protect the boy and His squad no matter what.

Jace

Age 23

Height 5′.8″

Race Magicat .

Abilities and traits: Jace is a very dexterous, agile and flexible. He can climb up any object with relative ease, natural night vision and heightened sense of hearing, sight and smell

Looks: Black furry with orange and white patches on it , Bright green eyes and missing half of his tail and sharp claws

Jace was born into the horde and into theta Squad and that’s all he ever knew. An he was fine with that he had brothers and Sister that cared for him and a father that loved him. But there was always some thing that nagged at the back of his mind. An that was what was he. He knew he was a Magicat but what did that means were there anymore of his kind or was out there and this haunted him for years. He tried to look up his race on the horde Date base and found nothing about his people. This bothered Jace but didn't stop him from look for more of his kind

Blaze.

Age 22

Height: 5′.7″

Race: Etherian

Abilities and traits: pyrokinesis,,Fire breathing, Fire immunity and mix martial arts

Look : Dark skin with short orange and red hair that catches fire when angered purple eyes

Blaze was given to the horde by the kingdom of Flame along with a few hundred other kids from the kingdom as away to keep the Horde from invading them. This caused Blaze to believe that all royal were nothing more then spineless cowards that only cared about their position of power. An She devoted her life to fighting against the Rebels of bright moon.She was put in to Theta squad do to her expert fighting skills and hated for Royalty . But that all change after the Mission to eliminate the Rulers of the Kingdom of snow. She was left to rethink about her enter purpose in life.

Quirrel

Age: 19

Height: 5′.2

Race: Forest elf

Abilities and traits Healing support and protection magic , flight and medical knowledge

looks: Dark pick skin pointed ears and yellow eyes wings that are four feet each

Quirrel is was only three when the horde attacked his Village and he was taken from his home and was force to serve the horde and when his magic finally manifested itself. He was place upper Shadow weavers train and was Basically tortured into learning all sort of Magic .This caused Quirrel to become a timid and scared man who was obedient to shadow weaver . But after years of learning under shadow weaver the only kinds of magic he could learn were healing Defensive and support. This infuriated her to a point so she just sent him off to work with medical staff and was later transferred to Theta. When he first join the team he was scared that they would be treated the same way Shadow weaver did. But that was not the case when a teammate named Millie became his first real friend and he would do anything to protect her

Zote

Age: 27

Height 6′.10″

Tail length. Four feet

Race: Scorpioni

Abilities and traits Super strength, paralyzing poison , and strong Pincers

Looks peach skin ,green carapace and lite brown hair and silver eyes

Zote join the horde originally to try and find princess Scorpia and bring her to a rebel cell of the scorpioni people but sadly he was put into Theta Squad. Which had being him to be sent from place to place eliminating threats to the horde. He didn’t like this job but he started to like the people around him and he started to feel like he was part of a family again. Something he hadn't felt in a long time . But after the Kingdom of Snow Mission went South and majority of Theta Squad gone. Zote decides to protect what was left of his team with his life

Millie

Age: 25

Height 5′ .4″

Race; Human

Abilities and traits. None

Looks: Peach shin ,black curly hair and green eyes

Millie was raised by the horde like most people. But unlike most people the indoctrination didn’t work on her seeing as she tended to Zone out during those moments. But she still fought for them not for the glory but for the fun of it . She was placed in theta Company do to her deadly precision and accuracy on the battlefield. She in joyed working in Theta squad and made friends with Squad mate Quirrel. She was happy with to be apart of the team but she was slowly getting board with the horde and was going to leave with Quirrel .But after the Snow mission she decide to stay with the rest of the squad to make a better life no matter what it was

#she ra #she-ra oc #she ra bow #she ra scorpia #she ra entrapta #she ra catra #spop adora #glimmer #glimmadora #scorptra #shera scorpia

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astarisms · 5 years ago

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lacuna

pairing: natan word count: 8154 summary: for better, for worse. in sickness, in health. she had taken those vows, even if he didn’t remember it, and she would not break them. all human amnesia au. notes: this is a project that’s been three years in the making. it will be in three parts (that will come later), but i thought natan week was the perfect opportunity to finally post it. i finished this part in 2016 and haven’t edited it, so it will also follow how my writing has changed since i started this project. i hope you all enjoy, and happy @natanweek! :)

saudade

(n.) a nostalgic longing to be near

again to something or someone that

is distant, or that has been loved and

then lost; “the love that remains”

origin: portuguese

The steady tone of the heart monitor was what had eventually coaxed her to sleep every night for three days. It was the comfort, the constant reassurance that he was here and he was alive and that the fear that had nearly brought her to her knees when she’d gotten the call was unfounded.

It was only fitting that it would be the heart monitor that woke her as well — but there was something wrong. Before opening her eyes, she just listened for it, the confirmation of his life, but the timing was off. It was faster than the tone that had been ingrained in her mind, consumed every sleeping and waking moment.

She shot up, immediately alert and prepared for the worst, her eyes darting to the hospital bed that took up the middle of the room where he’d been, unmoving, since he’d come out of surgery. Except now there was a twitch to his fingers, a turn to his head, a murmur on his lips.

She realized then that the change in the heart monitor wasn’t a bad thing, but a good one. Her eyes burned but she pushed back the urge to cry, making her way out of the room as quickly as she could without tripping over all the machines and yelling for a nurse, her voice breaking tearfully.

Within moments the small room was filled, nurses rushing in and talking to each other in terms Natalie couldn’t understand. His doctor was next, side by side with another nurse mumbling something about paging the surgeon.

Unable to breathe with so many people in such a small space, and unable to see him anyways with the crowd that had gathered around him, Natalie stepped out into the hall and leaned against the wall beside the door.

She sighed shakily, looking down at her hands without really seeing them, her vision blurring. She twisted her wedding band around her finger anxiously, trying to ease the thundering of her heart and the racing of her thoughts.

Was he okay? How did he feel? Was it too soon? Could they go home and finally put this nightmare behind them?

The questions were endless, circling round and round, taunting her as much as the noise in the room behind her was, reminding her that they were there to see him wake up and she was out in the hall.

Hearing a low groan beneath several overpowering voices, Natalie squeezed her eyes shut and pressed the heels of her hands to her eyes, taking several deep breaths to keep the relieved tears at bay.

Flashes of that night, curled on the couch to wait up for him, watching some cheesy TV movie, cold pizza waiting for him on the counter. Her phone ringing and absentmindedly reaching over to answer it without glancing at the caller ID. Ipos’s voice, usually so chill and smiling, solemn in her ear, straining like it would break. Horror settling in her bones like ice, immobilizing her. Ipos’s voice vague and distant in her ear, something about having sent Zoe to pick her up and take her to the hospital already.

It had undoubtedly been the worst night of her entire life. They had already taken him in for emergency surgery when Zoe had dropped her off, and the wait had been agonizing. Hours without any updates. Hours of replaying every moment with him. Hours of being stricken with the thought that their goodbyes that morning had been goodbye in the most literal sense.

The relief when they’d told her he was stable was palpable, but there was a catch — he was unconscious, and they had little to no idea when he would wake up.

Three days had felt like an eternity, but now she was grateful that that was all the time it had taken for him to regain his consciousness. She couldn’t imagine if she had had to wait much longer — three days had made her restless enough.

She lowered her hands from her eyes, turning to peer inside the room when she heard his voice, rough with pain and misuse. She couldn’t hear what he was saying, and she could only catch glimpses of him from where she stood, but it was enough. It was a confirmation she couldn’t get from heart monitors, or the gentle rise and fall of his chest.

He was awake. He was okay. They would go home soon and he would recover the rest of the way there and everything would go back to normal.

She stared down at the floor, trying to catch bits of the conversation, but the doctor’s voice was too low. She didn’t know what the verdict was yet, she didn’t know how close he was to recovering, but he was awake, and that had to be good news.

After all, waking up had been the last obstacle they’d had to face. His recovery, slow as it may be, they would conquer together at home.

After several minutes, people started to file out of the room one by one. Natalie moved to the side as much as she could while still peering into the room, more and more of him revealed to her as the room cleared.

The doctor remained by his bedside even as the last nurse finished adjusting his IV and left. Natalie, feeling lighter than she had in days and with a bounce in her step, walked back into the room and to the doctor’s side.

He looked from the doctor to her, all sharp lines and tired brown eyes, and she couldn’t help her watery laugh.

“You scared the crap out of me, dude,” she said, sitting on the edge of the bed and reaching out to take his hand.

“Uh, Mrs. Dev-”

“Who the hell are you-”

“Mr. Devante, please, a moment-”

“Did you just say missus?”

Natalie was a bit stunned by the swiftness of everything — Lucifer pulling his hand away from her as if he’d been burned, sending her a suspicious look. The overlapping voices, their exact words taking a second for her to process. She could only stare with wide eyes, unsure what was happening.

“I — What?”

“Mrs. Devante, I had meant to speak with you before you came in, because I felt this might be the case as soon as we spoke.”

Her chest constricted with the implications of his solemn tone.

“W… What might be the case?” she asked, hesitantly, afraid of the question itself just as much as the answer.

“I’m afraid I think your hus— Mr. Devante has a case of amnesia.” He looked between the two of them, to ensure Lucifer didn’t feel like he was being talked about instead of talked to.

He kept talking, something about how it was not a surprising turn of events after brain surgery, something about not being able to tell if or when his memories would return, something about hope and therapy but Natalie heard none of it, her world closing in on her.

Suddenly she found it hard to breathe. Her vision swam and her ears rang and she barely heard her own voice cut off the doctor.

“He doesn’t…” She turned to look at her husband of 5 years. Her best friend of even longer. So many years… “You don’t remember me?”

He shook his head.

... gone.

It felt like a slap in the face.

“...Are you sure?” It was a stupid question, she knew it even as it slipped past her trembling lips, she knew it even without the look on his face that told her he thought it was a stupid question. And though it was silly, though it was a little breathless and desperate, in that moment it was all she had.

“I’m sure.”

“...Oh.”

“Mrs. Devante-”

“Why do you keep calling her that?” Lucifer snapped, glowering between the two of them. The doctor looked alarmed for a second, before looking to Natalie inquiringly.

“I...I’m your wife. Natalie. Your wi-”

“Bullshit.” Natalie flinched, and floundered, unable to think of a reply in the wake of his harsh tone. He looked to the doctor. “Could you stop calling her that?”

“Um-” The greying man glanced at Natalie again, cautiously.

“...My, uh… Natalie is fine,” she said softly, eyes dropping from Lucifer’s irritated expression to the stark white sheets.

“Ah, well, yes. Perhaps it’s better if we let Mr. Devante get his rest? After all, proper rest is key to a speedy recovery.”

“Haven’t I been resting enough?” Lucifer scoffed, but settled back into the pillows anyways.

“A coma is not the same as resting. We’ll get you some food soon, to see what you’re able to keep down as well.”

Lucifer grunted, but otherwise didn’t reply.

The doctor touched Natalie’s arm, and she scrambled off the bed.

“Right. Um, I hope you uh, rest… well,” she said, stumbling over her words and avoiding his eyes, unable to keep the disbelief from her voice but doing her best to mask the hurt regardless.

She turned and ducked out of the room as quickly as she could, the doctor on her heels. He shut the door softly behind them and turned to look at her.

“Is — is it permanent?” she asked, quietly even though Lucifer was well out of earshot now. She looked up at him with big, hopeful green eyes, and he really wished he could give her a different answer.

“There’s no way of telling,” he said slowly. “It could be permanent,” Natalie took a shuddering breath, and he hurried to continue, “but there’s also a chance he could regain them, quickly or over time. It’s a matter of circumstance. Every situation is different.”

She nodded slowly, glancing at the door and wrapping her arms around herself. He had been in this field for too long, and was good at recognizing the signs of her resolving herself now to face what laid ahead.

“Yeah. Okay.”

“I’m sorry there’s nothing more we can do,” he added sincerely. Natalie gave him a bright smile, but he’d seen a lot of those too — it broke his heart to note that hers was one of the most authentic, if a little strained, like she hadn’t had to use her perfected grin in some time.

“You’ve done so much already. Thank you. Him being okay is the most important thing.”

He nodded, his years of experience betraying him when he was unable to find a way to comfort her.

“My pleasure, Mrs. Dev—”

“Please,” she said, a shaky exhale. “Just — could you call me Natalie?”

“Of course.” Her smile this time looked a little more genuine. “I’ll leave you to it, Natalie.”

She nodded, and he left her alone in the hallway. She sighed and pursed her lips, trying to decide what she should do next.

Calling Ipos was the first thing that came to mind — he and Sheila would be happy to hear that Lucifer was awake. She reached down to grab her phone before she remembered it was in his room, charging beside the cot she’d made a home out of during her stay since she’d refused to leave his side since she’d arrived.

She bit the inside of her cheek, glancing to the door and debating whether or not it was worth it, before deciding she was being silly. She braced herself, and cracked the door open, peering inside.

He looked like he was asleep.

Creeping inside, she tried to be as quiet as possible. She made it halfway across the room before he grunted, and she froze, turning slowly to look at him. He was staring at her with none of the warmth of the brown eyes she had fallen in love with a hundred times over, brows drawn.

“I — s-sorry, I was just grabbing my…” she trailed off, gesturing instead. He rolled his head to look at the small pile of her stuff, his gaze narrowing. “I didn’t mean to disturb you.”

He sighed, and closed his eyes again.

“Just get it.”

She made herself quick about grabbing it, and turned to walk out, but thought twice and spun back around to grab her jacket off the top of her bag. She tugged it on as she manuevered carefully around the small room and all its machines and wires, and she tried very hard to keep her nose in the screen and not glance back at him, but her body betrayed her.

She chanced a look at him, and seeing him lying there peacefully, she was overcome with emotion. It didn’t matter that he no longer had his lush, dark hair. It didn’t matter that a scar stretched across his scalp. It didn’t matter that he wasn’t the same man she married. It didn’t matter that he didn’t remember her.

She was overwhelmed with emotion, with the relief that he was alive, that he was breathing, that his eyes were closed of his own will and not the result of his head injury and the surgery that followed to save his life.

Her knees nearly gave out beneath her, and she threw caution to the wind as she rushed the last few steps from the room. She shut the door as softly as she could with trembling fingers, not noticing that he was staring at her.

Once out in the hallway, she was at a loss — bathroom, she needed the bathroom, but she had been using the one in his room and she didn’t know where the public one was. Her vision blurred and her head swam and she stumbled down a random hallway in search for it.

After she’d turned down the third hallway with no results, she leaned against the wall, breath shuddering. She slid down until she touched the floor, buried her face in her pulled-up knees, and let the dam break.

She sobbed, everything she’d been repressing for the past three days bursting forth. She felt everything she hadn’t let herself all at once — the frantic worry, the crippling fear, the indescribable pain, and most prominently the overpowering relief. She felt it all pulse through her with so much force it hurt.

She hadn’t been able to think as optimistically as she’d pretended. Several what if’s taunted her every waking moment and visions of life without him made her dreams bleed with terror and grief.

The vision of him, pale and breathing shallowly, blood matting his hair to the back of his head and curling down the sides of his face and staining the pillow crimson and his body limp and broken and vulnerable in a way she had never seen him — was one created entirely of her own imagination. She hadn’t actually seen him after that accident, he’d already been taken back for surgery by the time she’d reached the hospital, but the image her own mind conjured had haunted her every moment since.

But none of that mattered anymore. None of it. Because he was okay, she couldn’t reassure herself enough that he was fine, that besides a few lost memories the doctor had said he would likely make a full recovery. And that — that was enough for her. It had to be.

As her sobs died down, she heaved on the floor of the deserted hallway, shaking and exhausted. She was no stranger to bottling her emotions, but it had been a long time since she’d had to keep some that roiled so violently within her under lock and key.

She jumped when she heard the rustling of someone sitting beside her, and looked up into a pair of warm, familiar eyes. Ipos didn’t say anything, he just offered his silent presence. Feeling better with the company, she sniffled and wiped her face on the sleeve of her jacket.

They were silent for a minute, the only sounds in the barren hallway Natalie’s shuddered breathing and sniffles as she attempted to compose herself again.

“H-How did you find me?” she finally asked. Ipos shrugged, leaning back against the wall.

“A few nurses pointed me in the right direction.”

“I — Is Sheila…?”

“She’s in his room. Told her I’d bring you by as soon as I found you.”

“Liar.” Ipos glanced over at her, a smirk turning up his lips.

“What she doesn’t know won’t hurt her.”

Natalie giggled, sitting up straighter, “We should go back, before I make a dishonest man out of you.”

Ipos laughed quietly, but it faded out when Natalie stood up.

“You sure?”

He wasn’t a man of many words, but Natalie knew what he meant — was she ready? To face him again? To endure his lost memory? To handle the loss of his love?

“Yeah,” Natalie said, sobering up.

Ipos only nodded, and stood to walk her back.

***

Natalie would be lying if she claimed the last few days hadn’t taken their toll on her. She was exhausted and trying to stay optimistic just wore her down more.

Attempting to keep smiling when he would barely so much as look at her, trying to laugh when he recounted old stories with Sheila and Ipos that she’d heard a million times over, keeping the tears at bay every waking moment — she was just about ready to collapse.

Ever since he’d woken up, she’d spent her nights at home. He didn’t like the idea of her being there when he didn’t know her. She understood, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t felt like a slap in the face.

That didn’t mean trying to sleep in their bed alone didn’t feel cold and empty.

She’d taken to sleeping on the couch instead, and she busied herself during the day trying to prepare for his homecoming. Keeping herself distracted from her own thoughts had become a struggle, so she put all her leftover energy into cleaning, blasting music and singing along just as loudly to drown out the negativity that tried to pull her under.

But he was coming home today, and she would be optimistic if it killed her. He was going through enough, and she was going to make his transition back into his life as easy as possible.

She made sure everything was where it belonged and dabbed concealer over the dark circles beneath her eyes before she set off to the hospital to pick him up, equal parts excited and nervous. She was hoping a familiar environment would trigger some of his old memories, but she was also trying not to get her hopes up.

The doctor had warned her there was a chance he would never regain them, anyways. So Natalie was resolutely devoted to keeping this whole ordeal about him — he was the one who was injured, he was the one whose life had been thrown completely off-kilter, he was the one who needed the help.

Her own problems could wait, because him recovering was the big picture and she wouldn’t lose sight of that. She would nudge him in the right direction, but she wouldn’t pressure him to remember. Not when he had bigger things to worry about.

Her stout optimism was tested the moment she stopped outside his door, though. She heard him, inside, arguing.

“Why can’t I crash at your place?” A beat of silence accompanied by the sinking of Natalie’s heart. Of course, she should have known he wouldn’t want to come home with her — after all, to him, she was a complete stranger.

“C’mon, Ipos, this— no, listen, I’ll sleep on that shit-stained couch, I — wait, what? You moved? You big fuck, when did that happen?”

She figured she’d been eavesdropping long enough, and knocked lightly on the door before pushing it open and poking her head inside.

“Hey,” she said, gently, not wanting to risk his temper. He tensed, and Natalie tried not to let her smile waver. “I brought you a change of clothes, for whenever you’re ready…”

“Yeah, okay,” he said gruffly, and jerked his chin towards the end of the bed. “You can just set them there.” She walked over, setting the bag where he’d indicated and soothing it out.

“Just… whenever you’re ready,” she repeated, sincerely, trying to catch his eyes. He refused to look at her, however. She bit back her disheartened sigh, and stepped back. “Just let me know, okay? I’ll be outside.”

He nodded once, and she clasped her hands in front of her tightly to keep them from shaking as she retreated once more, with the sinking feeling that retreating from him — her best friend, her confidant — was going to be the norm very soon.

She stopped once the door closed behind her again and after a moment of hesitation, she pressed her ear against it as he resumed his conversation with Ipos.

“I don’t know…” she heard him say, and there was an uncertainty in his voice that she hadn’t expected given the demanding and abrasive tone he’d had before she interrupted. “I don’t know her.”

Her breath shook as she exhaled, and she turned her face to the ceiling to blink back the tears. There was a long silence on his end, and she almost turned away when he spoke again, a bit of the edge from before back.

“I don’t know if I can remember her. I don’t know if I can love her.”

Her hand flew to her mouth to muffle the pained gasp she wasn’t sure he could hear anyways but didn’t want to risk, and she spun around and fled before he could catch her, before she could hear anything else she didn’t want to.

That was her karma for eavesdropping, she supposed, as she felt her already fragile heart shatter into pieces.

This time, her search for the bathroom didn’t result in an abandoned hallway, but instead found her bowed over the sink, the heels of her hands pressed into her eyes, her head throbbing as she resisted the overwhelming desire to cry.

She needed to get it together. She couldn’t react like this every time he said something that stung — it wasn’t his fault he couldn’t remember. She had to remind herself that he wasn’t being malicious, but that he was understandably very confused and disoriented and that she would be put off, too, if she woke up with no memory of a person claiming to be married to her.

She took several steadying breaths to compose herself, then slowly peeled her hands from her face. Her eyes were a little red, so she grabbed a paper towel and dampened it with cool water. She dabbed it gently beneath her eyes in hopes of making the swelling go down a little.

Once she decided she was presentable enough to brave the waiting room again, she slipped from the bathroom and traveled the short distance to the lobby where she could wait on him to get changed and sign the release forms.

He, thankfully, didn’t keep her waiting as long as she had expected him to. He emerged from his room within half an hour, and though he didn’t seem thrilled at the idea of coming home with her, he didn’t say anything against it, either as he signed his discharge forms, dropping his bag by his feet.

His doctor was giving him some final instructions about bed rest and not over-exerting himself — “that means you’re gonna be out of commission for awhile, Lucifer, and I’ve already talked to your chief about how long you need to stay out,” he’d said, to which Lucifer scowled but nodded.

Natalie was lingering, not close enough to make Lucifer anymore uncomfortable but enough to overhear. The graying man caught her eyes a few times and she nodded subtly in response, because they both knew Lucifer was too reckless and restless to follow the strict orders unless he was watched.

“We’ll have your follow up in about a month, alright? It should be pretty routine, but if you notice anything unusual please come in immediately regardless.” Lucifer nodded absently, it was clear he wasn’t listening anymore, itching to not be cooped up anymore.

Natalie’s apologetic smile was tired and strained but she waited silently while the doctor looked over the forms Lucifer handed him back to confirm his release.

“Looks like you’re good to go,” he said, glancing at the last page. “Though I’d prefer if you used a wheelchair. You just had surgery.” He sighed at the look he was given, and conceded. “Just remember all I told you, alright?”

“Yeah, sure.” The doctor shared a look with Natalie and she lifted her shoulders in a delicate shrug. Even without the amnesia, Lucifer had always been impartial to hospitals, especially for long periods of time.

“All packed up?” she asked after the older man wished them a safe trip home and took his leave, a hesitant tease since all he really had was the clothes on his back and a few of his favorite books she’d brought for him.

He hummed in acknowledgment and scooped up his bag. Natalie pursed her lips, but didn’t push his lack of a reply. Instead, she folded her arms over her stomach and followed him as he made his way to the elevator.

The ride down was silent. Natalie had several things she wanted to say, but she didn’t know how to bring them up and she wasn’t prepared for more of his rejection just yet. So she kept quiet and when the elevators opened on the ground floor he strolled out ahead of her, then stopped.

His brows were furrowed, clearly frustrated as he looked down at her. She didn’t know what she could’ve possibly done wrong this time, all she’d done was walk beside him, until —

“Well?”

“Well… what?”

“Where’s the car?” he asked, an exasperated edge to his voice.

“O-Oh, right, I’ll go pull it around—”

“That’s not necessary. That’ll just take more time.”

“You shouldn’t walk too far, though, the doctor said—”

“I had surgery, I’m not crippled. I can walk to the fucking car,” he snapped, and Natalie flinched. He looked away from her, and his tensed shoulders slumped a little in what she recognized as regret for losing his temper, but he didn’t offer an apology.

“...Right,” she said after a beat, and hated how her voice wavered. “Sorry, I’ll — it’s this way.”

She took the lead and was glad for it, because if he was behind her he couldn’t see the way her expression crumbled as her smile became too exhausting to fake anymore. The parking garage wasn’t far, but it was a pain to navigate and she tried in earnest to get him to the car as quickly as possible without the short trip being too much for him.

When it came into sight, she fished her keys out and unlocked the doors, moving to get in. She paused briefly when she noticed his uncertain expression and the slight sheen on his forehead, and she wished she’d just made him stay put in the lobby so she could have brought the car to him instead.

She didn’t have time to linger on it, however. He tugged the door open and slid in, careful not to hit his head, and she got in and started the car, eager to get them home.

He crossed his arms and leaned back in his seat and Natalie found herself distracted by the possibilities of what would happen once he was home as she put the car in reverse and took the wheel with both hands.

Would he hate it? Would the familiar environment rattle something within him? Would it fail and only serve as a bitter reminder of his lost memories?

She couldn’t say. She didn’t know what to expect, and while she was usually fond of surprises, this one worried her.

She shifted in the driver’s seat uncomfortably, her fingers tapping a nervous beat against the wheel. She hated driving, and preferred taking the bus or walking or leaving it to him, which was ironic considering the first time they’d met he had pulled her over for speeding.

Her accident about a year after they’d been dating had really put things in perspective for her, however, and even though she had walked away from it physically sound, she had been shaken.

The drive home lasted for what felt like forever, but when she finally pulled into the driveway she kept her eyes firmly in front of her until she'd parked. Her fingers tightened around the wheel, before she released it and chanced a look at him.

He was staring up at their house with the same familiarity he had greeted her with — or rather, lack thereof.

“This is it,” she said, trying for enthusiastic but not wanting to come off overbearingly so, and wiped her hands on her jeans. She tried not to linger too long on his unimpressed expression.

It wasn’t his fault he didn’t remember them picking this out together because it was in their budget even though it had almost nothing they’d wanted. It wasn’t his fault he didn’t remember many of their days off spent together making this house their home. It wasn’t his fault that the walls he’d so looked forward to coming into at the end of a long day were now unrecognizable to him. It wasn’t his fault and she had to keep reminding herself of that.

He made the first move to get out of the car, finally tearing his eyes away, and she scrambled out after him. She wanted to get his bag for him, but he grabbed it before she could get to it and turned away without a second glance.

She bit her tongue and followed him up the short distance to their front door, fumbling with the keys while he stood off to the side, annoyed and impatient. Once she got it open, a feat with her sweaty, nervous fingers, she gestured for him to go in first. He gave her a look but obliged and she followed after him, shutting the door softly behind them.

He stood just inside, looking around at the odd decoration and the abundance of potted plants, not sure what to make of it all. Natalie decided to give him a moment, not wanting to rush him.

She noticed his gaze fall to a small table that she’d decorated with photos of them and their friends. She couldn’t help the rush of hope she felt, especially the longer he stared at them — pictures of them when they were dating, one a friend had snapped when they had told everyone they were engaged, one of their wedding. Surely, surely they had to trigger something?

She didn’t dare breathe, digging her nails into her palms as her chest swelled when he reached for them…

...and she felt herself deflate, the air rushing out of her like a balloon and taking the hope she’d let consume her for that brief moment with it when he grabbed their wedding picture and turned it down, until it rested facedown on the table where he wouldn’t have to look at it.

Natalie’s heart twisted painfully, and her smile became more difficult to uphold. She stepped in front of him, quickly so he wouldn’t see her expression crumble. It was all she could do to keep her voice even.

“Come on, I’ll show you around,” she offered, walking deeper into their home.

“Can you just show me where I’m staying?” he said gruffly. “I don’t really feel like getting the whole grand tour right now.”

She froze midstep. She swallowed hard, but nodded, and turned for the bedrooms.

“Yeah, of course. It’s… it’s this way.”

The heavy thud of his footsteps behind her matched the painful beat of her heart in her chest as she guided him to the end of the short hallway.

She opened the door at the end to the master bedroom and moved to the side so he could step in.

“This is our—” she didn’t miss the wrinkle of his nose at her choice of words, and she looked away, “—bedroom. I… You can stay, or, you can have it. I mean, it’s already yours, but I can — I’ll stay in the guest room.”

She felt him staring, but she couldn’t bring herself to meet his eyes this time.

“The, uh, the bathroom is just through that door,” she said, gesturing lamely. And I’ll be staying in, um… in the guest bedroom. If you need anything.” She tilted her head back down the hall. “It’s the second on the left.”

He nodded in her peripheral, and she turned to leave, fingers curling around the knob.

“I’ll let you get settled in, then.”

The door clicked softly on her way out, and she crossed the short distance to her new bedroom. With one last look towards their room, she slipped inside and leaned heavily against the door. Her knees buckled and she allowed herself to slide down, until she hit the ground.

Her breath shuddered and she pulled her legs up, until she could rest her face in her knees. Exhausted, she squeezed her eyes shut and pushed past the pounding in her head, refusing the urge to cry.

They would get past this. They had always gotten past everything, together. This obstacle was inarguably their biggest one yet, but they would figure it out. She had to believe they would. She couldn’t give up so easily.

Their wedding picture, turned down, flashed in her mind and a tear slipped unbidden down her cheek. That had been the first thing she’d decorated with. That had been a constant since they had moved in. She had put it by the door in case of an argument where one of them would leave angry — when they came back in, that picture served to remind them to leave their anger and work to fix things instead.

She sucked in a breath and raised her head, swiping angrily at her face and glaring at the moisture that came away on her fingers.

Things were different now. He was different now. Years of the experiences that had changed and shaped him were gone, but the man she had fallen in love with was still in there. She just had to remind him of the woman he had fallen in love with.

She couldn’t rush him, though. She knew that much. She couldn’t imagine how strange this all must have been for him, and she wanted to make the transition as easy as possible.

It would take time, but they had all the time in the world.

But first, baby steps.

***

“What are you doing?”

Natalie jumped, turning away from the stove to face him and laying a hand over her heart. She opened her mouth, ready to crack a joke about how he still managed to sneak up on her after all these years, but she caught herself and thought better of it.

“Making breakfast,” she answered instead. They’d had takeout for lunch and dinner, she thought it would be nice for him to have something homemade instead. “Chocolate chip pancakes, your favorite!”

She could tell by the look on his face that he was skeptical about them being his ‘favorite’, but they promised chocolate and if there was one thing that would never change about her husband it was his unwavering love of chocolate.

She turned back to the stove, a smile tugging at her lips. At least she could get something right.

She slid the last one onto a plate and dropped a small square of butter on top of the stack, then carried it and the syrup over to him.

He looked down at the plate, less than impressed by the ugly pancakes with jagged edges and the burnt splotches.

“Bon appetit!” she said cheerfully, and Lucifer looked up at her, then back down to the pathetic pile of vaguely circular and questionably edible pancakes before him.

“...Thanks,” he muttered, and grabbed the syrup, deciding that if he drowned them in it then they couldn’t possibly be as bad as they looked.

He cut into the stack and lifted the bite to his mouth. He choked around the taste, and for a moment, he tried to get it down, he really did. He gave up on that effort, though, instead grabbing a napkin and spitting it out, wiping his mouth.

“That bad, huh?” Natalie asked, and he looked up at her. She didn’t look surprised or upset, just disappointed and a little sheepish. “Sorry. I’m not a great cook. It’s funny, you used to—” she stopped herself by taking his plate once she realized what she had done.

It was too late, though, and he stood up with an unreadable expression. Natalie frowned, and moved to apologize, but he cut her off.

“Don’t forget to turn the stove off,” he said, and disappeared back down the hallway towards their — his — room. She stood staring after him, and set his plate back on the table.

“Way to go,” she murmured to herself, leaning against a chair, her knuckles going white around the back of it. Every time she thought she was making progress she slipped up and ruined it.

Chewing on her lip, she spun around and flicked the stove off, hating the reminder he’d given her that he’d given her so often before, each time more teasing than the last.

Turn the stove off, Natalie.

I have nightmares about you leaving that thing on.

The guys over at the fire station will never let me live it down if they find out my wife set a fire.

She pressed the heels of her hands into her eyes, laughing to herself. He had hated her cooking and he always told her he refused to eat anything she made, though she knew he would do anything if she asked, he just had to put up the right show of resistance first. He had always gone out to check that the stove was off before coming to bed with her, and she had always rolled her eyes and teased him about it.

I didn’t even use the stove today, Lucifer.

You attract so much bad luck it wouldn’t surprise me if it turned on just because you looked at it.

You’re such a jerk.

She grabbed his plate again and dumped the contents in the trash, along with the extras she’d made for herself. She wasn’t hungry anymore. She rinsed the dishes off and dropped them in the dishwasher and then cleaned up the mess she’d made.

It didn’t take long, even as she tried to devote more time and attention to it than necessary just to keep her hands busy, to do something because she felt so useless. She had taken the week off for work, to help him get settled again, but she wasn’t so sure if she’d need the whole week if he didn’t even want to talk to her. She dried her hands and cast the towel onto the counter, sighing.

She turned to look around the small space for something to do, and her eyes fell on the photo of them pinned to the fridge. She walked over, slipping her fingers beneath it to get a better look, thumbing the edges tenderly. She’d surprised him that day at work. She’d snuck up on him, kissed his cheek, and snapped a picture to catch his reaction.

Her teeth worried her lip for a moment while she hesitated, and then she yanked it off. She went in search of a box, and once she found one a decent enough size, she dropped the photo in there. Then, she made her way to the living room, where she swiped all the photos of them into it. She made her way through every room except their bedroom, taking all evidence of their memories together down to shut them away.

She would show him later, she would revisit them with him, she promised herself. But she would take them down for now. She wouldn’t make him look at them every day.

She wouldn’t make him regret coming home.

The box and all their pictures found a new home beneath her bed. All except their wedding picture. She set that one up carefully on the nightstand, so at least she could look at it. She dusted her hands off, but once she stepped out of the room she immediately felt like she wasn’t even in her own home anymore.

It felt empty, impersonal, cold without their lives playing out over the walls. She looked over her shoulder, at his shut door, then at the clock. It was almost time for him to take his medicine, and she knew he needed to eat in order to do that.

Maybe she could make up for breakfast.

She started for the bedroom, going to tell him she was leaving, but her fingers hovered over the knob. She blinked at it, then looked up when she heard his voice coming from inside.

“—tried to kill me with those fucking pancakes, I swear,” she heard, and she covered her mouth with her hand, torn between the urge to laugh and the urge to cry. “It’s not funny, Ipos, I—”

His voice faded and she decided that was enough eavesdropping, backing away from the door. She’d leave a note instead for him to find, if he even noticed she was gone. She’d be back in less than ten minutes anyways, if traffic wasn’t horrible.

She found an old bill and scribbled “Be right back” on the back of the envelope, leaving it on the table just inside the door. She snatched the keys up and slipped outside.

Traffic wasn’t bad, just as she’d hoped, and she was at the small bakery in no time. The bell jingled welcomingly when she walked through the door, immediately consumed in the warmth and pleasant smells.

Rosenfeld Bakery. It was his favorite place. The interior was a play on the name, decorated with roses Natalie’s shop supplied now and small, old frames of rose fields. They’d found it years ago and nothing else they tried ever compared to the little shop, tucked into a corner.

“Good morning, Mrs. Devante!” the owner, Anthea, greeted from behind the counter.

“Good morning,” she smiled, relieved at the friendly face, and walked over.

“The usual? Where’s Lucifer?”

“Yeah, that’d be great,” she said, and dropped her eyes to the display. “He’s, ahh… He’s at home. Could you add one of those eclairs, too?”

“An eclair? You making up for something?” Anthea teased. It was rare she saw one without the other. Natalie laughed, but it sounded breathless, forced.

“Something like that.”

Anthea frowned, setting the bag on the counter between them. Natalie fished out a bill and pushed it across, pulling the bag more towards her instead.

“Is everything alright?”

It took Natalie a long moment to answer as Anthea rung her up, waiting for her answer with a concerned crease in her brows. Was everything alright? Not really.

But…

“It will be,” she finally said, raising her eyes to meet Anthea’s. She smiled at her and gathered up the bag of Lucifer’s favorite breakfast, turning to leave. “Keep the change!” she called over her shoulder, and walked out before Anthea could even get a word in.

Her return home was even quicker. She was excited, because her cooking was a longshot, she’d known that from the beginning, but she was sure this was something he could appreciate.

She hurried inside, the warm bag tucked against her side, and travelled back into the kitchen. She pulled down another plate and arranged the chocolate-cinnamon rolls he ate religiously in one half, and put the double chocolate eclair on the other half. Smiling to herself, she made her way back towards their — his — room.

She knocked lightly on the door, and waited for a few excruciating moments.

“Lucifer?” she finally asked, and there was another beat of silence before she heard shuffling and finally the door opened up.

His eyes dropped down to the plate almost immediately, and then back up to her. She saw the skeptical arch of his brow, even as his eyes kept dropping back to the plate. It looked a lot better than what she’d presented to him earlier, she knew.

“A peace offering,” she offered as an explanation. “I know this is hard for you and I’m probably not making it any easier, but I figured I couldn’t go wrong here. I didn’t make it,” she added quickly when she saw his lip twitch as he undoubtedly remembered the disaster pancakes.

He stared at her for a minute longer, before taking the plate.

“Where did you get it?”

“Rosenfeld’s. It’s a bakery on the corner of 5th.” He was halfway to lifting one of the rolls to his mouth when he paused.

“Never heard of it.”

“We uh… we found it a few years ago,” she said slowly, cautiously, not wanting to upset him. She watched his expression carefully as she added, “It’s a bit of a hole in a wall, but it’s really good.”

Something in his eyes darkened, and he nodded and set the roll back down.

“Thanks,” he said, but there was an undefinable edge to his voice and he was unable to meet her eyes now. She felt a piece of her break away, screaming, wondering what she could say if everything about his likes or interests when she knew him was apparently off the table. She was trying to help.

Didn’t he want to remember?

“...Yeah, of-of course. You, um, you have to take your medicine at 11:30.”

“I know.”

“I just thought I’d remind you, just in case.” She shifted uncomfortably, not sure whether she should try to catch his eyes or avoid them altogether. “I know you need something to eat with it, but if you… if you don’t want that there’s cereal and stuff in the kitchen. You’re more the welcome to help yourself.”

“I don’t need you to fucking babysit me, Natalie,” he said, and even he seemed surprised at how harsh his voice had been, but he didn’t make a move to apologize. Despite herself, it was the first time she’d heard him say her name since he’d woken up, and it sent a shiver down her spine. “I’m a grown man, I know how to take care of myself.”

The words felt like a slap in the face. She felt her stomach drop. Her fingers curled into white-knuckled fists in an attempt to keep him from seeing her shaking hands. Her heart beat a thunderous beat against her ribcage and the blood rushing through her ears was deafening.

She looked up at him, and he was looking at her now. There was harsh dip between his brows, his light brown eyes angry, tensed against the doorframe. Her eyes fell on the bandage covering his stitches and her breath shuddered.

“Yeah,” she said, calmer than she felt. She met his eyes again, now that she’d made her point with her gaze. “Sure looks like it.”

She turned on her heel and marched back to her room. She shut the door with a little more force than necessary, and went to go sit on the bed. She let her fingers uncurl, and pressed them against her thighs in an attempt to quell how violently they shook.

She stared at the floor for what felt like an eternity, trying to even out her breathing again, trying to get the resonance in her ears to go away, trying to see something other than the angry curl of his lip and the annoyed set of his jaw.

Finally, she raised her head. She was never one to let the day pass without living it to its fullest, but there was nothing more she wanted than to crawl into bed and sleep it away right then. She hesitated, because what if he needed her, but—

He didn’t need her. He’d made that perfectly clear.

She caught the shimmering frame of their wedding picture on the nightstand. She stared at it, her chest tight with the memory and all the implications it held, all the vows it upheld and all the arguments it had resolved.

She reached over, and with every part of her crying out in protest, she pushed it face down.

Then she kicked her shoes off and crawled under the sheets, pulling the covers above her head and trying to ignore how sharply she felt her heart break.

#satan and me #natan #natanweek2019 #star light star write #lacuna #prompt: hospital

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mmazzeroo · 6 years ago

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Chapter 15 - NED IV - That’s A Big Campfire

@helloimnotawesome - Chapter 15 updated. I’m SO sorry for the long wait. Thought I forgot about you, didn’t you ;) Well....finally there’s a new update for you as well as a new mood board :) Enjoy, my friend! <3

EDIT: Posted this earlier with the mood board but it got flagged!!! Stupid Dumblr, so while waiting the staff to realise their mistake here’s a repost and you’ll have to go AO3 to see the mood board. Sorry about that sweetie <3

NED IV - That’s A Big Campfire

"In a heartbeat, Dr. Stark!"

"Thank you so much, Sam," the boy is still so formal, "and Sam?"

"Yes, Dr. Stark?"

"Call me Ned, please." He smiled to himself.

"Ah right, yes, of course Dr. Stark...Sorry! Ned..." He could practically hear Sam blushing over the phone.

"Good! Now, once again thank you for helping with this, Sam."

"My pleasure, Dr. S..Ned."

Again, he chuckled at Sam's overly politeness. "Won't take more of your time. See you in a couple of weeks," not waiting for Sam's answer he hung up the phone. Crossing the big field of grass behind Dragonstone castle, he walked over to his wife and Rhaella currently busy cooing over his grandchildren who were rolling around on a blanket placed on the grass in the shadow of a beautiful old tree.

"Just spoke to Sam - it's all set."

"Wonderful, honey! He's going to be so surprised!" His wife was beaming up at him.

"Hopefully only in a positive way. I don't exactly have a good track-record when it comes to surprising my eldest son." He sighed as he looked around searching for the man in question.

"Oh stop it!" Rhaella grabbed his arm and pulled him down to sit between her and Catelyn. "He'll be so excited I bet he'll go speechless. You didn't see his sad puppy face when he was on the phone with Robb that day and had to tell him no. He looked like he thought he'd be ruining his brother's big day because of it. We didn't see him again until nightfall."

"He was always an emotional boy, Ned. Considering what he's lived through it's remarkable he's still able to be this empathetic." Catelyn gently stroked him down his cheek and kissed him. "Jon has a good heart. Been put back together with countless stitches yes, but at it's core still true and pure. He'll be over the moon when he sees what you and Robb has arranged."

He couldn't help smile at his wife's wise words. My sweet gentle sons. Trying to catch up on the time they lost together. "You're of course right - both of you." He quickly smiled at both women sitting on either side of him. "Instead of worrying I'll look forward to seeing some joy on my son's face." Joy! Wouldn't that be a sight!

"That's the spirit!" Rhaella gave him a big smile and light-heartedly nudged his shoulder with her own. "Now, not that I didn't know already, but I must say Robb has made a fabulous choice for his future wife." She nodded her head slightly to the riders further down the field.

Margaery and Sansa where on each their horse accompanying little Rhaenys on her pony between them. Rhaenys was in awe of both. Earlier in the day they had been sitting in the grass braiding each other's hair, adding flowers to the braids and even making garlands that they'd been wearing like crowns. He had to admit he found it adorable how the two took the time for Rhaenys and indulged her. Arya, on the other hand had rolled her eyes, pretending to gag and walked away. Oh how he loved his two girls. So different yet so similar. Just don't tell them that! They had the same fierce spirit, though when it came to expressing said spirit they'd chosen different ends of the spectre. Arya was, for the most part, hit first ask later. Sansa, on the other hand, would take the hits yet refuse to give in. My wild wolf and quiet wolf. Interestingly, he'd noticed a change in both over the past 5-6 months that Jon had been here at Dragonstone and everyone had made sure to make frequent visits whenever schedules allowed. The only one flying in a few times a week was Viserys for his therapy sessions with Jon. Arya was gradually beginning to show signs of something he could've sworn was a foreign concept to her - patience. Who would've ever thought! And Sansa, oh Sansa! She was slowly coming out of her shell, walking and talking with a little more confidence every day, and she was biting back. When Catelyn had told him that Sansa had suggested wearing a sleeveless dress as a bridesmaid, if Margaery agreed, his eyes had overflowed with tears. His shy, broken girl wanting to proudly put her scars on display like that to the world made his heart melt with pride and fatherly love. If I ever get my hands on Joffrey or Ramsey I'll smother them with my own bare hands!! Margaery, of course, had happily and eagerly agreed, knowing what a huge step this was for Sansa.

He couldn't help wonder what it was that caused all these changes. Has Jon returning helped fill a void we each had in our hearts? Is our individual healing contributing to us heal as a family? Have we all found our 'missing piece' in our lives and souls? Or are my girls just growing and maturing at their own natural pace? No, it was all connected to Jon one way or another. By his attempts to reconnect with his siblings and family for his own healing he was helping them with theirs as well. He knew Jon didn't necessarily do this knowingly. After all, the young man was simply trying to regain what he thought he'd lost. However, when he saw anyone in need of help - in anything - he immediately jumped in to provide any assistance he could. He'd always done that even as a little boy. Jon didn't want to see anyone in pain or suffering for any reason. Once again he was taken aback by his son's willingness to help others even if it meant at the expense of his own health. He had done so for years as a member of the Night's Watch, and it became even more ironic when taking into account Jon's blood type. O negative, also known as the universal giver because all other blood types could receive it without trouble - Jon however if given any blood type other than his own would die. It was as if the Gods had forged him to endure heartbreak, pain and suffering for the sake of others, to shield others, to help and save others. What was it Jon had said a few months ago? 'The same hammer that breaks glass forges steel'. That's it! Jon is teaching Sansa that she's steel while all this time she thought of herself as glass! Except he's hitting her with buckets of love. Ha! Jon you brilliant man! He made a mental note to go properly thank the gods when he returned to Winterfell before the wedding. Gods, the wedding! For a minute there he'd completely forgotten everything about it.

He was happy for Robb and Margaery, but at the same time he couldn't understand his little boy had grown up so fast. Oh Ned, you sentimental old fool. Every parent thinks that. He shook his head slightly. In just a few weeks his son and heir to the title of Lord of Winterfell would be marrying the granddaughter of President Olenna Tyrell. It was quite a match and the media and the public loved it! The media! Damnit! Another thing we need to try to prepare Jon for.

Just after New Year's the Starks and Targaryens had sent out a joint press release informing the public of the miraculous return of Jonathan Dayne, heir to Starfall and the son of Eddard Stark and late Ashara Dayne. The families asked to kindly give Jon and his family time and space to recover from the shock, and any press inquiries could be directed to Mr. Tyrion Lannister. Shortly after the President had made a public statement that the Starks were collaborating closely with the authorities, and that further investigations into the events of the years since Captain Dayne's kidnapping and the people involved were already under way, and how she was hoping to hear about more families being united despite all the time passed. The public had responded overwhelmingly positive and sympathy messages online and offline had poured in. Especially messages from Dorne and the city of Starfall was filled with excitement of how they'd welcome him back home with open arms. Luckily, Jon and the cinnabons, thank you for that nickname Arya, had managed to remain sheltered on Dragonstone for the past almost 6 months. Now though it was time for him to step out into the limelight and take his 'rightful' place in the media as the Lord of Starfall. Viserys had assured him that Jon was ready for the circus and that he'd be alright surrounded by family. At least he'll have Dany by his side as well.

"Speaking of future spouses," his wife interrupted his busy mind, "your daughter has made a wise choice herself, if I may say so."

"Indeed! She's had a few trial and errors, but I have a good feeling about this new man in her life." In a mirthful tone Rhaella continued, "I have on good authority that he's from a reputable family, and he's even a war hero!"

"Oh my! What a catch!" Catelyn played along with Rhaella's joking tone and comically pretended to be fanning herself. "But is he handsome? No fun in bagging a man if he's looking like an oaf!"

"Believe me my friend when I tell you he's the prettiest in all the lands!"

He couldn't stop himself from rolling his eyes. Giggling like school girls!! Gods!

Catelyn wrapped her arm around his waist. "Oh c'mon, Ned, have a laugh!"

"Not as long as you call any son of mine 'pretty'!" He said feigning offence.

"But it's the truth, dear Neddy!" Really don't like it when she calls me that. "Next month at Margaery and Robb's wedding there'll be swooning left and right over all of your sons, but in particularly your eldest. Oh Cat, can you imagine how dashing he'll look in his uniform?! I might even swoon!"

All three of them laughed out loud at that image. Rhaella herself so much she had her head leaned back and holding on to him to keep from toppling over.

They all sat quiet for a bit trying to catch their breath again.

"On a serious note though, I do have a good feeling about those two. They are clearly good for each other, and in due time I expect it to naturally end in vows as well." Rhaella stretched her arms and tickled little Adei and Amador on their little chubby baby stomachs and the air was instantly filled with delighted baby giggles. "They are both mature enough to understand that this is something that needs to be done slowly. It warms my old heart to see them take their time to get to know each other and enjoy each other and not rush in like headless chickens." She turned her head a gave him and Catelyn a warm smile.

"They grow up so fast don't they?" His wife was looking at the babies with a wistful look in her eyes. "Oh by the way before I forget, Margaery and I have managed to colour coordinate Dany's maid-of-honour dress to the colours on Jon's uniform. Wasn't easy as the blue and red doesn't exactly go with the colour scheme of the wedding, but we made it work." She flashed a satisfied smile before adding, "with a little help from Sansa as well."

"And what did my daughter say to the changes?" Rhaella had an amused look on her face as if fighting to hold back a laugh.

"She doesn't know. We didn't want her to keep secrets from Jon. Not telling how the bride and her maids will be dressed is one thing, but in this case the reason why would be a big secret."

"Thank you!" He leaned in and give his wife a tender kiss on her temple. She clearly understands how sensitive Jon is about secrets. Gods I love her!

"When she questioned it, Sansa told her that all the Starks were colour matched with the bride as a way of symbolically welcoming her to the pack. Dany of course still looked a bit sceptical." She chuckled at the memory. "So Margaery simply told her it was a bride's prerogative to change her mind."

"Of course!" Rhaelle chimed in clearly amused at the story.

"So that means she'll be as surprised when she sees him as he will seeing her?" He was a little puzzled.

She chuckled. "Yes. She's just expecting him to show up in the traditional morning suit."

"Oh, we better be ready to catch two pairs of young lovers when they see each other that day then!" Once again Rhaella and his wife were giggling like school girls. Once again he caught himself rolling his eyes at them.

Catelyn cheerfully slapped him on his arm. "Don't tell me you weren't thinking the same thing, Ned." Actually I wasn't. "Jon won't even notice the bride walking right behind Dany, nor will Robb notice anyone in front of Margaery!" Again he was surrounded by contagious laughing and he willingly joined in. Gods, she's right!

"I take it Arya enjoyed joining the boys for her first tailor-made suit?"

"Immensely! Although she did find the whole 'having to stand still'-part very tedious." Both women joined in his laughter.

"Well my dear, she is our wild wolf after all." There was so much love in Catelyn's eyes and voice when she said it that he had to kiss her.

Pulling back he looked in his wife's beautiful blue eyes and said, "that she is."

Rhaella cleared her throat as she with an innocent voice said, "want me to leave?"

"Oh stop it, Ella! You're just jealous." Catelyn teased back

"I am actually but that wasn't my point." Laughingly Rhaella wrapped little sleeping Adei in a blanket and stood up.

Catelyn wrapped up Amador, still looking curiously around. As she stood up she placed the little boy in his arms and she packed up the big blanket they'd been sitting on.

"Should I be concerned though," he caught the two women's curious look now, "that our little wild wolf will throw a fit because she won't fit with her new favourite brother now?"

Catelyn and Rhaella shared a look he couldn't quite decipher though there was a hit of worry there.

"Well...," his wife looped her arm with his, "what colour tie and waistcoat will she be wearing?"

"All groomsmen have grey waistcoats and colour of tie is set to match the bridesmaid. Being Arya she of course chose a gold coloured tie, and though her and Bran have switched places I don't think you'll get her to change the colour of her tie. Sorry ladies."

"Oh no, gold should fit well with the golden pieces on Jon's uniform so we should be in the clear. Thank the gods!" His wife huffed out a sigh of relief and Rhaella was just chuckling next to them.

As they were crossing over to where the boys had made camp Catelyn suddenly stopped by his side, pointed and laughed. "How much wood did you tell them to use, Ned? That's big a campfire!"

#helloimnotawesome #heartstrings #jonerys modern au #jonerys fanfic

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eastergrass · 6 years ago

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Digit

Marie was on the downstairs couch, a game of solitaire unfolding on the coffee table. She had made a pot of coffee midway through The Today Show. She drank it all and chased with a pinch of Antony’s weed. She sat crosslegged, slowly losing to herself in front of the muted television.

The house was remarkably unchanged, but Marie herself was a bit different from the last time she called it home. She was quieter. She had started watching a lot of television, and had begun losing energy she didn’t realize she had. She lost touch with the global tragedies she used to worry about. She didn’t read. She heard only other peoples’ music. She was 27, buzzing on her mom’s couch, waiting for her little brother to come home so she had someone to talk to. She also hadn’t won solitaire in three days.

She decided to clean a dewy-bottomed pineapple. It left a print on the counter from sweating on the granite. She found it was easy to be centered by these methodical tasks. Marie removed the crown. She lopped off the sweet-smelling bottom. The knife had a heavy, professional feel to it. Her parents always liked the finer things. The sticky juices spread out, seeping over, under, and into the teak board.

Time passed. She had expected someone to be home by sundown, but this didn’t seem like much of a possibility any longer. The heat of summer began to die off. She carried a grocery bag filled with the bits of pineapple skin and the spiky green dome out to the trash bins. A recent invasion of fruit flies was attributed to Marie’s laziness and she made sure to be extra clean. Also Thursday was trash day, so she needed it out tonight.

II.

There were tall pines, bare to the top. Like a Christmas tree, teetering. The bins were beside the garage in a latticed alcove. The arbor, her mother called it. The smell of suffocated trash snuck out the lid before she could even open it.

Removing the lid, she was hit: stagnant rainwater, forgotten produce. There was something less familiar, though. What caught her attention was the bag at the top of the trash pile. A plastic take-out bag covered with purple orchids, with scrawling gold type: Thank You! Thank You! Thank You!

She was confused as to how someone ordered what seemed to be Thai or Vietnamese food without informing her. Antony didn’t have the money. Of course, Adrianne would have gotten her food, but then talked about the sodium content. The few leaves that had turned and fallen skittered in the driveway, clacking like dry dice.

A dismal curiosity got the better of her, and she bent into the putrid plastic maw. She tore open the sack, and a corner of a dishtowel stuck out. Marie lifted the bag out of the canister, into the darkening evening. It spun, dangling from the trussed handles. Fully removing its load, she began to discover the red. She reached some parchment paper at the center of the towels, with deep dark stains. She knew it was blood. You! the bag accused.

She heard the imperceptible hum of her mother’s mint-green hybrid pulling up the lengthy driveway. Marie tucked the bloodstained paper wads into the pockets of her sweatshirt, and turned to walk toward those crystal-clear headlights that cut the now fully-realized darkness.

Later on, her mother accosted her while she watched the 6:00 news. “Do you remember those anti-drug commercials, with the girl melting into the couch?” Adrianne perched one hand on her unmotherly hip, titled at a calculating angle. Marie stared at the television.

“You look like that.” She spun into the kitchen. A cork was drawn from bottle of Pinot Grig.

To be fair, she was correct. However, no mother should address her daughter in the way Adrianne had been for the past 27 years. She imagined her making snide remarks all her life, leaning over the edge of her crib and critiquing her large ears and thick hair. What a little gremlin, she’d cackle, tilting back her shock of black hair.

The hard-nosed news caster looked back at her from the flatscreen television set, a blurry cityscape green-screened behind his steely shoulders. “A true tragedy, we can only pray those responsible are brought swiftly to justice.” He looked off-screen, and began to say something else, when the program cut to commercials.

III.

It was a finger. Wrapped in parchment paper, wound up in Williams-Sonoma dishtowels. It was pale, yet bruised. The pale parts were the color of young ginger. The dark was a dirty purple. The finger nail seemed like it may fall off. She held it gently in the lamplight of her bedroom desk, smoke swirling out of the glass pipe she stole from Antony’s room. He hadn’t noticed, and that was a month ago. For the first time in her life Marie was afraid of her mother. Her bedroom, which Marie had not seen the inside of since she returned home, lay at the other

end of the unnecessarily large home. She was probably passed out, alone, in the bed she shared with Saul when he wasn’t away.

Marie ate a chunk of pineapple. It occurred to her that pineapple did, in fact, taste somewhat like a blend of pine needles and apples. She also considered the possibility that Antony was responsible for this. Her head nodded down, her eyelids flickered.

It lay on a meticulously folded edition of The Hartdon Bugle, occupying the spotlight of her bowed lamp. She thought it might at any minute remember where it was supposed to be, and limp off like Thing in The Addams Family, down some dusty black and white corridor and offstage. But it never moved, which is what bothered her most. Marie had always watched movies and television and wondered why nobody had contacted the police, who she assumed would arrive promptly and sort the whole thing before any damage was done. This didn’t make for good television, she knew.

She now wondered, rather abstractedly, who this finger might belong to. The coarse and bloody hairs, gritty with blood and struggle, lay somewhat flat and extremely disheveled. What would lead Adrianne to do this? Was someone else responsible, and if so, why did Marie assume her mother was?

The limp and mottled index finger – or was it a ring finger? – reminded Marie of something she once threatened to do. She had come home to live with her family after she left a man she had been with for five years. “I can do better,” is what she said.

She stayed up waiting for Antony, watching Law & Order re-runs. Each episode began with the discovery of the corpse. Somebody jogging through the park sees a foot sticking out from under a shrub. Some city workers dredge an urban mummy from a storm drain. A man playing fetch with his dog sees it running toward him with a severed leg.

Marie often found herself dissecting plot lines of T.V. shows. Back in Indiana, she was co-owner of a three-person company that built sets for community theater productions. She had always hoped she’d end up working for an NBC show or anything low-brow and high-paying. Many of the sets the company built were for plays in which people were murdered. She had long ago picked up the plot devices. “Let’s get this to the lab!” a tired detective barked down the alleyway.

IV.

A car pulled into the driveway. Self-consciously slow-moving and quiet, as if the vehicle itself were ashamed of being out so late. Antony snuck through a side door, which he closed with a click and a whisper. He must have heard the television, because he came right into the basement.

“Sis.”

“Antony. We need to talk.”

Marie and Antony stood next to the bins. They had disabled the security light, so when they went out to the arbor they didn’t attract any undue attention from their mother. Antony had laughed when she first told him the story, but stopped after he saw it himself. They passed a crooked joint between them, rolling clouds of smoke into the chilly air.

“It wasn’t her. She’s crazy, but …” he shook his head. “It wasn’t mom.”

Marie didn’t say anything, she just nodded. Antony crouched down around the trashcan, shining the flashlight on his phone throughout the gravel and on the siding of the garage. Perhaps looking for some blood-spray, or ransom note, or a wedding band that would solve the whole thing. He pinched the bridge of his nose in an overwrought expression of tiredness and anxiety.

Marie heaved a foggy sigh. “God damn it.”

That night, she wrapped the finger back up in its packaging, and put it in a gallon Ziploc bag, and placed it in the freezer of the mini-fridge upstairs that her mother never used. A hole burned in her gut. She went to bed without brushing her teeth. Her mouth tasted like stale pot smoke and a chunk of pineapple was wedged in her incisors.

The next morning, Marie woke up to an empty house. Downstairs, a cooling pot of coffee waited. A note from her mother read:

Marie -

I made you coffee! Although, if you go for a run (which I pray you do) drink it afterward, in case of a BM. Could you put the bins at the curb? Get Up, Get Out, and GET SOMETHING.

wait until sundown to self-medicate.

– Mother

Friday turned out similar to Thursday. Marie sunk into the couch. Her left eye twitched, and she quickly knit her brow to correct this spasm. These eyebrows dominated her face. Her ex compared them to an actress’s in a way that raised questions. She heard the garbage truck doing its routine outside, and discreetly parted two of the venetian blinds to watch the arm dump the cans into the belly. She sank further into the couch, flexing her softening muscles inside the sweatsuit she wore the day before.

They had a nice dinner that night. The bulbs above the table hung from thick cords attached to the rafters at odd intervals: spreading like the legs of a giant spider. New houses can have ghosts as well as the old ones. They ate the leg of a lamb, smeared with an emerald blend of minced herbs. Marie ate pistachios out of a black bowl and threw the shells on her empty plate.

Antony, regardless of what he did in his free time, was actually a rather diligent student. Marie forgot exactly what they were celebrating, but all three of them were proud of his achievement. At one point Marie watched as her mother’s tight face softened in the lamplight, her elbows resting on the table, her birdlike hands clasped in an unlikely pose. For a moment, she thought she had imagined tears filling Adrianne’s eyes.

“It’s a nice, nice night. I don’t have to worry.” Adrianne went to bed shortly after letting that one slip.

VI.

Marie couldn’t find the moon. The wind blew cold from the far-off river, booming up through the pines. She looked up, and couldn’t distinguish the clouds from the sky. Depending on where she focused it could go either way.

She was sitting in what they called “Indian-style” when she was a kid. They probably didn’t call it that anymore. Across the sleeping yard, the snuffed security light was unable to betray her cautious movements. She was digging deep with a garden trowel. The earth would freeze up in about a month, so she had to do it now. The finger was in a Mason Jar, floating in a recipe for an all-purpose preservative she found online. She added a few sprigs of dill for a laugh.

Marie remembered burying a cat slightly deeper in the woods when she was seventeen. Adrianne and Saul had helped dig, as she stood by letting out the last of her tears. It was autumn then too, and she remembered the stillness of the pines and the golds and blushing reds of the oak leaves. Frowzy was about to have a bit of company, but just a bit.

She made sure she was right on the edge of the tree-line, at the foot of the sole paper birch, so she could remember the exact spot if she ever had to retrieve it. She caught the sloshing jar in the light of her cellphone one more time, the bobbing finger catching itself in the vortex of dill and brine. She set it gently into the soft, cold crater and began to fold it into the earth. When she was done, she built a cairn. The clouds separated themselves from the sky and exposed her to moonlight.

#fiction #myfiction #writers on tumblr #amputation #mystery #marijuana #mothers #brothers

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miss-musings · 7 years ago

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Some wild or not-so-wild predictions about Episode IX (with some TLJ meta/analysis)

So, for the record, these crazy-ass wild predictions (or maybe not so wild???) are based on: 1) evidence of themes, motifs, character development and story arcs from TFA and TLJ; 2) overall story arcs and whatnot from both the Prequel Trilogy and the OrigTrig; 3) other media (TV shows) within the Star Wars universe; 4) other media outside of Star Wars that I feel like share some thematic/character parallels and that I know are very popular among modern audiences; and 5) fan metas that tie into all of this.

So, in no particular order and with plenty of art to break up the text…

And in case this isn’t going to be obvious… SPOILERS FOR THE LAST JEDI!!!

PREDICTION ONE: The Title

Across the 8 Star Wars films we have three possibilities for the way titles are worded: A/The (Adjective) (Noun) ; (Noun) with a verb somewhere in the phrase; (Noun) of the (Noun). So far in this new trilogy, we’ve had the first two. But we haven’t had (Noun) of the (Noun) yet. This has been the case with the third installments of each trilogy: Revenge of the Sith (III) and Return of the Jedi (IV).

I imagine IX will fit this pattern; and, while I doubt it will have “Jedi” or “Sith” in it, I wouldn’t be surprised if it had the word “Balance” in it. Like “Balance of the Force” or something, except that I imagine they might be kind of nervous about using “Force” again in a title so soon, considering they have The Force Awakens and another property The Forces of Destiny.

But, I’d bet money “Balance” is in the title. Maybe not a lot of money. Like $5 or something, but still. I’ll bet money on it. Maybe… “Power of the Balance.” Because Balance has very much been a recurring theme/motif in this trilogy, and I’m 100% certain we’re going there (which we’ll get into more below).

PREDICTION TWO: Character Dynamics

Okay, so for a more general observation of the Core Three Characters of each of our trilogies – Anakin/Obi-Wan/Padme ; Luke/Han/Leia – we had a romantic pairing between two of the three characters (Anakin/Padme ; Han/Leia), and a sibling or pseudo-sibling bond two of three characters (Anakin/Obi-Wan ; Luke/Leia). And the remaining connection of the triangle (Padme/Obi-Wan ; Luke/Han) was more of a friendship than anything else.

Now, looking at our main three characters of this NEW trilogy, I’ve seen a lot of people arguing that it’s Rey/Finn/Poe. No, it’s really not. As much as I like Poe, he’s really more of the Lando or Yoda or Mace Windu of this series. He has an important role, but initially he’s more of a side character (especially considering that he doesn’t really get any character development until TLJ). This is evident in the marketing for TFA and the fact that Poe was supposed to die in the crash on Jakku.

No, Rey, Finn and Kylo are the main three of our story. With that, the bonds between them become more evident: Rey and Kylo are the romantic pairing as we clearly see in TLJ; and Rey and Finn are going to be more of the pseudo-sibling pairing (Sorry, FinnRey, shippers. I enjoy their dynamic but I see it being more platonic.) That will presumably leave Finn and Kylo to one day become friends, although it probably won’t happen in the events of Episode IX.

It’s evident that Rey and Finn deeply care about one another, and while there were hints to a possible romantic pairing between them – like the “cute boyfriend” comment and the “stop holding my hand,” awhich might’ve been done as either comic relief or shipping fodder – I don’t see them getting together unless Kylo dies (which I HIGHLY doubt, and we’ll get into more below).

Finn is the first person who ever cared about Rey and treated her like a real person, like family. That’s partly why she’s so attached to him; that and he’s just generally a good guy. Likewise, Rey was the first person to believe in Finn, and it’s obvious that she means a lot to him. They’re the first real connection they made after they escaped their respective shitty lives (scavenging on Jakku and working for the FO). But Finn only ever calls her his friend, and he and Rey never exchange any dialogue in TLJ. He hasn’t really talked to her since Starkiller Base, before he fell into his coma; they’ve both seen and done a lot since then. They’re really not the same people that they were on Jakku, and while they will always care about each other, their lives are moving in different directions to a certain degree.

Anyway, sorry that was long way of saying: Rey and Finn aren’t getting together; Rey and Kylo are getting together. At least romantically. I imagine Rey and Finn will still be a big part of each other’s lives at the trilogy’s end.

PREDICTION THREE: Length of the Time Skip

I doubt it will be shorter than six months, but I don’t think it’ll be more than three years. We need enough time for the Resistance to have built up their forces again, but not so long that I think Hux will have overthrown Kylo Ren (because it was very obvious that he’s not at ALL pleased with Kylo as Supreme Leader).

A year or a year-and-a-half seems pretty reasonable. Any more than that, and I think you’re going to have to explain why the hell Hux hasn’t killed Kylo Ren or why either the Resistance or FO hasn’t found out about the Force Bond (because I definitely think that’ll be making an appearance).

PREDICTION FOUR: Basic Plot Outline

On that note, here’s how I think the movie might go. We’ll get into the specifics of some of these later.

Since taking over as Supreme Leader, Kylo Ren has been mostly brooding. He doesn’t give a lot of orders, but mostly kind of lets Hux run things. He’s so incredibly conflicted, given everything that happened in TLJ. He is not at all stable emotionally or spiritually. He shuts himself in his chambers and doesn’t do much but wait for the Force Bond to connect him with Rey. They don’t really say anything to each other, even though both of them want to but can never find the words. Or something like that.

(EDIT: I could’ve sworn I put this next prediction in my original draft, but I guess not. Oh, well. Adding it back in now.) Leia’s death will be shortly before the events of this movie. In fact, it’ll probably be mentioned in the opening Title Crawl. News of her death or the feeling of his mother being gone (as he might sense it through the Force) will cause Kylo to break routine and leave his quarters to go on a solo trip to some location that reminds him of his mom. Alderaan is gone, so maybe wherever Leia and Han raised him?? As long as it wasn’t one of those planets that Starkiller blew up. Wherever. It’ll be somewhere that reminds him of his mom.

(EDIT:) Side note: I’m not sure what will cause Leia’s death. She might’ve died in battle. That’d at least be badass. But losing her husband and twin brother within a week of each other might’ve taken a strain on her physically and emotionally, much like what happened to Carrie Fisher’s mom, Debbie Reynolds, IRL. But, I think death in battle would be more fitting. Although, if that’s the case, Kylo won’t have ordered it.

As Kylo is visiting this site connected to his mom, Rey will either be on Jakku or Tattooine – delving into her own origins (visiting her parents’ graves in the junker desert) or into Luke’s/Anakin’s and trying to learn more about the Force. She will have constructed a new lightsaber: either one that’s totally unique to her (maybe like a staff size?), or one that uses half of the kyber crystal from the Skywalker Lightsaber (and Ben will use the other half for his saber at the very end, after he’s redeemed).

While they are both alone and on their personal journeys, the Bond will activate and they will finally say something to each other for the first time since TLJ. It won’t be much, and there will still be some anger/resentment/hostility between them, but it will be poignant and emotional. Rey will probably say something about how his mom never gave up on him, etc.

At some point while Kylo/Ben is visiting this location that reminds him of his mom, he will probably hear some audio of his mother speaking to him through the Force (they might use an earlier clip of Carrie/Leia saying “Ben” or something, they way they used the Alec Guiness/Old Ben dialogue in Rey’s Forceback).

Luke will appear as a Force-ghost to either Kylo or Rey or both at some point during the film, but this point (when they’re both on their respective journeys of nostalgia) seems the most likely. He’ll probably spout off some exposition-heavy dialogue (possibly giving Rey her third official lesson, if they decide the TLJ deleted scenes aren’t canon), and then tell Rey she’ll have to face Kylo again.

In the meantime, the Resistance has been cooking up some big plan to take down the FO’s most recent base/big gun/whatever. Poe is now in charge of the Resistance since Leia’s death. Finn and Rose are potentially a couple now, and they’re also major Resistance leaders.

Either the Resistance will win some major victory or the FO will start to fracture as Hux takes more power from Kylo. Something will have to kick Kylo back into full Renperor mode. Something will threaten his position of power and he will feel as though he has to retaliate. But, Hux won’t be killed off, either in battle or by Kylo, until the third act of the movie.

There will be a gigantic space battle in either the second or third act. Poe will probably be the one to kill Hux, if Kylo doesn’t.

Finn will likely find out about the Force Bond, if Rey hasn’t told him during the Time Skip.

If there’s an element where the Resistance has to send one of their own to infiltrate the FO base, Rey will do it. Finn will initially volunteer at first, but Rey says she has to face Kylo and give the Resistance its best chance to win.

Somehow Rey and Kylo will face each other in the final act of the film, likely after she’s sought him out on a FO base. Or they find each other on the battlefield.

Since the end of TLJ, Rey has gotten considerably stronger in the Force, especially her combat abilities. She and Kylo will be a literal even match. They know each other so well and are both so strong that almost every attack is ineffective. I really HOPE (not predict, but hope) that this fight will either have some kind of a dance feel to it or go back to Episode IV, when it was an homage to old samurai films. Like when they’re both trying to do one-shot kill moves on each other, but keep blocking it.

Okay… now as to how the fight will end… I truly believe that it will end in a draw with both of them being hurt to the point where they can’t fight any more, probably with inverse/opposite/complementary/mirroring injuries. The injuries will be major, but not life-threatening.

While they’re laying there, not fighting any more and experiencing a shared/parallel pain, they’ll both vocalize their feelings for one another. And probably kiss. And while they kiss, they have Force visions on how to resolve this conflict: to balance the Force by becoming Gray Jedi (Force-wielders who use both the light and the dark sides, in balance) TOGETHER.

Kylo will proposition to Rey to join him as a Gray Jedi, which she will accept.

Once they realize this, the two will go back to their respective sides, and figure out some kind of compromise/system where neither the Resistance nor the FO exists, but some kind of balanced government system where everyone feels represented and no one is oppressed.

Everyone celebrates the creation of this new system, the destruction of the old system(s), and Rey and Kylo leave their friends to become tandem Gray Jedi Masters who will teach the next generation of Force users all about the full scope of the Force. They’ll also totally become a couple and maybe we’ll see a Force-vision of the future, where they have kids or something.

Together, Ben and Rey will have brought balance to the Force and the galaxy at large!

EXPLANATION TIME!!!

Kylo letting Hux run most things would be a good reason for Hux not having killed him yet. And Kylo brooding rather than being a bad dude makes a lot of sense if he’s going to be redeemed and live. And it’s clear from the effort that’s gone into Kylo Ren’s character that he WILL be redeemed, and because we’ve already done the Redeemed Hero Dies route (Vader), Kylo will get to live, albeit probably scarred/injured/handicapped or something. He can’t do TOO much more evil stuff or otherwise he’ll be considered TOO unredeemable for average audiences. Killing Han, killing a bunch of innocent people and Resistance combatants, and trying to kill Luke are all pretty unredeemable, but eh. He killed Snoke, and Rey, Luke and Leia all believe in his goodness. Seeing his conflict early on in Episode IX will clue the audience in on his being redeemed by the end of the movie.

I’m basing a lot of this on Zuko’s character arc from the Avatar: The Last Airbender series and Sasuke from the Naruto universe (which we’ll talk about more in a second).

Rey’s arc, much like Luke’s in Episode VI, will be somewhat overlapping with the main War plot, but will ultimately take place parallel to it. Luke was on a journey of discovering himself, the Force and helping Anakin Skywalker to redeem himself. Rey, likewise, is on a journey of discovering herself, the Force and helping Ben Solo to redeem himself. Her main story will intersect with Finn/Poe/Rose/the Resistance’s, as Luke’s did with Han/Leia/Chewie/the Rebellion’s, but it will ultimately take place mostly separated from them.

With Carrie gone, they are going to have to have some kind of carry-over from the OrigTrig, and Luke as a Force-Ghost makes the most sense. He’ll do the Ben Kenobi role of getting the main characters to fight each other and figure out whatever the Force is trying to tell them. Because, as a Force-Ghost, Luke’s consciousness is one with the Force, or whatever; so he knows exactly what needs to happen for Balance to be achieved.

There will have to be something plot-wise to make Kylo snap out of his vulnerable state and back into his Renperor self because we’re going to need tension that he might kill Rey in their final duel, or at least destroy the Resistance. That way their final battle will have higher stakes.

Rey’s Force powers have leaned more toward the Sensing/Emotive side. Her first “awakening” is the Force-back, but even before that, she’s first aware of being called by the Force (the Lightsaber). She then figures out how to turn Kylo’s Force-sensing interrogation technique back on him, and senses his greatest fear. She also figures out how to use the Jedi Mind Trick, which she will ABSOLUTELY use again in Episode IX, and it’s only later that we see her using more of the physical attributes of the Force (pulling stuff toward you, combat enhancement, etc.). Rey is more naturally drawn toward sensing things via the Force, like the Tree, the Island (in her dreams) and the Lightsaber, and when she senses the Force as whole and then the Dark Side (the cave) in TLJ. So, during the Time Skip, she will have trained in learning how to use the Force to enhance her combat abilities, because it always felt to me like those were earned from her harsh life on Jakku rather than something inherent she had because she was Force-sensitive. (I mean, she didn’t even realize she was Force-sensitive until the Lightsaber scene on Takodana; but she’d been fighting off assholes all her life.)

I wouldn’t be surprised if the Force Bond is exposed to either the FO, the Resistance or both. This might be why Hux tries to usurp Kylo; and I doubt the Resistance will take Rey’s connection to Kylo all too well, considering that he tortured Poe and almost killed Finn (EDIT: and they might blame him for Leia’s death). Rey might make up for this by excusing herself from the main action of the War and offering to take down Kylo alone.

Now, what’s all this about the Gray Jedi and bringing “balance to the Force”?

(EDIT: Linking to the Wookieepedia article on “Gray Jedi” here.)

So, this is what all the eight movies have been leading up to – the prophecy that Anakin was supposed to fulfill. At the end of VI, the Sith (Vader and Palpitine) die and only one Jedi (Luke) survives to pass on what he has learned. This is not balance. At the time, we didn’t know about the whole prophecy thing and the OrigTrig was just about the good guys winning and the bad guys losing. But, over time, Star Wars has evolved to show us that this world – like ours – is a lot more GRAY. That’s what the Clone Wars series was about; that’s what Rebels (as far as I know) has been about; and that’s what the PT was sort of hinting at. That’s what THIS new trilogy has been hinting at, especially with the Finn/Rose subplot in TLJ. (EDIT: Which I wrote a whole meta analyzing and defending the importance of that subplot. Read it here.)

That’s not to say the FO hasn’t committed atrocities and the Resistance isn’t made up of people who have suffered and want better lives. But, as we saw with Finn, there’s a possibility that Stormtroopers are good people who don’t like what they’re being told to do. And, as was hinted at in TLJ, there are plenty of people who don’t like the Resistance. Because, in a war, no side is all good or all bad.

The whole Star Wars franchise kicked off as WWII In Space! But, since WWII, we’ve entered several conflicts where we (the U.S.) weren’t always in the right and the enemy wasn’t always in the wrong. There’s a TON of gray area in our conflicts now.

Anyway, this is all a very long way of saying that the OT’s understanding of the Light Side and the Dark Side isn’t well managed. As we saw with Luke at the end of VI, he let his anger, hatred and rage against Vader flow, but he didn’t become evil. He stopped himself, and realized that Vader was much more like him than he previously wanted to admit.

But, then in the PT, we see that the Jedi’s belief system is very lop-sided. They can NEVER let their emotions get the better of them. They have to be stoic, mindful, “celibate” (more or less), and detached from the world around them. They are encouraged to be compassionate, but not to love or become attached to people. This is a philosophy that isn’t going to fly well among modern audiences.

(EDIT: There’s a really great video Pop Culture Detective did on this very topic today. Linking to it here.)

Like with the War side, the answer is that we (the audience) are something in between. We do sometimes let our emotions get the better of us, which CAN be a bad thing sometimes, but not always (as “Inside Out” taught us, it’s unhealthy to lock certain feelings away). But, at the same time, most people aren’t evil and hate people so much that they want to destroy them.

So, the answer for The Force side of Star Wars is a balance: a coexisting of the extremes and the meeting of the two halves (Kylo and Rey). In TLJ, Luke’s big thing is that the Light Side WILL exist without the Jedi; and that the Force is ALL ABOUT A BALANCE: life/death, light/dark, heat/cold, peace/violence, etc. The Jedi is a RELIGION that used the Force, but there are plenty of other Force-users in this universe who aren’t Jedi or Sith (like Ahsoka Tano or Chirrut from Rogue One). The Gray Jedi can be the religious practice (the way of life) of Kylo and Rey. They can use both sides of the Force without being overcome by one or the other, by keeping them in a balance. I don’t know exactly how this would work, as I haven’t read TOO extensively into this topic, but I know it’s possible as I believe there were some Gray Jedi in the Legends Universe. I suppose it might be a bit like the Guardians of the Galaxy (another popular Disney property) – Kylo and Rey wouldn’t be all bad (because then they’d be evil) or all good (because then they’d be boring), but a little bit of both or something in between.

The happy ending to this entire saga isn’t about the Light snuffing out the Dark, the good guys killing all the bad guys, because the whole idea is that the Force and the world needs to be brought into balance. As much as we want the heroes to win, we also want the ending to be reflective of our human nature – both how we succeed and how we fail. This Gray Jedi ending would be reflective of that and bring the whole saga to a nice end.

I mean they wouldn’t have put a fucking YIN-YANG SYMBOL in the Meditation Pool on Ach-To if the idea behind the trilogy wasn’t about bringing the Force into balance. I wonder if it’s a good thing Rey took those ancient Jedi texts, because maybe they hint at if/how the Ancient Jedi (not the ones in the PT) were more in balance in the Force than our PT Jedi were.

We see this nicely encapsulated into Rey and Kylo as characters. Rey who embodies the Light, but has plenty of darker tendencies (like getting mad, charging at Snoke in a fit of rage and aggression); and Kylo who embodies the Dark, but has plenty of lighter tendencies (like telling Rey to detach herself from her past and let it go). They are a literal fucking YIN-YANG SYMBOL as people, side by side. But combined and intertwined… if you put a Yin-Yang symbol in wet paint on paper, and then mixed it together, what would you get?

A gray circle.

Gray Jedi is the answer, people. No question about it. At least in my mind.

Now, about the fight. Why do I think Rey and Kylo will have to wound one another and kiss?

Well, the draw/wound thing is something I stole from the Naruto universe.

For those of you who are unfamiliar… the main character Naruto (on the left) is very much the “light side” of his universe. His rival Sasuke (on the right, and who has a redemption arc similar to what we’ve seen of Kylo’s so far) is very much the “dark side.” There’s a point where they get sun and moon symbols on their respective hands, and each holds half of the same power source, although they manifest it differently based on their respective abilities/personalities.

Now, the entire series is built-up to this final showdown between the two. Naruto is not trying to kill Sasuke, but needs to stop him, because Sasuke IS trying to kill Naruto and bring an end to things/people Naruto loves. And, it physically ends in a draw. The two lose their dominant arms: Naruto loses his right; Sasuke, his left. Their wounds are a literal mirror of each other (see below). And in that shared pain, they find an understanding, and Sasuke decides not to kill Naruto but to come back over to the “good” side (more or less), to stop being a murderous asshole, and to start atoning for his crimes. (So, in a way, Naruto wins the fight on an emotional level, as he brings Sasuke over to his side.)

That’s very much where I see this Rey/Kylo thing going. There are so many parallels between these four characters and their respective arcs, it’s ridiculous.

With Kylo and Rey, each of them will be trying to kill the other so their respective side will win the War. A draw (with a major non-fatal injury) is the only way I see this fight ending in a way that will bring them into balance with each other and the Force at large.

Also, we’ve never had a movie lightsaber fight end in a draw before, to my recollection: Darth Maul killed Qui-Gon; Obi-Wan killed Darth Maul; Count Dooku injured/beat Obi-Wan and Anakin (I guess he ran away from Yoda, so you might count that); Count Dooku injured/beat Obi-Wan in the rematch and then Anakin killed Count Dooku; Obi-Wan injured/beat Anakin; the Emperor forced Yoda to run away; Obi-Wan allowed Vader to kill him; Vader beat/injured Luke; Luke beat/injured Vader in their rematch; Rey injured/beat Kylo; and there wasn’t really an actual lightsaber fight in TLJ.

It would fit the whole “balance” motif for neither to win or lose the fight, but instead the two come to an understanding and compromise.

Now. The Kiss.

Why do these two little fuckers have to kiss, IMO?

Well, do you all remember the Disney Channel TV Show “That’s So Raven”? The main character (Raven) is a psychic; and there’s an episode where she meets a male psychic. And, while they have 0 romantic interest in each other, there’s a point where they continue escalating their physical proximity/touching, because it allows them to better use their powers. There’s a point where they have to kiss in order to find Raven’s BFF and some other people.

And, as we saw with Rey and Kylo in TLJ, these two are oozing with sexual chemistry and Force power. I mean if they see each other’s futures whenever they touch hands, what the hell are they going to see when they kiss? (Or if they ever had sexy times… but this is a family-friendly movie, so that’s not going to happen on screen; the kiss is the closest we’re going to get).

I mean, c’mon you guys… everything we saw in TLJ is building up to them kissing and the Force coming into balance as a result of their combined lives/knowledge/destinies or whatever.

Also, as others have pointed out, they’re not going to kill off Ben Solo. The Skywalker family is too much of a commodity, and there’s so much possibility in leaving him alive and with Rey. I mean think of all the spinoff movies and TV shows we could have of them and their kids??? (EDIT: Just like how the Legends Universe focused in part on the kids of Luke, Han and Leia.) Rey is too well-loved by the fans to kill her off, and Ben/Kylo has gotten too much character development to not get redeemed. His kids with Rey would sell toys and tickets and subscriptions like crazy.

So, why do I think Ben/Kylo will proposition Rey, instead of the other way around (which would seem more natural)?

Well, in TLJ, each saw the other turning over to their side in a vision of the future. Rey says that Kylo won’t bow before Snoke and will turn, and she’ll help him. Kylo says that when the time comes Rey will turn and join him.

Now, from a physical standpoint, these visions were true after the Praetorian Guard fight. Kylo physically turned against Snoke and killed him, but emotionally was still attached to the Dark Side. Rey did physically join Kylo by his side in fighting the Guards but was still emotionally attached to the Light Side, or really, the Resistance. Neither ACTUALLY came over to the other’s side. Kylo didn’t want to join Rey politically, and she didn’t want to join him spiritually.

But now, they’re going to find that compromise where they meet in the middle both politically and spiritually. Kylo was right in TLJ: the old THINGS (political organizations, religious ways) should die, but Rey was right in that the PEOPLE should be saved. The only way to achieve both goals is to end the War, the FO, the Resistance, the Sith and the Jedi… and create something new. A compromise that works for everyone and brings the much-needed balance to the Force and the galaxy.

Each of them WILL join the other. Rey’s vision will have to be right that Kylo will turn from the Dark Side, and Kylo’s vision of her turning from the Light and joining him will have to be true as well.

So, like any proper proposal of marriage/political alliance/spiritual alignment, I think Ben should be the one to suggest it. That way, we the audience can see the fruition of his redemption arc, etc. (Also, we have to come full-circle on the Space!Mr.Darcy thing.)

Anyway, I’ve now rambled on about this for QUITE long enough. Just wanted to throw out some ideas and see what you guys think and if you have predictions of your own. (EDIT:) And, to quote Preston Jacobs, “I’m probably wrong about half of this.” There’s plenty of hints of where the franchise is going, but I’m sure there are some details I will have gotten wrong. Which is fine. This can be my headcanon for the next two years.

I guess there’s nothing else to say other than, “May the Force be with you, always.” Cheers, guys! And thanks for reading!

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jessefferguson · 7 years ago

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My Double Life: 5 Years And Going

It’s been a LONG TIME since I wrote one of these, so I figured now was as good a point as any.

Words, spoken out loud, are funny. They can mean very different things.

Try this one:

I am still here.

and

I am still here.

Both of those are the best summary I can think of for how I feel today since today, May 21, is the 5th anniversary of when I was diagnosed with cancer. Five years ago, I sat in a sweltering doctors office in Washington, D.C. as he told me the results of my first biopsy. Five years later, I still have it.

After 5 years, I have two conflicting emotions: I’m still here (thank God) and I’m still (only) here. Five years later, not much has really changed but, also, everything has.

Over the 5 years, I’ve sort of lived a double life – that of a cancer patient and that of a political operative. Sometimes they overlap but, more often than not, they’re separate worlds.

By my best count, over the 5 years, I’ve had 4 surgeries, 33 days of radiation, upwards of 60 rounds of either chemotherapy or targeted therapy, about 75 blood tests, and 150 doctors’ appointments. And over the same 5 years, I’ve worked on 191 television ads, 311 polls, thousands of press releases and speeches, spent over $100 million (of other people’s money), and sent over 40,000 of my own tweets.

I continue to believe the same thing I did – and wrote about - 5 years ago, there are three keys to getting through this sort of thing: (1) Your family and friends; (2) Doctors who are the best; (3) Doing something with your time that you love to do. Even on the worst days of work, the fact that I was doing the work I wanted to do made it that much more possible to fight a disease I did not want to deal with.

WHAT’S THE LATEST WITH ME

I’m living and working from Brooklyn, still. I decided to stay here after the Clinton campaign ended rather than move back to D.C. for a bunch of reasons – closer to my doctors at Sloan Kettering and further from Trump at the WH. Both sounded like good ideas.

For just under a year, I’ve been on a clinical trail and it’s getting some pretty good results. It’s a targeted therapy drug and I’m one of the first to apply it to my unique disease. It’s unlikely to result in me being “cured” or “cancer free” but it’s definitely shrunk the disease in my skin tissue and throughout my head, neck and chest. It’s also brought down the swelling. The swelling issues are far from gone, but they’re better. The best case is that it continues shrinking things; the next best case is it stops anything from getting worse again. Either way, it’s turned my condition to a chronic one, for now. I’ll take it.

Every three weeks I do the same routine. I book a someone to come clean my house for that morning and I take a car down to Sloan Kettering. I take a blood test. The doctor and I talk about medical stuff for a few minutes and politics for a few minutes and then he sends me for treatment. He’s not from America and has a healthy interest in all the crazy things in our politics.

It takes them about 2 hours to prepare the drug, so I have found a corner in the hospital that is usually empty for work — open the laptop, put on the head set and get to work. It’s my own cancer-center-based mobile-office. I have edited TV scripts and polls, held conference calls, did a radio interview and even convinced a donor to contribute – all from a table in a hospital waiting room. Last week’s discussion was about the placement of a media buy. It’s amazing what you can pull of when people don’t really know where you are.

The drug I’m on is an easy one – targeted therapy. It’s like a smart bomb of chemo that only goes to the cells that have the disease. The worst part is the IV, which I barely notice anymore and after 30 minutes, I’m out. On the road home to a clean house with the mild side effect of an uneasy stomach for a few days. Compared to the other drugs I’ve been on, this is like a piece of cake took a walk in a park.

How long will I stay on it? No clue. But it has made this condition chronic. If you offered me a deal today — get this treatment every 3 weeks for 30 minutes and the disease stays under control, I’d sign in a minute. I’d sign it for the next 10 years. For now, I’ll stay on it unless or until it stops working – then I’ll try something else.

WHAT HAPPENED SINCE 2016

As you may remember from my last blog post, just before election 2016, I had spent the previous 6 months working while dealing with the return of my disease.

On election night 2016, I did venture out. It wasn’t something I did often but I wanted to be with the team that night at the Javits Center in Manhattan. I could, now, try to pretend that I had doubts about the outcome of that night to try to make myself look extra smart, but that would be bullshit. I didn’t; I thought we’d win.

The beginning of that afternoon and evening were great. We were monitoring voting and doing the work we needed to do and I was also seeing some good friends who I had been away from while I worked the last few months from home.

Then, the results started and the mood changed. My heart started to sink, but I kept hoping. Florida, North Carolina, Ohio and others poured in. We knew we needed to hold Michigan, Wisconsin and Pennsylvania to make it work.

While we waited for those results, I got up to go to the bathroom. As I stood at the urinal, a friend who had better sense for numbers and data than I do, approached the stall next to me. We looked at each other with the same forlorn look of despair as if our confidence was waning. He said “I just looked at the latest data from Michigan; it’s gone.” And with that, I found out we had lost in a way befitting the occasion -- standing at a urinal.

Whether you believe we lost because of a mission from Russia or a miss in Michigan, or any other reason, one thing was clear: we lost the electoral college. It was over. And while I stared at my peers and colleagues – friends who had hired me and friends who I had hired – I couldn’t stop thinking, “What’s next?”

Despite what you might see or hear, the group who I worked with on that campaign were some of the smartest, most talented and most committed people I’ve ever had the privilege to work with. As I stared at all of them, I wonder what was next for them. As I thought about it more, I worried what was next for me.

At one point, I wandered away and ended up sitting in the middle of the massive loading dock in the Javits Center with 4 senior staff from the campaign. There where shipping boxes, fork lifts, and one table with a few plastic chairs in the middle. We all just kind of stared at each other. Someone would say something about what we should do or what we should say and we’d all agree but, for the life of me, I couldn’t tell you today what anyone said.

As the night ended, I was one of the last ones to leave. I’m not really sure why, I just couldn’t. I kept finding someone else to talk to. I was trying to be a bit of team cheerleader – as best as was possible at that moment.

At around 4:30am that night, I left the Javits center along side two reporters I had gotten to know. We walked for a bit and then they got into cabs and drove off. I just started walking. And walking. I was thinking about what had happened and what it meant for the country. And, if I’m honest, what it meant for me. I had cancer and had just devoted two years of my life to trying to win the presidency – and had failed. I just kept thinking, maybe even crying a bit, and walking.

When I looked up, it was 6 am and the sun was rising. I had walked from the Javits Center at 36th street down almost to the World Trade Center. Much like I did while wandering around the streets of Washington on May 21, 2013, I had done lots of thinking. But now it was November 9, 2016, and it was time to go back to work. I took a cab home, slept for a few hours, and opened my laptop.

WHAT HAVE I BEEN DOING SINCE

Since the campaign ended in 2016, I’ve been “consulting.” I’m still not sure what “consulting” means but it’s what I’m doing. I’m working on my own for a variety of political projects on a variety of important issues, trying to lend my experience to things where I think I can do something interesting and make a difference in the insane moment we’re in right now.

My work has ranged from the fight over the tax plan and some new digital campaign innovations, to a new polling project and an advertising campaign and others. It’s all kept me busy and kept my mind going – in the fight and doing what I love to do. The work is good cause it’s meaningful, it’s the work I want to be doing, and the variety of projects appeals to my attention-span-of-a-fruit-fly-nature.

It’s also allowed me to speak up a bit more about what I think, which has been quite a change. For the last 15+ years, I’ve always represented someone else – the DCCC Chairman, Secretary Clinton, etc. Now I’m speaking more and writing more in my own voice.

I still feel somewhat like a hermit. I live and work in my Brooklyn apartment. I get out more now than I used to, but, nothing like I did when I was healthy. When you’ve been dealing with this as long as I have, you start to lose track of what looking, feeling and being normal would be like. I get to the deli almost every morning and they know to make my eggs and have my iced coffee ready. Others around know me too. Life is easy and that’s important for me right now. One of these days, I’ll be up for making it harder again – but not yet.

THE HEALTH CARE ISSUE

The first project I took on was to help some friends with the coalition fighting the Obamacare repeal legislation. It’s been a hard-waged battle over the last 16 months to improve health care for people instead of letting it get dismantled.

But it’s also been the first time my double lives overlapped a bit. When the Affordable Care Act passed Congress, I was at my office near capitol hill, celebrating with everyone else. But it didn’t really mean anything to me. It was a good thing, but it wasn’t personal.

Seven years later, when repeal of it failed – repeal that would undercut protections for people with pre-existing conditions like I have – it was a very different moment. In fact, when the first repeal plan was pulled from the House floor, I was actually sitting at Sloan Kettering getting my chemo. I was on the phone talking with someone working with me while in the hospital room getting treated as a news alert came across my computer screen.

I don’t often invoke my own personal health care situation while working on the issue because it shouldn’t be about me. I’m fortunate and would be able to get the care I needed if I had to. But sitting there at age 37, with an IV bag dripping a toxic chemical designed to keep me alive into my arm, I certainly had a different perspective than I had 8 years earlier as an otherwise-healthy, overweight 29 year old who saw passage of the ACA as a good reason to go to the bar and celebrate.

FIVE YEARS AND COUNTING

Once and a while I think about what I could be doing if I was fully healthy. I get sad. Maybe I get mad. As I approach 38 years old at the end of this year, more and more of my friends are having their first or second child and I’m forced to think if my life would be different if I hadn’t gotten this diagnosis five years ago. For sure, it would be. But, in the end, you play the cards your dealt and make damn well sure it’s a game you enjoy. You could win big or you could lose your shirt, but either outcome has to be worth it.

Five years ago I was diagnosed with a disease that probably should have killed me. Five years later, I’m still here. When I put it that way, it actually brings a smile to my face. I know talking about having cancer isn’t something that normally is joyful but being able to do what I love while living with the disease sure beats the alternative.

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