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[monthly-challenge]

Since it's Free Day of Spring Fling with @monthly-challenge, I decided to update the Steve Miller Au (which will hopefully be updated a little more regularly in the future)! Hope you guys like the next chapter-- it's short but feelsy, and I had a lot of fun with it. First lines under the cut!

Taglist: @day-to-day-thots @auroramagpie @laughingphoenixleader @accidental-spice @heckin-music-dork @opalknight @seleneisrising @cassie-fanfics (DM me or comment if you want to be added or removed from the taglist!)

It wasn’t normal for the Ghost to be quiet— and even now, it wasn’t completely silent. Ezra could hear someone— probably Kanan— moving around in the kitchen, and low voices sounding here and there. It sounded like he was getting ready to make dinner, which meant it wouldn’t be long before the sounds of music would start up. Idly, he wondered what Kanan would play this time.

They were on their way home from another mission, which didn’t usually make things so quiet. But this one was different— at least, it was for Ezra.

This time, he’d found out what truly happened to his parents.

He’d never really expected them to be alive. The odds for people in their chosen profession— namely, rebels— weren’t really that great, especially ones that were imprisoned by the Empire.

But when he’d had that dream… Ezra had hoped. He’d hoped that maybe, after the prison breakout, he’d find them again. And they’d hug him and apologize for leaving him and he’d say it was okay, that he took care of himself, and Kanan looked after him, too.And they’d be proud of me, he thought, swiping at his face and swallowing hard. I hope they were proud of me.

[monthly-challenge]

@monthly-challenge 2024 | Day #21: Free Day

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"Free Day"

self portrait for @monthly-challenge day 21!

[monthly-challenge]

Zendaya as Anne Wheeler in The Greatest Showman (2017) @monthly-challenge | Day Twenty One: “Free Day”

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Do not sell chocolate in this town! Free Day | @monthly-challenge

[monthly-challenge]

My last fic for @monthly-challenge's Spring Fling is, technically, not actually a fic! I wrote a story set in the world of my fairy tale retelling book series, about the Huntsman from Snow White (his name is Breccan and he is a precious cinnamon roll, too good for this world, too pure, accidentally is working for an evil dictator)! Hope you guys enjoy it!

All his life, Breccan had loved to be in the forest. His father, the Huntsman before him, had taught him there, amongst the trees where they both felt at ease and at home. He’d learned to track and to move with the utmost stealth and to shoot a bow expertly, as well as the gist of a lot of other missile weapons. The forest was where he’d been made into who he was.

Which was why it was so strange to be there now, with two people from a part of his life he still wasn’t quite at ease with.

“This is a good spot,” Alec said. The taller man studied the trees around him with a thoughtful expression, then sent Breccan a grin. “Our targets will have a heck of a time spotting us. How’d you find it?”

“I grew up in these woods,” Breccan reminded him. “I know them better than anyone. So stick close to me, both of you.”

Their companion didn’t speak, but nodded quietly. Rapunzel seemed far from at ease, but she didn’t stick out like Alec did. Breccan had spent a lot of time wondering why, of all the royalty in Avena, the Empress had chosen Alec to be one of her assassins. He was friendly, good natured, and everyone liked him— but he also didn’t have a malicious bone in his body, and sneaking wasn’t exactly his greatest talent. Also, he wore glasses he was constantly having to clean.

Breccan had seen him in action— he was a good fighter, but not the best. Still, he’d rather have him at his side than Gavin, who would get bored in the middle of a stakeout and suggest they go get drinks, or Phillip, who seemed incapable of mustering enthusiasm for anything but killed with passionless ease. And he’d definitely rather have him than Charming. The man still hated Breccan over the whole sleeping spell incident with his wife. Not that Breccan could blame him.

“Hey,” Alec said, nudging him. “You fighting fit? You’re doing that broody thing again, which isn’t really your lane. Charming’s more of a brooder, right, El?”

Breccan laughed, and a flash of amusement crossed Rapunzel’s face, too. “I’m fine,” he assured him. “We should get out of sight, though. If we’re going to watch out for the arrival of the Cobalt Peninsula’s delegation, we shouldn’t let them see us.”

Nodding, Alec said, “Good point— not a very good look for assassins. What’s the plan when they show up?”

“I’ll shadow them through the trees, and you wait behind for a little while before going to the horses so you can meet them,” Breccan told him. “I’m the stealthiest out of all of us, after all.”

“You shouldn’t go alone.” Rapunzel spoke for the first time, her low voice steady and matter of fact. Alec nodded in agreement.

“Good point. We’re shadowing them because they’re potential threats— can’t be too careful. El, how’re you at stealth?”

“Better than you,” she said with the ghost of a smile.

Alec laughed. “Perfect. So it’s settled?”

“If you’re alright with that,” Breccan said, looking at Rapunzel. “How are you with heights?”

He remembered, as he spoke, how they’d first met, and the flash of humor in her eyes said she was remembering the same thing. “Just fine,” she told him.

“Then let’s get cracking,” Alec said. As one, they slipped away to their respective hiding spots— Alec to an alcove between some bushes and a tree, nicely out of sight. Breccan, in the meantime, headed towards a massive nearby tree. He’d been climbing trees all his life, so it was a simple matter to hoist himself up into the branches.

Pausing a few branches up, he turned back to offer Rapunzel a hand. She was already starting to climb after him, and looked surprised at his gesture. Slowly, she took his hand and let him help her up to the next branch.

They continued up the tree together, until they were several feet above the ground. Breccan found a spot, and Rapunzel settled nearby him.

It was odd— he hadn't known her for long, but it was surprisingly easy to be around Rapunzel. She was quiet, it was true. And, for a confident-acting woman, she could be shockingly nervous sometimes. But he liked her. Liked the real side of herself that only seemed to come out around him and Alec. He counted himself lucky to be part of the few.

“You're a good climber,” he said, keeping his voice low. He knew it was unlikely anyone would hear them, even the Cobalt delegations rolling by in their carriage. But it paid to be cautious. “Is it… wrong that I'm surprised?”

“Since I grew up in a tower? No, it's not wrong,” Rapunzel replied, her tone equally quiet. “I've done a lot of training since I got out, and when I was in there. There wasn't much else to do, after all.”

“Makes sense,” Breccan said. “It would be hard, stuck alone up there.” A smile twitched across his face. “My brother would have gone insane up there.”

“There were times when I felt like it,” she said with a small sigh. “But… I suppose you can get used to anything if it's all you've ever known.”

A pang went through Breccan at the resigned words. The way she just… accepted it, because what else could she do? He understood that feeling, in a small way. He knew what it was like to have a part of your life you couldn't wish away, no matter how hard you tried. 

“I'm sorry,” he said quietly.

This earned him another surprised look. “Has anyone ever told you you're… kind of strange?”

Breccan laughed. “I've gotten that a few times, yeah.”

“Hmm.” She was quiet for a minute, then added, “You climb well, too. I assume it's because you grew up out here?”

Smiling, Breccan said, “Yeah. It's one of many skills my dad made me work on a lot, but that wasn't one I was too upset about. I love being in and around the trees. It's quiet, peaceful. And nothing's more beautiful to me.”

He looked around, taking in the surroundings. The rippling clouds of green leaves rustling around them, the sturdiness of the branches beneath him. The cool breeze sending the musty smell of the forest floor and the sharp scent of growing things to his nose. This was home, where he was meant to be, more than the castle ever could be.

As wrapped up as he was in taking in the forest around him, he almost didn't hear Rapunzel's response. “It is beautiful”, she said softly.

Breccan glanced at her, and smiled. “It really is, isn't it?”

The clatter of hooves on cobblestones beneath them pulled his attention away, and Breccan turned his eyes back to the job. The carriage moving by slowly was embossed with a silver flower— the symbol of the royal family of Cobalt. Six guards on horses rode flanking the carriage, their gazes alert.

Breccan exchanged a look with Rapunzel. Ready? He mouthed, and she nodded, eyes alert, hand close to the knife on her belt.

Turning, Breccan rose into a half crouch, then stepped off of his tree branch and onto the next one. And the next, and the next, until he was officially out of tree. Locking his gaze onto the nearest branch of the next tree, he took a deep breath, then leapt.

His palms slapped into rough bark, and he grabbed on instinctively, using his momentum to swing himself forward and drop lightly onto the branch below. Scrambling up a few more branches, he turned to see if Rapunzel needed help— only to see her landing on the branch. She swayed a little, but caught her balance quickly, and Breccan bit back a smile. Just when he thought he knew all her tricks, she surprised him again.

Together, they made their way after the carriage through the forest, leaping from tree to tree. Falling into the rhythm, paying attention to nothing but the forest around him and his companion, Breccan could almost forget he was doing this in service of a queen who’d torn his life apart. He could almost forget everything he’d lost.

Keep it steady, Breccan. Don’t slip, not now. Breathing deeply, he made his next leap.

[monthly-challenge]

Hello Everyone, welcome to the fourth Monthly Prompt Challenge, The Fashion Run“May” (May 11-May 31, 2024)

How To Participate:

Reblog this post to get the word out!

Create your own Gifset, Fanart, Fanfiction, etc!

Tag your post as #mayfashion2024

Tag us → @monthly-challenge

Rules and Guidelines:

There is one prompt for each day! The event starts on May 11 which will give you time to get a head start on your creations!

Make your own creations!

Absolutely No NSFW content!

Please keep romantic relationships as one male and one female. (I apologize if this rule causes offense. My intention isn't to exclude or spread hate, but due to the sensitivity of this topic for the creator of the monthly challenge, I kindly request participants to adhere to this rule to prevent any uncomfortable situations.)

Whump and angst are acceptable and encouraged but please no gore!

Tag me! I want to see what you have created! As long as I am comfortable with what you have created, I want to share it to this blog!

If you have questions, don't hesitate to reach out!!!

Other Things To Keep In Mind:

You do not have to do every prompt in order to participate

The choice of fandom is up to you!

If you are a few days late on a prompt, it's okay. As long as you tag me and the post appropriately, l'd still love to see it!

Thank you to everyone who has chosen to participate! I kindly request that those who do not agree with the rules refrain from interacting.

[monthly-challenge]

Zendaya as Rocky Blue in “Merry Merry It Up” @monthly-challenge | Day Twenty: Christmas “Tree”

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Right Here, Right Now Tree | @monthly-challenge

[monthly-challenge]

Flavours Like Colours

Drabble written @monthly-challenge — Ice cream & @fandombingo, Reverse: 1999 — It is not an equal negotiation. You can read it under the cut and on Ao3 here 🍨

Fandom: The Resident (TV 2018)

Rating: General Audiences

Pairing: Gigi Hawkins & Billie Sutton & Sammie Wong

Tags: Missing Scene, Friendship, Episode: s06e06 For Better or Worse

Summary: Billie takes Gigi and Sammie to get ice cream.

Wordcount: 100

Gigi’s legs move lazily, hanging from her seat as she eats her strawberry ice-cream. “Uncle Billie, what was mummy’s favourite ice-cream?”

She smiles, realising that the flavour she’s chosen is exactly Nic’s favourite. “Vanilla.”

“If you guess my dads’ favourite flavours, I’ll let you try mine!” Sammie proposes, noticing Gigi’s curious eyes on her choco-mint cup.

“That’s not fair! They are not my best friends,” Gigi pouts.

“Let’s see,” Billie musses, “I’d say Jake’s is ��� butter pecan. Or raspberry ripple ice cream.”

“And Gregg’s is …” Gigi copies Billie’s expression, “the blue one we saw there!”

Sammie just giggles. “Try again.”

[monthly-challenge]

"Tree"

Painting for @monthly-challenge day 20!

[monthly-challenge]

Today's Spring Fling prompt from @monthly-challenge is Yellow! I wrote it shortly after 3x09 of The Bad Batch, and it was somewhat inspired by this post by @nimata-beroya!

It had been a full year. A year since Order 66, since the Jedi were declared betrayers and were, subsequently, massacred at the hands of their clones.

A year since Quinlan Vos’s life, so recently put back together, was torn to pieces again.

The first time, in all fairness, had been largely his fault. And he’d lost a lot then. But he’d been making things right, working for good again. He’d even been finally allowed back in the field, back fighting the Separatists.

And then. In the blink of an eye, in one order from the Chancellor— or should he say the Emperor— it was all gone. Vos had felt the lives ripped away through the Force, leaving an empty, black hole where they had been.

The Jedi were no more.

He was alive, Force only knew how. A combination of dumb luck— he’d been scouting ahead when the order went through— and skill. His stomach churned at the memory— he’d had to cut his way through too many of his men. Far too many.

And even as he set off an explosive, destroying the remains of his commander and his men, leaving behind the charred shape of his lightsaber— minus the crystal, of course— Vos couldn’t help but think of the others.

He knew Kenobi was alive, obviously. He’d gotten the message to stay away from the Temple while hunkered down in one of his hideouts in the Outer Rim, trying to figure out what the kark to do next. But the rest? Master Yoda, Master Windu? Thousands of other Jedi who he’d known, fought alongside? His own apprentice was among the dead. The painful memory lanced through him— of going to Felucia, finding the place where she fell. And then causing a huge ruckus trying to steal back her lightsaber from the troopers who’d taken it.

And then there were the clones. Vos wasn’t totally sure what had happened. And he hadn’t been with his clone commander for long. But Harrow was a solid guy, and wasn’t the type to just start shooting at you. The clones had been loyal to their generals, so something here wasn’t right. Vos’s current operating theory was that it was something to do with Dark side manipulation. Which meant Cody, Harrow, and thousands of others had been bent to the will of a Sith.

People had been hurt. People had been killed. And the only thing Vos could do about it?

Hide.

He hated it. He really, really hated it. The closest thing he had to family had been massacred, and all he was doing about it was dropping off the radar. Vos should have been fighting back.

But Kenobi had said keep your head down. And Vos tended to trust him. So he was keeping his head down. Besides, the Empire would be a tough nut to crack, even as a Jedi. Not impossible, mind. But tough.

So he’d disappeared— something he already had some practice in. Cut his hair, hid all relics of his former Jedi life, and just… blended in. Suffice to say, it was not the easiest thing he’d ever done. But Vos had picked it up eventually. Now he had a job and a tiny apartment and a grumpy neighbor, and he wasn’t dead. All very important things.

But now it had been a year since his family had been slaughtered. And things were only getting worse, and Vos was getting antsy.

So, he decided, maybe it was time to do something.

It started out when he was heading back to his apartment after work. Usually his neighbor, Traz, got home around the same time, and Vos liked to bother him for a little while. The grumpy Mirialan’s dry sense of humor reminded him a little of Obi-Wan, who he missed. A lot. So it was really hard for Vos to resist teasing him a little.

Today, when he headed up the creaky stairs to his floor, Traz was there at his apartment door, like usual. But he wasn’t unlocking the door. Instead, he was facing two stormtroopers, both carrying blasters.

Vos kept his gait casual as he approached, taking in the situation quickly. One of the troopers was talking, and Vos caught the last few words. “—provide some kind of ID soon, or you’ll be taking a trip with us to our commanding officer.”

Oooh, Vos thought. Terrifying. But when he looked at Traz’s face, it was clear his friend thought it was exactly that terrifying. His green skin was a chalkier shade than usual, and his hands were clenched into fists. “Like— like I said, I left it at work. I’ll have it soon, just—”

“Hey, there, friend,” Vos said, strolling up behind the troopers. Draping his arms around their shoulders, he gave Traz a wink. “Didn’t know it was a party— am I invited?”

Oddly, his presence didn’t seem to bring Traz much comfort. The troopers didn’t appreciate it much either. Shoving him backwards, one of them leveled a blaster at him. “Who are you?” she barked.

Holding his hands up, Vos said, “Easy there, troopers. I’m just heading home from work. The name’s Vos. What’s the problem here?” Snapping his fingers, he said, “Traz! Did you leave your ID at work again?”

A look of confusion crossed Traz’s face, which wasn’t surprising since to Vos’s knowledge, the Mirialan had never done that. He was fastidiously careful about that stuff, like Obi-Wan. Kark, I miss that guy.

“So he claims,” the other trooper said gruffly. “But he’s required to present identification. What’s your chain code?”

Panic flashed across Traz’s face, so quick that Vos only barely caught it. Ohhhhh. He doesn’t have one. Wonder how that happened. “I’m sure that’s not necessary,” he scoffed, keeping his tone cheerful and laid back. “I mean, look at the guy. He’s never broken a rule in his life.”

“This is none of your concern, citizen,” the first trooper snapped. “Go to your apartment.”

Okay, so we’re not playing nice. Time to bend the rules a little, I guess. Stepping forward quickly, Vos slipped between the stormtroopers and Traz. Blocking his friend’s view, he spread his hands. “Hey. There’s no need for all this— you don’t need his identification right now, do you?”

At the same moment, he pushed his intention through the Force. Come on. Work. Don’t let them catch me.

There was a brief pause, then the first trooper said, “There’s no need for all this.”

“We don’t need his ID right now,” the second trooper agreed. And with that, they turned and headed back down the stairs.

Releasing a sigh, Vos rolled his shoulders to release the tension. He hadn’t used the Force in public since… probably since I stole Aayla’s saber back. Oof. But kind of impressive— close to a year, and I still got it. Not bad, Quinlan. Holding back a grin, he glanced at Traz.

The Mirialan was staring at him, eyes wide. “How?” was all he said, confusion bright on his face.

Shooting him a wink, Vos said, “I won’t say anything if you won’t.”

For a minute, Traz didn’t speak. Then, he slowly nodded. “Okay.”

“Good.” And with that, Vos strolled into his apartment, feeling a tiny flicker of success. He’d done something. For the first time in months, he’d done something.

Nothing else happened the next day. But the day after— his day off— someone knocked on the door in the middle of Vos’s meditations. (which he still tried to do, when not absolutely exhausted from work. He couldn’t let go of it, not after a lifetime of being a Jedi. If it put him at risk… well, at least life would be a little more interesting.)

Hopping to his feet, Vos crossed the room and opened the door. Outside stood Traz, and with him was a blue-skinned Twi’lek girl who couldn’t be more than fifteen. 

Technically, she didn’t look like Aayla. But the serious way she studied him when he opened the door almost knocked him off his feet, pain clawing at his chest as he pictured his apprentice in her place. Ow. Nope. She’s gone, and not a kid. She’s gone, Quinlan. Let it go.

Taking a quick breath and trying to pretend that he wasn’t gripping the door frame to keep himself steady, he gave them a quizzical grin. “Hi?”

“This is him?” the Twi’lek girl asked Traz. She sounded deeply skeptical, and Vos held back a laugh. Probably he should be offended, but he really couldn’t blame her. He was currently wearing lounge pants with porgs on them, and an ancient band t-shirt for someone called the Twisted Rancor Trio.

“This is him,” Traz assured her. “He saved me from getting dragged into the Imperial headquarters the other day.”

Uh-oh. “This is true,” Vos agreed. “I am a naturally charming guy like that. How is this relevant, and are you trying to sell me something? Cookies, perhaps? Because I will shell out a couple credits for cookies.”

Rolling his eyes, Traz muttered, “And now you see why I didn’t think he’d be useful.”

The Twi’lek girl, however, was smiling. “I’m not here to sell you something,” she told him. “I’m here to ask you if you want to help more people.”

One of Vos’s eyebrows shot up. “Say what now?”

“We’ve all seen the Empire doing terrible things. And we all know that what they’re doing is wrong,” she said, her voice lowering slightly. “And you acted on that. So… I’m wondering if you’d like to do that a little more often.”

Ooooooh. This was dangerous. It was probably pretty stupid, and the exact opposite of keeping his head down. But… he’d had enough of keeping his head down, and he’d done his fair share of bad. It was time to do something good.

“You better come in,” Vos told them, stepping back from the door. “Let’s talk business— anyone want some snacks?”

They did, in fact, want snacks. As they munched on the snack cakes Vos had bought a few days earlier, the Twi’lek girl— who introduced herself as Tyala— explained the situation. She and Traz knew a lot of people who didn’t have chain codes, or who were fugitives from the Empire in one way or another. Traz himself was among the group without chain codes.

“But I had to stay here,” he explained. “Tyala’s on her own, and—”

“Everyone’s pretty sure I’ll get myself arrested without someone keeping an eye on me,” Tyala said, rolling her eyes as she munched on one of the cakes. Vos noticed her nails were painted a bright shade of orange. “Although I’ve never been arrested before, unlike some people here.”

Ignoring her, Traz said, “Besides, I couldn’t turn my back on the people here.”

“Good for you,” Vos told him. “So what would I be doing?”

The duo exchanged a look. “Well,” Tyala said, “you’re a lot better at talking your way past Imperials than we are. How about escorting refugees off the planet?”

Vos grinned. “That sounds like my style.”

And that was how things began. Every so often, Traz signaled Vos that they were ready for him to sneak a group past the Empire’s eyes. From there, Vos met Tyala at an old abandoned factory and picked up the group. He’d had to scrape together enough credits to buy a ship— a rickety old freighter which just barely ran— but it was worth it to be doing something. To help families to freedom.

The other two in the group never mentioned the circumstances under which Traz had decided to recruit him, which Vos appreciated. The less they knew, the better, and they seemed to recognize that.

(they’d had one talk, he and Traz. Once, where the Mirialan had mentioned his cousin had been taken by the Empire. “My family always thought he might be… different,” he said, significance heavy on the last word. “Jedi different. And then the Empire came in and took him. We haven’t seen him since.”

Vos hadn’t said anything about it, other than a quiet “I’m sorry”. Truth be told, it was probably better they didn’t know what happened to the kid. Force knew what the Empire had cooked up for Force sensitives.)

And so things settled into a new, far more tolerable (if nerve wracking) rhythm of working, then saving people right under the Empire’s nose. A few months in, and Vos was finally getting used to things— when everything was thrown into chaos again.

It started when Traz was arrested. Vos was on his way back from a trip, adrenaline still buzzing under his skin. He was halfway up the staircase when he stopped. Because suddenly, the adrenaline wasn’t just that. It was a warning, humming through the Force.

A crowd of troopers were standing at the top of the staircase, and two more were leading Traz out of his apartment. The Mirialan made eye contact with Vos, and mouthed, Go.

For a moment, Vos hesitated. He couldn’t just leave his friend, couldn’t just let him be taken by the Empire. He knew what would happen. They both did.

But there was more at stake than just him. So Vos spun and darted back down the stairs, past the troop transport he’d completely missed. Someone shouted something at him, and Vos put on a burst of speed. It was time to disappear.

But he couldn’t do that quite yet. His go bag was stashed on his ship, and he carried some of the more important things with him at all times. But there was no way he could leave Tyala. He already hated himself for leaving Traz behind.

I’ll come back for him. But first things first, I get Tyala clear.

While it had never been clearly stated where the Twi’lek girl lived, Vos was pretty sure the abandoned factory where they met was a safe bet. She’d never really hidden the fact that she lived on her own, but without parents or an actual job, she couldn’t have an apartment.

When he made it to the factory, Tyala was waiting for him. “Traz sent a message, said he was— was compromised,” she told him, her voice hitching a little. “Is—”

“The Empire has him,” Vos said quietly, and a flash of pain went across the Twi’lek girl’s face.

Taking a deep breath, she said, “Okay. Then we have to go.”

Vos’s eyebrows went up. “I… yeah, but I expected a lot more arguments about that.”

“I promised him I’d run if he got caught,” Tyala said with a shrug. “And… we’re outnumbered. The two of us couldn’t do it— could we?”

There was the slightest whisper of hope in her last words, and Vos hated himself for crushing it. “No,” he said. “We’d need more back up, and we don’t have that. Yet.”

Nodding, Tyala said, “Okay, then. Let me get my stuff.”

She disappeared into the doorway behind her, then returned a minute later with a satchel slung over her shoulder. “Let’s go.”

Together, the two of them headed to the spaceport, evading Imperial patrols with practiced ease. The attendant at the spaceport knew Vos well enough at this point, so it was just a matter of a few credits under the table, and in no time at all he and Tyala were headed for his ship.

As they boarded, Vos heard voices behind them. The filtered voices of stormtroopers. His heart jumped painfully in his chest, but he didn’t flinch. Casually, he hit the door control, and the ramp started to close.

“Did they spot us?” Tyala asked softly. Clearly she’d heard the troopers, too.

“Don’t think so— but let’s make tracks, just in case. Do you know how to co-pilot?”

“Not really,” Tyala confessed. “I’ve never had to.”

Shrugging, Vos said, “You’re gonna learn on the fly, then— literally. Ha, I’m hilarious.”

Tyala rolled her eyes, but she looked a little less nervous as they hurried into the cockpit. 

The takeoff went fairly smoothly. Sure, halfway through the Empire noticed and tried to tell them to stop, but Vos had chosen his spaceport carefully. By the time they had TIEs in the air, the freighter was through the atmosphere, and Vos was splitting his attention between watching the radar and showing Tyala how to complete calculations for hyperspace.

And then they’d made it, and a weight eased off of Vos’s chest. Sitting back in his chair, he let out a long sigh. “Nice job, kid.”

“Thanks,” Tyala said, her voice quiet. Vos shot a glance at her, watched her fidgeting with the strap of her satchel, yellow painted nails startlingly bright against the dull fabric.

“Hey,” he said. “We’ll go back for him. We just need to find some backup, and come up with a plan.”

“Where are we going to find either of those?” Tyala asked.

“Well, the plan comes from my genius level intellect. The backup… I still have friends out there somewhere.” Hopefully. “Just give it some time,” Vos assured her. “Traz will be out in no time. Now, you want something to eat?”

Tyala, looking slightly less worried, nodded, and Vos headed into the small galley. Their supplies were dwindling, to say the least, and it took a little digging to unearth something edible. But eventually, he came back to the cockpit, an odd assortment of canned fruit and crackers piled in his arms.

When he strolled through the door, Tyala was sitting on the floor, the contents of her satchel spread out in front of her. “Just making sure I have everything,” she explained.

“Smart,” Vos said, dropping down across from her with a grunt. Setting down the food, he glanced at the small array of items. Some he expected— three bottles of nail polish, in varying stages of nearly empty, a vibroblade tucked in a sheath, a spare set of clothing.

There was also a holodisk, a datapad with a cracked screen, something wrapped in pale blue cloth, and a piece of stormtrooper armor. Vos frowned at the last one— the pauldron was cleaved cleanly in half. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding at it.

“Oh— I found it on this Imperial transport on Pantora,” Tyala explained. “Traz and I kind of had to steal it to escape some Imps before you showed up. It was super weird— we thought it would be hard, but all the troopers were gone. This was all that was left.”

“Can I?” Vos asked, and she nodded. “That is weird,” he mused, reaching for the shard of armor. “It’s cleanly cut— almost looks like a—”

His hand closed around the armor, and—

“Stop her!” the panicked shouts of his fellow troopers echoed almost as loud as the blaster fire they directed at their target. Scrambling backwards, he wished— not for the first time— that he’d never signed up for the Imperial Army, that he’d told his girlfriend goodbye properly, that he’d stood up to his commander when she’d ordered them to kill their prisoners, that he hadn’t gone into work this morning—

The two troopers to his left fell, and he had a good look at what was attacking them for the first time. His first thought was that it had to be a ghost, or a creature risen from the depths of the snow around them. Her skin was bone white, but dark gray lines crackled across it in jagged patterns. She was dressed in dark clothing, and the yellow saber she carried glowed against the armor of his companions and the snow.

The saber carved an arc towards him, and he jerked to the side at the last minute. Pain exploded through him, and a chunk of his pauldron clattered to the ground.

“Please,” he gasped. “I didn’t want to—”

“Then you should have grown a spine,” she growled. “Then you should have spoken up against it, and been shot rather than follow an order so vile.”

“I know,” he whispered, and he did. He hated what he’d done, and there was nothing he could do to make it right. So he closed his eyes, and waited for the end to come.

Only it didn’t. And it didn’t. And it didn’t, until finally, he looked up tentatively. The ghost woman was studying him, her expression impassive. Then it twisted with irritation, and she muttered a curse under her breath. “Fine,” she bit out. “You’re going to live.”

“I— I am?”

“Oh, don’t look so excited. You’re going to help me to pay off those debts. And don’t try and thank me, it’s not my first choice. But…” a trace of what looked oddly like sadness crossed her face. “I know someone who’d want me to make this choice.”

“Vos? Vos, are you okay?”

Vos blinked unsteadily. He was on his side, clutching the piece of armor so tightly it dug into his palm. Tyala was crouched over him, concern bright in her eyes. “What happened?” she asked.

Vos opened his mouth to answer, but instead, he started laughing. He couldn’t help it, even with the terror the trooper had felt still buzzing through his bones. Because he knew the woman in the vision.

She’s dead, he thought giddily. There’s no way. I brought her home myself. But it had been very clear to him that he hadn’t understood everything about Dathomir, or their ways.

And the woman carrying the yellow saber had been, unmistakably, Asajj Ventress. The former Sith assassin turned bounty hunter. The woman who had sacrificed her life for him. The woman he’d fallen in love with.

“Vos?” Tyala was watching him with great concern.

Sitting up, Vos grinned at her. “I’m fine.”

“Cool. What the kark was that?”

“Psychometry,” he told her, opening his hand and staring at the piece of armor. “I can sense memories— echoes, really— in inanimate objects. Things the owner left behind, if it’s a personal object. Or, you know, a really strong memory.”

“And… this one was?” Tyala guessed.

Nodding, Vos said, “Oh, yeah. And there’s good news about it, too. I think I know where we can find that backup I mentioned.”

Well. He didn’t know exactly where. But Ventress was alive, against all odds, and he knew where to start looking. Luckily, she made quite an impression, so it might not be too hard.Even if it was? Well, Vos didn’t give up easily. I’m on my way, Ventress, he thought. I promise.

[monthly-challenge]

"Yellow"

Milo Murphy's Law gifset for @monthly-challenge day 19!

[monthly-challenge]

PAUL ATREIDES & CHANI KYNES IN DUNE: PART TWO @monthly-challenge | Day Nineteen: “Yellow”

[monthly-challenge]

Spiderman in the Decathalon Jacket Yellow | @monthly-challenge

[monthly-challenge]

I wrote today's @monthly-challenge fic as a kind of follow up to this prompt I wrote for a couple months ago for @auroramagpie. I just couldn't really get the world and the idea behind it out of my head, so I thought I'd write some more! Today's prompt from Spring Fling was garden, for context

The Dume Library was unusual for a lot of reasons. The foremost being its librarian— a blind man who was rumored to be an ex-musketeer, one of the more famous ones. It was said he’d worked alongside Hera Syndulla, who was one of the best, if not the best herself.

When asked about it, the librarian rarely gave a straight answer. Usually, he just laughed it off or made some joke, and gently turned the conversation to a different subject. So no one could be quite sure what the truth was.

(well. There was one person, but she was different. She had lived it.)

One of the other things that made the Dume Library unusual was the fact it had a garden. It was fairly large, starting at the front right side of the entrance, and curving around in a wide sweep of flower beds and vegetable patches, bracketed in the back by rose bushes, made its way to the far end of the property, where it took up a large chunk of the back yard area.

The back door of the library led out into it by a path that wound past a fountain and a bench looking out across the property, to the beds in the back. It was this path that Hera took now, down to where the figure of the librarian was hard at work.

She’d only been in this garden a few times since Kanan had finished work on it— though with a garden, one could rarely ever be truly finished— and Hera paused to admire it. It was something of a motley patchwork of beautiful flowers, glowing with colors and beauty and sweet smells, and of carrots and onions and potatoes, looking comfortably sturdy and inelegant next to the peonies nearby.

It was a strange sight, but one that was completely on brand for Kanan, and Hera couldn’t help but smile at the sight. At the memory it brought her.

“When we retire,” Kanan said thoughtfully, studying the elegantly trimmed rose bushes around them, “we should have a garden like this.”

Hera snorted in her champagne glass. “Like this?” she said, gesturing at the topiaries trimmed in strange shapes, the grass trimmed to just the right length. “Seems a little… fancy for you, dear.”

“I can be fancy,” Kanan scoffed. “But no, not exactly like this. I was thinking about the roses. They’re nice, right? And there’s a patch of lavender over there that smells amazing.”

Letting out a thoughtful noise as she scanned the crowd of the party they were at, Hera remarked, “I never took you for a gardener.”

“I’m full of surprises. Besides, nothing wrong with some good hard work. It’ll keep us busy once we retire. Assuming you ever plan to retire, that is.”

Hera rolled her eyes. “Sure, when the bad guys decide to retire.”

Kanan didn’t laugh, like she’d hoped. Instead, his face was serious as he said, “You know, the world’s never going to run out of problems for you to fix. But it is going to run out of time. You’ve got to decide what’s most important.”

Pushing down a swell of shock, Hera kept her face calm as she said, “You’re serious tonight, aren’t you?”

His smile came back. “I’m always serious about you.” Setting his glass on a nearby stone statue, he held a hand out to her. “Dance with me?”

They hadn’t danced then. Hera had spotted their target who’d been at the party when they were two steps away from the dance floor. And then there had been a chase and a duel that Kanan had joked was just as good as a dance, and another criminal was brought to justice.

Those days were long gone for Kanan. But the garden was here. And Hera could smell the roses as she approached Kanan, who was kneeling next to one of the flowerbeds, carefully pulling weeds.

“Hard at work, I see,” she said, and his head went up at the sound of her voice.

“I wasn’t expecting you today,” he said as Hera knelt next to him. She saw a smile tilt up the corner of his mouth, a smile that always sent a flutter through her chest, and made her want to smile back. “I’m glad I was wrong, though. How did the Pryce thing go down?”

“We got Sato’s son back,” Hera said. “And Pryce was taken into custody. Thank you for your help— we couldn’t have done it without you.”

Tugging up a weed and tossing it onto a pile to the side, Kanan said, “My pleasure, as always. How’s your new partner doing?”

There was no sorrow, no bitterness in the question. But Hera still felt a twinge of remorse tugging at her chest. “She’s… doing well,” she said. “Eager to fight, but she’s learning not to charge headfirst into things.”

“It’s a good thing she has you. You and I had to learn that lesson the hard way.”

Hera snorted. “With the amount she listens to me, she’ll be learning things the hard way, too. She’s more stubborn than either of us were.”

“Even you?” Kanan ducked as Hera swatted at him, grinning. “Alright, I got it. Well, you’ve put up with a partner far more frustrating than she is— you’ve got this. I know you do.”

“Thank you,” Hera said. She sat for a moment, watching Kanan weed around a bed of nasturtiums, somehow miraculously avoiding the flowers and only pulling up the weeds. Finally, she said softly, “I miss you.”

He paused, just for a heartbeat. Turning to face her, he quietly offered her his hand, and she took it. His fingers were smeared with dirt, but gentle as he squeezed her hand. “I miss you, too,” he told her, and Hera had to swallow back a lump in her throat.

She’d never wanted to leave her partner behind. And not just because he was the best with a rapier she’d ever met, or because his plans were crazy, but they worked. He could always pick up on what she was thinking, and fighting side by side with Kanan was almost easy. It was like a dance they both intimately knew the steps to, and they were far better together than apart.

But then, they’d gone after a mad man. They’d had backup, which they’d sorely needed. But in the end, she and Kanan had been separated. And the mad man had blinded Kanan and ran.

Things had been hard for a while after that. It had taken a long time for Kanan to heal, both physically and mentally. Hera had been by his side every step of the way, even as it became clear that his time as a musketeer was over, far too early.

She had, briefly, thought about retiring. About stepping away and staying with him as he figured out what his life would look like next. And eventually, Hera had brought it up to him.

He’d laughed. “Hera,” he’d told her, “not a chance. You have the ability to keep helping people, and I’m not going to ask you to step away from that. Not yet, anyways. Just don’t forget me.”

“I could never,” she’d told him fiercely.

And she hadn’t, even as their lives grew and changed without the other fully in it. He’d found a way to keep helping, and Hera had come to see him whenever she could. Things were different, though, and she hated that. Hated being without him.

“How long can you stay?” Kanan asked, as if he’d heard her thoughts. Sometimes, Hera really did wonder if he could. 

“At least through the night,” she replied. “Sabine’s visiting her family, so I’m all yours.”

“Good.” Rising to his feet, Kanan helped her up, not letting go of her hand. “Come on. You can help me with dinner, as long as you stay pretty far away from the stove.”

Hera laughed, and for a minute it was like nothing had changed. She held onto that feeling as they headed into the library together, and felt a little peace settle in her heart. She was with her partner, even if it wasn’t forever. It could be enough for now.

[monthly-challenge]

"Garden"

Dwampyverse fanart for @monthly-challenge day 18!

(I hid these tiny diogee sticky notes all over my house!)