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2020 marks the fourth consecutive year of #JashiWeek ! 🐞 Lately, events have been turbulent in all parts of the globe. Wherever you are, we hope you are safe and well as we weather through this. 💞
For May 6 - 12th, you are all welcome to join in the annual celebration of the awesome pairing that is Jack and Ashi. A week where we can have a bit of cheer is a week worth having. 💕
Prompts:
May 6th - 20s
(as an age? number? special date? perhaps the roaring (or rawring XD) 20s? the concept is entirely up to you!)
May 7th - Forbidden
(we often want what we cannot have)
May 8th - Mask
(abstract or real…concealing faces or something more?)
May 9th - Black
(a color that can take on many forms and meanings)
May 10th - Song
(take inspiration from music. be it song or lyrics or anything that is melodic to the ears)
May 11th - Promise
(made and then…kept? …or broken?)
May 12th - Blade
(the cold bite of steel from a sword? or something metaphorical?)
*Feel free to interpret the prompts as you see fit!
Rules:
*All entries and fan-content must be focused on the Jack/Ashi pairing, and should be tagged #jashiweek. (So we can find them!)
*Mature and/or sensitive content should be appropriately tagged with warnings. No exceptions.
*Entries do NOT need to be completed on the exact date of each prompt, they can be posted late. It is also not required of anyone to finish all the prompts of the week. You can also combine prompts.
*All fan-content is welcomed (fanart, fanfiction, playlists, gifsets, etc.), but plagiarizing and/or reposting the works of others is prohibited. They must also not have been posted prior.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Episode LXXII: Jack and the Celestial Flower
(After losing his sword, Jack searches for a miracle.)
Word Count: 1710
There was something heavy that clung to the air. A foreboding feeling that matched the precipice of rain. Jack, with years of experience and heightened senses, kept close guard of his person. Scanning the perimeter as he trudged forward and looking constantly over his shoulder.
The hem of his gi dragged along the dust and grime of the barren wasteland. The tattered rest of it was in dire need of repair but Jack no longer had the same fastidiousness to do so. Not since his most recent and costliest error.
Dusk settled when he finally reached his destination.
His last hope.
It was a small unassuming house, scavenged together from mismatched planks and scrap metal. Jack had seen many like it in the shanty towns in Aku’s cities.
Beyond the structure, there was an outcropping of trees, devoid of bark and leaves. Their skinny branches, spiking upwards to the reddening sky, painted an ominous scene.
His hands began to shake, so he pushed them inside his sleeves. Ignoring his own thundering heartbeat, his ears picked up the sound of growing footsteps. He straightened himself up as a man emerged from the trees, carrying a pail of water.
Jack bowed his head.
“Good evening.” He said, his voice raspy from thirst and exhaustion. “Are you the man in possession of a silver flower?”
“Perhaps.” came the gruff derisive reply. “Depends who’s askin’. Lots of nosey folks pokin’ ‘round here.”
Jack studied the taciturn man, who looked to be in the last of his dwindling years. It was hard to make out his face from the folds of skin weighing over his eyes and white bushy beard that hung down to his abdomen. It was short of a miracle he could stand without toppling over from the weight of the bucket.
“No point standin’ ‘round here for. Get inside.” The old man barked, startling Jack just as he was about to introduce himself.
“I beg your”—
“You deaf? Get inside and make yourself useful. Start a fire for the night.”
Jack opened his mouth to protest but promptly shut it. He complied with the old man and made his way inside the humble dwelling. He was surprised to find all manner of firearms and ammunition stuck to the rust colored walls like deadly trophies.
“My collection.” The man chuckled from behind. “Souvenirs from folks who shoulda known better.”
Jack did not say anything, moving towards an iron stove with a stack of lumber at the side. As he kindled a fire, the old man hobbled closer to the heat.
“I’m not usually the hostin’ kind.” He said. “But I’m too curious for my own good. And an unarmed swordsman probably has an interestin’ story to tell.”
“How did you”—
“You grip the air on your hip where you’d normally carry a sword.”
Jack fell silent again as he stoked the flames.
The man was true to his word about not being the hospitable kind. The food was barely edible and the conversation scarce.
After swallowing the last morsel from his tin plate, Jack felt that odd restlessness start to take hold again, his fingers twitching for some intangible need. This did not go unnoticed.
“You okay?” asked the old man.
Jack nodded curtly, tucking his arms inside his sleeves. “I have had a long journey.”
“There’s a spare cot in the”—
“No. Thank you for your kindness. I appreciate it. Truly, I do. But there is a matter of great importance I have come all this way to find.”
Cloudy white eyebrows rose in understanding.
“The silver flower?”
“Yes.”
“Aimin’ to haggle a good price for it?”
“No.” Jack’s voice softened. “I…” His next words came with much struggle. “I simply want to make a wish.”
The old man stuck a finger into his ear, wriggling it with much exaggeration. “I musta misheard you. What did you”—
“I want to make a wish.” Jack repeated.
“I didn’t take you for the fairytale kind.” The old man said with a grunt, but his words were without ridicule. “For twenty years, since that thing sprouted from the remains of a shootin’ star, I’ve had folks come ‘round here. Heh, all lookin’ to make a fortune outta it. Usually tryin’ to threaten me…” His arms gestured at the walls. “...as you can see ‘round you...but never in those twenty years has someone walked through here wantin’ to make a wish outta that damned thing.”
“I do.”
“And why’s that?”
The question gave Jack pause. He tilted his head up to stare at the cobwebbed ceiling as though an answer could materialize from there. He closed his eyes and, in a hollow-toned whisper, replied.
“Because I am desperate.”
Perhaps it was pity that moved the old man because he did not bother asking any more questions and simply escorted Jack out onto a path that led to this mysterious flower, with only a single lantern to light their way.
The sky was now a deep blue and darkness swathed all around.
They stopped when they reached the edge of a large crater. The old man lowered the lantern into the pit.
“Down there.”
Jack squinted below into the darkness. A vague...silver glint catching his eye.
Carefully, Jack followed after the old man as they moved down the spiralling footholds put in place until they reached even ground. An ethereal light soon wrapped around them and Jack felt his breath catch in awe. Never did he see anything like it. An otherworldly creation of unimagined beauty. It looked as though it had broken off from a star or from the fabled jewelled trees of Hōrai. He suddenly could feel it again—hope—thrumming in his veins like a swarm of bees.
“Beautiful, isn’t it?” The old man said. “Though admittedly it’s never blossomed the twenty years I’ve tended to it. Still, never ceases to amaze me.”
Jack stepped closer and fell to his knees, his hands cupping the light that surrounded the bud like a child seeking an embrace. Basking in its beauty, he confided his wish through his heart.
For a while, everything remained still and unchanged. Then, the light grew, enough to darken their shadows, before encircling their surroundings in its platinum veil. Then, as though awakening from a long slumber, the crystalline bud began to move, pulsing with radiant energy.
The old man made an audible gasp for the both of them as Jack found himself too enthralled to speak.
The flower bloomed, unfurling like the hand of a goddess to bestow upon her blessings.
But just as the magnitude of its beauty pierced their hearts, the petals sagged and began to curl and sallow. The wondrous light drained away until there was only darkness again. The last sight of the flower was a dried-up dead weed.
The elation Jack felt plummeted into the pit of his stomach. His unseen hands began to tremble in panic.
“Is that it?” His voice strained. “Is there nothing else?”
“I’m afraid not.” The old man said, his voice shaken as he went to retrieve the lantern. “But that was...that was somethin’, wasn’t it?”
Jack’s hands dropped into his lap in defeat.
“I knew it was a fool’s errand…” Jack could not help but utter. “Everything has been taken from me...but I had hoped…”
“What were you wishin’ for?”
From where he stood, the old man could only see the swordsman's shadowy back but the sorrow that emanated from him was clear as daylight.
“A miracle.”
“Well…” The old man sighed. “Don’t we all wish for one?”
Jack did not answer and he remained silent as they made their way out. The lantern sputtered out just as they reached the top. Jack sat on a lonesome rock as the old man tended to relight it. He had rebuffed Jack’s assistance of course.
“You know.” The old man said, trying to spark a flame. “I’m grateful for you. I probably woulda missed out on such a rare sight if you hadn’t showed up.”
“It died a moment after.” Jack said tonelessly. “My presence might have been the cause.”
The old man stopped with his tinkering and Jack could feel him staring at his person.
“Even if that were true, I’m still grateful. Most likely, I probably woulda just died without ever seein’ it blossom. It was breathtakin’ and the memory is stuck with me for the rest of my measly life. I don’t regret it. It was like a dream. Even better!” He chuckled warmly. “Like an unforgettable love. The once in a lifetime kind.”
Jack humored him with a forced chuckle of his own.
“Perhaps so.”
“There!” The old man exclaimed as an orange flame swelled alive in its glass casing. “Let’s head back.”
They had only just resumed following the path when Jack swung back around behind them in alarm. The old man followed, pulling the lantern to the direction of Jack’s gaze.
“What’s the matter?”
“I…” Jack sounded dazed. “I thought I heard a cry. An infant’s cry.”
“A baby? I didn’t hear anythin’. ‘Course, I am an old coot... Are you sure? There’s nothin’ for miles ‘round. Coulda just been the wind.”
Jack strained his ears for more but there was only the rustle of the dead trees.
“Yes. I suppose so…”
When they made their way back inside the house, the old man rolled out a sleeping cot for his guest. It was as ancient as the owner with the smell of mold clinging to it, but Jack was not one to criticize generosity.
When the lights were extinguished, Jack felt the fatigue take hold. Sleep would not be pleasant, filled with nightmarish flashes and clammy tremors, leaving him more exhausted than refreshed the next day. He did not expect this night to be any different from the previous nights since the loss of his sword.
He closed his eyes and fell into a lull.
Soon after, Jack began to dream. Of the incessant wailing of a child being born, held up like a heavenward offering, against a backdrop of crimson walls and black rocks.
It was a disturbing image.
But for the first time in a long time, for some strange inexplicable reason…
