#maybe he's.......*stares at jadus* is that your body.

[eorzeashan]

..... what if jadus is made out of the same plant-thing the Dominators are

[wolflord02]

Gauntlet of Shame (Stardew Valley Expanded fic)

First time posting any fics in ages... based off of this post because this convo gave me a spike of inspiration and I couldn't help myself.

Warning: Mentions of cheating/infidelity, cruel and unusual punishment by the sexy witch lady Camilla (she is her own warning)

~

The farmer could have sworn they had a heart attack when they heard the angered voices of their lovers from the inside of Castle Village’s tavern as they stood at the door. Magnus, Camilla, Lance, Isaac, Jadu, and Alesia’s words were too muffled for the poor person to hear clearly, but it was plain as day that they were talking about them given that their name was mentioned more than once, alongside very… derogatory words.

They really should have expected this, given what happened when they tried dating the vast majority of the younger people of Pelican Town, how the men gave the newcomer the cold shoulder for a long while after that… but then again, the women welcomed them to their chatting session when they’d arrived with a lucky rabbit’s foot with them. The farmer remembered that they happened to have a rabbit’s foot with them… maybe this’ll go better than their gut told them?

They took in a deep breath and stuffed their hand into their pocket to hold the paw charm as they used their spare hand to push the door open.

Their heart dropped as they saw their partners glaring at them. “...Oh dear sweet Yoba…” they thought, feeling their very soul being pierced by the eyes of the most notable mages and adventurers of the village.

Jadu’s piercing violet eyes burned with anger as he spoke up. “Funny seeing you here, my dear. We were just talking about you,” he growled sarcastically, with a voice dripping with so much venom the farmer felt their entire body tense, ready to flee the situation at any opportunity like they were a cornered animal faced with a much stronger predator. 

“You… After all this time, and all we’ve been through, I thought I’d finally found a partner I could actually trust… how fucking dare you show your face here knowing what you’ve done to me? To all of us!?” Isaac clenched his fists so hard, that the farmer thought he was about to tear his leather gloves in half.

Alesia didn’t need to say anything. She didn’t yell at them, nor did she give them the stink eye… in fact, she didn’t look at them at all. All she did was place an arm over Isaac’s shoulder to comfort the scarred warrior as much as she could.

“Have you come to find even more hearts to break, Farmer? Were the most famous and powerful of Castle Village not enough for you?” Magnus scowled, but behind the mask of anger, the farmer could see honest pain in the wizard’s eyes.

But no other gaze of disgust or hatred compared to the look Camilla gave the youth. She had a look that reeked of disapproval, pain, disappointment, and disgust so potent they could almost taste it on their desert-dry tongue.

“So, you thought you’d get away with all of… this?” Camilla said first with a sneer, gesturing to herself and the others surrounding the table where the group stood.

“I-I…” The farmer started, earning even more hateful stares, some even by other patrons which they hadn’t even noticed before. Some of the older adventurers gave disapproving looks as well, while the younger ones mostly snickered or whispered to one another. Even if the upstart managed to talk their way out of this, they would still have a horrible reputation in the village and far beyond… what have they done?

SLAM.

The farmer let out a shout of fear and nearly drew their sword when the door slammed behind them. They damn near jumped out of their skin, and their head snapped behind them at the source of the noise. Their eyes met with Lance, who had his hand against the back of the door with a more sour than usual cat-like leer. “Well? Care to explain to your lovers why you’ve chosen to betray us?” the pink-haired man said as he stepped towards them, looming over them like a tower as they struggled to think of anything to say.

“Ha! Did you honestly think a rabbit’s foot would save you? This trivial magic might work with the magicless, but this is child’s play here.” Camilla laughed as she took the item from the Farmer’s pocket. The farmer watched in dismay as the blonde woman held the paw in her hand, and lit it ablaze with no effort in the slightest.

“...Oh.” they whimpered pathetically as the burnt paw’s ashes fell to the wooden floor of the tavern.

“Well? Are you going to say something?”

The farmer froze under the penetrating gaze of their partners. They couldn’t say anything.

“...What are you going to do to me?”

They were only met with a grin from Camilla that made their skin crawl more than any monster could ever manage.

~

The farmer’s screams echoed through the Crimson Badlands. They ran through the vast sea of blazing sand, their bare feet burning in the desert sand while laughs and mocking cheers called to them. Camilla wasn’t entirely cruel when dishing out this punishment. She’d cast a spell on them that increased their defense to the point where a nuke couldn’t leave so much as a scratch on them, yet the sense of pain remained as they ran through the sandy hellscape, barely avoiding the swarms of monsters targeting them.

Normally, they’d be skillfully swinging their sword and cutting these swarms down with ease which made even the most seasoned adventurers jealous, but Camilla made sure that they were incapable of such a thing. Even though they still carried their weapons with them, it would be an utter waste of time trying to use them considering their attack was so low, they may as well be throwing pebbles like slingshot ammo, and swinging pencil-thin twigs as swords and daggers. It was a cruel punishment… but what would most people do, if given the power to use non-lethal, but oh-so-frightening means to get revenge on their cheating partner, especially if it was with so many others who were just as unaware as the rest?

Magnus chose to leave, seeing this as a childish and unnecessarily cruel way of disciplining the young adventurer. Meanwhile, the rest stayed to watch the chaos from Castle Village’s tall outer walls.

Childish or not, they all knew damn well that the farmer would never do this again, and none of their “lovers” would give them a chance to hurt them ever again, lest the next punishment include… harsher events. Maybe they would have the same punishment, but they’d be reduced to their underwear with even more bystanders watching on as the gauntlet of shame commenced…

However, there was a slim chance that they’d attempt to continue their relationship with any of them. …They weren’t that foolish… right?

[the-prince-of-stars]

The Prince of Stars, Chapter 2

The walking was easy at first. They had quickly used one of the stalks of grass to tie their hair back into a rough braid, keeping it out of their face and relatively off their back. The grass itself didn’t give much resistance, and as far as Riyel could see and hear there was nothing to stop their travel. Not that Riyel had any idea what they were travelling towards. As far as they could see it was just more of this silver grass and the sparse gray trees that grew tall and wide, with canopies that stretched out for many feet in every direction. While it was beautiful to see all of these things reflect the moonlight it did get rather boring after a while. In addition, it didn’t seem as if the moon was moving through the sky at all. While Riyel had been...well they weren’t quite sure where they had been but wherever it was, they hadn’t forgotten that normally the moon was meant to move through the sky, not just sit in place.

“Antares...Do you know where we’re going?” No response, just continued flying. Typical Owl. “Just keep going then? I suppose it’s a plan. Not very original though.” And so they kept walking through this endless landscape. There was no reason to stop, no, but there also seemed very little reason to keep going. If this is what Antares saved me for, I think I may have preferred splatting against the shore. At least that would have been quick. Before the thought was even over, Riyel felt a wing whack them in the back of the head. “OW! Now what was that for?” Antares cocked his head and stared at Riyel as if to say, you know damn well what it’s for. Be grateful that I saved your life and don’t go thinking of wasting it. “Fine, fine, I’m glad I’m alive. Are you happy now?” 

“Hooo” It was a rich, magnificent hoo to be sure. It was also the most annoying sound Riyel could have heard at that moment.

“Of course you are. Come on, let’s keep going.” Even if we have no goal whatsoever. They continued walking for another hour. And then another after that. And then one more. By this point, Riyel’s feet were aching and their legs were crying out for rest. “Well, with literally nothing having changed in the landscape, I’m saying we sit and rest here awhile Antares. I hope you agree.” While he said nothing, Antares came down from flight and perched on Riyel’s shoulder. Or rather, placed on of his rather large talons on Riyel’s shoulder and the other on his upper arm, as it is relatively hard to perch when one is an exceptionally large owl. Riyel made their way over to the nearest of the large gray trees and collapsed underneath it, letting their eyes close and feeling the warm embrace of slumber. 

HISSSSSSS Riyel’s eyes jolted open just as Antares sprang up to one of the branches of the tree. They weren’t sure what the sound was, only that it was not something they had heard in their long walk beforehand. In the barest whisper they could manage they muttered “Antares...what are we dealing with here?” Before Antares could respond, or at least before Riyel could imagine his response, a terrifying black shadow raced towards them, claws outstretched. Riyel let out a cry and ducked to the ground, feeling the beast narrowly pass over them. They turned around to face this assailant and do something brave, maybe fight them off, only to feel all of their intentions fade away in favor of blank fear.

It was a truly horrifying creature, spindly and crooked, the entire thing made of pure shadow. It’s figure was hunched over, with a set of four jointed legs that scurried over the ground and two huge claws that emerged from what Riyel guessed may have been their arms. Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit Oh shit. It let out another hiss before leaping at Riyel again, this time just barely catching the edge of their arm as they rolled out of the way. Where they hit, there was no blood but instead they saw their pitch black skin turn a horrible dark grey, as if it was fading somehow. Probably best not to let that happen again. Above them Riyel heard distressed and angry hooting from Antares, who looked to be fighting a flying form of these strange shadow creatures. As Riyel glanced back again he saw that there was not one but two of these beasts now, both glaring angrily at him. Or at least, they assumed glaring. Hard to say when you can’t see eyes. Well, I suppose I had a nice run for a few hours. Shame it had to end this way though. They braced themselves for the inevitable charge, not even knowing if fists would be able to do anything to these beings. 

“HYAAAAAAAAAAAAH” A loud, gruff battlecry broke through the hissing as a radiant golden light suddenly burst behind the creatures. One skittered away as Riyel saw a gleaming bronze-colored sword slice through the other, bisecting it and leaving it’s shadowy body to wither away and fade. The figure within the golden light turned to face the creature that had started to move away before unleashing a blindingly fast series of sword strokes against it, battering away at it’s shadowy claws as it struggled to defend itself. Suddenly, from out of the golden light came a hard, metal clad boot that knocked the creature off balance, just in time for a diagonal sword slash to cut straight through its body. 

Looking back up at Antares, the owl had been able to take advantage of the distraction provided by this light-clad warrior, and had raked the beast he was fighting with his claws repeatedly, leaving it shredded and dying on a tree branch. The glowing light began to subside and Riyel could start to make out the full appearance of their savior. He was tall, nearly a foot taller than Riyel, and muscular, cutting an imposing figure against the black sky. On his chest he wore a bronze colored breastplate, with matching bracers and greaves, and around his waist a plateskirt of the same material. In his hands he held a mighty greatsword, three feet in length and now, with a better look at it, Riyel could see that it was burnished gold in color, with a large yellow gem set into the hilt. The warriors skin was a dull reddish brown, with jet black hair done in dreads down the back. Most striking though were his eyes, two pools of molten gold that held a great intensity and pain behind them. He looked back at Riyel, sheathing his greatsword and extending a hand to help Riyel up, speaking as he did so with a deep, rough, and powerful voice.

“Looks like you could use some help wanderer. My name is Jadus. Who are you?”

[vagabond-art]

Scarred (Theron Shan/Imperial Agent)

AO3

After waking from a sleep filled with nightmares, Fin settles himself in for a long night alone. That is, until an unexpected guest arrives. 

Fi'nalyn sat at his workbench, his back hunched over, tight and tense, in a position that was far from comfortable, as he cleaned his blaster rifle with more force than was necessary. His gloved hands shook and his eyes dragged with exhaustion, despite the overload of caf he drank.

His sleep was plagued with nightmares.

In his dreams were the echoes of screams and cries as fire rained down on the Empire—on his own people—at his call. Memories of his Darth Jadus, of Eradication Day, of Hoth, of the SIS, of that man—

That voice. No matter how far he ran, or how long they were apart, Fin would always be drawn back to him. Always the magnetic attraction, the temptation he couldn't explain but found he never wanted to resist.

Like fire on flesh. The best of enemies.

Fin remembered the feeling of his brain as it tore itself in half, the feeling of every muscle in his body going tense, and then numb, of wanting to scream but unable to open his mouth—

Keyword: Onomatophobia. Thesh Protocol Engaged

Fin threw himself up from his chair, his muscles constricted as he gasped for air. His seat overturned, and in a frenzy, he grabbed the nearest object he could find and hurled it across the room blindly.

It was then that Fin heard a door open and someone cry out in alarm.

Fin looked up and was surprised to see Theron Shan standing in the doorway, his body in an animated defensive position.

The object that Fin had thrown hit the ground with a resounding crash and skid across the floor before it slammed into the wall.

The two agents stared at each other, wide-eyed and frozen in place.

Theron spoke first.

“Not exactly what I was expecting. Thought you liked me better than that,” Theron said. He cleared his throat to gain his composure.

“I— What are you doing here?” Fin asked, as he stumbled to find the right words.

“Well, y'know, I couldn't sleep and I was feeling pretty lonely, so I thought I'd stop by for the company, or something,” Theron tried his best to sound nonchalant but failed miserably at it, “If I'd known you’d be practicing throwing your blaster, I would have brought my own.”

Fin looked across the room and realized, to his own mortification, that the object he had discarded had been his blaster rifle.

His eyes fell shut as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

“Theron, now’s not exactly the best time,” he said.

Theron sent several scathing looks to the piles of empty mugs that surrounded them and the chair that laid overturned on the floor, “I can go if you’re,” he paused, “…busy.”

Fin’s shoulders slumped.

He searched for the strength to dismiss Theron, but he found none.

All his companions were gone and he'd forgotten just how terrifying the loneliness was.

Sleepless nights did that to you.

A decent welcome was out of the question, but the least he could be was hospitable after he nearly hit Theron with his blaster.

“Sit, I'll get you a drink,” he said as he pulled his work gloves off.

“I’d prefer to drink something stronger,” Theron said.

“Caf is all I have,” he stated.

Theron waved a no with his hands, “I’m okay. You look awful. You probably need sleep more than anything else,” he said, his voice light against the heaviness of the room.

Fin was suddenly aware of just how terrible he must look. His hair was dirty and unbrushed, and he hadn’t managed to take off all his makeup from the night before, which had left his face covered in faded blotches of black. He’s looked worse, but not by much.

He slid a quick hand through his silver hair to make himself look somewhat presentable.

“Do you say that to everyone, or only the ones you like?”

Theron laughed, “No, it’s just you.”

“You always know how to make me feel special,” Fin deadpanned.

“Not as special as I feel. Is it normal for you to welcome all your guests with a blaster thrown at them, or is it just me?” Theron asked.

He smirked, “It’s just you.”

Theron gave him an amused look.

Fin moved to the other side of the room to pour himself a cup of caf.

He waited a moment before he glanced over his shoulder. He watched as Theron took a seat on the dark sofa, his posture relaxed, as he casually draped an arm around the back of the seat.

It said a lot that for a man who claimed to be deprived of sleep, Theron looked no worse than ever. His hair was its normal voluminous shape and his eyes were wide awake. He was even dressed in casual dark clothes with his ever-present red jacket.

Theron met Fin’s eyes and countered his gaze.

“Is everything okay?” He heard Theron ask, “You seem off.”

Fin froze.

The last thing he wanted to do was explain the reasons for his nightmares with Theron. It was more than likely that he already knew a good portion of his deeds as Cipher 9, but he had no desire to repeat them for confirmation. So, he only answered with,

“Can't sleep,” his words came out faster than he’d intended.

“I figured as much. Was it a nightmare?”

They watched each other, Theron’s expression expectant. So, after a long pause, Fin shrugged.

Theron’s eyes narrowed.

“You really don't talk much, do you?” He asked, though it sounded more like a statement than a question.

Fin blanched, “Figured that out just now, Agent Shan?” He countered.

Theron scoffed, “Not all of us had that fancy Chiss Ascendancy training, Cipher 9,” he said, his voice a playful tease.

The corner of Fin's mouth quirked up. With his mug in hand, he sat adjacent to Theron on the sofa, “So you admit that the Ascendancy is better than SIS training?”

Theron shrugged and leaned toward him, “Maybe in some regards. But I could hold my own against you any day. At least, long enough for me to get away,” he gestured with his hands as he spoke.

Fin let out a soft laugh that sounded awfully close to a giggle, before he caught himself and cleared his throat. He stared, his eyebrows furrowed.

“You're not like other SIS I've met,” he said, as he toyed with the mug with his hands.

“Because I’m the only one who hasn’t shot you yet?” Theron asked, and Fin breathed a laugh, “Were any as handsome as me?”

Fin thought for a moment, then decided, “Not nearly, but one was just as…”

Words failed him, but from the look on Theron’s face, he seemed to get the idea.

“Ah,” he nodded, “Any exes I should keep an eye out for then?”

Fin shook his head, “None that you need to know about,” he said.

Theron laughed, “I’ll remember that.”

His laughter died down and the room fell into silence, though it was warm and companionable, a stark contrast to the empty, deafening silence that was usual of the Phantom whenever he found himself alone.

Fin took a sip of his drink, relieved to find it still warm, and placed it on the nearest surface. Sleep weighed on him, and his eyes fell shut as he relaxed to the feeling of good company and the pleasant aroma of caf.

Fin felt the dip in the sofa as Theron moved to sit closer, and instinct made him open his eyes.

He found Theron staring, and Fin froze as his eyes scanned his face. A question was obvious on his mind, and Fin knew what it would be.

“I’ve been wondering this for a while now,” he said, “Your scars, how did you get them?” Theron asked.

Fin took a sharp breath before he began.

“Training mission. I was tasked with deactivating a small explosive device, but it went off before I had time to get away,” he said, his voice mechanical. He'd long lost track of how many times he’s had to repeat this story, “I avoided the blast but there was shrapnel. The field medics had done the best they could, but the evac was at the end. I either had to finish the course as quickly as possible, or wait for rescue to find me once the time had run out,” his tone rose in volume and each word came out more poisoned-filled than the last, “I was the youngest person on that mission. I had something to prove, and I wasn’t going to let myself fail because of my mistakes. So, I went on, and I completed the mission with the skin of my face falling off, a ruptured eardrum, and an eye I couldn’t open.

“I was lucky I didn't lose anything important,” he cut himself off sharply, and his voice returned to the monotony it was before.

It took Theron a moment to let it all sink in.

“And this was where, the Chiss Ascendancy? How old were you?” He asked.

“I was twelve. I've had them for nine years now,” he said.

Theron muttered a swear under his breath.

Fin looked down at his hands, at the chipped black paint on his nails, at the scars on his knuckles, and at the callouses on his palms.

The scars on his face were crisscrossed and cross-hatched, with long, ugly stitches that ran up into his hairline, over the bridge of his nose, across his cheeks, and down his neck and shoulders. They marred his face and worst of all, they were impossible to hide.

Everything about them, about him was wrong.

“Fin—?”

“After the mission, I gained a reputation at the Ascendancy. Everyone heard the story and could recognize me by the scars alone. When you’re training to wear many names and faces, easily identifiable scars are the last things you want,” he said, “So, I wore helmets and masks for as long as I could. But after I joined Imperial Intelligence, I couldn't hide myself—”

“Ironic.”

“—That’s when I started using makeup. Lipstick, eyeshadow, eyeliner. It helped, a little,” he finished. “Now, I just enjoy wearing it,” he cracked a smile, but it fell almost instantly.

Theron stared at him long, hard, before he broke the silence with a sigh.

“I have to admit, the makeup does you no disservice,” he said.

Fin laughed as he always did when Theron teased him, but when he glanced at Theron’s face, expecting that smug and shameless smile, there was something else. His expression was serious, his mouth a soft line, and his bright brown eyes were the only glimpse of the true, genuine emotion that he felt.

Fin felt then, that he wanted to kiss him.

But he wasn’t ready for that. Neither of them were. Not yet.

Soon, he hoped.

So instead, Fin smiled back, slow and sad.

“I know,” he said. His words were confident, but his eyes were not.

Theron ever so softly raised his hand and caressed Fin’s cheek.

“Fin, listen. I'm not sure about you, but that—” he gestured with his free hand out the door where the blaster still laid on the floor, “—shouldn’t be normal. You don’t have to tell me what’s wrong, but just, get some sleep, alright?”

Fin wanted to reject Theron outright, to say that he regretted ever telling him anything about his life, but when he was forced to face the honesty Theron held in his voice, he knew he couldn’t send him away.

Fin closed his eyes. He placed a hand over Theron’s, and nodded.

Okay… Okay.

Theron wrapped a hand around Fin’s arm and pulled his closer, slow and gentle, until Fin’s head was rested, rather awkwardly, on his lap.

Apparently, the bedroom wasn’t what Theron had in mind.

He was surprised, to say the least.

Theron was far from the first person he’d ever cared for in this way, but his love life had been anything but pleasant. From the beginning, it had been filled with empty goodbyes, unrequited affections, and unforgivable cruelty. He’d long accepted this and had begun to expect it from everyone he grew attached to.

That was, of course, until he met Theron. Never in any of Fin’s previous relationships had he ever done something so… soft.

Even in the smallest of actions, Theron changed Fin’s perspective on everything.

Fin was tense, unsure of himself, until he felt a warm hand run fingers through his hair. The fingertips neared the scars that were hidden in his hair, but never touched the sensitive skin. It was a relaxing motion and his eyes drifted shut as he felt himself on the edge of sleep.

He shifted to find a more comfortable position, but he froze when he felt something solid in Theron's jacket.

He could almost laugh.

“Theron?”

“Hm?”

“You did bring your blaster,” he said.

Theron reached into his jacket and pulled out a blaster pistol.

“Would you look at that,” he said. At least he had the decency to sound shocked.

“Theron?”

“Yeah?”

“I like your scars too,” he said.

Theron smiled.

“Thanks.”

[vagabond-pinky]

Facade (Hunter/Imperial Agent)

AO3

Agent. Cipher 9. Legate. Fi'nalyn.

Fin.

No matter what name he carried, or what face he wore, he had always been so perfect. If only life hadn't made them the best of enemies.

But it was too late. It was always too late.

In the Star Chamber, alone in the empty darkness, their final battle had come to an end. Even without his companions to help him, Fi’nalyn had won.

Hunter collapsed to his knees, coughing up spit and blood as he did, his hand clutching his side. His breathing was shallow and his body was riddled with pain. He was dying.

Cipher 9 ran to him, his chest heaving with weighted breaths and his blue skin bruised a dark purple. His vibroknife was still in hand, even with his opponent beaten and bleeding on the ground.

Fin crouched down next to him, eyes scanning him with dexterous efficiency.

"I- Hunter, I didn't want this. I never wanted this," he stammered in between labored gasps.

His brow was furrowed, and there was something close to concern in those deep, iris-less eyes. Were they glowing? He couldn't tell. It was a strange thing to notice at a time like this, he realized.

Hunter let out a weak laugh, "Never wanted this? You're about to ruin all our plans,” -he coughed- “Funny how this stuff plays out."

Fin swept a lock of his silver, sweat drenched hair out of his eyes. He sheathed the knife as he fiddled with stims, and medpacks, and things Hunter didn't recognize. A second later, he deployed a portable med probe that emitted a soft green light as it scanned him.

"I would have joined you, Hunter,” his voice was a whisper, as if he believed there was someone listening through the walls, “If you had just asked," he said.

"I know you would’ve," he rasped, a small smile on his split lip, "That's why I never did."

He hoped that with those words, he surrendered the last bit of control he had over his Cipher. It was the least he could do for him.

Frustration leaked through Fin's slipping facade as he stabbed him with a brightly colored stim pretending not to notice Hunter's hiss of pain.

He worked quickly; they both knew he was running out of time.

Hunter shook his head and cringed as his vision whirled, "But that doesn't matter anymore. I want to show you this. You deserve to know," he coughed.

Hunter went to the controls at his wrist, and deactivated the holo that surrounded him.

For the first time in so long, the body—the face he wore underneath was revealed to another person. He thought he had prepared himself for this, was ready to show his Cipher something he’d never shown anyone before, but he could never have expected just how exposed, how naked he felt right here.

He stopped breathing and waited, watching his Cipher's face. His eyes seemed to register what was before him, but showed no other reaction, negative or otherwise.

"Is this who you really are?" Fin asked. His voice was detached, almost far-away.

"No. The holo, Hunter, that's who I am," he spat out, and swallowed. The voice that came out of his mouth was one he was neither comfortable nor familiar with, "I'm a man, no matter what my body looks like," he affirmed.

The silence was suffocating despite the only sounds being the echoes of his Cipher's heavy breathing off of the metal walls around them.

Fin stared for only a moment longer before he pulled off his glove, reached out, and cupped Hunter's cheek, his hand warm against his cold, battered skin. His eyes were soft in a way he didn't think he was capable of.

"Then you didn't need to show me anything," he said, his mouth almost a smile but not quite.

Hunter closed his eyes and sighed into his hand, "You knew how I felt about you. I didn't- I never thought you'd feel the same," when his eyes opened they were wet and bloodshot, the green of his iris a sharp contrast against the red, “You’re special, Fin,” he said.

Fin kept his gaze on Hunter, as if he couldn't bring himself to tear his eyes away, and his fingers played with the ends of his disheveled blonde hair, “You are the best enemy I could have ever asked for. I can't do this without you.”

He scoffed.

Hunter and Cipher 9. One could not exist without the other. Not anymore. They were drawn to each other, and it was that same dangerous, electric attraction neither wanted nor controlled that had been with them every step of the way.

Now, Hunter could no longer resist the temptation.

They were toxic for each other, but then, they were toxic for everyone.

Before anything more could be said, Hunter leaned in and slowly met Fin’s lips with his own.

They both tasted of sweat and blood, metallic and salty, but neither seemed to mind. It was warm, and it was the first comfort Hunter has had in a long time. Fin reacted immediately, leaning into the kiss, and ran his hand through Hunter's hair. His other hand held onto him hard and tight, as if he were sand about to slip through his fingers and blow away with the wind.

It would seem the desire—the obsession, was mutual.

When they parted, Fin's usually cold and stoic expression was replaced with something that Hunter couldn't place. It wasn't the softness from before, or the almost smile. Heartbreak, maybe? Or something worse.

The Cipher was always so hard to read.

He smiled.

"Don't let them stop you, my love," Hunter said.

The last thing he saw were those beautiful red eyes.

It had been only a day since the Star Cabal had been dealt with and Fin's fate had been irrevocably determined. A puppet for the Empire.

The Phantom carried a thick, kinetic energy, and everyone was on edge, all due to one decision and an unwanted guest in the med bay.

Fin joined his companions in the conference room; all were present, excluding SCORPIO who—in her own words—could not be bothered.

Kaliyo leaned against the wall, arms crossed, as she scowled at the Cipher, while Lokin, Vector, and Ensign Temple seated themselves around the long table in the middle of the room, their expressions varying from relaxed to uncomfortable.

Fin was a mess: his clothes were wrinkled, his hair dirty, his face bare of makeup, and his eyes dragged from stress and a lack of sleep. He was exhausted, and they all knew it.

He had just finished speaking with the Dark Council via holocall, and his companions had been impatiently waiting to speak their minds.

He took a deep breath, and didn't need to wait long.

"You're a piece of work, Agent," Kaliyo spat out, anger and bitterness dripping from every word.

Though, she was quickly interrupted by Temple before she could follow her words with another jab.

“But Sir, what about the Dark Council,” she said, unease obvious in her demeanor, “He's a criminal.”

Fin leaned forward and pressed the gloved palms of his hands against the surface of the table. His mind raced for answers, but still was not fast enough. Eventually, he found something that was feasible, but it didn't matter. They all noticed how long it took him to find it.

“They have what they want. I will settle this with Darth Jadus soon, and he can make it so no one notices one person unaccounted for," he said.

“How certain are you that Darth Jadus would be willing to help?” Lokin asked, bringing his hand up to scratch his beard.

Fin turned to face him.

He paused for intentional emphasis, then said, “I am his Hand.”

His relationship with the Darth may be hard to define, but Fin had no reason to doubt him. Yet.

“Cipher, if you believe you can give Hunter the help he needs, then we will put our faith with you,” said Vector in his usual placidity.

Temple thought for a moment, then nodded in agreement.

"You three are crazy,” Kaliyo threw herself up off the wall, frustration oozing from her tone, “I know what you're thinking bringing that guy here. You're just asking for trouble having him around."

Fin did not have the energy to keep his thoughts from slipping onto his face, and Kaliyo could see clearly that her comments were landing where she wanted them to.

“The irony of the situation astounds me,” he said, and crossed his arms to match hers.

She huffed and jabbed a finger at him, "I know you, Agent, and I also know your taste in men. You like all the wrong guys, and not even the fun ones," she said.

"I am amazed that you see yourself in any position to judge what I do, considering your record," he said.

Her eyes narrowed, "If you wake up tomorrow with a blaster in your face, it's going to be your own damn fault."

As Fin watched her storm out the room, he was left wondering if the person holding the blaster would be Hunter, or herself.

"You have a plan for when he awakes, I assume," said Loki n, calm and masked. He moved to follow Kaliyo's example, but paused to look over his shoulder at Fin, “I hope you know what you’re doing," before walking through the door.

Fin looked to the two remaining. Temple and Vector smartly decided to keep all other opinions to themselves.

His eyes dropped to the table as they stood and exited.

There was no one left now.

Fin rubbed his face with his hands and sighed.

It had been some time since he'd felt like he had no idea what he was doing.

He'd run through hundreds of ways to solve this... whatever this was. He thought of every scenario, every outcome, every possible reaction Hunter could ever have, but it was worthless. He had no idea what to expect when Hunter finally woke up.

Fin hated that even without the keyword, Hunter still had the ability to strip away all his defenses.

He sunk into a chair, his eyes falling shut. No matter what, a permanent solution couldn’t be found just yet.

Fin would simply have to wait to see if he made the right choice.

[patiusstories]

Betrayal

Another piece of Star Wars: The Old Republic with my personal Sith Inquisitor. This time much earlier in his dark path with the prompt of ‘Silence’ by his dear friend @liberator-drana

Enjoy!

Silence.

For once in this great tomb of the furious and delusional dead, there was a disquieting silence about it. The raiders of the tomb long-dead from his - and others’ - passing, but they will return like hullrats. Jadus could hear his own footsteps sounding louder than nothing on the ancient stone, the mere sensation of this new feeling gnawed at his anxieties. His fingers twitched, wanting to snatch his forefather’s lightsaber for an enemy not even before him yet. The young apprentice found himself etching a nervous smile under his skeletal mask. He had to distil this or risk unnecessary actions from him or his master.

Entering the grand hall of one of countless great tombs to one of many fallen sith lords whose names may never enter the grant annals of those who ruled Korriban and its empire with a shrewd fist or bloody mark, Jadus paid no mind to the phantom fox-fires that burned atop of stone braziers, nor the great shrine that crowned this place. His eyes were only on the single figure standing there. Her back to him, head shrouded by her hood. Where his past foes fight the power oozing from him like a barely contained coiled serpent in a fiberglass cage, hers was concentrated and collecting the power here.

On his first step upon the steps, her voice clearly spoke of the typical praise she so enjoyed to give. Once, the apprentice enjoyed it and drew confidence from it. Now, it scratched his anger unlike any other. To be tricked and lied to by his own mentor was an affront that Jadus did not appreciate. Why waste your time grooming something that you will only destroy?

“Such marvelous power radiates from you now.” She swoons in the light-provoked shadows, “Clear. Strong. You have truly come into your own.”

That, I can agree to. At least.

“You possess great power, certainly, but the teachings of Korriban seem to have had scant influence on you. How many times did you have the option to expand your power and yet stayed your hand? Do you really know what it means to be Sith?”

What are you on about? He mused, but the question did perk some intrigue on his part. Questions that he didn’t think upon, he has done what was required and under his jurisdiction, and so he answered, “A Sith follows his heart.”

“Yes, “there is only passion”. But do not forget - “through passion I gain strength; through strength, power.” Passion is the method; power the end.” The Darth Lady recited. And so, he is here. “I’ve arranged for you to receive the title of Lord of the Sith. I hope you realize what an honor and responsibility it is.”  Now that, caught Jadus’ excitement the tiniest jolt. His hard work was appreciated and applauded, and now - rewarded. Perhaps Kallig was wrong…

And yet, why was the Force so still?

Zash walked away to oversee the entrance as she continued on, “As a Darth, I answer only to Darth Thanaton who answers to the Dark Council. As a lord, you’re only one step below that, and you tower above many.”

“I-I hope I live up to the honor.” Jadus hummed, he could see the slightest disapproval from his pet but right now, Khem Val’s opinion meant nothing to him. There was glory before him and it was coming to him.  “You’re already exceeded my greatest hopes and expectations. But I’m getting ahead of myself.”  Jadus wasn’t completely blinded by this...he could see a disturbance. The tiniest that came in the form of Zash’s own excitement, but he did not pry into it. He remained poised, the energies was still nervous.

“There is still the ritual to undergo, and I’ll warn you - the ritual may prove a trying experience.” Zash said, “But once it’s done, you will be truly great, truly powerful.”

Jadus wondered what this ritual was. It was always spoke of, but never into details. Kallig still rolled in the back of his skull, it felt like whatever climax was building, it was coming hard in some form.

“You still haven’t told me what the ritual does.” Jadus almost growled, impatient made from youth and past experiences. But of course, the answer came as, ‘All in good time, apprentice. First, there is something more pressing. The truth is, I have not been completely honest with you. I wish I could have been, but the timing was not right.”

Finally, the veil was lifting and his heart jumped slightly to something not seen yet. And when his Master turned to him, Jadus could barely hold the shock at what was once a beautiful youthful woman - now replaced by a shriveling croon maned by her graying hair and sunken eyes brimmed of the Dark Side’s venomous corruption. This is Zash’s true face.

And something scratched at his logic, something he didn’t quite understand and in his foresight, knew exactly what this ritual foreshadowed.

“Look at me, apprentice. I am sorry to have concealed it from you for so long - but it was such a pleasant vanity to share in your youth.” She says with a genuine sorrow and embarrassment that Jadus couldn’t quite expect from a Sith of all people, ever known for their ruthless callousness or maybe it was a selfish pleasantry to her only protege. Nevertheless, her apprentice shared in her moment. “Why are you showing me this now?”

He must know to the finality. “Listen, apprentice. Various Force rituals have helped me maintain my appearance and some of my vitality.” The Dark Lady began her small lesson, for some reason, he always enjoyed her motherly tone. Something he never had and enjoy in these passing months, “But inevitably, life fades. I’m dying, apprentice. My will, my intellect, my spirit are as lively as ever, but this body is dying.

And so we come to this.

“Tell me what does this have to do with me…” Jadus insisted, almost adding his ever-humble please but halted himself in a choke.

“Everything.” She said, her face changed slightly with a possible sense to his disturbance, “You will be my second chance, my new life.” Despite his teethed pain riding behind his heart, Jadus’ mask hid his pain as his visors stared at his former master. His body expressed nothing. His presence in the Force remained as it always been; a small protective tempest to his inner eye.

“Be prepared. As the ritual ends, you will likely see me collapse before you feel it taking effect. Do not panic.” She sensed something in him, believing it to be fear as her honeyed voice tried to soothe him, but she is gravely mistaken. “Know that this what I have trained you for, prime you for, from the start.”

From the start…

He said something, but everything was distant. Dull...and suddenly, Zash realized at the last microsecond before an eruptive barrage of lightning struck and hurled her back. The only thing saving her from complete atomization was the quick appliance of a Force Shield. Screaming in surprise and anger, her back slammed into a pillar. “You...you dare!” Her distorted voice screamed, rising as quickly as any young humanoid. The air popped with a throw of telekinetic force and her eyes burned with a baleful fire. Electricity crackled from her fingers as she saw her long-worked masterpiece draw a curved-hilted lightsaber in one elegant flourish. Its hot red blade growling like a passing torch before getting into the opening stance of the Jedi’s Niman stance.

“You dare to betray me, Zash.” Jadus’ pained voice hissed before hurling a rippling pocket of deadly Force through the air. One that she easily deflected before zipping through the air by the thrust of speed, a claw of crimson blade flaring from her lightsaber. The two immediately crashing into a dance of close combat. Another of their technique training turned to a duel of ferocious movements.

The Sith Juyo worked into their attacks, wild yet countering each other of familiarity and their own experience. Jadus could only catch Zash’s surprising output of ability for someone dying by his knowledge into the Soresu defenses. Backpedaling at her quick and precision, the assassin suddenly drove his elbow into her gut when the Sith Lady drove forward to wound his arm. A spat of pain escaped her lung before a uppercutting force of telekinesis knocked her clear of her feet. However, Zash was quick into recovery. The toe of her boot knocked Jadus into a painful stumble with the slam of her lightning-curled fist sending him several feet back.

“Oof!” His grunt came out, finding himself tumbling down the stairs and barely catching himself. Vision wavered and looked up to see the crone stepping down with the air proper of her dark status. However, her frustration burning in her eyes. “You should know better, my Apprentice. The Master is always one step ahead.”

“You are not my master…and I learned some things in my time away.” Jadus seethed, his fury exploded out in a flash of air-rippled fire before collecting itself back into himself. Throwing his sharp-fingered gesture out, Zash smirked and shot out a lance of dark energies down upon him, immediately crashing a near invisible pocket of air rippling madly. The arcs flowing at either side of her Apprentice, barely licking at his shielded form with sizzling scars to his robes and burning funnels into the floor behind him. Their powers dueled, pushing back and forth. However, Zash’s vitality was slowly draining but her meditation in this place had gave her a strength that Jadus was not prepared for. Her rituals were truly something to admire, if that was the last congratulations that he could give her.

Now!

In the distraction, Zash didn’t notice Khem until his shadow crept over her. The powerful monster roared with his odd jaws, electro-broadsword crackling as eager as he was to kill this witch and feast her. By the will of her Force-hastening speed, her lightsaber slashed across his powerful stomach with sparks flashing. Too quick to notice his lack of cries, the Sith Lady hurled their clashing powers straight into Val, hurtling his body into the altar with a loud crash of stone.

This was all Jadus needed. With her mind temporarily off, Zash screamed as electricity bolted into her spine, sending her body into a temporary spasm before gasping as her lungs ripped into a furious howl to the energies resonating in this time suddenly coiled and squeezed upon her body like a vengeful python with the shadowy projection writhing.  Pulling her in telekinetically, Jadus’ reckless extortion of his power exploded out into a storm of raw power that seared against her left side. Like a puppet cut from its strings, Zash threw herself several feet after finally regaining some inhuman control of herself. Rolling with her robes - and flesh smacking - with her breath horribly ragged now. Her lungs now doubt seared.

Jadus was already up despite his slight exhaustion, rushing to cleave the treacherous woman in two.

“You can’t stop this ritual from happening!” Zash claimed, gathering herself with the pull of the Dark Side and caught her former appearance in midair to a skull-shuttering crash into one of the Altar’s monoliths. His ears rang and brain shook into a disorienting that made the Sith apprentice sick to his chest and gut. Vision wavered and hand unconsciously grasping at a lightsaber that wasn’t even there no more.

No. No!

His body was seized and contained into a web of power, he couldn’t move nor do anything. Jadus could feel it, his power was lurch in defiance but his conscious was growing heavier. NO!

In a flash of movement, his eyes could barely register. Something large was moving and suddenly lunged upon Zash, causing a great explosion and her body flying helplessly by the collision of powers.