#i finally finished bedlam...

[slurrmp]

SHE'S A W H A T HUH? huh????

[catsafarithewriter]

Bedlam update! Yes, I know it's been an eternity since I updated this story, but you know how it is. This is, however, the final full chapter, so we are so close to the end!

There's an epilogue left to go, which I'm literally working on atm, so fingers crossed it shouldn't be quite so long before that's up.

Please read and enjoy!

[wildemaven]

because you matter | jack abbot

summary - this takes place a year prior to Chasing Stillness, during the aftermath of PittFest pairing - jack abbot x ofc!alix miller, rn word content- 2986 content warning - 18+ blog; jack’s POV, lots of medical inaccuracies because I don’t have time for medical school, angst, blood, somewhat canon divergent, PittFest shooting, mentions of wounds and gunshots, jack in his thoughts and maybe realizing feelings, Alix :39, lighter skin tone, has an a good amount of tattoos covering her body, has shorter hair that’s long enough to be pulled back, wearing a tank top and shorts:, mention of alcohol/drunkness/hangover, established friendship, slow burn, no use of y/n, use of ‘you’, please let me know if I failed to mention something a/n : the way I planned for this to be just a little blip of a flashback and some how it’s pushing almost 3k words. Guess I got carried away but really wanted to set the tone of Jack’s POV to pair with Chasing Stillness and then have everything in place for the next installment which jumps back to the present immediately following CS. I’m hoping I did him some sort of justice in writing this. BIG thank you to @alikelyst0ry for continuing to listen and talk me through this— I heart you!! Ok, time to post and run!! Previous | Next | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist

Jack’s not sure why he called you first. Scratch that— he does, he just can’t quite explain it. 

It was instinct— pure reflex. Zero hesitation. His thumb hitting your name the second he threw the truck in drive.

Call it a hunch or call it years of making snap decisions under the weight of an ingrained oath that had Jack tearing down the road toward the hospital. Instinctively knowing Robby would be requesting all hands on deck at any moment. 

In the back of his mind, he knew the urgency wasn’t only about the scene unfolding on the other side of the city— it was also about reaching you. And whether or not that same charge of criticality was surging through your veins. 

Straight to voicemail.

“Hey, it’s Alix. Sorry I missed your call. Tragic, I know. Leave a message.” Your voice echoes through the truck’s speakers, cheerful and maddeningly casual.

“Shit!” He muttered, slamming his palm against the wheel, taking the last turn harder than he should’ve, while the wail of sirens vibrated through the air.

The scanner had lit up just after 5:30. One second he was finishing yard work, leaves disposed of in the green waste bin, lawn trimmed to his liking, sweat sticking to his back as the sun finally dipped behind the house. The next— everything shifting into unknown bedlam. 

He'd been looking forward to the break. Get a start on some projects he’d been wanting to start before the end of the year. A few days to recharge and relax— to a little bit of peace.

Peace wasn’t in the cards today.

“Multiple victims. Shots fired. PittFest grounds. Officers on scene. Casualties unknown.”

Jack’s stomach dropped as the second dispatch even came through. 

Pulling his truck into his usual spot and throwing it in park, he decided to send you a text:

Jack: Call me when you get this. I’m just getting to the hospital. Looks bad. Get in touch with me when you can. 

Before his mind could spiral into worst-case scenarios, his boots were on the ground and his go-bag packed with essentials slung over his shoulder. Jack pauses halfway through the short walk from the parking garage to the main building, eyes lifting to the familiar railing— the one that so often bears the weight of his early morning musing. He braces himself for whatever waits behind the ED doors.

As Jack reaches the Pitt, his stomach knots up as the scene hits him. It’s a blur of chaos— bright lights glaring off white walls and tiled floor, sterile disarray, the entire emergency room cracked wide like a fresh wound. Robby’s at the forefront of it all with his face twisted with raw emotion, giving orders like his life depends on it— a dense cloud of stress trailing behind him. 

Nurses converged. Gurneys locked into place, ready for impact.

The cacophony of it all did little to drown out his last conversation with you. All he could hear was your voice, light and hopeful, as you talked about your day off and what you’d do with it.

I’m off tomorrow. Finally. A few of us are hitting PittFest for funnel cake and sunburns. Maybe a little hangover, if I’m feeling lucky. 

Alix.

Jack’s fingers fumbled unlocking his phone to get to your number. One ring. Two. Voicemail. End call. He slides his phone into his pocket, clinging to the hope that you’d walk through those doors under your own power, not be wheeled in.

“Brother, I am so glad to see you” Robby says, relieved as ever, pulling Jack in for a hug. 

“Heard it on the police scanner. How many we expecting?” Jack keeps his tone even and controlled, like the soldier he is. He scans the ER, eyes sharp for that familiar blurry mess of brown hair and tattooed arms, always busy—  on the off chance you might have bailed on the festivities early and came when you got the news.

“I don’t know. But it doesn’t sound good.”

Taking Robby’s lead, Jack jumps into action. Doing his best to compartmentalize his worry, shelving it next to the many other things that afflict him relentlessly, focusing on what he can control at this moment as he helps guide giant black disaster bins filled with supplies into the Behavioral Health Room. 

“Right side. Left side.” Jack says as he wheels the black cart in place. “I’m going to need you to grab the folding tables from the facilities to organize all this stuff. Go— Thank you!”

The nurses head off to carry out his orders, leaving Jack alone with the task of getting things stationed and ready. He reaches into his pocket for his knife, pulling his phone out along with it. Swiping up, he hits the call button— not really expecting an answer. But when your voicemail comes on again, he sighs and leaves a message anyway.

“It’s Abbot. Umm— Haven't heard from you yet. Just checking that things are okay.” Jack sighs, pausing as he glances around the small room, absentmindedly turning the blade in his hand as an announcement booms through the emergency floor— Code Triage, Emergency Department now. “It looks like things are going to get hectic here in a bit. Just let me know when you’re safe, alright?”

He ends the call and slips the phone back into his pocket. Determined to not let his deliberate facade slip away as the knife slices cleanly through the plastic tie, granting access to the pharmacy and IV supplies. 

In the quiet that follows, he selfishly wishes you were across the room mirroring his purposeful pace— already knowing where his head was, already moving like you always do.

The air became thick with anticipation. 

A muted pressure settling into every corner. 

Around the Hub, attendings, residents, interns, and nurses stood in quiet readiness— PPE isolation gowns secured, gloved hands resting at their sides and trauma carts fully stocked. 

The overhead lights buzz faintly, a phone ringing somewhere down the hall, a gurney wheel clicks in slow, uneven bursts. It’s the calm before the storm— every face around the room marked by focus, tension and the unspoken hope that when it begins, they’ll be ready. 

Robby and Jack stand at the center of it all, bracing them for the first wave.

It’s not long before the incoming patients are packed like sardines in every available room and usable open space. Triaged based on vitals, severity of injuries and overall viability, then color catalogued and moved to the appropriate zone to be treated accordingly. 

Red. Pink. Yellow. Green. Black and White. 

They kept coming as Jack navigated through his red patients needing immediate attention. Panicked and bloodied with their PittFest passes still clinging to them— stark reminders that their day was supposed to be filled with excitement and memories. One after another. 

The emergency room bore the resemblance of a mobile army surgical hospital that had operated under his command. No time to rely on charting, electronic medical records or the convenience of a patient board. Treatment and procedures documented by hand on wrist charts attached to patients' wrists. Time was limited, and every second could mean the difference between life and death. 

Jack moved on muscle memory. His hands worked steadily and voice calm, but beneath the surface Jack was burning through adrenaline. It was a rare instance for the hospital to be at full capacity, which only heightened the desire for precise performance, but he thrives in these circumstances. 

Working alongside Mohan, placing IO infusions and chest tubes with precision, while refusing to let showdowns and egos pull him under. 

Thready pulses beneath his fingertips, collapsed lungs begging for air, slinging Foley catheters to subdue nicked carotids— one after another. He forced himself to stay present, to shut out the noise and stabilize, just move— long enough to get them to the OR or ICU then hope any and all split decisions were enough.

The lull, though temporary, was almost disorienting. 

Machines quieted. Footsteps softened. The air no longer crackling with immediate crisis.

With the last of the critical patients having been stabilized or moved upstairs, Jack found himself in an unexpected pocket of repose leaning his forearm against the edge of the nurses’ station, the adrenaline that had kept him sharp for hours now ebbing into a dull, bone-deep fatigue

It wasn’t rest exactly, finding it too unexpected to recognize it at first. The stillness too sharp, too sudden— but it was enough. A pause. A breath. A chance to feel the weight of what the day had taken, to really feel the ache in his shoulders.

He reached for a coffee someone had abandoned hours ago. Sniffed it and grimaced. Still, he took a sip. Cold, but it would do. 

A voice broke over the intercom, barely audible. Not urgent. Not for him.

He let himself enjoy this illusion of stagnation. 

Poached coffee in hand, Jack closed his eyes for a moment, drawing in a breath as if it might anchor him. One. Two. Three. Then releasing it quietly, like he was trying not to wake something inside him.

A flicker of you crossed his mind— Alix. Just enough to stir something beneath the surface. 

Jack grabbed his phone from his pocket, pulling up the text thread shared between the two of you. His last message sat in the little bubble at the bottom of the screen. Delivered. Not read. 

It had been hours since he last checked his phone or tried calling. Still nothing. Not a word. No hint of where you were or if you were okay. 

His thumb drags slowly down the screen, revealing the previous message he’d received two days ago from you. 

It’s a photo. Both of you in 12-hour worn scrubs after a long shift. Your eyes are somehow the only bright and captivating part of the photo. They’re crinkled up around the edges due to the way your cheeks are cradling— the picture taken mid-laugh. 

He almost regrets his choice of affection as he analyzes the image further. Arms crossed securely in front of him. Stiff and stoic. No warning or prompting from Dana before she decided to freeze that moment forever. 

You’re standing behind him, peeking out over the broad line of his shoulders. Your arms draped him, fingers tugging the corners of his mouth in an upward fashion. The act of holding that position and Dana frantically trying to capture it candidly had you laughing so hard tears were rolling down your face. 

There was something deeply comforting in the unmistakable joy of your laugh— rich, unguarded and effortlessly you. It was a sound he realized he could never grow tired of hearing.

The photo was taken months ago, but you sent it out of the blue not even 48 hours ago. Along with a caption that said: You should do this more often! 

Jack is unaware of the smile that he’s wearing as his eyes oscillate between your words and the photo. 

“You should tell her!” Robby exclaims, his voice laced with a knowing that needs no explanation. He gives Jack a friendly smack on the shoulder, one that promises a talk over beers, and walks off towards the ambulance bay without bothering to elaborate.

“W-what?!” Jack’s head nearly spins, tracking Robby’s exit with pinched confusion. 

“Tell her!” Robby calls over his shoulder just before disappearing from view. “Pretty sure she’d be into it!”

He glances down at the photo again, his attention fixed entirely on you. His thoughts drift, Robby’s voice ringing in his ears, chasing that sweet ache of a hope he barely dares to name— that you might be into it… into him.

“Jack!” Robby’s voice swells, sharp and sudden— shattering the haze of Jack’s thoughts and dragging him back to the hub of the emergency department where shouting emerges from the ambulance entrance doors. 

It takes a minute for Jack to realize what exactly is unfolding in front of him. 

There you are on the gurney. 

Alix. 

Not lying down, but straddling a teenage girl’s chest doing compressions. Your face is pale, drawn tight with unrelenting focus. Jack can see the tremble in your arms and the raw determination in your eyes. Your hair has fallen loose from its clip, strands plastered to your forehead with a mixture of sweat and blood. 

Blood. 

Blood was everywhere. 

Jack’s heart was slamming against his ribs like it was trying to claw its way out.

“Seventeen-year-old female. GWS left chest. She was barely responsive when we loaded her in the truck. Carotid was weak. Became unresponsive en route. Been administering chest compressions for— Um… Five… no, ten minutes maybe. I don’t know.” 

The words fall from your mouth between staggered breaths, your body shuddering with every measured compression against the young woman’s chest.

Jack stands frozen, the scene shaking something loose in him. 

“Miller, we’re going to take over now.” Robby squeezes your arm gently, attempting to get your attention. “Alix— I need you to let us take over.”

You nod, “Yeah— y-yeah, okay.” 

Robby lifts you to your feet, his grip steady as he guides you to the side. Jack watches from across the room as you stand there shoulders heaving and eyes locked on the team taking over where you left off. 

You look like you’re still in the fight, even though your hands have let go they still hover out in front of you, slightly trembling. The weight of it all pressing down on you. The agonizing feeling of giving everything and still having to step back. 

Jack watches as you rush towards the nearest wall, some sort of resolve snapping you back from your reflection, you grab a pair of gloves and scan the trauma bay— already locking back into motion. 

Before you could disappear from his sight, Jack reaches for you, causing a startled gasp to rip from your throat. 

“Easy— easy, it’s me. It’s just me.” Jack says softly, his hands on your shoulders, grounding you the best he can. 

The moment your eyes find him, he sees it— how something in you softens, just a little. The panic loosens its hold and you let out a shaky breath, like your body is finally remembering how to breathe.

Jack’s hand slides up the curve of your neck without much thought— like a natural response. One he wasn’t going to put much thought into at the moment, so he pushed the thought aside. Your safety being his priority. 

“I’m okay.” 

You’ve barely finished your reassurance when he sees it— feels it. More closely now. Almost silky to the touch. 

A deep crimson hue. 

His eyes begin to track over you.

Blood down the front of your white tank top and denim shorts, soaking the fabrics with its complex essence. The tattoos on your arms and legs, once shades of black and grey, now obscured in streaks of red. 

“Jesus—“ Jack breathes. 

He doesn’t hesitate. His mind clicks into gear, calling on every moment he’s spent keeping people alive— years of training and triage taking over.

Assess. Locate. Control bleed. 

His hands were already moving. Scanning your limbs, searching gently but urgently for the source. Brushing aside fabric and blood with the practiced earnestness of someone who’s done this too many times— only this time, it’s you.

“Where are you hit?” His asks, his tone tense and thick. 

“I’m not— I’m not shot. It’s not mine.” Your voice cracks just a little. You grip his forearms, poised and insistent. “It’s Leah’s.”

Jack paused. Staring at you, still holding onto you as if you would disappear if he let go, not quite believing it until he saw the steadiness in your eyes. Not fine— but functioning. Survival mode.

You pulled in a breath. 

“I’d already left the scene before the shots started. Jess had way too much to drink— plus with the heat, she was out of it. We were taking her home.”

Your voice catches. The tears falling fast, unrelenting as they resaturate the bits of dried blood smeared across your cheeks. 

“But then I couldn’t leave. I couldn’t leave people behind— to- to die. It was by chance that I found Jake and Leah. But I don’t think it was enough. I should have done more—  for her. S-she’s not going to make it.”

Jack swallowed. “You did good. You did so fucking good.” His hands dropped slowly, like they didn’t want to.

You gave him a weary half-nod, not entirely convinced. 

It hit him then, intense and sudden. Jack cared more than he’d let himself admit. Not just as a colleague. Not as a friend. Something deeper. 

But he couldn’t say it— not now, in this place. Not with blood drying on your arms and grief still lingering in the air. If he said the wrong thing, if what he felt wasn’t reciprocated, he might lose you entirely.

He wanted to say something—I was scared for you. I couldn’t stop thinking about you. I care more than I should—but all that came out was:

“You need a break.”

You half-smiled at him, tired but grateful. “I’ll sit when it’s over.”

“It is over.” His voice was softer now, just for you. “At least the worst part. You’re running on adrenaline, but that’s going to wear off. The shock’ll hit soon and you to need to be ready for it.”

He paused, head tilted and gaze on you unfaltering. 

“Take a minute. Get cleaned up, grab some scrubs, and crash in one of the on-call rooms— just rest. When things settle down, I’ll take you home.”

“Why?” You murmured, brows raised with curiosity as to why he would afford such an offer. 

Jack didn’t answer right away. 

He just held your eyes for a second too long. Then he shook his head slightly, giving you a ghost of a smile and said:

“Because you matter.”

[beigetiger]

@yeehaw-razor-dirt-man brought it up, and I SO need to talk about Valkyrie and Sanguine. I've talked about them before but by the gods I'm doing it again.

SO. Their relationship is interesting. It starts off in book 2, continues all the way through to the end of book 9, and then we get a little finishing touch for them in book 12.

What makes them so interesting to me is seeing how their dynamic changes over the years. They start out hating each other with all their souls, and this lasts for YEARS. Eventually, Sanguine decides it's crueller to not kill her, and boy was he right. And from there on out (and a little bit before), a big part of their dynamic was outside forces making them work together. Zombies, Remnants, and so on.

Sanguine is a pretty much constant presence in Valkyrie's life, watching her grow up from thirteen to eighteen. She may hate him, but he's always there, in the background. Part of what made his death so heartbreaking to Valkyrie was that she had grown used to his presence. He was always there, he was always going to be there. And then one day Tanith turned up saying he was dead. He was never gonna be there again. He filled up a small niche in her life that she didn't even realize was there until she finally felt that hole in her soul where he'd been taken away. They were never close and they never liked each other, but they knew each other. They were comfortable with each other. But Valkyrie never really gets a chance to mourn him, because, as always, she has to stop the world from ending and frankly I don't think she had the emotional maturity at the time to understand why she felt the way she did about his death.

And so, nothing about Sanguine again until Bedlam rolls around.

The very first thing I would like to point out is that Valkyrie is buried in the ground, where she panics due to her fear of small spaces. And then someone comes. Someone wraps their arms around her and pulls her up from the dirt. Someone saves her from her prison. And that person is Sanguine. The person who sets off the dream by saving her is Billy-Ray Sanguine.

And what makes it hit even harder is the way he talks to her. The way he tells her to get up, to fight, the way he asks what happened to her. How she became so weak, so unlike the Valkyrie he'd watched grow up. The Valkyrie he'd been so proud to fight. It may be Valkyrie finding yet another way to self-hate, but there is a REASON that she envisioned the person questioning her on this being Billy-Ray, and that reason is that he knew her. She knew he knew her. He was around the longest, of course he'd know what she was supposed to be like.

It also hits in the guts that she doesn't remember him dying. If she doesn't remember his death, then the little hole in her soul that he left? Filled, at least temporarily. She knows that something is wrong, that he cannot be here, that that piece of her soul is supposed to be empty, but she cannot for the life of her remember why. She cannot mourn Sanguine because she doesn't remember he's gone, because why would he be gone? He's always there, in the background. He's known her ever since she was thirteen years old.

And finally, getting to what my mutual said, she refers to him either by his first name or his full name, but never really by the sole last name that we've known him for throughout the series (and the name I've been mainly identifying him with in this post). A first-name basis. He did that for her as well, even before his death. Drugged Valkyrie calling him in that way was, in a very real way, her admitting to herself the familiarity she had with him. She had friends, people she loved, who knew her less well than he did. And that was her way of admitting it. Right before he tunnels back under the dirt and leaves, just like he always did.

Genuinely them and their character development was so underrated in this series. I am so normal about them.

[goosewriting]

Across the Galaxy and Beyond

summary: some time after the Mantis crew split apart, Cal has an unexpected reunion with reader on Koboh

relationship: Cal Kestis x gn!reader

warnings: spoilers for Jedi Survivor, vague-ish mention of events from the Battle Scars book but i don't think it counts as a spoiler, hurt & comfort, flashbacks, kissing

word count: 8.9k 👀💧 ...i am unwell about this man what can i say

A/N: started writing this when i first started jedi survivor, and finally got around to finishing it now that i finished reading battle scars and the cal kestis brainworms are attacking me again. story doesn't follow the game exactly. also this could be read as a separate story from my wherever you go, i go trilogy, but i like to think it's the same reader and timeline lol so go read that if you haven't c:

Navigation: Part 1 (you’re here!) | Part 2 (wip)

(english is not my first language. constructive criticism and grammar corrections are very appreciated!)

— — — Part 1: Just like old times

After Cal's escape from Coruscant, the Mantis was pretty shredded. The main problem was the gyro, but upon entering Koboh's atmosphere, all systems started failing and the Jedi had to make an emergency landing somewhere on some cliffs. 

It took a lot of climbing and wall-jumping and fighting the aggressive local fauna, but after a couple of hours, Cal and BD finally made it to the outpost where Greez' cantina was located. On the way there he also encountered bandits who called themselves the Bedlam Raiders, as well as old Separatists battleships and battle droids, of all things. Just what has Greez got himself into?, Cal thinks to himself after saving a local from Rayvis, the leader of the Raiders, and outing himself as a Jedi in the process.

When Cal and BD finally enter Pyloon's Saloon, they meet with Greez. Since the Raiders have just been at the saloon (and the place doesn't look all too inviting either), there are no customers, so Cal and Greez catch up at the bar. The Latero is extremely happy to see the boy and his droid in one piece after all this time. Over a drink, the redhead tells him about the last job on Coruscant gone wrong, how only two of them made it out. He expresses his frustration, how the Empire is only growing stronger and everything he does feels pointless. Things haven't been easy since the Mantis crew split up. 

After catching up a little, Greez tells Cal that he has some spare parts and will take care of the ship. He'll send someone to bring the ship to the landing dock behind the saloon. In the meantime, he should take a breather and explore the outpost. Cal doesn't like feeling like he's wasting time, but with the state the Mantis is in, there really isn't much else he can do. 

The Latero shows him the room in the basement, telling Cal he can stay as long as he needs. Greez wasn't kidding when he said he had a room just for Cal: there was a meditation area in the middle of the round room, and even his old clothes and some unfinished tech projects were all stashed away in a big chest. 

They both sit down on the edge of the bed, and it doesn't take long for the conversation to take a direction Cal doesn't like. Not because what Greez is saying is wrong; on the contrary, he's probably right, but the redhead doesn't want to hear it. Not right now. Greez, in a genuinely concerned tone, goes on about how the game is rigged and Cal should walk away while he can, maybe even settle down somewhere. Cal lashes out for a moment, claiming someone has to keep fighting.

— — —

You approach the stable in the outpost riding on your nekko, humming a happy tune to yourself. You're lost in thought, letting your trusty mount walk the last stretch to the stalls by himself, as he knew the way. Once you reach the structure, you get off and start putting away your haul; you just came from a successful hunt. You'd skin and prepare everything later though, so you pack the preys away in special boxes where everything would be preserved for a couple of days. 

“Hello master,” a robotic yet chirpy voice greets you. 

You turn around with a smile, facing the Separatist battle droid you had found and reprogrammed to help you out at the stable.

“Hey there, Connor,” you greet back. You've told him several times not to call you that, but he insisted, saying you saved him and now his purpose was to serve you. You take a moment to inspect his blue and black markings that have started chipping more noticeably; maybe it's time for a new paint job.

“Did I miss anything while I was gone?” you ask, taking the saddle off your nekko and placing it onto the designated wooden beam. 

“Yes, in fact,” Connor replies, placing new food and clean water in the trough. “There's a ship on the landing pad behind the saloon that I've never seen before.”

“Is that so? What kinda ship?” 

“A modified S-161 Stinger, and it's pretty busted up. I'm surprised it even made it this far.”

You stop in your tracks, your grip tightening around the halter you just took off the nekko, which is now happily munching away on its fresh feed.

“Interesting,” you remark, putting the rest of the equipment away and turning around to face the droid. Since you spent most of the day down in some caves, you didn't see or hear anything. “Do you know who was on board?”

“I didn't see who came off the ship, but I overheard some prospectors talk about a newcomer that went one on one with Rayvis,” Connor comments, then leans in closer to you, looking around as if to make sure no one would be listening in on your conversations, when it's clearly just the two of you at the stable. “I also heard Turgle mentioning a Jedi being seen around here.”

“Huh,” is all you manage to say, feeling your heart pounding in your chest. There was no way he was here, right? After all this time? As far as you know, he doesn't even know you're here. So if it is him, he isn't here to see you, but Greez instead. It's probably because of the Mantis; Cal is in need of repairs. This thought immediately replaces the initial anticipation with a strange, cold feeling. 

“Can you believe it?” Connor goes on. “I've never even seen a Jedi. I would love to meet them.”

You take a long look at the droid, remembering the state you had found him in. He had never been in the war, actually. He spent several years in an abandoned Separatist camp, never even getting to be activated. So he only knew his programming: serve the Separatists, fight the clones and kill the Jedi. Yet he had never lived any of it. Reprogramming him had been easy in that regard, as his memory banks were mostly blank. Back then you were looking for a droid companion to help you out at the stables, and even though you know what battle droids mean to the Jedi, you can't help but think that they are kinda cute. The B1 models, at least. The B2 series and commandos are pretty scary. 

So you gave your new friend a name (you couldn't decide between Hank and Connor, but decided to go with the latter as it somehow suited his demeanour better) and a new purpose in life, and he seems content with that. The only fighting program you left in him is for defending the stable and nekkos. First and foremost it is his mission that they are not harmed. You also ordered him not to leave the outpost, for his own safety. You don't want the raiders to find him and get access to his memory bank. They would use the information against all of you at the outpost, and either scrap him or reprogram him to join the raiders. Once they were dealt with, however, you promised Connor you would take him around Koboh first, then show him the galaxy. 

“I'm going to the saloon,” you announce. “Can you take care of the rest?” 

“Roger roger!” Connor replies with a salute, getting to work. 

You find yourself smoothing out your clothes and hair as you make the short trip to the saloon. When you reach the bar you're met with Monk, the witty bartender droid. He greets you with a happy tone and some strange phrase that you don't entirely understand, as he always does. You ask for Greez, and he points towards the door to the side, saying he's in the basement with some old friend of his that just dropped by.

With a gulp and a forced smile, you thank him and head down the stairs. The urge to turn on your heel and run away grows with every step. As you're about to reach the door, you hear voices coming from the other side.

“-to be something more than a lightsaber.” That's Greez, you think. He sounds… sad? “Think of yourself. Settle down, find a home.”

“What home, Greez?” You swear your heart actually stops beating and accelerates at the same time when you hear the voice, his voice. “There is no home. Home was the Order. It was my teacher.”

You've stopped a couple steps away from the door so it wouldn't open and have you interrupt the conversation, but you involuntarily lean forward to hear better what Cal says next.

“It was everyone I lost… Home was the Mantis with you, Cere, Merrin, and–”

The automatic door whooshes open and Cal and Greez turn their heads towards you as they stand up from the bed they were sitting on. 

“I- I didn't mean to eavesdrop,” you sheepishly state after a moment of uncomfortable silence from everyone, approaching him but staying at a distance. “Hey, Cal. It's been a while.”

“Yeah, it has,” he retorts, and you can't really read the tone of his voice. 

You look each other up and down, taking in how different you both look since… Since the last time you saw each other. Since you split up. 

A thousand thoughts go through your head, and a thousand different feelings resurface, making your heart tighten in your chest, like there isn't enough space for everything it's trying to process.

Greez can't take the tension anymore, so he clears his throat loudly.

“Lemme show you something, Cal,” the Latero says as he walks towards a panel on the far side of the room. He presses a couple of buttons and a section of the wall slides open with a creak, revealing a path behind it. “This is an old smuggler's tunnel, you'll find spare parts in there. Just… be careful, I have a pest problem.”

With that, Greez walks by both of you, giving your arm an encouraging pat, before leaving the room. It's just you and Cal now.

“Spare parts?” you ask, trying to make some conversation. “For the Mantis, I take it?”

“Yeah,” Cal replies, looking at the tunnel entrance but not moving from where he stands. “Gyro's fried.”

You two stand there in silence, and you want to smack yourself in the face. You feel like an awkward 12-year-old all over again, not knowing how to talk to your cr– You stop your train of thought before you dare finish that sentence and potentially embarrass yourself further. The heat on your cheeks that refuses to leave your face since you've laid eyes on the Jedi can't possibly have gone unnoticed by him.

“You know, Greez has had this room set up for you for quite a while,” you tell Cal, shooting him a quick smile. “So I take it you'll be staying for a while, right? The Mantis isn't going anywhere.”

Cal shrugs and shoots you a quick, unsure glance, then casts his eyes back down, scratching the back of his neck. 

“I was just about to head out,” you lie. Your plan for the evening was to have a drink at the bar and unwind, but him being here changes everything. “You could join me and I'll show you around if you'd like…”

Cal looks at the tunnel again, weighing the options in his mind. One is going down there to fix the Mantis as soon as possible, then taking off to who knows where. The other… you're not so sure. And if you're being honest with yourself, you're too scared to ask.

“Sure, why not,” he finally agrees with a sigh and starts walking towards the door that directly leads outside from the basement, but you feel like something, or rather someone, is missing. You look around the room, scanning your surroundings for a certain droid, then turn back to Cal.

“W-Where's BD?” you ask, fearing the worst. You'd really hate it if something happened to him.

“Oh, he wandered off somewhere earlier,” Cal says and you release a breath of relief. After calling for him, the little droid comes hopping down the stairs and into the room.

“BD!” you greet the little companion, and he excitedly beeps at your reunion. He comes running towards you and you pick him up in a hug.

“Oh, how I've missed you,” you spin him around a couple of times, then set him back down onto the floor. “I have a droid of my own now, but you're still the cutest. Don't tell him, though,” you add with a wink. 

“You have a droid?” Cal asks as BD climbs onto his back and you all make your way out.

“Yeah, he helps me out at the stable,” you explain, pointing at the building as you reach the end of the stairs. The stable is practically behind the saloon. From these stairs it's a very short trek to reach the paddocks.

“Those are nekkos, right?” Cal questions, approaching the fence and looking at the two animals chilling in the sun. “I met Mosey earlier. She said she worked at the stable,” he turns around to look at you. “But she didn't mention you.”

You're about to retort by saying she couldn't have possibly known that you two knew each other, but you're interrupted by a chirpy voice.

“Master! You're back already?” 

At the sound of the familiar robotic voice, Cal instinctively draws his lightsaber, and turns towards the side entrance to the stable. You hurry to get between your droid and the Jedi; you don't want to see Connor get sliced today. Not by him. Said droid peeks out from behind the archway, and BD beeps repeatedly, alarmed. 

“Wait!” you exclaim, holding your hands up into the air defensively. “That's my droid!” 

“Your- Your droid?” Cal repeats, clearly confused. He puts away his weapon nonetheless.

“He's reprogrammed, and he's never even been in the war,” you explain, walking backwards as Cal starts approaching the stable to inspect the battle droid further, with you still between them. “He was never even activated. He's good, I promise!” 

“Master, who's this?” Connor asks, walking back into the stable to make room for Cal and you. “Is he bothering you?” The droid activates the blaster you had built into one of his arms, and Cal's hand goes to the hilt of his sabre again, while BD beeps in exasperation. 

“No, stand down!” you order, and the blaster immediately turns off with a whirr. “Will everyone please calm down?”

Still standing between Cal and the battle droid, you let out a huff, looking from one to the other. 

“Cal, BD; this is Connor, my droid,” you start introducing them. “My good and reprogrammed droid, whose mission is to protect the stable and the nekkos, nothing more.”

Cal seems unimpressed, still looking at Connor with narrowed eyes. You turn to the droid.

“Connor; these are Cal and BD,” you start. “And you know what? Cal here–” You look at Connor with raised brows and lower your voice. “–is a Jedi.”

Connor brings his hands up to where his mouth would be, gasping in surprise. 

“You- You are?” he asks, quickly going around you to take Cal's hand and shaking it vigorously. “It's such an honour! I've always wanted to meet a Jedi!”

“So you could get up all close and stab me in the back?” Cal retorts, his voice laced with uncharacteristic venom, and pulls his hand from the droid's grasp.

“What? No, I–” Connor starts but you push him to the side a bit.

“It's okay, Connor. He'll warm up to you, eventually,” you comfort him. “Please go get the nekkos ready for us?” 

You've never heard a sadder 'roger roger' in your life and it sends a sting of pain through your chest. 

While the droid goes to prepare your mounts, you turn around to Cal and frown at him. He crosses his arms in front of his chest defensively. 

“Why would you say something like that? He's genuinely excited to meet you,” you explain. “When was the last time someone was actually happy to see a Jedi, hm?”

“Not a battle droid, that's for sure,” Cal retorts with a huff. 

You look up at him for a moment, holding his rather cold gaze. You wonder just what happened these past few years that had him like this. Sure, you understand why he isn't a fan of battle droids. Normally you aren't either. But there's just something about Cal that's… different. He looks older, but it might just be the beard. He also looks more tired, carries himself differently. With confidence like he always did, but also in a “don't mess with me” way that wasn't there before. Gone is the spark in his eyes, that glimmer of optimism and hope, replaced by the promise of not holding back if anyone were to cross him. 

For several moments, you just look at each other, and you're sure he's analysing you just as you are him, and you wonder what is going through his head. 

“The nekkos are ready,” Connor announces, leading both of them out of their respective stalls by the reins. 

You allow the animals to sniff Cal and inspect him, while you give a short explanation on how to ride and guide them. Cal's mount is white with a dark face and legs, while yours is a dark purple and brown. After thanking Connor and waving him goodbye, you both hop onto the saddle and head out of the outpost. You know your way around, taking a route that would keep you hidden from the patrols, both the imperial ones as well as the raiders. You'd much rather deal with the local fauna. And you do come across a couple of rawkas at the river, and a pack of gorgers when heading further up the Southern Reach. But you two make quick work of them.

In fact, Cal has grown stronger, and not only that, but he also has a new array of weapons it seems; now he double-wields his lightsabers, and he also has a blaster, which completely takes you by surprise. 

Once you reach the base of the big silo, you get off your nekkos and climb the rest by foot, getting on top of the structure and sitting at the edge. It's not a super well-hidden spot; if the patrols under you decide to look up they would definitely see you, but it's a good vantage point to show Cal the different places. You point towards the landmarks, explaining them to him so he can orient himself and navigate beyond the outpost. You tell him about the caverns, the mines, to look out for different patrols and what areas to avoid; be it because of the raiders, like fort Kha'lin, or because of bigger fauna like bilemaws, goroccos and mogus. Especially mogus. They are fierce.

Once you're done with your explanation, you lean back onto your hands with a sigh. Cal attentively listened to everything, but he doesn't seem interested in keeping the conversation going, as he hasn't said anything.

He's looking out, scanning this corner of Koboh as far as he could see from here, taking in the view and probably trying to commit to memory everything you've said. You look at him from the corner of your eyes, your gaze falling onto the holster on his hip.

“So,” you try starting the conversation again. “You now double-wield and you have a blaster. Which, by the way, is pretty uncharacteristic for a Jedi, no?”

“A lot has changed, I guess,” is all you get out of him.

“Do you have any other new tricks?” you ask, and the memory of him re-discovering his Master's lessons after his escape from Bracca comes back to you, making you smile fondly to yourself for a moment. 

“Hmm,” Cal thinks aloud, also leaning back and finally tearing his eyes from the landscape to look at you. “There aren't any new Force-tricks, if that's what you mean. But I do have this.”

He brings one of his arms up, showing you the contraption on his brace.

“Grappling hook. Comes in pretty handy,” he explains, showing you some of the mechanisms. Your hands reach up to gently hold his wrist, so you can inspect the device better, and you could have sworn you heard his breath hitch at the contact. At that moment, you realise that's the first physical interaction you've had since he arrived, and you quickly let go. 

“We should head back,” you say as you stand up, dusting off your legs. “It will get dark soon, plus you must be hungry. I know I am.”

“Yeah, I could eat,” Cal replies, getting up to his feet as well, and BD beeps in agreement.

Cal climbs down the silo first, while you scan the area one last time for any patrols. When it's your turn, just as you're almost at the base of the rather unstable ladder, your foot slips and you lose your balance. You hold onto the next best thing, which happens to be Cal. Seeing you're about to fall, his arm reaches around you and he pulls you towards him while with the other hand he tightly holds onto the railing that goes along the walls of the structure. 

“You okay?” he asks, and when you look up at him this time, you're finally met with a pair of eyes that you recognise. There's concern in his gaze but also a certain warmth, amused at how you were a fierce warrior yet managed to be clumsy in small things like these. He found it cute, which you knew for a fact because he would tell you often, back then…

“Y-Yeah, thanks,” you mutter, separating yourself from him now that you're back safe on the ground. Feeling the heat spreading on your face, you can't help a sheepish smile. “Guess some things never change, heh.”

“Guess not,” Cal says with a small smile of his own, and your chest tightens at the sight. 

The ride back to the Outpost is silent, and you wonder if his body is also reacting as strongly as yours; ever since slipping, your skin feels like it's tingling, and your heart hasn't calmed down in the slightest. 

Once you're back at the stable and the nekkos have been taken care of, Connor mentions that Greez left some food for you, and hands you several small containers wrapped with a cloth. 

“You wanna eat at my place?” you find yourself asking Cal, who's scratching behind the nekko's ear. He turns around to you with raised eyebrows in what you assume to be a surprised expression, but he's quick to relax his face back to normal. 

“I have a room behind Doma's shop,” you explain, holding up the food in your hands and you gesture to it with your chin. “And Greez knows this is far too much food for myself.”

“Yeah, sounds good,” Cal replies, calling BD back to him, who was scanning some stable equipment. “Let me help you with that.”

Cal takes the food off your hands, and you say your goodbyes to Connor, who stays at the stable. It's a quick trip past the saloon's entrance into Doma's shop. She's behind the counter organising some of her merchandise, and returns your “hello” from afar without looking. Only when she hears Cal's greeting does she turn around. She shoots you a look and you know exactly what she means, heat prickling again at your cheeks. You give a curt shake of your head, quickening the pace to evade Doma's questioning, heading for the door at the back that leads to the place you have been calling home for the last year. 

It isn't much, but it makes do: one big room, that's both kitchen and a living space, with two doors at the far side that lead to a small bedroom and the refresher. The main room is decorated, you like to think it's warm, cosy and inviting. You even managed to thrift an old couch somewhere, refurbished it yourself, and it now essentially serves as the centrepiece of the room. There are several rugs on the floor, as well as piles of pelts and leather in the corner that you still have to finish working on so you could sell them. These days that's your main source of income.

Cal stands at the door for a moment, taking everything in, and you suddenly feel very self-conscious. The space is clean, but the fact that you can't read his face makes you a little nervous. To distract yourself, you take the food from him, bringing it to the kitchen counter.

“I think the food is still warm,” you say as you start opening the containers, the delicious smell filling both your noses. “Do you mind setting the table?”

Cal and you make quick work of getting everything plated and grabbing some drinks, then sitting down in front of each other at the wooden table to eat. You make some light conversation between bites, catching each other up on what has been going on in your lives recently. He tells you about some of the missions he's been on ever since the Mantis crew split up, and you tell him of your own solo adventures before you came to Koboh. 

When the plates are empty, your bellies full, and the conversation is about to die down, you ask if you can check out Cal's lightsabre. He unclips it from his belt to hand it to you, and you catch yourself being relieved at the fact he still trusts you enough to just give his sacred weapon to you without further inquiry. 

He's changed some parts and the materials, and you hold the device in your hands with the utmost care, admiring the beautiful design and intricate markings on the wooden accents. Rather suddenly, a feeling of regret and shame spreads out in your chest, thinking about how not only this sabre but also Cal himself went through so many changes, and you hadn't been there for any of it. There's so much you want to tell him, about how sad you are that you weren't there for him, about how sorry you are with the way you left, about how you've been thinking of and missing him every single day. But telling him that wouldn't be fair. You have no right to be selfish like that.

“So what exactly happened that got the Mantis in such a state?” you decide to ask instead, reaching the lightsabre over the table to give it back. Cal takes it with a deep sigh, putting it back to his belt, feeling immediately comforted by its familiar weight. 

“A job on Coruscant that went… wrong,” he starts, telling you how his team was gathering intel for Saw Guerrera, and it had all worked out until the very last moment, where everything went wrong, and he lost his whole crew in an instant. Only him and another person made it out of there. In fact, one of his crew members saved his life by pushing him out of the way and taking the blaster shot herself instead. 

You listen intently, and your heart grows heavier by the second; you can hear the frustration in his voice, the voice of a man who's this close to giving up entirely, because he's just so tired, but he can't. He won't. You know Cal took it upon himself to fight the Empire by himself if he has to. A trait you genuinely admire but also despise. After all, that was one of the reasons you left.

Then he mentions the Ninth Sister, and your attention is fully back to what he's saying. 

“I tried to get through to her, I really did,” Cal says, his voice cracking for a second. “But she wouldn't let up. I had no choice.”

“Did you…?” you ask carefully.

“I killed her,” he says matter-of-factly, but you can tell it's been eating away at him.

“I'm so sorry, Cal,” you offer, reaching across the table and placing your hand on his. “That couldn't have been easy. I'm sorry you had to go through that.”

He doesn't meet your eyes, his gaze fixed on his half empty cup instead, watching the drops of condensation slowly fall along the outside of the glass onto the table, staining the wood. But he doesn't pull away either, so you give his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“You look exhausted,” you finally tell him, and he lets out a breath through his nose, as if saying 'you have no idea'. You offer for him to take a shower here instead of at the saloon before heading back, telling him yours is nicer, to which he chuckles lightly, and he accepts. 

He insists you take a shower first while he takes care of the dishes, so you do just that. Once you're out, it's his turn. You hand him a towel and a change of clean clothes, and you can tell he wonders why you have them in his size, until he realises that they're actually his. It's an old shirt and lounge pants that you would always steal from him and had apparently taken with you. He doesn't comment on it though, instead he simply stares at the clothes in his hand for maybe a second too long, deep in thought. Then he blinks a couple of times, as if he just came back from zoning out, gives you a short 'thanks' and gets into the shower. 

While he cleans up, you take a seat on the couch, pulling up the novel you're currently reading on your holopad. Only now that you're sitting with your legs stretched out along the length of the cushions do you realise how tired you are, both physically and emotionally. Out of everything you could have thought would happen today, meeting Cal was certainly not on the list. Still, you can't deny that you're happy to see him. For starters, he's still alive. And you've missed him, much more than you care to admit to yourself. 

After reading the same sentence of your book over and over, failing to focus, you sigh and look at BD instead, who hops onto the coffee table and tilts his head at you with an inquiring beep. 

“Has he been taking care of himself?” you ask the droid, pointing over your shoulder in the direction of the refresher, where you can hear the water running.

BD lets out a sequence of beeps and boops, and you narrow your eyes at him for a moment. 'He keeps himself busy' he said. Is he dodging your question?

“Is that so,” you reply with a hum, and BD shoots the question right back at you. You're a bit surprised at his concern, and for a moment you consider opening up to the little droid, but you hear the water turn off, so you bring your attention back to your book again instead, trying your darndest to focus on what's happening in the story. The washroom door opens with a whoosh.

“Where should I put the towel?” Cal asks, still standing at the door frame. 

“Just put it in the hamper underneath the sink,” you reply over your shoulder, and in the corner of your eye you can see BD still looking at you, waiting for an answer. Then he tilts his head with an amused boop; he's got you all figured out. 

“Oh shush you,” you start scolding the little droid, but Cal appears, walking around the couch to sit down. Except that your legs are stretched across it, so you start lifting them off the cushions and intend to bend them at the knee to sit properly, but Cal gently grabs your ankles, lifting them off the couch to sit down, and places them over his lap instead. His hand comes to rest on your shin, and you can feel the warmth he irradiates seep through the fabric of your pants. 

“You looked comfy,” he points out, his hand gently rubbing up and down below your knee, while with his other hand he props up his head against the back of the couch. 

You swallow hard, unable to answer, and bring the datapad up to your face to hide behind it. Why is he being so nice suddenly? Is it because you aren't outside where others could see? Or is it because he realised he still has you wrapped around his finger so he's just teasing you? You're beyond confused at the sudden sign of affection after he's been so distant the whole day, like he hadn't planned on ever seeing you again. And to be quite honest, you deserve the cold treatment. After what you did, the way you left. 

Feeling the sting behind your eyes, knowing what's coming, you shrink further into yourself, holding the holopad even closer to your face to hide it from Cal's view. He can't see your expression from where he's sitting, so he gives a light chuckle, thinking you're just flustered. The sound feels like a dagger in your gut, and you unsuccessfully choke back sob.

Now Cal's face changes completely to one of concern, and he pushes the pad out of the way only to be met with your crying face. 

“Whoa, wait-“ Cal says, and he retrieves his hands, holding them both up in surrender. “I'm sorry, I didn't mean to- I thought we-“

“I'm so sorry, Cal,” you croak, crying freely now, as you let go of the device and it falls onto the floor with a 'clunk'. “I'm so sorry for everything, for what I did. For leaving you alone.” Your hands wipe away at your cheeks in a vain attempt to dry off the tears, but they just keep coming. 

After the crew split up, the Mantis felt unbearably empty. After the failed mission on Hosnian Prime, after saying goodbye to Fret and Irei, who had definitely changed the dynamics of the crew (you still weren't sure if it had been for better or worse), everything felt like it started falling apart. 

The first to leave was Merrin, saying she needed to recentre her fire and find herself again, to be able to draw all the power she now knew she was able to use. 

Then, it was Cere and Greez. The Latero trusted Cal and left his beloved ship in his hands, telling him to look after it until he'd be back. Except everyone knew that he didn't really intend to. The loss of his arm had hit him harder than he wanted to admit, and for Greez it had been the wake-up call needed to “leave the game while you can because it's been rigged since the start”, as he would often say. Cere on the other hand took off with new-found determination. Her and Cal's goals weren't all that different: the endgame was to defeat the Empire, one way or another. However, Cal believed in taking action now, while Cere had her sights set on the future, being able to help those who would come next, long after she and everyone else were gone. She wanted to build a legacy, as the 'Jedi's knowledge was far too valuable to be lost to time and circumstance. 

After everyone was gone, it was just Cal, BD and you. 

The Jedi had become irritable, like he had already convinced himself that you would leave him soon too, as did everyone, apparently. You reassured him to the best of your abilities that you believed in what he stood for and wanted to stay by his side. However, now that you didn't have a whole crew to count on, you had to be more careful than ever.

“We have to be smart about this!” you'd plead, seeing Cal running head-first into danger time and time again. 

When the nightmares became too much, you'd hold him tightly, kissing his tears away as he'd cry out for his master, Tapal.

“You were just a kid!” you had yelled at Cal one time, when what was supposed to be a quick run-down of the plan had become a big argument. “You act as if the whole universe is counting on you and only you to defeat the beast that is the Empire. Do you think that that's your destiny? As dictated by the Force? We've had our share of big, successful missions as a group. Now it's time to back down, Cal. We're just two people, what do you expect we'll achieve here? It's time to move on.”

Needless to say, those words had not calmed Cal down in the slightest. Now he felt just as betrayed by you as he did by the rest. More words were thrown at each other like daggers finally let free after being pushed back for far too long in an attempt to keep some level of normalcy between you two. But there was no going back. So you did what you told him as well: you moved on. That same evening, you packed your things and left. 

Your heart bled and tears kept streaking down your face with every heavy step you took away from the Mantis, but at the time, you didn't know what else to do. You'd never wanted to leave Cal, and you hated yourself for doing this to him and to yourself, but what you had going on was no way to live anymore. Maybe, hopefully, now that you were gone, he would understand that. 

You know it had been a horrible thing to do, especially like that. After years of telling him how you'd follow him to the end of the world. After telling him every day how much you loved him. After promising you'd be there for him. The worst part was that being away from him was far more painful than it was with him. He left a void in your heart that only he could fill. You meant to go looking for him many times, but were too scared. You didn't deserve to have him back. Not after what you did.

But now he's here.

Between cries, you apologise over and over again, saying how what you did wasn't fair, that you wished you had never left and worked it out instead, that you missed him so much it was hard to breathe. 

Cal doesn't answer immediately, and you force your somewhat blurry gaze up to meet his eyes, and you see he's starting to tear up himself. He leans forward, lifting you up and settling you sideways onto his lap, enveloping you in a bone-crushing hug. You hold him just as tightly, crying into his shoulder.

“I'm sorry,” The more you say it, the emptier it feels, but it's all you can manage for now, and you mean it. “I really am.”

“I know,” Cal says, squeezing you a little tighter. “I felt it. When you gave me the clothes earlier.”

You remember the countless nights you've cried yourself to sleep in the very clothes he's now wearing, the times when you missed him so much you felt like your heart would rip its way right out of your chest, muttering your regrets into your pillow, as if it could carry your apology and bring it to Cal somehow. You groan in embarrassment; you always forget that your stuff also carries imprints he can feel.

“I'm so lame,” you mumble and pull back to look at Cal, giving him a weak smile that quickly turns into a grimace again as a new wave of tears come rolling down your cheeks.

“No, you're not,” Cal reassures you, one hand cupping your face and wiping over your cheekbone with his thumb. You lean into his touch with a sniffle.

“I've missed you too,” he finally says, placing a gentle kiss on your forehead. “And I'm sorry—” He kisses your cheek. “—for making you feel like you were less important than the missions.” A kiss to the corner of your mouth. “You're the best thing that ever happened to me and I took you for granted.” His lips brush over yours. “Can we try again?”

You close the minimal gap and kiss him hard, like Cal was the air your lungs needed after being underwater for too long. He reciprocates just as intensely, pushing you down onto the couch and climbing on top of you. When he finally breaks the kiss, you're both panting. You run your fingers through his hair as he trails kisses along your jaw, and you giggle at how ticklish his beard feels against your skin; that's a new sensation you'd have to – no scratch that, want to – get used to. Your giggles turn into a low moan as he bites the spot over your collarbone, and when you turn your head to give him better access, you're met with BD still on the coffee table, now sitting comfortably, looking up at you two as if it was the most interesting spectacle in the world. 

A strangled sound of surprise and embarrassment comes from your throat and you push Cal away a bit by his shoulders, to which he raises his head and grumbles in annoyance for interrupting him.

“We have an audience,” you whine, hiding your face behind your hands, and Cal lets out an amused laugh. BD beeps matter-of-factly.

“What do you mean 'don't mind me'?!” You turn to the droid and you swear that if he had a face, he'd be wearing the cockiest of grins right now. 

“Some things really never change, huh,” Cal comments with an amused smile, thinking back to all the times you'd become flustered when you kissed in front of BD, saying it was inappropriate or something. If only you knew that Cal often did it on purpose because he loved seeing your cute, flustered face.

“Unlike this right here,” you point out and bring your hands to his face, stroking over his beard, enjoying the prickly sensation. “This is new.”

“Do you like it?” Cal asks genuinely.

“You know I like your scars,” you say, tracing over the one on his lower lip. “As long as they're not covered up, I think I can get used to it. It does look good on you.”

Cal smiles down at you tenderly and for a few moments, you simply enjoy each other's presence, taking each other in. Making sure that this is real and it's happening, that you're back again. Until you let out a hearty yawn. 

“Let's get to bed before we fall asleep on the couch,” you say, rubbing your face, but stop to look up at Cal, who seems very content with his current position and hasn't moved yet. “You are staying here tonight, right? I mean, if you want to, you don't have to. Greez has the whole room thing for you, so I understand if—“

Cal interrupts your rambling with a quick peck. 

“Yeah, I want to stay,” he assures you and finally stands up, helping you get off the couch. 

“Let's go, BD,” you tell the droid to join you as you take Cal's hand and guide them to the bedroom. 

You climb into bed, BD at your feet as he would always do on the Mantis, and Cal lifts the covers to get in as well but stops for a moment when he sees the holopicture on your night stand. In the small frame he recognises Greez, Cere, Merrin, Cal, BD and you in the cockpit, all grinning at the camera. Smiling to himself, he finally gets into bed, hugging you to him.

“I have the same picture of us on the Mantis,” he says after letting out a content sigh at finding a comfortable position. “Guess we still were connected somehow all this time.”

You hum in response, a bit surprised at the romantic implication, as if you were lovers who found comfort in looking at the same moon even though you were separated. But you like the idea nonetheless, and you agree. 

The warmth both on your skin and spreading in your heart makes quick work of carrying you off to dreamland though, so before you can even give a proper reply, you're fast asleep in Cal's arms.

— — —

The next morning, you wake up to BD's beeping. You groan, turning over to cuddle a little longer, except that the other side of your bed is empty. You blink away the sleepiness in your eyes, and pout at the lack of Jedi in your sheets. Your nose is quick to pick up the scent of freshly brewed caf however, and the grogginess is quickly forgotten as you get out of bed and make your way to the kitchen, where Cal is preparing breakfast. 

After a quick meal and lots of stolen kisses, Cal announces it's time to go check out Greez's smuggler tunnel to find that gyro. 

“Be careful,” is the last thing you tell him before he leaves. 

“Always,” he shoots back at you with a wink and takes off. You playfully roll your eyes at that, thinking back to the countless times on the Mantis you've had to patch him up after a mission inevitably went astray from the original plan.

While Cal is looking for parts for the Mantis, you go back to your own things, checking in on Connor and the nekkos at the stable, as well as preparing some pelts and sewing up your most recent leather project. 

Time goes by fast as you skilfully work the needle and thread through the thick material, finishing the piece after a couple of hours. Setting it aside, you stretch your arms and back with a satisfied grunt. You check to see if your comms are working; they are, but there's no new messages. Strange, you think, Cal sure is taking his time to find that gyro. Is he not back yet? 

Suddenly feeling uneasy by your own thoughts of how he might have got lost in the tunnels, or how he may have encountered trouble down there, you decide to go check with Greez yourself. 

You quickly make your way to the Saloon, going down the stairs that lead to the bar with such speed that when you reach the end and see someone standing there, you bump into them before you can stop yourself. 

“Whoa,” a deep voice exclaims at the impact, and you push yourself away from the man's back you just ran into. He turns around slightly towards you. “You okay?”

“Yeah, sorry, didn't see you there” you reply, regaining your composure and walking around him to get a better look. 

He's not super tall, but he has a strong and broad build. Although you already felt that when you bumped into him and it was like walking into a wall. You give him a quick up-and-down, trying to gauge if he's friend or foe, but you can't quite read him. He narrows his eyes at you ever so slightly, probably doing the same.

“A new face, how rare,” you start, walking over to the bar and leaning on it with one arm. Your other hand finds its way to your hip, where you realise there is no holster or weapon; you mentally reprimand yourself for leaving your staff at the stable. 

“Care for a drink?” asks Monk from behind you. 

“No, I'm looking for someone,” the man says. 

“Of course you are,” Monk replies with sarcasm. You give the bartender droid a nod; you'll take care of this. As he wheels back into the kitchen, you hear him mutter something about how his bar isn't a lost and found counter. Before the stranger can go on however, the doors at the back of the saloon whoosh open.

“Who's this?” asks Greez as he enters the main room.

“I was just about to ask him,” you reply, your eyes still trained on the man.

“I'm looking for Cal Kestis,” the man in question says instead, and your hand on the bar involuntarily curls into a fist.

“Who? Kal Restis?” Greez asks as he approaches him. “We don't know any Kales. Listen, if you're not gonna order something, get out of my saloon.”

“No, not Kale”, the man says, getting slightly exasperated as he repeats the name slower, and Greez keeps getting it wrong on purpose. 

Just as you're about to intervene and send the man away, the entrance doors open and in comes Cal, a soft smile of self-satisfaction on his face. 

“Cal!” The man greets the Jedi. You hear Greez mutter “Oh, this Cal Kestis” under his breath as they clearly recognise each other.  

“I found the gyro,” Cal announces first, throwing a small mechanical part to Greez, who's taken by surprise but still catches it. Then he turns to the intruder with a smile. “You made it!”

“Good to see you, Cal,” he replies, and the two share a friendly handshake.

“Greez Dritus, this is Bode Akuna,” Call starts introductions, telling this Bode your name as well. You merely give him a short nod in acknowledgment as Cal continues. “He was on Coruscant. Wouldn't have made it out alive without his help.”

Oh, that changes things. 

You leave your spot at the bar and drop your rather cold gaze to join the group. Coming to stand next to Cal, you take his hand, and try your best to give Bode a thankful smile. He returns it, quickly catching on. 

“Wait a minute. Another one?” Greez quips, looking behind Cal. You were so focused on Bode, that you hadn't even noticed the strange looking droid that came in with the redhead. “Cal, you have a very bad habit of picking up strays.”

“I am ZN-A4,” the droid introduces herself with an exaggerated bow. The design and material she’s made of is something you’ve never seen before. “Humble servant of the Jedi Order.”

What.

“Oh, I take it you haven't broken the news yet,” Bode says to Cal, who sheepishly shrugs his shoulders. 

Cal then brings everyone up to speed, telling you how when he was in the tunnels with BD, they stumbled upon this old chamber where the droid was stuck, so they freed her. Turns out she's a droid that belonged to a Jedi from the High Republic, of all things. Her master, Sandari, had sent her to activate the so-called forest array (that strange building the other side of the river that doesn't quite fit in with the rest of the scenery; you've always wondered what it was but never found a way to get in). However, Zee, as everyone started calling the droid, is in really bad shape, and she'll never make it that far. She looks dejected as she says that if she fails her mission, then the key to Tanalorr may be lost forever. 

At the mention of the name, Greez chimes in, telling the group that there's an old prospector legend about Tanalorr being a world filled with treasure. But treasure or not, the important part is that it seems to be a real place, one potentially beyond where the Empire can reach: a safe haven. 

Zee is delighted and very thankful that everyone seems on board with her mission, and the group is quick to formulate a plan: while Monk gets her up to speed regarding the state of, well, everything, and she gets some much-needed repairs, Bode and Greez will take care of the Mantis. Meanwhile, Cal, BD and you will go to the forest array to check it out. 

As you're making your way to the stables, you nudge into Cal's side with your elbow.

“You didn't get hurt down there or anything, right? You sure took your time,” you ask him. It did not go unnoticed by you how in Cal's retelling of events, he skilfully left out how he happened to find that mysterious chamber in the first place. 

“The tunnels were pretty old and unstable, but we're okay,” Cal deflects, shooting the droid a quick look. “Right BD?��

BD beeps in response, and you shoot Cal a glare accompanied by a muted gasp, stopping in your tracks.

“You fell through a hole the equivalent of several stories?!” You can't believe this guy. 

“It's fine!” Cal tries to reassure you, bringing his hands up to your shoulders. “I promise, it's nothing a stim didn't already fix. So there’s no need to worry, okay? We have a job to do.”

You sigh in defeat as he places a soft kiss on your forehead. You first cup his face softly, then pinch both his cheeks.

“Just what am I going to do with you, Cal Kestis?” you ask rhetorically, taking his hand into yours and resuming the short trek to where Connor is already waiting and waving at you both. 

Once you're all geared up and hop into the saddle, you tighten the strap of your staff, adjusting its position on your back.

“Just like old times, huh?” you ask at no one in particular, scanning your surroundings and taking in the scenery; it just never gets old. Cal's nekko trots up next to you.

“Just like old times,” he repeats, with that boyish smile you can't get enough of, and the glint of adventure in his eyes. 

Your nekkos take off, and the freckles on his face seem to shine in the sunlight. They form the ever familiar star map that you'd follow time and time again, finding your way back to him. Because from the first time you looked at him, you knew: you'd follow this man across the galaxy and beyond.

— — —

A/N 2: if you understand the droid name reference you get a cookie 🍪

A/N 3: in the book Battle Scars there’s a part where BD tells Cal, and i quote, “Where you go, I go”, and when i tell you that i screamed omg (the first part of my “wherever you go, i go” fic was actually called ‘where’ but i changed it to ‘wherever’ when i added more chapters because to me it sounded better asdsdf) BD-1 and me sharing one brain cell obsessed with Cal fr😌

~~~~~

🐥 taglist: [link to join in my pinned post!] @dybynyght, @galaxtic-writings, @kalea-bane, @soka-writes-things, @padawancat97, @riddikulus-obsessions, @optimisticprime3, @starilicious, @ivelostmyabilitytoeven, @alternatescififandomelover

[idontplaytrack]

Bedlam

Sally Bowles x fem! reader

Warnings: this chapter is a very emotional ride and a mess. Coarse language, descriptions of anxiety, low moods, self-harm, child loss, medical procedures and assault

noun: a scene of uproar and confusion. obsolete: madman, lunatic

w.c.: 3.7k

Other chapters here.

One night you were fine, and the next, you were absolutely miserable. Bloated and nauseous and cranky. You felt like a madman. You couldn’t figure out why you were feeling this way. You sat in your bed, head in your hands for a moment before you flopped onto your back. A heavy sigh fell from your lips as you went through your recent days in your head. Were you getting sick? Is that what this was?

No.

Spreading your fingers out onto the fabric of Sally’s fuzzy coat, it was laid on your bed. Well, tossed casually onto your bed when you came home from getting groceries. Your eyes were shut, and images from your first night here, flashed through your mind. Your first night working at the Kit Kat Club, played back in your head from start to finish. 

You felt your chest tightening, your head pounding and spinning. A shiver down your spine was felt when Max’s words rang through your ears. What he said was pure filth, stomach churning words about what he wanted to do to you, and did. Your struggle to breathe worsened in seconds, your hand on the coat balls into a fist that abruptly let go of the fabric like it was on fire. You jolted to sit up, your mouth watering. Whimpering, you stumbled to your bathroom and threw up into the toilet while tears pricked at your eyes from the exertion, and the panic attack. An amazing combination, honestly. Just what was needed to push you over the edge. You called out sick, and just wrapped yourself in your blanket, hugging your stomach hoping the nausea would die down sooner rather than later. 

You told Sally you’d meet her at her place for lunch, but now you don’t think you could. You don’t think you could even move a muscle without feeling like your entire world was spinning or like you had wave after wave of nausea drowning you. 

You were like they say, feeling like death.

You whimpered, eyes landing on your clock. You still had some time to rest before you were due to meet Sally. So you thought you would just…get some shut eye, avoid being awake and feeling nauseous.

Alas, like always— as of the last few weeks, you’ve been so tired. And, waking up to one person knocking at your door. Sally. 

“Oh, God.” Sally cringed. “You’re not well, aren’t you, darling? We best get you to the doctor’s.”

You did not even protest vocally, just ignored her and dragged yourself over to the bathroom to get sick for the second time today. “Hey.” Sally said, recoiling slightly at how she sounded angrier than she had intended to. “Did you even hear what I just said, y/n?”

You heard her in the distance behind you while you were leaning over the toilet, waiting for the nausea to reach its worst. And then, she heard it— the retch that made her insides burn in an unspeakable manner. Fear, that’s what that was. Sally never thought she would feel fearful of anything, until she did. It yanked her into the real world, brutal, cold, sometimes painful. Now, she was panicking. Worried about you. Was your feeling unwell the reason for your poor appetite? What was causing you to feel so poorly?

Sally gingerly approached the dimly lit bathroom, asking how you were feeling. You could only manage a groan. Then a whimper, a sniffle, and finally a sob. It was really strange, you didn’t say anything and just cried. Somehow, it was like she knew. She knew your suspicion. She understood, probably way too much about this situation. Why did she know as much as she did?

“Are you pregnant?”

“How is that possible?” Came a weak, soft response from you. 

You took the pill. This couldn’t be happening, this shouldn’t be happening.

You told her to leave, she doesn’t even budge. So, you begged. You begged her to leave and she unwillingly did so. While you clung onto the toilet, you gulped, blinking away your tears profusely as you watched her leave, watching her figure become smaller and smaller. Then she was gone, you were alone. Again.

You felt overwhelmed, with an ungodly mix of different emotions. You felt like ripping your heart out of your chest so it would all stop. And then, in the eerie silence…rage, which turned into sheer numbness. Your heart beating, your head hurting, your knuckles turning white from the grip you had on the porcelain. Everything, felt like nothing in an instant. Your mind felt fuzzy.

And then, you weren’t sure how long it’d been, but you picked yourself up, washed your face and went about your day like none of that even happened. Yup, denial.

————

You had made up your mind to avoid Sally, which wasn’t too difficult. What was difficult was being reminded of her, intentionally or otherwise. Sometimes you’d just be at work, and you'd think about her. Or saw her fuzzy coat laying around in your apartment. Other times, it was noticing a passerby’s mannerisms or thinking that you heard her laughter in the distance but it was someone else you’ve never even met. The sound that made you smile now made you feel like you were supposed to be hiding from an enemy.

Needless to say, you stopped going to work at Sally’s coffeehouse. You were there for a week— three shifts before this mess.

She didn’t look for you, you didn’t look for her. You hoped it stayed this way. Facing her was forcing you to face her question, even if she didn’t ask you that question again. Her face would remind you of it, over and over and over again. You couldn’t take that, you couldn’t even take this. This part of the mess, in isolation and confusion. You certainly did not want to involve someone else, and have to worry them. Or about them, and what they thought.

Now, you were out and about, wind blowing through your hair while you stood at an lookout, at the top of the stairs. You couldn’t do that here, there were way too many people everywhere. It was cold, you sniffed, you fingers grabbing the fabric of the coat you had on— Sally’s coat. In that moment, you snapped out of it and left the lookout safely, watching every step you took until you were at the bottom.

You walked aimlessly, a desperate attempt to clear your head. But really, you’d just spaced out. You thought being in foreign streets would force you to pay attention to where you were going instead of your own thoughts…but your brain was just…empty, yet a whirlwind. You tried to cross the street, a prolonged honking scared you and you jumped back, saving  you from being hit. Your hand? One of which was clutching into the coat like your life depended on it. Your thumb smoothed over the fur, like it was calming you down. It was, to an extent. But you could never fully ground yourself, not since your breakdown in front of Sally— always feeling some kind of anxiety, fear, pain, hyper-vigilance.

You went home after that, chiding yourself for thinking and acting so foolishly. Biting back tears, you found your way home after nearly an hour. You went pretty far out. You were nauseous, but the hunger was making you feel like you could die. You were miserable, you wanted to be able to eat without throwing it back up. But everyday, you had to wait until so late before you felt good enough to eat. At your door laid a brown paper bag, one you instantly recognised to be left by Sally. There was as usual, an array of different foods. This time, even soup. That seemed like safest option for you given the high liquid content.

You looked over your shoulder, feeling like someone was watching you but you saw no one. Sighing, you went inside your home and locked your door. You set down the bag, then took off the coat. Taking a deep breath, you sat yourself down on the couch to rest then laid down for a few minutes before digging into the food. The nausea was still there, but you had a good feeling about it. You felt like you could actually keep the food down. And it was way earlier in the day than usual. You happy about it, being able to not go hungry. 

You just ate, and stared at the bowl of soup, not wanting to hear any thoughts. You finished the whole bowl and left it in the sink along with your spoon. Then, you tried to take a nap but that was short-lived, the nightmare woke you up. You jolted awake, drenched in sweat, you gasped, you cried. Yet, numb. You didn’t really feel anymore. It was like a routine that you were sick of. 

You cursed under your breath, getting out of bed to wash up the metal container and the spoon. Then, you tidied around the apartment, to keep yourself busy. You had a lot of time on your hands today. But nothing to do, nothing except…all the wrong things you could possibly think of. Everything.

————

Your life wasn’t supposed to be like that, not even the slightest bit. The more you thought about this, the angier you got. Seconds later, you’d successfully given the wall a hole. You damn near put your head through it to take yourself out entirely, but the stinging in your knuckles made you seethe and you snapped out of it, sobbing. Stumbling to the little table in your living room, you fumbled with the stack of note cards, grabbed one and a pen.

You just started writing, you didn’t even think it through. Zero hesitation, you began writing word after word. Then, the note was done. You left it on the table and you were gone without much of a trace from your home. You were done feeling like that and was going to put an end to it the only way you knew how. But, you needed money. Money for an abortion, no matter where you chose to go. 

You didn’t realise it and just moved on autopilot. Here you were at the Kit Kat Club, outside that very door that gave your whole life a shitty 360. This, however, was the quickest way you could go ahead with what you needed to do.

“You came back.” He smirked, eerily calm when he opened the door, “I knew you’d need the money. Why? Have I gotten you knocked up, you needy toy? Need Daddy to give you some money to get rid of that useless thing inside you?”

Right off the bat, his words made you sick. Clenching your fists together to divert the feeling. He grabbed and shoved you onto his chaise lounge chair. The legs squeaked against the hardwood floors, making you cringe. “What a slut, couldn’t help but have me on your mind…tell your girlfriend she’s wrong about you.”

You froze instantly, unable to fight back even though your mind told you to. A voice was telling you to get out, seeing the darkness in his eyes made your guts twist, but you were as good as glued to the chair while he fiendishly pushed your legs apart and forced himself into you. That same sharp pain ripped through you, yet all you did was stare at the ceiling, completely dissociating yourself from the real world.

“Come on, look at me, doll.” He chuckled lowly, pressing his face against yours, you cringed feeling the stubble against your chin. Y0u hated that. “Look at me.” He repeated menacingly, his rough free hand grabbing your face to force eye contact while he mercilessly used you for her pleasure. The longer it went on, the faster the twinge you felt in your core worsened. It felt like your insides were falling apart. You turned your head away, he slapped you then put his hand around your neck. The fight for a breath was almost instantaneous, your face flushed. Still he thrusted in and out, rougher and rougher. “Get up.” He ordered, removing himself from you and watched your struggle to get on your feet. He grabs your arm, tugging on the coat you were wearing. You pushed yourself onto your feet. He slams you into a desk, bending you over. “Not a word about this to anyone, or you can forget about getting any money from me. Hm?” He reminded, his voiced laced with faux sweetness. He combed a hand through your hair softly but quickly yanked it forcing your head to snap up in an uncomfortable position. You whimpered. 

“Do you hear me or not?” He seethed, pulling harder. You feel the burning sting down south, nauseating pain in your lower abdomen and a trickle of warmth traveling down your thighs. A sob gets choked in your throat. “I’m talking to you.”

“Yes—”

Another hard yank, then he just released your hair from his grip, his other hand holding your wrists together so you had no way to save your face from getting smacked against the desk. The table shook and creaked from his force, tears soaked the desk and your pained cries filled the small, musty office but no one heard you. It was loud in the club, always loud. Your agony seemed to please him, you had no one to blame but yourself. You chose to come here, you chose to be here. He didn’t call you to come here, he didn’t look for you at home. This was all you.

Suddenly, it stopped. The sound of someone’s fist colliding into his jaw, the crack…it was quiet, yet deafening. You were pulled out of your daze abruptly, the adrenaline leaving your body. The pain, the white hot pain hit you like a ton of bricks. Still, you hear someone hitting him over and over, cursing him like it was their job. He’d grabbed them and threw them against the desk, but they’d steadied themselves after nothing more than a slight gasp.

“How fucking dare you, lay your hands on a woman?”

Sally?

You were still awkwardly flopped over the table, not a shred of strength in you that would allow you to move. The pain was causing your world to spin, and black spots to be scattered all over your vision. “Sally, help me.” You cried weakly, gasping for air, “Sally— I—” Sobbing, you heard a grunt following a surely painful kick for him. “I need help— it hurts, Sally.” You feel a pair of hands on your shoulder, calm because you knew they were hers.”For God’s sake, why didn’t you just tell me? Why didn’t you just ask for a loan—”  Your heartbreaking wail snapped her out of frustration. Sally fumbled with the phone, dialing for emergency services while she cried and begged you to stay awake. For her. She caught you as your legs turned to jelly, going down onto the reeking carpeted floors together with you. She feels the wetness on her lap, then she saw it. On the floor too— a red puddle beneath where you stood. Her stomach flipped as she swallowed thickly, almost unable to stand the sight. She was right, and being here made her wish she wasn’t.

“Baby, stay awake for me, please.” She caressed your face, swallowing her tears, “You can do it, I have you.”

You only managed to shake your head, the pain continually causing you to tear up or scream in agony. The colour was draining from your face by the time she held you closer, she sobbed and you were starting to go limp. 

“…I’m sorry.” You apologised.

Sally pleaded, “Not your fault, darling. Please, keep your eyes open for me. Talk to me, please. Stay awake.” Feeling a light kiss on your forehead, the pain took over and your world turned black.

You woke up in a panic, not knowing where you were. Someone was holding onto your hand and crying. You mumbled incoherently, turning your head to look at her. Her face lit up once she saw that you were awake, bringing your hand to her lips, she pressed a kiss to it. “You’re awake.” She lets out a shaky breath, “Oh, goodness. Thank goodness you’re awake.”

“Hi.” You croaked. “I’m sorry…”

“Oh, stop that.” Sally sniffled, “Don’t apologise for that. It’s not your fault, not at all.” 

They managed your pain levels, but you stayed in the hospital until the miscarrying was complete. Sally stuck by you despite your protests, which you appreciated but you already felt indebted to. She only left to go to work, make you food and came back. After a couple days of being mostly bedbound, you got up to walk with her help. As the sun began to set— the seventh sunset you’ve seen in this very room, you looked between that and her, eyes welling up with tears. Overwhelmed with a sudden, intense gratitude that you were here. That you were alive. Sally caught your gaze again and noticed the look in your eyes. She moved closer, holding your face in her hand, looking at you like you were the whole world. The world felt like it ceased to exist in here, just you, her and the occasional check ins from doctors and nurses. A light chuckle fell from her mouth, her thumb tenderly stroking your tired, slightly greasy face, “You’re okay.”

That was it, you started crying and thanking her for saving your life. “I have no one, Sally…”

She looked at you, her gaze soft… comforting, even. You looked right back at her slowly blinking away the forming tears, “I told you, I’ve got you. As long as I’m here…you will always have someone looking out for you. Just like things should be.” Sally swiped a tear away, sighing, “Oh, don’t cry. My heart can’t take it seeing an angel like you in tears, darling.”

You licked your lips, taking deep breaths to try and stop the ache in your chest. “Would you like to go for a little bit of a walk, sweetie?” Sally asked, still holding onto your hand. You agreed, she took you out to the little garden, walked for a few minutes then sat down with you on a bench to watch the rest of the sunset. Even then, you two stayed, enjoying the nice evening breeze and peace, stargazing…away from a seemingly anxiety-inducing building just a mere few feet away.

You leaned against her, she let you, taking a peek at how relaxed you were. She smiled too, unbeknownst to you. “Let’s head back inside, come on, you’ve got to have your dinner.” She rubbed your back, asking in a voice barely above a whisper. You followed her lead, got back inside and sat back down on the moderately uncomfortable hospital bed. Then, she hands you a reuben sandwich, your favourite. “I have soup too if you’d like.” Sally mentioned You could smell it. “Corn chowder.” She said.

“This is good, Sally.” You took an eager bite out of the sandwich, she was simply happy to see you slowly regain your appetite.

The days felt long, but way more bearable with her around. Eventually, they let you go home, but not before one last reminder of your newfound infertility because of what had occurred. Still, that didn’t really matter. You weren’t too upset by it, for you were alive. Sally drove, you sat in the front with her, being quiet in an attempt to be polite. You had agreed to live with her for the time being, until you were stronger and able to manage daily tasks on your own. “How is the pain, darling? Do you need the pill?”

“No.” You answered.

“Alright, off we go. Feel free to take a nap if you’d like.” She squeezed your hand for a beat. You didn’t say anything, just watching the outside world through the car window, until…you’d dozed off. At a red light, she snuck a sneaky kiss to your cheek, watching you sleep peacefully. Sally woke you up when she’d arrived, she couldn’t help but chuckle at the groggy look you had on your face. “What?” You asked, lips tugging into a toothy smile.

“Oh, nothing.” She hummed, stopping the engine, “You just…look adorable, sweetie.”

You blushed, she smiled back cheekily. “Come on, let’s get you inside and let you have a nice shower, huh?”

And so, with an arm winded around your waist, the both of you walked up two flights of stairs and your pace. She unlocked her door, lightly nudging you to step inside while she shut the front door behind herself and locked it back up. “Follow me, let me show you the shower then I’ll go ahead and make us a nice little meal.”

You nodded without a word, following right behind her. Sally handed you a towel and a fresh set of clothes, her clothes. You stepped into the shower, shut the door and she walked back out to the kitchen.

Sally’s apartment was more spacious, perfectly decorated to her personality, with nice natural light. It felt cozy, like the picture perfect idea of home…you honestly wouldn’t leave if she said it was okay.

“Food’s ready, darling. Take your time, though.” She called out from the other side of the door. Geez, you must’ve spaced out for quite a bit. Feeling the water against your skin was nice, You felt so fresh and clean after finally being able to take a proper shower. You dried off, got dressed and padded back into the living area. “Oh, good. The clothes fit you perfectly!” Sally remarked, “Come sit.” She pulled out a chair for you, which you carefully slid into while you analysed the food on the table. “You…made chicken and dumplings?”

She nodded, smiling, helping place some of the food on your plate.

“My god, how long was I in there for? Why didn’t you—”

“Relax, darling.” Sally chuckled, “I made the dumplings this morning while waiting for them to discharge you. Popped them in the fridge before I left to pick you up.”

“Oh.” You heaved a small sigh of relief.

“Go on, eat up.”

“Thank you, Sally.” You picked up the fork, “Really, thank you. I owe you my life.”

“That’s nonsense, you do not owe me a thing, silly girl.” She chided lightly, “We’re in each other’s lives for a reason, you know? Don’t say those things, I just…do what’s right for someone I care about.”

🏷️Tag list:

@arandomeee @ashecampos @auliisflower @cheesysoup-arlo @frogs00 @ludoesartandstuff @pda128

[aliteraryprincess]

September 2024 Wrap Up

Thank god it's finally fall! I'm so excited for cooler weather. I finished drafting another dissertation chapter, which means I'm halfway through. Unfortunately, now I have to deal with job applications...

Books Read: 16

Check me out! To be fair, a lot of these are short since I was participating in Shorty September over on YouTube. But 16 is still pretty impressive! My favorite is Wylding Hall, closely followed by Fairy Tale. My least favorite was Life Studies, which I found quite disappointing. Titles marked with ® are rereads.

New Grub Street by George Gissing - 4.5 stars

Snow Drifts by Deven Philbrick - 4 stars

To Bedlam and Part Way Back by Anne Sexton - 4 stars

Fairy Tale by Stephen King - 5 stars

White as Snow by Tanith Lee - 4 stars

Rules for the Dance: A Handbook for Writing and Reading Metrical Verse by Mary Oliver - 4 stars

Time is a Mother by Ocean Vuong - 4 stars

They Never Learn by Layne Fargo - 3.5 stars

The Winter's Tale by William Shakespeare - 4 stars

Passing by Nella Larsen - 4.5 stars

Exit, Pursued by a Bear by E. K. Johnston - 5 stars ®

The Lady's Mile by Mary Elizabeth Braddon - 3 stars

Antigone by Sophocles - 3.5 stars

The Uninhabited House by Charlotte Riddell - 5 stars

Wylding Hall by Elizabeth Hand - 5 stars

Life Studies by Robert Lowell - 2 stars

On Tumblr:

And look at all these photos! I'm having a great time getting back into book photography, especially now that I have a nice camera. I also participated in a readathon hosted by @thereadingchallengechallenge, which was tons of fun!

August 2024 Wrap Up

Book Photography: Red Comet by Heather Clark

Book Photography: White as Snow by Tanith Lee

Book Photography: Fairy Tale by Stephen King

Book Photography: The Norton Shakespeare

Book Photography: Passing by Nella Larsen

Book Photography: Wylding Hall by Elizabeth Hand

Book Photography: The Uninhabited House by Charlotte Riddell

Book Photography: Mini Book Haul

Book Photography: Life Studies by Robert Lowell

Tagged: People I want to get to know better!

TRCC Readathon

On YouTube:

This is the first time in a long time there are less things in this section than in the On tumblr section. I guess I just need a little break from filming.

August Wrap Up | 9 books!

Currently Reading 9/4/24

My Favorite Books Under 250 Pages | Shorty September

Ranking All the Shakespeare Plays I've Read | #shaketember

My Annual Overly Ambitious Victober TBR!

[balladofthewhitehorse]

''-And that's how I finally got my diagnosis.'' Scotland finished, sighing as he leaned back in his chair; A kingfisher rushed past, bringing a smile to the man's grim face. ''It...I dunno. It's weird.'' England snorted faintly, a strange buzz in his chest as he watched the reeds sway. ''I...uh, so do I say congratulations or my condolences?'' He asked quietly, smiling sheepishly at Scotland. ''Naw, you don't have to say anything. I suppose it's a relief to know there's help out there.'' Scotland looked at him - and England felt a pang of suspicion. What's that look mean? ''Maybe you should consider therapy. They might be able to he-'' ''-Help me get carted off to Bedlam?'' England scoffed. ''No way. I'm fine.'' ''England...'' ''I'm fine!'' His voice was a knife in the silence. ''Now shut the fuck up!'' ''You're not fine! I'm just trying to help! It'd be a good idea for you-'' ''-I'm fine. Scotland. I'm not...I'm not messed up like you.'' ''Oh, that's a load of rubbish. You're fucked in the head.'' England's eyes went wide, his face pale as he slowly stood up with a vicious snarl. ''I am fucking fine, or do I need to prove it to you?!'' His hand curled into a fist.

[lunarhobbits]

misc sweeney hcs

(disclaimer. i am new-ish here and have no idea how popular/prevalent any of these are go easy on me ok. also a lot of these are dadben related wh o o p s)

i've seen some variance of if this is canon in fics and stuff but i really do like the idea of the barkers also living above the pie shop in addition to the barbershop being there. similar situation w the pie shop/lovett living quarters. ig it's just easier to picture in my head then????

(p sure the b*rton film confirms smth like this but i'm ignoring it bc i don't like that guy. this idea is mine now)

part of the reason i like this so much is it means that benjamin barker had all the more time to have lovely moments with lucy and johanna when he wasn't busy with clients

(this also makes sweeney returning there without them all the more painful. if he sits and doesn't do anything then he's flooded by memories of the life he had in those same walls fifteen years ago. like no wonder sweeney's so bent out of shape by being forced to wait for the judge and the beadle to come to him)

johanna had only JUST started walking when ben was transported. he was so excited and happy and loved to try and assist her, encouraging her to take steps holding his hands. chattering away about her with any customer that would listen, perhaps even showing her off ("look at my jo! she's such a fine girl!" "i'm sure she is, mr. barker, but could you please finish shaving me?")

he bought johanna a little lacy bonnet when she was a week old. she didn't need something so fancy at such a young age, and lucy had already sewn her a few bonnets months prior. it wasn't the most sound financial decision he ever made. but oh, his girl just had to have it, and it's a little big, she could grow into it! (lucy admits she looks very cute with it on, even though she says johanna doesn't need it)

(the bonnet is left forgotten in a drawer somewhere for years, until sweeney opens that particular drawer and finds it gathering dust upon his return. he feels sick seeing it, reminding him again how much he missed. then he puts it back and refuses to give it any mind.)

nellie lovett was infuriated by lucy barker in that way that you can't quite pinpoint why you're mad other than they're "too perfect" or "too pretty" or something. ofc there was the fact she was married to ben, but i think there was a little "get out of my school" energy going on there too

idk exactly how lucy ended up on the street (or in bedlam, as lovett says in the finale) but i do think that nellie was, sadly, at least complicit in inaction to stop this from happening (if not having thrown her out herself)

anthony is the sweetest dude around and genuinely loves johanna. doesn't matter that he barely knows her when he says he'd marry her, he knows that he's going to be happy as long as she is

johanna loves him too, and she's surprised by it. not because of anything to do with anthony, but because she's felt so little real love in her life (that she can remember). it's a wonderful and frightening rush looking at him, sometimes, but then he squeezes her hand, or does something silly, or even just sneezes or clears his throat and she's brought back down to reality, in a good way. that anthony is real, and human like her. she doesn't have to "earn" his love by being utterly perfect.

they get out of london basically as soon as they can, just wanting to leave it all behind, at least for a while

it took a little time and arguing but anthony did end up getting a good sum of money from the judge's death, through johanna's inheritance going to her husband (him). they immediately used this money to finance travel. they both love to travel, anthony promising to show her the beauty of the world that, still, cannot rival her in his eyes

this is all i got that's coherent rn really lol. anyway here you go sweeney todd fans who liked/reblogged my post haha @demonbarberofbeepbeep @captains-clever-goose @little-lovett @fabulousairpirate @funnygirlthatbelle

[korgbelmont]

Just finished Amazing Spider-Man Volume 4: Dark Web by Zeb Wells, and it was quite the big story, I'm guessing there's also a volume of X-Men or something as well since Scott and Jean were heavily involved in this story that saw Madelyn Pryor take over New York with the help of Ben Reilly / Chasm and Hallow's Eve.

I do remember read the volume of Venom that also tied into this, but I don't remember what happened, although some of this Spider-Man volume did refresh my memory a bit as it was where he went from Eddie to Bedlam.

I had heard about Rek-Rap, but it was quite fun to finally see him with context of how he came to be, and it was funny.

The next two volumes are both called Dead Language which apparently answers why Spider-Man is not on great terms with a good chunk of people, and my plan is to read them back to back tomorrow, after which, I will be halfway through this run!

[drabbles-mc]

Latest & Greatest

Neil Fak & F!Reader

For @the-slumberparty's Bingo Challenge! Bingo square: family friend

Warnings: 18+, language, weed, pining if you squint

Word Count: 1.7k

A/N: I finished yet another rewatch yesterday and I just love Neil Fak so much. So here we are.

The Bear Taglist: @withmyteeth @garbinge @narcolini @hausofmamadas @ashlingnarcos @justreblogginfics (If you want to be added to any of my taglists, please let me know!)

It was impossible to hear much of anything with all of the chaos going on. There were at least ten different conversations going on, most of them being conducted by screaming instead of talking. On top of that there was the clattering of pots and pans, items being thrown and dropped, not to mention Donna’s slew of timers. The ringing was all so staggered that no one could keep them all straight, least of all Donna. It was bedlam, but they all knew it was coming, and year after year they all kept deciding to come back.

Because of all of that, Fak hadn’t heard his phone the first time it chimed when a text message came in. When the reminder chime rang, he was too deep in a yelling match with Richie to pay it any mind. It wasn’t until all of the people who were usually occupying his time were being occupied by someone or something else, that he took the time to check his phone.

“Still doing Christmas at the Berzatto’s?”

He smiled, completely tuning out the rest of it for a moment as he replied, “Fence in 5?”

The response was almost immediate. “Clock’s ticking”

You were already outside by the time he managed to escape the house. You were leaning against the fence that divided the back of your yard from the back of the Berzatto’s, arms rested on top of it. You couldn’t remember the exact year this became the meet-up spot for the two of you during the holidays, but it had stuck ever since. It gave you a breather from your own family, and it gave Neil a break from the Berzatto’s, not that he ever really seemed like he needed one.

Every year he was in a different flannel and sweater combo. You wondered if he and Theodore flipped for it each year to see who got to choose. Not that it really mattered much since they both ended up wearing the same thing regardless. One year you were going to have to weasel your way into going on that shopping trip with them.

“Can’t stay away, huh?” you said as he walked over to the fence.

He raised his eyebrows, laughing as he came to a stop in front of you. “You are the one who—”

“I meant from Donna’s,” you cut him off, chuckling as you nodded towards the house behind him.

“Oh.” He laughed and gave something of a shrug, not giving more of a response. There wasn’t really much more to say about it. He made himself busy, fumbling with the button on the pocket of his shirt. You didn’t say anything, just pulling your sweater tighter around you as you watched him pull a joint out of the small pocket. It was enough to send both of you into a fit of laughter.

“Saw Francie earlier when I went to the store,” you said with a chuckle. “Still on the no-fly list with Nat.”

Neil shook his head as he sparked his lighter, mumbling emphatically around the joint in his mouth. “Because of the fucking thing!”

You laughed. “Doesn’t help that she never said sorry.”

“Maybe she took your spot,” he said once he lit his joint.

“My spot?”

“On the no-fly list.” He took a drag before handing it to you.

You were laughing as you placed the joint between your lips. You inhaled deep before responding. “I’m on DeeDee's not Nat's.” You shook your head. “Pretty sure I’m fuckin'…permanently barred from entry.”

There was a beat of silence between you, like the conversation was about to take a heavy, serious turn. But instead you both broke down into fits of laughter. There was so much that could be said about Donna being the one that banned you from the holiday festivities, but you didn’t know if it said more about her as a person, or about you.

“You hated Christmas here anyway,” he finally said when the laughter had died down. Even as he said the words he still had that same goading smile on his face.

“Most sane people would.”

“You’re not sane.”

You handed the joint back to him with a roll of your eyes, “Sane-adjacent.” You paused, watching him pull another hit. “My mom asked about you, by the way.”

He chuckled and shook his head. “Bullshit. She did not.”

“She did!” You were laughing as he passed it back to you. “She asked how her favorite Fak was doing.”

“That does not mean—”

“And you���re my favorite Fak,” you kept going, talking over him the way you all always did with each other, “so by extension you’re also her favorite Fak.”

“What makes you so sure?”

You chuckled and shrugged. “’Cause I’m her favorite daughter.” A beat passed as you brought the joint back to your lips again. Your voice was slightly strained as you tried to talk without letting out your entire inhale at once. “So? What’s the latest and greatest?” You finally let go of the breath you’d been holding. “Catch me up on the last few months. What've I missed in the life of Neil Fak?”

He watched you for a second, staring at you as you stared down at the joint in your hand and tried to figure out how much more the two of you could even really get out of it. It was almost done, the rendezvous almost over.

“Got a new high score on Ball Breaker.”

You nodded, expression serious but the glint in your eyes giving away the humor of it all regardless. “Of course, of course.”

“The toilet at The Beef is still exploding every couple of weeks.”

“I think Richie breaks it purposely just so he can see you again.”

Another beat. Another second of you two staring at each other. Another shared fit of laughter at the sheer ridiculousness of that notion.

“How’s Ralph Squared?” you asked, trying to hold back just a little bit of your laughter over the fact that he named both his cats Ralph.

“Ralph are good! No escapes lately.” He tapped his knuckles against his head. “Knock on wood.”

Your smile was enough to nearly make your cheeks hurt. “Good.” You paused. “How are you?”

Fak shrugged and nodded. “I’m good.”

There was a look in his eyes that had you thinking maybe he wanted to say something more, but he didn’t do it. He wouldn’t. That’s not what these little meet-ups were for.  These were for both of you to get some fresh air and something similar to silence after spending hours in your respective war zones. Granted, Christmas at the Berzatto’s made your family Christmas seem like a walk in the goddamn park. But you still enjoyed the breather. Still enjoyed leaning on the opposite side of the fence from Neil and smoking together like you were still in high school.

“Please,” you joked, “spare me the details. Don’t get too carried away on me now—I only have so long out here.”

He rolled his eyes at you, face turning pink in a way that you both simultaneously and silently agreed to chalk up to the cold. He snatched what little was left of the smoke from your fingertips and finished it off, both of you chuckling quietly at the petulant child-like nature of it.

“You know how I am,” he finally said with a laugh. “You?”

You sighed, dropping your head so that your chin was resting on your forearms, forcing you to look slightly upwards at him. “Still waiting for you to get out of Chicago for a week and come visit me!”

“It’s so far.”

“It’s not that far.”

“It’s pretty far.”

You rolled your eyes but you were still smiling. It was the same debate every time you came home. You weren’t actually that upset about it—you knew who you were dealing with after all. The Fak's and the Berzatto's weren’t the types to just up and leave Chicago. Even if it was just for a week.

“I’m just saying,” you stood upright, adjusting the sleeves of your sweater, “I’ve got a pull-out couch with your name on it.”

“I don’t even get a real bed?”

“I hardly even get a real bed!” you shot back with a laugh.

“That does not make me want to come and visit you more. Just saying.”

You chuckled and shook your head. “I’ll work on that.”

Before either of you could try and say something else to keep the conversation going, the screaming in the Berzatto house reached a crescendo, followed by the sound of shattering glass. Neil tucked his chin down for a moment, gathering himself up before heading back in to see what the damage was this time.

“I’ll let you go take care of that,” you said with a small laugh as you crossed your arms over your chest, the cold finally starting to get to you.

“I’m sure Mikey's got it all under control,” he replied, getting both of you to laugh.

“Mm, I don’t know, sounds like it might be A Fak.”

He laughed. “It’s always A Fak that’s why they invite us.’

You shook your head, unable to stop the smile on your face. “Merry Christmas, Neil. Tell Theodore I said the same.”

“And Francie?”

You laughed. “Sure. You can tell her, too.” You took a step back towards your parents' house.

He gestured to the fence. “Same time next year?”

You had to laugh. “I’m here for the rest of the week—I better see you again before I go. Preferably not in, you know,” you gestured to the fence again, “fuckin' no-man's land.”

“Pfft,” he mocked deep confusion and offense, “Do I not come when you call? Do I not respond when you beckon? It’s what I do—I show up.”

You laughed. “I’m just saying.”

“I’m hearing, I’m hearing,” he said, smiling as he started to make his way back towards the house. “Merry Christmas!” he called back to you once you turned around and started to head back to your own house.

You laughed as you turned just long enough to shout back, “And Happy Fuckin' New Year!”

[starwarsmum]

Day 12 First Fight, even more continuation from Club Caper

Part 1 Part 2

@maribatserver

https://archiveofourown.org/works/62746561/chapters/161419654

Jason was visiting Roy in Star City trying to avoid Wally finally giving him a talking to. They'd been pretty civil while they'd all been in Gotham, but Jason had a feeling his days were numbered. Dick had been thoroughly berated by the speedster and Jason wasn't keen to be on the receiving end of that talk. So he'd spent most of his time hanging out with Marinette and that had been amazing.

And when she'd said she was heading back to Central City, where her grandmother lived, he decided making himself a little harder to find for a few days might not be the worst thing. Plus, Roy had been wanting to hear all about Jason's new girl so it was really more about that anyway.

Marinette had promised to come back and visit soon, pressing her lips to his cheek before she hopped onto her bike - she had her own bike, he was so screwed - and rode off. He had been messaging her almost constantly since she left and learning a lot about her. It was too soon to call it love but he was very much in like with her.

“So, you really like this girl, huh?” Roy asked as he checked the fletching on his arrow. “And she's into you too?”

“Yeah, but she was friends with Wally first so I'm not sure how it's gonna work out,” Jason said glumly. Then his phone lit up with a message from Marinette and he couldn't help but smile. He tapped a message back and put his phone back in his pocket and met Roy's exasperated gaze. “What?”

“Who cares if she was friends with Wally first? You literally can't stop smiling when she texts you and I don't think I've seen you put down your phone since you got here.”

“There's also the whole,” he gestured at his helmet, sitting on Roy's bench, “thing with being a bat or whatever. She's kind of incredibly pure, you know? I would hate to pull her into this.”

“But she's friends with Wally, so she's already adjacent,” Roy argued, picking up his last unexamined arrow. “Come on, how often do you meet a girl like her? Especially one who's already interested in you.”

“Point taken, but-”

They were interrupted by a call coming through on Roy's Arsenal phone and he swore as he snatched it up. The main reason Roy had asked him to visit was because there was something afoot and the Arrows needed support. 

Climbing onto his bike, he let Roy hop on the back and they raced towards the street Oliver had sent the call from. It was somewhat cleansing to forget his girl troubles and get excited for an upcoming fight. But when they arrived it was bedlam: far too many people and too few of the good guys.

“Arsenal, Hood, thank god,” Oliver shouted, shooting one of the few remaining arrows in his quiver and motioning to them to help. “I've already called for some fast help but if you don't mind-”

Jason and Roy worked together, taking down one cluster of goons at a time until a rift opened in the sky. Tensing and preparing for another problem, Jason found himself blinking as a red-clad individual dropped into the fight. She had black dots all over and dark hair pulled back into two ponytails, her face obscured by a domino mask.

“Who the fu-”

“Ha, Flash owes me twenty,” she said smugly, flipping and landing expertly on top of a goon. There was something familiar about that smirk but Jason was quickly distracted by another group to fight. Seconds later, a red blur arrived and started knocking people down at speed. 

“Wow, that took you forever,” the spotted heroine teased. She looked around for another second before apparently deciding something. “I think this calls for a lucky charm!”

The rest of the fight was a blur, almost literally, as Wally and the new girl teamed up to finish the battle. When it was over, she came back over to Jason and Roy, beaming brightly. 

“Let's see what gets cleaned up this time,” she said, before throwing a red and black spotted object into the air. “Miraculous Ladybug!” 

Instantly, any damage to the surrounding buildings was repaired and Jason's mouth dropped open behind his helmet. Roy looked similarly agog but Wally just grinned and shook his head.

“I told you to warn people before you do that, it's a weird thing to live through the first time,” he said, smiling.

“But look at their faces!” She said, gesturing at Roy. “Besides, nobody ever believes it until they see it, so why waste that time? Oh, hey, you're Red Hood, right? From Gotham?”

“Ladybug, I don't know if now is the time-”

“Of course it is!” She argued, hand propped on her hip. It was very attractive and Jason mentally scolded himself for looking. He was glad he had the helmet on when she turned towards him because he was pretty sure he looked constipated. “I just wanted to talk to you because I'm probably going to relocate to Gotham soon and-”

“You're not serious,” Flash said exasperatedly, throwing his hands in the air. “You can't move city just because you like the look of a guy-”

“Mon dieu, tu embrasses le frère d'un ami de ton ami une fois…”

“I'm sorry, did you say you made out with your friend’s friend's brother?” Oliver said, coming over to talk to the new hero. He looked at Wally's masked face and laughed out loud. “Oh man, you introduced her to Nightwing's lot, didn't you?”

“Nightwing? No I met…” Ladybug turned around to stare at Wally. “No, you didn't stick me with- you had the bats babysit me? You're impossible!”

She whirled around and eyed Jason before swearing colourfully and stabbing her finger in Wally's direction. She said something very menacing and fast in French before grabbing a fistful of Jason's jacket and yanking him away.

“Whoa, hey, chill out lady,” he said, but she ignored him. She was surprisingly strong and he couldn't disengage himself without potentially hurting her so he followed along. 

“Of course you're a hero, vigilante, whatever,” she muttered, turning to face him as she released him. He flinched when she reached for his helmet and she paused, squinting at him. “Merde, sorry, let me try this again. Tikki, spots off.”

Jason blinked as a bright light swarmed his vision and when it was gone he was left looking at Marinette. She grimaced up at him before reaching up and removing his helmet. He was surprised enough that he didn't move to stop her and she sighed and ran a hand through her now loose hair.

“So clearly we have some things to talk about,” he said at last, making her give a short laugh. “But I guess I don't need to feel so guilty for thinking Ladybug was hot.”

“Oh really?” She asked, eyes lighting up. She smoothed her hands over his chest and he bent towards her without thinking. Their lips meshed together and it was awkward for a minute until he lifted her up and she wrapped her arms and legs around him fully. 

Things were getting heated when a gust of wind made him pull back. Marinette swore again and turned to glare at the entrance to the alley they were in. Jason looked as well and found an annoyed looking speedster with his hands on his hips.

“Do you think if we ignore him, he'll go away?” Marinette said loudly, and Jason snorted before letting her get down. He was sure this was not going to be a fun conversation but he figured if they got it over with now, he and Marinette could get back to the fun stuff sooner.

Part 4

[upwards-descent]

With Love

(mild gore warning)

Vikram washed his hands in the sink, burning hot water tracing down the delicate details of manicured nails and taut tendons. The smell of the soap grounded him, cinnamon and apple, and when he splashed his face he felt like he'd been caught in an autumnal rainshower. 

He patted his face dry.

Doctor Bedlam was running as fast as he could, lungs aching, heart pumping. The clatter of his lazer rifle against his back would definitely leave an ugly bruise tomorrow. Even as he ran, he did his best to reload, a loud clunk accompanying the pneumatic hiss of the stock opening, the depleted plasmic charge clattering across the asphalt. Despite his nerves and the incessant beat of his boots on the pavement, his hands were as steady as always, and the gun was promptly reloaded.

The liquor cabinet would need some restocking soon. Fingertips caught on the rim of a tequila bottle, stroking across the label of his favorite wine. Part of him just wanted to gargle Everclear and then pass out, face-down. Instead, he plucked up an oddball; some nice dark rum. 

Four fingers in a glass, with a chunk of clear ice, and it was gone in seconds, some leftover chilled liquid clinging to the whiskers of his goatee.

"OTTO!" Bedlam screeched, the rifle propped up on his hip. "I'LL FUCKING KILL YOU IF YOU HURT HIM."

Vikram didn't know why he was wasting time surfing through channels. Nothing held his attention. There were some real classics on, too, some sitcoms from his childhood, a few great blockbuster hits. Even his absolute favorites-- the first Terminator, How It's Made, I Robot-- nada. He turned off the TV. More than he had with the shows flickering by, he was locked in focus, staring back at his own darkened reflection.

Even from his spot so many meters away, Doctor Bedlam's visor HUD could capture the action. Mr. Brawn was slumped over on his knees, one arm blown off. His eyes were slightly open but it was clear he wasn't online. Why a fellow villain like The Judicator would take the android, Bedlam had no idea. All he knew was that The Judicator had hurt his lover and was trying to do more damage, even as Bedlam screamed his vocal chords raw.

Taking the elevator felt silly but Vikram didn't feel like using the stairs. The ride down beneath the mansion felt longer than ever. When the musak kicked on all of a sudden, some Queen song he didn't feel like recognizing, he punched the access panel hard enough to both silence the speaker and leave harsh red abrasions on his knuckles. Vikram didn't feel the pain.

The Judicator's head seemed to jump from his body. It'd been his own fault. You didn't listen to a maniac shrieking threats and then begin to place a grenade in said psycho's lover's mouth. Not that he knew, or anyone knew. To them, Mr. Brawn was just a machine. To Bedlam, he was his life.

The lights in the lab flickered on, almost sickly in hue, but perhaps that was just Vikram's vision swimming. He loathed seeing Otto like this; naked, bared, damaged and offline on the fucking operating table. It wasn't even his lack of skin that was unnerving. The doctor knew he'd love the android just as much if he barely resembled a humanoid thing. It wasn't the body but the soul he adored.

Hesitant fingertips ran down Otto's chest. He was repaired, his new arm set aside on another table to finish calibrating. The next step was to synthesize his bulk in lab-grown flesh. Maybe Vikram would give him a slight tan this time, or freckles, or a cute little "birthmark" only he'd be privy to.

Doctor Bedlam didn't only kill when he finally hit his breaking point. He left behind such gruesome gore that the news channels knew better than to report on them, on the very rare occasion that it happened.

The Judicator wouldn't just be beheaded, left steaming on the asphalt with how powerful the beam had been. Bedlam made sure to beat his corpse into ground beef before shoving his own grenade into his open chest cavity. Bedlam didn't even move, facing the full force of the explosion from only a few feet away. He had that much trust in his own armor. Plus, the heat, the light, the flying fleshy debris; it grounded him. That burning white bloodthirsty mania only began to calm when he couldn't recognize what was a limb or organ anymore.

Leaning over, Vikram pressed a delicate kiss to Otto's mouth, or at least the metallic mandibles that made it. He stroked his hands, no longer red with blood, down his cranium, petting his chest, his one shoulder.

"Love you," He whispered, his scowl finally abating after so many hours. "See you soon, okay?"

[catsafarithewriter]

A/N: PART 32 of the Bedlam au! Not too late either!

X

As they approach the castle tower door, Toto shrinks down and lands on Haru's shoulder. "This could be a trap," he says

"I'd honestly be surprised if it wasn't one," Haru replies. She gives the door a gentle nudge. It's not accompanied by any explosions or monsters or buckets falling down from above, so that's a fairly auspicious start, at least. Even so, the interior is definitely not what Haru expected.

Toto peers into the dungeon-esque lit corridor. "Well," he says after a dubious beat, "he's certainly done his research."

Pale stone walls stretch out before them, gritted and rough-hewn, and the floor beneath is earthen, scattered with sand. Haru's encountered these walls only once in her life, but the memory has stuck with her, over a decade later.

"You know, the Cat King cheated with his maze!" Haru hollers, hoping – assuming – the Bedlam is listening in. "This doesn't exactly install me with a lot of confidence that you're gonna play fairly!"

"Were you in any doubt that he was going to cheat?" Toto asks as Haru steps gingerly into the building.

"No, but it was nice to dream." Haru comes to a fork in the corridor, and picks the one the orb's string trails off into. There are no torches or lamps, but the interior is lit with a gentle, omnipresent glow. It would be almost pleasingly atmospheric if it weren't for the ominous rumble in the distance.

Haru tries not to think about the kind of monsters labyrinths are usually occupied by.

"Haru," Toto begins, "about what happened back with Baron..."

Haru takes a left and waits for Toto to finish the sentence.

"He didn't tell us what he'd done until later. If he had... well, I'm not sure he'd have listened, but we'd have tried to stop him."

"And when he did finally tell you?"

"We gave him an earful – both Muta and I."

Haru chuckles. She glances through an open door on her right and passes it by. "And I thought the only way you and Muta would ever agree on anything would be if you were Bedlam puppets. Should I be worried?"

"There aren't many things we put our bickering aside for," Toto admits, "but you are one of them. While Muta distracted Baron, I came to check on you. I saw you vanish into the Bedlam's world, followed after you, and... well, I wasn't quite so helpful as I'd hoped."

Haru recalls the first crack in the Bedlam's world, of his strange distraction all those days ago and Other Hiromi's sudden warning. "You were more helpful than I think you know," she says. "I think you unintentionally gave me the first heads up that not everything was as it seemed."

They delve deeper into the maze; there's no way all this could possibly fit in the castle tower, but Haru doubts the Bedlam cares much for things like physics.

"Do you wish it had been real?" Toto asks suddenly. The question itself is abrupt, seemingly out of nowhere, but his voice is soft. Almost as if he doesn't want the answer. "The Bedlam and his world?"

"It's kind of moot," Haru replies. "Turns out it wasn't real."

"But if it had been?"

Haru falters. She turns her head aside, throwing her gaze down an open door to one side. "I... It's..." Her eyes widen. "There's someone in there."

"Haru–"

But before he can impart another plea for caution, Haru has slipped inside. She only makes it a handful of steps before she freezes. She makes a motion with her hand, as if searching for something to steady her, and in the end has to use Baron's cane.

"No..."

"He couldn't work out what was wrong with her," Toto says gently. He hops carefully down onto the hand holding the cane, his gaze drawn irrevocably to the abandoned puppet. "Why she went... off script, as it were and attempted to warn you away. In the end, he discarded her, but I never knew where to until..."

"Hiromi..."

"She was only ever a puppet–"

"And you were only ever a stone statue," Haru shoots back. "If we're splitting hairs."

"The Bedlam created her because he knew your attachment to the real Hiromi would draw you deeper into his world."

Haru waves him off her, and crumples down to kneel beside the remains of Other Hiromi.

The puppet lies like a discarded rag doll, slumped in the corner and with unseeing button eyes. Half her right leg is missing, and the open wound reveals her to be made of nothing more than cobwebs. Like macabre stuffing.

"Haru, we need to go," Toto prompts softly. "Muta and Baron–"

"I know!" she retorts. "Trust me, I know! I just need... I need a moment, okay?" Other Hiromi had been absent since her initial warning, but Haru had only thought... had believed it had simply been due to her own busy schedule. She'd never imagined...

Shakily, she tucks Baron's cane in Other Hiromi's lifeless hands. Even her fingers feel like that of a stuffed doll, all pretence at life discarded.

"What are you–"

"She'll need it if she ever wakes up," Haru says. She doesn't mean to, but her voice quavers. She isn't sure if it is that, or the clear stubbornness which causes Toto to back down. It will be enough, Haru thinks. It has to be.

She rises uneasily back to her feet – if Toto thinks it would be easier if she still had the cane, he's wise enough not to comment – and collects back up the remains of Baron's hat and the silk orb. And as she steps out into the corridor, the peace is shattered by the arrival of what had once been Other Muta.

[tubercloset]

3, 10, 12, and 13 for the book asks!

3. What were your top 5 books of the year?

In chronological order: light from uncommon stars, much ado about nothing, the bedlam stacks, the half life of valery k, king lear (+ siren queen bc I don’t want to omit it lol)

10. What was your favorite new release of the year?

Yellowface by rf kuang, I guess? I haven’t been on top of the new releases this year and I don’t think I liked any of the 3 2023 books I read that much. I would love recommendations if anyone has any though

12. Any books that disappointed you?

answer here

13. What were your least favorite books of the year?

the godfather… I thought it would be interesting to read it after I finally watched the movies… it was not.

the sympathizer - most painful reading experience of my life. I hope no one will ever have to spend 4 months on this book writing answers to Socratic seminar questions, but that’s probably going to happen again in 2024. I think I would’ve gotten bored of it if I read at a normal pace too, but the sluggish pace at which we read for class was completely unsustainable 🦑

Jonathan Strange & Mr. Norrell - I’m just bitter I spent money on it to not be able to finish it 😢

[skiitter]

Getting to Know You

Tagged by: @simplifiedemotions and @heyjude19-writing

Three ships: Astarion/Tav (current brainrot), Shakarian, Dhr

First ship: Captain Jack Sparrow/OFC lmao the very first fic I ever wrote was for this ship <3

Last Song: Tongues & Teeth by The Crane Wives

Last Movie: Intentionally? Hellraiser (2023).

Currently Reading: I just finished The Eye of the Bedlam Bride by Matt Dinniman and I'm in mourning.

Currently Watching: Husband and I started Star Trek DS9 and it is literally so good I'm mad we didn't watch it sooner.

Last thing I wrote: Chapter Six of Carving Through The Dark

Currently writing: I am slowly but surely working away at the final chapter for Carving Through The Dark. It's taking waaaaaay longer than anticipated thanks to starting a new job + a weekend destination wedding we had to attend.

Tagging: @sumbul @cuteasamuntin @vos-videmus @sexyapostate @flymmcargo @memendoemori @bardandbear