#Cere probably would say it but ya know….

[thehalfbloodfreak]

The way Cal literally paused when Zee told him “May the force be with you all” because no one ever says it to him first let alone back to him anymore

[kyberphilosopher]

Eunoia

The Mantis crew decides to take a well deserved break.  Word Count: 2422

Warning(s): straight fluff, short Requested: yep This can be read for a female, male, non binary, or any other reader.

Eunoia is the shortest English word containing all five main vowel graphemes. It comes from the Greek word εὔνοια, meaning "well mind" or "beautiful thinking”. It is also a rarely used medical term referring to a state of normal mental health. In rhetoric, eunoia is the goodwill a speaker cultivates between himself and his audience, a condition of receptivity. In book eight of Nicomachean Ethics, Aristotle uses the term to refer to the kind and benevolent feelings of goodwill a spouse has which form the basis for the ethical foundation of human life.

* ✭ ˚ ･ﾟ ✧ *･ﾟ * ✭˚･ﾟ ✧* ･  *

Cal is actually not as observant as people think he is. You know because you’ve been leaning against his doorway, watching him, for about two minutes now and he hasn’t noticed a thing. 

Maybe if you were in his position you’d be the same. That seems about right. He’s hunched over his desk with the lamp on bright, tinkering with something that you can only assume is for BD-1. He’s probably lost in thought. Maybe he’s dreaming of better days. Or maybe he’s just trying to figure out which wires and bolts connect to which. There’s no way to be certain from your position. He’s the mechanic, you are not. 

So why have you been watching the redhead from his doorway for three minutes now? A simple answer. He is your friend, and you enjoy his company. Even when he’s not giving you attention, completely unaware to your presence in moments like this one, lost in his own world, it’s his warmth that really counts. Cal is such a relaxing bout of fresh air compared to everything else in the galaxy, in your life. It’s like being at a great party, but whether you enjoy it or not, stepping outside and tasting the air and the smell of something wonderful. Even if you had a day full of talking to people and had become burned out, talking to Cal would have been no problem at all. Maybe in a way that makes him your favorite person. 

Yeah, maybe. 

BD-1 jumps onto Cal’s desk. His head looks at the boys hands, cocking about as if observing. Then he meets your gaze, only to find a smile. One index finger raises to your lips, prompting the little droid to stay quiet about this, before you turn away and head towards the main part of the ship. 

“Where’s Cal?” Greez gruffs upon seeing you. He’s shaking spice onto a steaming brown plate, which puts a pep in your step. Greez’s cooking always makes life better. 

“In his room,” you answer. You turn from the doorway to the counter, where something hot does cause stringy, swirly puffs of air to waft upwards from a large metal container. With your back to Greez, you pull a plate for yourself and begin hulling it full of food. Some sort of rice or grain?  

“Hmph, that reminds me,” the Latero begins mid-chew. “Me and Cere was talking about taking a vacation.”

“Vacation?” you scrunch your eyebrows and put the lid back on the container. “Where to?”

“The beach maybe?”

You scoff as you turn around and lean on the counter. One hand holds the plate while the other uses your index finger to prod at the mush. It smells alluring. The individual pieces of it stick to your skin. They burn and sting, but it’s so small it doesn’t bring much of a reaction. “I don’t know a lot of beaches.”

“Well, ya know,” Greez shrugs. “Just a thought.”

* ✭ ˚ ･ﾟ ✧ *･ﾟ * ✭˚･ﾟ ✧* ･  *

It was more than just a thought. Six days later, the Mantis touches down on Scarif. But first there’s the issue of landing. 

“Watch that tree,” you point, leaning over Cal’s shoulder as he co-pilots beside Greez. A second later, the ship gives a great rock and the palm tree crunches beneath it. “You weren’t watching the tree.”

“Sorry,” Cal offers sheepishly. 

“What?” Greez says. He’s the one in main control of the ship. He’d never let Cal take over the whole thing. “What he do?”

“Ran over a tree,” you snort. 

“Cal!” Cere scolds, turning around in her chair. 

“I said I was sorry!” Cal defends. 

“I’m telling the wookies what you did,” you whisper.

“Don’t,” Cal whispers back, though it’s still desperate. 

The Mantis parks itself in a field of tropical emerald on the cuff of a beach. The sand is white, the waves cyan and royal blue and sloshing. There’s several beaches on the planet. All of which are very beautiful. Would be a true shame if anything were to ever happen to Scarif. It’s so different compared to so many other planets in the galaxy- not occupied by Imperial forces or scumbags. 

Greez waves everybody off. Cere exits first. Cal is ahead of you, but he steps to the side and rather gentlemanly insists, “You first.”

You hum and move past him. The Scarif air hits your face with a warm breeze. It smells of salt and water and some kind of flower. The horizon goes orange and pink and salmon with the setting sun. It is... serene. It nearly knocks you off your feet. It takes his voice to realize Cal is beside you at the bottom of the ramp. 

“Woah,” he offers simply, in as much awe as yourself. 

“Woah,” you repeat in agreement. It’s still for a second. “Come on. Let’s join them. Or else I’ll have to cast a Jedi mind trick on you.” Your fingers wiggle up and down by Cal’s face for dramatic effect. 

Cal rolls his eyes. “Shut up,” he utters with a push on your elbow, urging you forward into the sand. 

Okay, so maybe you like Cal more than just a friend. But who can blame you? Things had been feeling different between you two lately. You’d always gotten along pretty smoothly. You made up for skills that Cal seemed to lack himself, and his abilities- human and nonhuman- never ceased to amaze you. He was a friend. And then, when you tended to the stab wound he’d gotten from Vader, there was a moment where you held each others eyes. After that, the joking became more constant. The little touches on the shoulders and elbows and forehead taps happened more often. And you started watching him from his doorway sometimes and... and at some point you just caught feelings. 

Cal Kestis seemed to feel the same, but who could really say? No use poking that bear right now. 

The sand is soft, even beneath your boots. Cere stands in front of the water, just breathing in the air. The light breeze makes her vest ripple. It’s tempting to just join her. 

“Gotta say,” you hear a familiar voice say from your left and below. “We picked a nice place.”

“Maybe we should stay a while,” you joke, though you secretly hope for it, to Greez. 

“Yeah,” Greez rolls his eyes. “Until this moron gets us into trouble again!”

Cal perks up. “What did I do?”

“Anybody who can lift things with their mind is gonna attract some attention, kid. You just brought it on us.”

“So true,” you jump on with a smirk to Cal. 

“Alright,” Cal turns away towards the beach. You position yourself so you’re closer to him, and Greez takes the opportunity to waddle away further ahead to waves.

“Sorry for bursting your bubble, Cal,” you continue with a smug grin. “Maybe in the next life, don’t be born with force powers? Just a suggestion.”

“You think you’re so funny,” Cal tells you, though he’s smiling too. His pale green eyes spare a glance at you, thick lashes dancing on his boyish face. 

Your knees bend until you collapse on your bottom in the sand. It’s so soft, it doesn’t even resist your weight. It makes way for you easily, like a blanket. “I do.”

Cal joins you in the sand quickly enough. You’re both face to face, the wind in your hair and the water at your side. It crashes every few seconds, but it’s peaceful. Some kind of bird flies overhead, and butterflies are in the forested area behind you. The light of the sunset illuminates Cal’s hair more than usual. The brightest points of his eyes are highlighted. 

“He loves you,” you offer. 

“You think so?”

“I am one hundred percent certain... Just don’t touch the ship.”

Cal raises his hands as if surrendering. “Understood. Hands off.”

You turn your head to the water. Greez and Cere are standing ahead, most likely having a conversation of their own. The tide carries so much of the stress your shoulders hold away from you. Everything with the holocron, the empire- it was ridiculous what living in hiding could do to a person. It’s hard to imagine how Cal did it for so long. How painful that must’ve been for him. How painful it is to imagine him in pain. 

“How’s your stomach?” you decide to ask at last. 

Cal tilts his head for a second. “Better.”

“Perfect?” you raise your knees to your chest and rest your arms on them. 

Just then, a little whirring noise pulls both of your attentions away. BD-1 bounds down the ramp of the ship, twirling around in observance as if excited. “Hey, BD,” Cal greets. “I know, buddy. I know.” The droid places itself in Cal’s lap, still looking around at the change in scenery. 

“We’ve never been able to do this before,” you tell him. “I mean, I wasn’t here for the whole adventure. But I was here after and before and... and just... we’ve never done this.”

Cal is quiet. “I haven’t either.”

You look at him. 

“Taken a break. I guess time on Bracca was the closest thing.”

You smile softly. “I’m sure it was really nice.”

Cal rolls his eyes along with his head, though the corner of his chapped pink lips turn upwards. “As nice as it could be with the Empire.”

“That’s pretty nice.”

Cal and you huff a humorous puff of air in unison. 

“What were you doing before the Mantis?” Cal suddenly asked. 

“Oh,” you roll your eyes and wave your hand. “Not important. Don’t even worry about it.”

“Come on!” Cal shifts. 

“I’m serious!” you defend. “It’s boring stuff. You wouldn’t want to hear about it. Not as interesting as the force.”

“Well anything related to you is interesting,” Cal says casually, one of his palms lifting in the air for effect as he shifts again. 

Well that makes your face feel hot. Anything related to you is interesting. How often do people get to hear that? And how casually it comes out of Cal’s mouth, the shrug of his shoulders that you tie so easily to him, that’s how you know it’s honest. Not only have you heard something intimate that not many people will in their whole lives, but it was also heartfelt. 

“Yeah,” you mutter, though it sounds distant and far away as you watch Cal’s eyes. He doesn’t seem to mind. Then you snap back to reality. “This is gonna be good.”

Cal watches you pop to life, standing up entirely and running towards the water. BD-1 perks up as well to watch you just in time to see your much bigger form nearly knock the Latero over. And, much to Cal’s surprise, the little droid jumps from his lap and bounds after you. The red head decides he’s next to follow. 

“BD-1,” he rasps, also nearly pushing Greez to the ground. “Don’t touch the water!”

But it’s too late. However, nothing happens. BD-1 stands in the shallow waves, unelectrocuted and unbroken. He doesn’t spark a bit, only cocking his head in wonder at his friend. 

“Think fast!” a voice calls. 

A splash of warm and salty water slaps against Cal’s face. He cringes, turning his shoulders away on impact with a little gasp that makes his throat burn. “Hey!”

Another splash. 

Cal turns to you. You’re standing with your hands on either side of yourself, open and matching your smug and proud face. Your boots are still on, which can’t be comfortable given that they’re now submerged in water. BD-1 is on the back of your shoulders- something Cal thought was only between him and the droid. Apparently not. 

“What’s wrong, Cal? Can’t handle the current?”

Cal stills himself. Then he bends down himself and flicks water upwards. 

“Hey! No!”

He does it once more. 

“No!”

So you too repeat your original actions and begin forcing salty liquid up into the air in Cal’s direction as well. BD-1 grips onto your collar for stability while you both go to town, careful to not open your mouths too wide and taste the saltiness. 

“Be careful you two!” Cere calls from the shore. Neither Cal nor yourself heed her words, continuing on in disrupting the tide. 

“They’re fine,” Greez assures with the wave of one of his many arms. 

“Are you sure about that?” Cere responds with a hand on her hip as she watches you tackle the Jedi to the sandy terrain below the shallow water. 

“Completely fine.”

You push both of Cal’s shoulders down jokingly, careful not to subdue his head under the water. He cranes his neck to keep it above the waves. Through his soft lashes, Cal can just see your smiling, evil intentioned face with BD-1 on your shoulder gazing at him. 

Honestly, it feels just how it did last week- the last time you had watched Cal in his room. Gazing at him, admiring him. Just now you get to touch him, relax with him, splash water at him, even. You wish you could capture this moment if not forever, then for a while, and Cal wishes the same. 

* ✭ ˚ ･ﾟ ✧ *･ﾟ * ✭˚･ﾟ ✧* ･  *

Sorry it’s short. Idk if it’s my best work certainly but I haven’t written for Cal or Star Wars in a while. But I didn’t kill the reader in this fic or have someone sick or in danger! So it might be my first ever straight fluff? I don’t know. But what a good character to do it with. I’m glad to give Cal a break. And i hope the requester enjoys. 

[millers-planet]

"Is that my shirt" with Cal please ❤️

one short lil fic comin right up. love u paula <3

Sharing - Cal Kestis x GN!Reader

Storyline/ Prompt: “Is that my shirt?”

Warnings: Fluff

Words: 700 (told ya: short)

POV: Reader

Cal was always the better of us two, though he always declines this. He’s the one who is better trained, he is the one who can get along with other easily, he’s the one who can make anyone laugh, he’s the one who is saving the galaxy! Even when I tell Cal this, he always responds, “and why am I like this? Because of you.”

Because he can take on nearly anyone, he has me stay back on missions, which I’m cool with, because the only reason I’m with Cere and Greez is for us to sneak past the Empire’s ships. I can crack codes, find codes, and interrupt transmissions. I have comm smarts but not battle smarts. 

He told me one time that the reason he fell in love with me was the way I looked when doing my job. Cal described it by saying “you look like your dancing with that terminal, the way you’re looking at it,” to which I told him the word he was looking for was enthralled.

Since my work is done by the time Cal is off the ship, I have a lot of free time. Sometimes I’ll work on the garden or practice Cere’s hallikset, most of the time I just walk with my two crew mates. Cal always says I can join him if I ask and if the mission is something simple, but I never ask, probably because I’m too afraid of blaster fire.

Today, however, I went through Cal’s poncho collection, because somehow he always finds two new ones in, like, a day. I found this nice dark blue one with orange stripes on the shoulders. It had a water-resistant material on the outside but a softer inside, making me want to put it on.

So, I did.

It was twice my size, almost down to my knees, because of how big it was on me. I spun around in it and watched it fly up, laughing when some water dotted my face that hasn’t dried yet from when Cal wore it last. I’m pretty sure this is his favorite, too, because he wore it last time we visited Kashyyk to help out the forces gain some land against the Empire... well, Cal did it.

“Is that my Poncho?” It was Cal’s bubbly voice suddenly appearing in our room, making me gasp. “That looks good on you, blue is definitely your color.” He walked towards me and planted a familiar kiss on my lips that served as a ‘hello’. 

I wiped away the rain the was still on my face, “I was going through your poncho collection and found your favorite one, so, I wanted to put it on.”

He took a step back and looked me up and down, “my favorite person in my favorite poncho, I love it.” Cal smiled and planted a kiss to my forehead. “You should wear my ponchos more often, they look great on you.”

“They look like dresses on me, compared to a normal top on you,” I waved my hand towards the one he had on now. “It is comfortable, I can see why you wear them so much.”

“Do you know where that poncho would look better right now?” Cal’s voice deepened and I knew exactly where this was going. His hands move to my lower hips, gradually pulling up the poncho to put his hands underneath it.

I put my hands on his neck and slowly closed the space between us. “The same place yours would look even better?”

“Exactly, on the floor,” his words were dragged out. His lips moved from mine down to my neck, planting slow and deep kisses, careful to not leave any drastic marks. The second his hands were underneath my shirt and the poncho, placed on my stomach, I could hear Cere calling for us. 

“Y/N, Cal! We might have company,” her voice was much more rushed than his, powered by fear versus Cal’s lust. 

I sighed and looked at his disappointed face, “maybe next time,” I placed a kiss on his cheek and walked out of the room, feeling Cal’s eyes watch me with every step.

tags: @blondekel77 @mysticdeerpolice @gabile18 @evabellasworld​ @whatvflaotsurgoat​

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[slothgiirl]

the trash pile: alex turner x reader

The cybernetic augmentation juts out from her temple, leading down to her chin, the metal a dull grey. Nothing says belter more than slap job augmentations, Alex thinks as she smiles at him, reaching out with her hand to him.

He takes it.

She's pretty from what he can see from the dim yellow lights in the club. The augmentation somehow complementing her already well formed cheekbones. A mess of bleached blonde hair falling down her shoulders.

And she's already offered, dragging him out onto the floor shamelessly. He'd rather dance with a beautiful woman than stand around drinking and having to listen to all his friends talk about people, things, he's unfamiliar with.

They've moved on.

The floor flashes bright blue to the beat of the music. Too loud to carry a conversation. Too loud to think. Alex can finally stop overthinking, what he's done since he landed on Tranquility base six hours ago.

Her touch is solid and confident, hands on his shoulders as she laughs, one hundred percent in the moment. He doesn't think he's ever been like that. Her ease is as natural as Alexa's charm.

His gaze flickers back to the table they'd been sharing, but they've dispersed into the club. He can't see a trace of any of his friends. Matt had long since left, having a ceremony to wake up for. "Tomorrow," he'd grinned, promising a night of debauchery.

"Hey," Taylor calls into his ear, bringing his attention back to her, blue eyes like the sky back on earth. None of the gaudy recreations of sky broadcasted through the colonies. Mars was said to not even bother, letting it's people grow up with an orange sky.

She smiles, tilting her head, before leaning in.

And wow, Alex really has been alone for too long, as her lips on his send his heart beat into a frenzy. Blood rushing in his ears like a teenage boy all over again. It isn't real, but he thinks in that second he loves her.

Alex always has been a romantic.

They leave the club together. The corridors are still red for the night. The one thing he hadn't missed. Even Ceres had better artificial lighting mods.

"I've got to go to work," Taylor tells him bluntly, "but you should give me your number. I think we could have a lot of fun together." She looks at him with hopeful eyes, biting her lower lip. He wants to kiss her again.

But, he'll be gone the day after tomorrow. The entire base holds too many ghosts for him to feel entirely comfortable. It makes him keep looking over his shoulder, expecting Josh or Julian. Two people he's long since lost touch with.

"I'm actually not staying that long," he admits as she leads them through the corridors. Alex can still recognize the alcoves he and Matt would take smoke breaks in. Which turn would lead them back to the lifts. Another life.

"That's a shame."

He chuckles. Before his mind catches up with his tongue, "wait, did you say you're going to work now?"

"Yeah. Its so fucking boring," Taylor says, stopping besides the lifts. "Coms graveyard shift." She rolls her eyes.

"I don't blame ya," he admits. Alexa had worked the coms. She'd always complained about having to go thirty seven floors below, bundled up in jackets. Since it was less populated, the government enacted more energy saving features.

"Maybe we'll see each other again in the drift," she grins suggestively, right as she steps into the lift.

Alex watches the doors closed, before he turns around, deciding to go find an open store. He could go for some more coffee while he's here. Maybe even stock up on it. It shouldn't be hard. The Base wasn't a residential area. Tourists were coming and going as well as SFN members.

There was the launchpad.

He lets himself wander. Too buzzed to be as tired despite the early call time he has in the morning. It would be just his luck to miss Matt's big promotion because he'd overslept after having traveled a month to be here.

It's not hard to find an open bodega. The open sign flashing green in the dim of the night.

Maybe he should've gotten the night vision implants after all. Miles never shut up about it. How easy it was to make his way about different colonies even during night cycles. And you could only tell if you were looking for the little silver ring around the iris.

Alex slips inside, making a bee line for the food. It's been hours since he last ate. At this point a cup of noodles and instant coffee sound like a dream. He gets the little powdered donuts as well. Then goes for the liquid milk creamer.

Who knows when he'll next have that option. No one had yet to figure out how to increase cows milk production in space. And powdered never tasted the same.

He looks at the fruit. Incredibly overpriced since it's a bodega. But apples and oranges. . .Alex could still remember the taste of fresh squeezed orange juice his mother would make. She'd cut them all open, let him squeeze the juice out before sucking on the pulp.

Alex grabs the smallest oranges.

There's no reason not to splurge. He has the money for it. And work is never hard to come by with his skill set. There's a large market for the skills SFN ensigns have, but most of those ensigns just stay with the navy.

He turns to go pay for his small haul, but the sight of a woman staring out of a faux porthole stops him in his tracks.

Her profile could not hide how beautiful she was, her gaze caught by the live feed of the earth on the other side of the moon. Romantic dark eyes gazing into the side of the bodega, her questionable egg salad sandwich forgotten in her hand. The bump in her prominent nose only served to make her profile more striking.

"That's not actually the earth," Alex starts gently, catching her attention. "Ya know." She turns to him, trying to hide the fact that she'd jumped, startled by his presence. And doing a damn good job at brushing off the surprise.

He was right. She's beautiful. Well formed full lips. Her dark hair tucked a braid, looking better in trousers and patched up hoodie than most people could dressed to the nines. Her shoes stick out from the casual ensemble, patent red leather with a split toe. There's the hint of dark circles under her eyes, probably from a missed nights sleep.

And a scattering of light scars like stars by her left cheekbone.

"I know," she responds, "I just never thought I'd ever be this close to the earth."

"You could take a trip to the other side and see the real thing," he muses, unable to hide the longing in his voice. Alex knew in his bones he'd never step foot on earth again. Never walk the streets in Sheffield or London again. But he couldn't help but wish for a miracle.

She shakes her head, the warmth in her eyes receding as she closes herself off. "Can't. Have to meet with a friend and then go back."

"Must be a good friend if you've come all this way."

She shrugs noncommittally, "He's more of an acquaintance of a friend. I've never actually met the man. But things being as they are," she explains, "it's best done in person."

Alex is now intrigued, a red flag raised in the back of his mind that still flies away information happening in the corner of his eye just in case. It makes him a damn good private investigator. "Mysterious."

"Forgive me for not spilling all my secrets to a stranger," she notes, arching a brow.

He can't help but chuckle. "Ya got me there love. Let's try something else."

"Like what," she asks, the corners of his lips turning up.

"How are you finding our moon?" The moon might not think it was the earth's, and the government sure wasn't, but the moon still spun around the earth the way it had for millions of years.

"Disappointing," she admits, frowning, "Ceres is livelier. And would it kill them to use brighter lighting?"

"Austerity measures," Alex shrugs. It had been the answer for as long as he'd been alive.

"From what," she asks, tilting her head, a smirk forming on her lips, "there's no war or reason for shortages."

"Just repeating the party line," he admits.

"Well," she raises her sandwich like a sad little white flag, "I've got to get going. It was nice meeting you."

"Can I get your number?"

Surprising him, she shakes her head, "No. I doubt we'll ever meet again. I don't plan to stay on the moon for long."

"Lucky for you," he counters, following her to the sales woman, built like a rugby player, "I'm not from the moon. So there's hope yet for our paths to cross."

She snorts, digging around her pockets for money, slowly building up a pile of change to pay with. "Let me guess," she says knowingly, as her eyes look him over, taking in his hair now curling past his ears, the navy blue sweater and white shirt combo that had felt smart earlier but had wrinkled in the course of the night. "you're from earth."

Alex answers bashfully, "born there." He always felt like apologizing for having been born on Earth. For having spent his childhood breathing in air without a care. For not knowing how precious an atmosphere was.

"Well I don't plan to go to earth," she trails off, waving her receipt away.

"Neither do I." He hands the lady a bill too large for what he's bought and follows her out the door, not bothering for his change. "But I take it there's no way I can convince you to give me a number?"

"None."

"How about a name," he offers. Alex had not seen one person that he'd bothered to chase in years. And here she was, indulging him as though he was a stray puppy she had fed once and now followed her around in hopes of more scraps.

"Yours first," she snipes back, not missing a beat.

"Alex." He doesn't ever bring up his last name. Too much weight. A famous family. And an infamous past. Being just Alex was a luxury.

"Tisiphone."

A name fitting for someone born in the jovian system. Maybe even Dione. But Dione, while a newer colony, wasn't bloody awful for someone to want to leave. It had to be-"Titian," he guesses. The wild west of space. SFN cadets hated getting assigned there. Johanna had said the worst part was the perpetual twilight.

Too many crevices to hide in.

"Yes," she responds, "and hopefully never again."

"If we ever meet again," the romantic in him already imagining them crossing paths in a Callisto settlement, planting trees for the rest of their lives and learning to work wood, "can I take you out for a cuppa?"

Tisiphone laughs, smiling tight lipped, "If it happens then I'll say yes earth boy."

** ** ch 2

The ceremony drags on.

They all sit, gathered around the Kennedy Hab, the first large permanent building on the dark side of the moon. The benches are as uncomfortable as ever, as Alex gazes down at a sea of navy uniforms all with various ranks on their right shoulders. He's seated right next to Alexa. The boys down there somewhere with Matt.

It's an SFN event so Alex's paranoia is right for once. The second glances the captains and commanders threw his way were knowing. They recognized him.

It sets his teeth on edge.

Alexa pats his knee, comfortable around him despite their shared history. Johanna besides him with her fiancé. They both keep glancing at each other, infinite in their whispering. He wants that.

"I'll throw hands at anyone who says anything," Alexa reassured him. Looking especially nice in a long red dress. She's not single. But it clearly isn't serious enough if she didn't bring him along to celebrate her friends.

"That would make it worse," Alex responds, keeping his gaze forward, careful to keep his face neutral. It usually wasn't a problem. That being his default expression. But this was bringing up events from his past he's long since buried.

"Derek was supposed to be here," Alexa says to try to distract him, "you would've liked him. Life of the party. Miles and him had a one night stand and now we're all friends."

"Well that's not saying much considering Miles will sleep with anything."

She laughs, "True. But even Nick gets jazzed to hang out with him and you know how hard it is to get close to Nick."

"He's just careful about who his friends are," Alex acknowledges. Unlike Nick, Alex was just terribly bad at opening up.

Nick was just picky. "That says something good about little old me." Alexa twirls her hands over her head. Sticking her nose in the air. "Not such a mess after all."

"You've never been a mess," he tells her, watching as they begin to call up all the newly minted commanders. Matt shouldn't take long. H being closer to the front of the alphabet.

"Yeah but I've never been particularly good at anything but charming my way into things," she shrugs shamelessly. Alexa wasn't the type to lose sleep over her insecurities.

The Admiral present at the ceremony, Marcus Kapoor, speaks clearly over the microphone, "Commander Matthew Helders."

Alexa and Johanna both stand up, yelling, "congrats!" Alex claps as loud as he can for a beat longer than the rest of the room as Matt shakes hands with the Admiral.

Alex remembers his own ceremony seven years ago now. It had been a smaller affair. His entire career accelerated by his talent.

He swallows back the bitter lump that forms in his throat. There's no reason to cry over spilled milk, his father had often told him back on earth.

Try telling that to anyone who doesn't live on earth: most milk is powdered in space.

He finally lets his eyes search through the crowd, trying to spy the man who'd once been his great mentor and friend. But if Julian is present, Alex doesn't see him among the uniforms. He's sure that he'd know Julian anywhere. His hair perpetually sticking out wildly like he'd just woken from a nap, streaks of color running through.

It was a welcome sight from the mandated navy and neutral colors the SFN preferred. Everything was done to keep the SFN neutral, trying to avoid any conflicts between the colonies. And especially between Mars and Earth.

Unable to wait, Alex asks Alexa, "did Julian come?" Julian and Matt had never been as close as Alex had been to the older man, one of the rare people to turn down a promotion. But Alex thinks Julian still would've come and cheered Matt on.

Drinking at bars until morning talking about life and chatting about their mutual obsession with vintage terran music cemented friendship like nothing else.

She frowns, lines forming between her brows. "Captain Casablancas?"

"Yeah," Alex nods, a nervousness creeping into the lining of his stomach. Julian had also been the only person present during the incident that had chosen not to testify. If he had, Alex had agonized long hours over that large IF, he'd probably have been given a far harsher sentence.

And it looked like the man had finally accepted the rank of Captain.

Alexa places her hand on his arm, doe eyes settling on his, before gently attempting to break the news, which given what she was saying, was impossible to break gently. "You haven't heard?"

"No."

"Julian's dead Alex," Alexa explains, her hand anchoring him to reality, even as his world lurches, "some accident with a faulty seal."

Fuck.

What the bloody hell!

Alex clenches his jaw. Julian deserved more than dying in a preventable accident. He was, and remained the only person to have jumped tracks at the SFN, going from maintenance to exploration.

"I'm sorry," she tries, patting his arm with her hand. "I know you two were close. This is sort of the worst way to hear the news isn't it?"

"How long ago," Alex asks in lieu of responding to her. Julian. Alex could hardly call him a friend anymore.

By the time he'd worked up the courage to message the man, Julian hadn't bothered responding at all. A cold message that Alex could understand.

He hadn't tried to contact him again.

"Three weeks."

Alex nods, fixing his gaze on the stage. The names being spoken, called up on stage, meaningless now that Matt had gone.

He'd been traveling to the Base.

No one had bothered to tell him.

They make their way down to Matt, navigating the crowd who are also here to celebrate their relatives and friends. Alexa led the way, cutting through the crowd like a knife through butter.

Jo and her fiancé hold hands. His eyes never leave her form as she leads on.

Alex frowns.

He'd thought. . .he'd thought, when Matt had first met him upon arrival at the base's landing pad, that he could slide back into his old life. Pick up where he'd left off. Maybe get a job here permanently.

Alex hadn't realized how lonely he'd been until he'd sat around and watched all his friends eat and drink. Easily communicating with each other they way only tightly knit groups of friends could. Finishing each other's sentences.

They had once been like that with Alex. But years in between meetings left him out of the loop. It didn't help that he had chosen to self isolate. Choosing to take jobs that left him without a permanent home, spending his free time tucked into various hotel rooms.

"Alexander Turner," a voice calls out.

He turns, faced with a black woman in a sleek khaki green suit, a moon police officer uniform. Her hair is as sleek as the press of her suit. Dark curls dusted with grey hairs.

"Yes," he asks, halting with great hesitation. The last time he'd dealt with the moon police, they were ensuring he was under house arrest during his trial. For his safety they'd told him over and over.

"I'm Major Gabriela Moss," she tells him, sticking her hand out with great formality. "If you'd please come with me," she continues, as he shakes her hand. "There's a job I'd like to discuss with you."

Swallowing any nervousness he has, he nods. How bad could it be? Probably some white collar crime that the police don't want to deal with. Alex could stock up on lots of coffee with the money. "Lead the way."

She takes him to the precinct, located next to the base. Tranquility Base fell under SFN jurisdiction. But the residential areas ringing the building were left to the MP 505 precinct.

Her office is just like every other police office. Bright disorienting lights. Cream walls, with no decor. A desk bolted down to the floor, in case the artificial gravity malfunctions. And a photo of her wife and kids tilted just out of his view.

"What's the job?" Alex wonders if some idiot tried to rob the casino that was right within the base’s building. Trying to steal from SFN was asking for it.

"A man was found murdered in residential bloc 571 this morning," she explains, lighting up her monitor. A photo of an older man with a walrus mustache came up on the screen.

"Isn't homicide your department," Alex asks, twisting his ring around his finger.

"Usually," Major Moss admits, back straight, hands on the desk. "But this man had a false identification bracelet. According to our records he was born on the Moon. But when my officers requested his file from the Bloc listed, nothing appeared."

"You think he was hiding?" Only criminals bothered to falsify ID bands. But why the moon? He could see why a fugitive from the law or a crime boss would come to the moon, but to stay here this long?

Even earth was easier to get lost in, among billions.

"Yes," she surmises, "and for quite a few months. How he's gone undetected this long is a mystery."

"So you'd like to save your skin and sweep this all under the cover." Alex can see a coverup as it happens. The MPs would be humiliated at having let a fugitive run wild for this long.

But, he probably wasn't a criminal if he spent this long without so much as a word. Probably fleeing loan sharks back on some asteroid. Maybe from Titan.

The murder must have landed yesterday. Within the week at most.

"Will you take the job on," Major Moss asks, "there's more information I have if you agree to take on the case."

Alex sighs. He's intrigued. But taking on this case would mean spending more time on the moon which is both a good and bad thing. He hasn't had a proper chat with any of the lads since he last saw Matt on Vesta nearly two years ago now.

But he isn't exactly at ease this close to SFN. At least in the belt, there's lots of stations with little to no navy presence. Callisto's base was generally isolated from the rest of the population due to the way in which the colony on Callisto had developed.

A man's dead.

And from what he can tell, Major Moss would be more than happy for the case to go cold and never have to explain to her superiors how a man went undetected for so long.

But why bother?

Alex can't understand why the man needed to falsify his identity only to sit around. Unless he wasn't a criminal but innocently caught up with the wrong crowd.

It happened easily enough.

"Why me," Alex asked, still considering how suspicious it looked that the MP were giving away a case just because of the implications the man's murder had. The IDB read Sidney Trojan which made Alex laugh a little inside. Whoever had made the ID had a certain sense of humor. "I'm sure you've read my record by now."

Major Moss nods, leaning back in her metal chair, "Mutiny and treason are certainly high charges. But Mr. Turner, If I am being frank, I am more concerned right now with keeping the peace in my precinct. The last thing I want is any belter extremist to start making baseless accusations about how someone who is more than likely one of their own was treated."

"I'm not a belter." Alex had spent enough time among belters to know, no matter how much time he spent on Vesta or Pallas, he'd never be one of them. Being born and raised there was what made you a belter for the rest of your life. Johanna never bothered to hide the augments along her spine, jutting out like filled out ports. Held her chin up proudly despite the harassment she got, and proceeded to destroy them all in combat training.

"But you have spent time among them," the woman argues, revealing how little she knows and understands about belters. Major Moss had probably never left the moon. Never spent time amongst people in the belt, in the places the SFN never went. "My men are mostly from here or earth. You're my best option."

He resists the urge to roll his eyes. It didn't seem like a trap to lock him up after all these years. Just a very ignorant MP major trying to do her job. "Alright," Alex nods. "Show me the surveillance tapes."

The older woman smiles, but no warmth reaches her eyes, a picture of cold professionalism, as she ignites the screen. The tapes start playing almost immediately. The night vision casting everything into grayscale in the corridors. The older residential buildings hadn't anticipated the amount of people that would live on the moon, the walkways connected the blocs only fitting three people at a time, a nightmare in an emergency. They were colorless concrete slabs, the metal having long gone dull.

Time stamped to 05:46 am.

A single figure appears, walking into bloc 571, looking like any person would after a long shift. In jeans and a loose hoodie, holding a very sad convenience store sandwich. A profile he wouldn't soon forget, complete with split toe boots.

Tisiphone.

Alex tries to justify her appearance. The death hadn't happened until 7 am. She must've been meeting her friend in one of the habs in the bloc. But he'd never been one to discount a coincidence.

It seemed that they would be having a chat sooner than anticipated under less than favorable circumstances. He just had to track her down.

His eyes watch the screen as the time ticks by, creeping closer to the time of death.

She claimed to be here to visit a friend which could very easily have been a lie to cover up meeting her potential victim. Tisiphone hadn't been here for very long, no one would willingly choose to eat convenience store sandwiches if they'd spent time here to get other food. Alex wasn't discounting the possibility of her commitment to looking inconspicuous at 5 in the morning, but then, if Sidney Trojan had feared for his life there would've been a struggle.

Someone would have heard in those older habs.

The time stamp reads 6:24am.

Tisiphone leaves the bloc, taking the passageway leading back to Tranquility. Mr Trojan would still be alive. Did she have an accomplice? Or is Alex making the wrong connection.

The time stamp reads 7:46 am. Mr Trojan would've been dead by now.

7 am was hardly the time for a murder to be committed. People going to work. So many witnesses. They must have been desperate. But the tapes proved useless to narrow down any suspects. Too many people, a perfect crowd to hide in. So there was that advantage. As well as, "I need all the records of the passenger manifests arriving for the last three days on the dark side of the moon and today's departures."

"Alright," she replies, holding out her hand.

Alex hands over his com. Letting her synch it up to her system and sending the files over.

"Good luck Mr. Turner."

This time, Alex does roll his eyes as he leaves her office.

Tisiphone had claimed to be from Titan, so that's the first thing he checks. Three days sound about right. He also highlights any belter arrivals. But apart from one family two days before, no one has come from the belt.

He finds the name he's looking for. Tisiphone Velazques, arriving from Hygiea the same night he had. Born on Titian twenty two years ago according to her IDB. It said a lot about how pathetic Alex was that he was currently finding a potential date on a suspect list.

She might still be innocent. But she was the only lead.

If she's a criminal, she'll be staying off grid, not wanting to leave her IDB just anywhere. But, being through, Alex checks Tranquility Hotel anyways, sending a message.

Want to surprise my girlfriend T. Velazques. It's our anniversary and I got back from a trip into Tethys four sols early. Has she checked in yet?

People were really stupid and easily fooled. Alex had learned that in the last few years.

Then he checks his messages. Twenty seven texts from his friends. Two missed calls from Matt. Shit. He'd forgotten all about Matt.

** *** ch 3

Matt clasps an arm over his shoulders, "I'm sorry I didn't say anything about Julian. I thought you knew and didn't want to talk about it."

Alex considers coming clean, but decides letting Matt think this is about Julian is easier. "No one tells me anything anymore."

The taller man sighs, "you must think I'm a wanker for not even telling you. Julian always asked me how you were doing you know."

Alex shakes his head. "I tried-It doesn't matter anymore. I just think it's bloody awful to have died so young in an accident of all things."

"The idiot engineers better have been court martialed," Matt comments, as they follow behind their friends to a bar in the casino. They've all been casting looks towards Alex when they think he's not looking, like he's a bomb about to go off.

Things can never go back to the way they were.

They get a few pitchers of beer. Singing Matts praises at every sip, taking the piss about how he's going to be the worst commander ever. Alexa's boyfriend, looking tall, dark and handsome, slips into the conversation with ease while Alex, drinks and checks his phone for a response.

"Alexa's boy toy," Johanna mutters under her breath to Alex. "Does the books for one of the gambling halls."

Alex nods. But finds he doesn't care. All that earlier anxiety about his leftover feelings for Alexa, his first love, gone when he realizes there's no sting as she turns to kiss her boyfriend.

He looks down at his com, refusing a refill of beer when he realizes the hotel's written him back. With a digital key and their congratulations. There goes the supposed privacy and protections hotels were supposed to offer their clients.

But this meant he was now leaning to Tisiphone being innocent. But he could tell she was connected to Mr. Trojan somehow. A gut feeling that t9ld him he was barking up the right tree. She might be able to tell him who would want the old man dead and why.

Alex excuses himself from the celebration, pointedly ignoring Nick's suspicious gaze as he leaves.

He stops and picks up a bottle of wine and a quart of strawberries, each the size of his smallest nail with a hint of red at the tip, just in case anyone in the hotel decides to verify any of his information. He can play the part.

Alex presses the elevator up to floor 10, brings up the key on his com, when the machine asks for verification.

The doors slide shut and Alex tries to formulate a plan.

He can't frighten his only suspect-link to the crime. A man was murdered and if he doesn't solve it, justice will never be served. It's his good conscience that's going to get him in trouble all over again.

The hallway is empty.

A tacky red coat of paint that's made worse by the orange lighting. The crimson hue edging towards black. Hardly a happy atmosphere.

Alex runs his hand over the rail, a vestige from the days before antigravity, as he makes his way to room 1004.

Unlike the lobby, the floor is still metal plates welded together. Shiny compared to the rest of the place.

The casino had seen better days.

And more occupied days.

Hesitating outside the door, he places an ear near the seal, hoping that Tisiphone isn't there. It would give her the advantage if she turns out to be the murder.

Better for her to be out. Gives him a chance to look around.

He takes a deep breath and unlocks the door with the key. It slides open smoothly, revealing mustard walls and a plush navy carpet flecked with gold. There's a small bed on one side of the wall, a black backpack laying carelessly on it.

The small cabinet looks untouched, but Alex still goes through every drawer, making sure he misses nothing, peaking into the bathroom and combing the medicine cupboard.

There's a needle and dental floss. A complimentary bottle of toothbrush tabs laying in its side.

Needle and floss.

For an injury, Alex surmises. Perhaps a fresh one that Mr Trojan had managed to inflict while defending himself? It wasn't the easiest way to treat an injury, but it was the way to go if you didn't want to draw any attention.

He slips back into the small main room, and begins to go through the backpack. It looks standard issue, the fabric a vegetable leather nylon mixture that wouldn't be out of place in an SFN pack. But he doesn't recognize it from any planetary police force.

Inside there's a plasma gun with two full charges. Shrapnel in a jar. An extra shirt along with a lined jacket, also black. And a small copper data box.

He checks the jackets pockets, finding two extra IDBs. Both blank.

It's all very incriminating.

And he didn't think to bring a gun along himself.

Alex removes the charge from the plasma gun, using the pillowcase to ensure he doesn't wipe away any fingerprints, tossing both of the charges into the bottom drawer of the cabinet. And leaves the gun on top of the blanket.

Then he takes a seat and waits.

No one would leave a gun with no plans to come back and get it. Plasma guns were hard to come by. Especially for civilians on the right side of the law.

It was just his luck that the first woman he feels any connection with, ends up tied up in criminal activity.

The whoosh of a door sliding open jolts him out of his thoughts.

Alex sits up straight, deciding he looks less confrontational if he's sitting down. Besides, years of training haven't left. His body still remembers combat maneuvers. He still wakes up at 0600 and goes through basic training like clockwork.

Even when he goes back to sleep right after.

A red boot steps inside.

Tisiphone holds a brand new pair of ear pods, still in their case. The moment she spots him sitting casually in her bed, her almond eyes narrowing in suspicion. Her grip tightens on the case, before she schools her features carefully blank.

In better lighting, the scars marring her cheekbones are more prominent. Flecks of silver against honeyed skin.

"'ello again," Alex says, giving a small wave, strands of his hair falling into his eyes with the movement.

She frowns, crossing her arms defensively in front of her. "Why are you here? Who even let you in?"

"I asked nicely," he explains, "terrible hotel service if you ask me. But as for why I'm here, you wouldn't happen to know who Sidney Trojan is?"

Tisphones lips form a tight line, her stance edging dangerously close to someone expecting a fight. Weight distributed well between her legs. "He's dead isn't he. Someone killed him."

" 'fraid so," Alex nods.

"Who do you work for?" Her eyes scrutinize him, as if waiting for him to strike.

Alex raises both his hands up in the air. "No one. The MP of the precinct where Mr. Trojan lived asked me to take the case on."

She doesn't move. "Earth then? Or some secret division of the SFN?"

It was a popular belief that the SFN held a secret military division. Especially among belters and martians.

"You don't seem surprised to hear he's been murdered," Alex observes, not missing a thing, trying to steer the conversation back on track.

"Lots of people wanted him dead."

Tisiphone must have decided he wasn't a threat. She takes a step closer, waking into the bathroom and grabbing the meager supplies, tossing them into her bag, unbothered by Alex's presence right next to her. He's incredibly aware of the small distance between them as her hands make quick work of packing, ignoring the wine and fruit he'd brought: the small distance between her hands and his thigh.

But he doubts that there's a chance in hell she'll go out with him after today. She has the same determined look on her face Johanna had right as she'd punched him day 1 of hand to hand combat. A woman who doesn't take anyone's shit.

Alex snorts, "mind telling me who wanted him dead?"

"SFN. Earth. Mars. The Children of Prometheus. Park Vader's cronies back on Titan. Maybe even Park himself. Take your pick."

"Why," Alex can't help but ask, standing up as she slings her bag over her shoulder. If he lets her walk out now, he'll likely never set eyes on her again. And she has become his only connection to this man's murder.

He can't just let her go.

"He knew too much," Tisiphone shrugs.

"I can't just let you disappear," Alex tells her, sliding between her and the door. It was a dangerous position to be in. He keeps his hands up, trying to reassure her.

"Whoever killed Ivan is going to be after me too," she states, weighing her options.

"Let me help you."

She laughs humorlessly, "I'm long past help. I’ll only drag you down. And you seem like a nice enough man despite everything."

"Despite being born on earth," Alex guesses. War hadn't touched the system in a hundred years, yet there was a lot of bitterness from the colonies over earth. Over the imagined bountiful resources. The air, breathable unlike in so many other places.

He'd lived in enough places in the system to know that it was hard living in every corner of the solarium federation.

"Good bye Alex." Her dark eyes hold his gaze, waiting for Alex to step aside. He isn't sure how long her patience will last.

"If you leave the moon now," Alex threatens, "I'll have no choice but to find you suspect under the circumstances."

Tisiphone glares at him, "are you an officer? Am I under arrest?"

"No."

"Then you have no jurisdiction," she counters.

"But I was able to find you. I'm the only person who could've made that connection." Her shoes had given her away. Too distinctive for anyone trying to hide out, Alex notes. "Everyone else would've written you off. You played the part of a tired commuter perfectly. Your face isn't visible enough for facial recognition. And the timing is wrong."

"So you have to know I didn't kill him," Tisiphone observes.

"I do." Alex nods. "And I also know that you came here for a reason. I'm willing to bet it's why Ivan is dead now. Help me catch his killer and get some people off your back."

“Why do you care so much about him? He’s just another nameless belter to you people.”

He shakes his head, “because a man’s dead. He deserves justice.”

"How do I know I can trust you," Tisiphone asks, her knuckles relaxing their grip on her bag.

"I could've arrived here with the MP," Alex states, "but I'm here all on my own. Because I believe you're innocent."

She sighs. "Alright. I'll stay. But only for another twenty four hours. That's all I can give you."

He can work with that.

"Okay now let's get out of here. If I can waltz right in so can whoever killed Trojan."

"Ivan," Tisiphone corrects. "His name was Ivan Schlossberg."

"And is Tisiphone your real name," Alex asks.

She doesn't meet his eyes.

** ** ch 4

His hotel room is on the top floor. A half circle window looks out into the expanse. The grey panorama, flattened by robots, is broken up by the tops of other bloc, jutting out of the landscape like hills. The sun is the only recognizable feature in the sky. All the other stars and planets are too distant to be visible.

But Alex has the map of the system imprinted into the backs of his eyes. He could tell where earth and mars fall, navigating by stars like explorers of old, even with the slight changes that arise depending on where you were in the system.

Tisiphone looks out into space, eyes full of stars, as Alex interrogates her.

"Why would the UN or Mars be after Ivan?"

"I already told you," she responds evenly, her gaze still fixed on outer space, a melancholic quality that held none of the wonder people usually had when staring into the stars, "he knew too much."

"About what," Alex presses. Earlier she had named all the major players in politics. That which all SFN members despised because it made doing their job a nightmare of red tape.

Tisiphone looks over at him, turning her whole head towards him. "He was involved with the children of prometheus. Selling information. And Park doesn't like when his people decide to leave him."

It didn't take a genius to know what kind of information would be of value to the children of prometheus. "And your mutual friend."

She swallows thickly before answering. "Told me to find Ivan. That he could help me. I don't know anything more than that. Ivan was going to leave the moon with me and explain this later."

Alex doesn't believe that for a second. Tisiphone wouldn't have left so easily that morning if Ivan hadn't given her something. But he also knows when to let things go. "And why would they also be after you?" The usual targets for the children of prometheus were high ranking UN members or members of the Martian Presidium: the operating companies on the belt that treated their workers as expendable.

Tisiphone was none of those.

She takes a seat on Alex's current bed, her knuckles white as she grips the covers, studying the much more pleasant purple carpet. Not as matted or stained as the one in her room.

Her now shoeless feet revealing mismatched socks.

"I saw something I shouldn't have seen." She bites her lip as her eyes water. Alex forces himself not to look away, wanting to give her privacy. "Someone killed my friend and covered it up. And now they want to kill me."

He takes a step towards her, kneeling down in front of her seated figure, "I'm going to help you."

"You can't help me." Tisiphone shakes her head, looking straight at him, "you can only buy me time."

She flips through the stations as Alex combs through the flight records once more. He's isn't looking for random thugs. If this is a high profiled cover up the way she is alleging, then he needs to find a slicker cover.

He checks for any terrans that've landed here in the last few days. Any native mooners with no permanent address on record: the types of people that would easily fly under the recons. The least likely to be scrutinized.

Alex finds three profiles that fit the description. Two had arrived together under the IDBs Gemma and Nick Ryan. Siblings on vacation from earth.

They were passingly related, the same brown coloring. But Alex's searching gaze found no similar features. The bone structure was all wrong. Gemma's strong, squared. While Nick had a delicateness to his features that was absent in Gemma's.

They had the look of UN division operatives. A learned blankness that helped them slip from memory.

The third was on a flight from Ceres. An older asian man: Hugh Shen. There was no way he was born on the moon and had no records of living here. Alex knew most people born on the moon didn't chance leaving.

Opening for new immigrants were few and far between.

Then there was an oily quality that reminded him of many UN cogs that surrounded his mother like gnats.

In order to be sure that they are division members, Alex'll have to go to the scene of the crime. He knows the UN’s playbook. The methods that division uses. Growing up around his mother, he couldn't not have learned something.

Though Penelope Turner was an idealist, she was willing to do what was necessary to get the job done. It's why she was such an effective politician.

He coms Major Moss, letting her know he'll need access to Ivan's hab.

"Stay here," he tells Tisiphone. "Help yourself to anything I've got."

"Anything," she asks archly, "because I could run a bath. Never had one of those."

"Then by all means," he shrugs. The water bill was bound to burn a hole in his pocket, but going through life without knowing the laziness that baths inspired was no life at all.

She rolls her eyes, shamelessly combing through Alex's meager possessions As meager as hers really. Though he didn't have the excuse of being in hiding.

Alex takes the plasma charges with him.

Major Moss, along with another woman of medium build and asian descent, meets him at the entrance to bloc 571, the white paint having long since peeled off the metal walls. The orange lights flickered, needing replacement, as he walks beside her into bloc 571. He can hear the pressure seals around the door, as it slides open, letting them inside.

While the oldest blocs on this side of the moon, their shortcomings in cramped corridors were nothing compared to the space of the older habs.

Unlike Tranquility base, and the rest of the blocs on the moon, the lights inside bloc 571 were LED and white, the costliest to maintain. A knot of tension eased up in Alex's shoulders. His mind, despite the years in space, always unconsciously yearned for earth's natural light.

"This is officer Cong Xi," Major Moss says blandly, "she'll be taking you through all our available evidence. We're receiving pressure to wrap things up as quickly as possible. There are lots of people who want to move into a hub as spacious as this."

Alex snorts. That's what they cared about.

Cong nods, smiling warmly at him as she drinks coffee from her hot pink tumbler. "Nice to meet you Alex Turner."

Which meant she'd been briefed and knew all about him. There was probably a non-SFN version of his file on her com as they spoke.

Alex had never gotten the chance to read his file after the trail. His dishonorable discharge had left him without any credentials to ask for his file without heavy redaction if he got any response at all. He'd have asked his parents if he hadn't been a coward and taken the first ship to Vesta, hell bent on drinking himself to death.

"Likewise," he responds, realizing he's waited a beat too long to respond.

With that said, the Major turns on her heel, and leaves.

"Shall we," Cong asks him, waiting for him to follow. How did such a pleasant person end up working for the MP? Had to be an idealist. Or hadn't been working for long.

He nods.

Alex takes in the bloc.

The floors dull from nearly four centuries of feet walking over it. Not a scrap of white paint left. But the walls are covered with green plexiglass, an attempt to make up for the lack of actual greenery that hadn't been planned for in old models. Even Pallas had some weeds growing among the tangle of wires.

Each door is painted a different color, giving the neighborhood character. Ivan's hab is red, with a pattern of florals overlaid.

Officer Cong hands him shoe covers and a pair of gloves, "standard procedure," she tells him with a tinge of apologies interwoven in her voice, before she unlocks the door, letting them both inside.

Like most crime scenes, the place is covered with tape and plastic to preserve the integrity. But Alex can see the coziness that Ivan Schlossberg had built inside his hab. A glass top table with mismatched but colorful plastic chairs. Books covering a side table ranging from subjects like "Bloom: a guide to space plant maintenance," to "Catching Fire."

His desk is covered with bits of computer parts. Motherboards and processor chips. Different size screens, some with cracks.

This was the picture of a man who believed himself to be safe. He wasn't planning on running at the drop of a dime. So how had they found him?

Tisiphone had entered first.

Why not kill them both at once?

Or had they believed them both to be inside and cursed themselves when they realized the girl had gotten away?

As Alex looks about the room, noting no signs of struggle, Officer Cong studies him. Her gaze curious.

The mess of computer equipment makes Alex guess that Ivan tinkered with it to communicate with whatever group he was working with, likely using it to hack information from earth and mars. The rudimentary nature of his devices would have confused the much more advanced systems Earth relied on, massive data banks in the tundra chugging along. Ivan would've also had the flexibility of pulling the system apart and rebuilding it with different bits of code each time.

A waste of time, unless you were an old man with lots of time on your hands.

His collection of parts would've been written off as eccentricity.

"You can ask," Alex finally says, when he gets tired of the awkward silence.

"Are you really the mutineer?"

It was much better than being asked if he was that traitor. Particularly bitter belters had taken the liberty of making his days hell in the beginning, knowing he wasn't about to go get help from the SFN.

He nods, looking back at the door. Division wasn't above using chemical weapons. The seals on older habs built with the care of spaceships, no one outside this hab would've noticed. "The one and only," he finally says.

While there were lots of people who had problems with the SFN, it generally wasn't seen among rank and file members.

Cong hums, slurping her coffee.

Alex peels back the plastic over a particularly large pile of electronics, his eyes searching for something small, like a computer chip or drive that would be overlooked to the untrained eye. Toxic gases needn't be in large doses to pack a punch.

"I remember the trial on the net," she comments, "it was all my parents could talk about. My whole family really . . ."

A glint of copper catches his eye. Alex keeps his face neutral, letting Cong ramble on as he plays at looking at the body outline on the couch, as if he could magically find a guilty dust bunny, slipping the casing into his hand for later.

"-guess I was too young to care about that. Too caught up with boys and the latest hairstyles."

Alex nods, trying to pay attention. But with that casing, he's sure it was division. Certain mixtures created the same symptoms in the body as a heart attack. Given his age, it created the perfect cover.

But why come in and stab him after?

Who were they trying to frame-

They were after Tisiphone.

She had led them to Ivan, Alex's thoughts come together, each piece falling into place. They had watched her since she arrived. Which meant they knew she was headed to the moon, hence the two early dispatched division agents, purposely waiting for her to leave before killing Ivan, making sure she'd be the only suspect.

But their plan had gone to the pits.

They hadn't planned on Major Moss trying to burry the case. Or that Alex would be called on.

Instead of an easy frame job, it was a cold case waiting to happen. An MP officer would've just taken Tisiphone in. Assumed that the time of death was off due to some lab error and closed the case. But their plan had gone sideways.

"Find anything," Cong asks him suddenly, having given up trying to chat when it became obvious he wasn't listening. Though why he would make small talk about the event that had sliced his life into two distinct parts, he didn't have the foggiest idea.

Alex shakes his head, "thought the scene might hold a clue." He stands up straight, faking the appearance of disappointment channeling his mother's face when he'd come home with an F. "Whatever crime boss hired the hit must've hired a couple of top notch lads."

"Oh well them," Cong continues, holding up her com for him to read, "Major Moss needs us to come in. Apparently there's been a new development in the homicide."

Alex's chest tightens. God he hopes they haven't found Tisiphone dead. Or arrested her.

No. There's no way. He'd already be under arrest for harboring a criminal. No amount of goodwill would keep him out of prison this time.

Alex had to continue under the impression that she was fine. Because no one else had linked her to this case. No one had any reason to suspect her of anything at all. "Led the way then love."

Cong, like most girls (and some boys) since Alex had turned sixteen, blushes pink, before stepping around him and leading him back to the precinct--and to Major Moss's office.

The division agents who had landed on Tranquility base as siblings named Gemma and Nick, introduce themselves as, "Agents Barnes and Khan." They're already seated in front of Major Moss, only confirming Alex's conclusion.

The capsule in his pocket feels like a block of lead, weighing him down.

There's no way they know he knows.

Except they've been tailing Tisiphone since she landed. They might already know she's sitting in his room.

He needs to get off the moon. Alex had promised Tisiphone he'd keep her safe. And this case had just gotten much bigger than a homicide.

It was the type of cover up that required a neutral party to uncover. A High ranking SFN member that would do the right thing. Unfortunately Alex had learned the hard way that organizations were never as impartial and righteous as they claimed to be.

Bloody hell.

In between two impossible choices, giving Tisiphone up or calling his old mentor Vice Admiral Homme, he wasn't sure which was worse. Would Josh Homme even care?

Or was the UN's influence great enough to buy Homme's cooperation?

"I understand that Major Moss has made the mistake of handing a homicide to a private investigator," Agent Barnes says, smiling brightly as if she hadn't just flung shit at Major Moss, who to her credit, didn't even flinch.

"I'm the private investigator," Alex responds evenly.

"They've just finished informing me," Major Moss interrupts, smoothing down the lapels of her pants suit, "that they've identified the culprit."

Agent Barnes nods, then proceeds to do the very Earth thing of pulling out an actual paper file from a jacket and displaying it on the desk. "A career criminal from Titan named Tisiphone Velasquez. We believe her employer to be some drug lord that Mr Trojan was a long time customer of. When he got clean and moved to the moon, well. . ." Barnes trails off leaving a dramatic pause before clearing his throat, "Titian didn't forget his debts."

Ivan's hab was not the home of a drug user. Or a recovering drug user. He'd never been to Titan, to the city under the ocean, but he knew enough about drug lords to know that they had more to deal with than a customer with lots of debts on a colony as secure as the moon.

But Alex can see Major Moss eat up the story, her eyes gazing over as there's one less problem for her to deal with.

"Well Mr. Turner," Major Moss turns to him, "It looks like your services are no longer needed. I'll wire you the payment promptly. Meanwhile I'll circulate the perpetrators photo and have my officers be on the lookout."

"We will be taking custody of Miss Velasquez," Agent Barnes interrupts, "she has insider knowledge of a crime ring we have been monitoring for years."

"Of course," Major Moss responds, already typing out the paperwork.

He has to get off the base. He has to take Tisiphone far from here.

Alex turns to leave, reaching the door before he hears Agent Barnes mutter pointedly under her breath, "It's a wonder Ambassador Turner hasn't resigned out of shame. No clue how he can show his face in public."

Agent Khan coughs to hide a snigger.

A muscle in his jaw twitches. It's bait. And an obvious one at that. He has more than a few scars to prove how stupid responding to it would be, but they did just insult his mother.

"What did you just say," Alex asks through clenched teeth, not turning back to look at them, robbing them of the satisfaction. Mentally, he counts to ten.

He's not going to give them an excuse to place him under arrest.

Tisiphone is counting on him.

The fact that they're baiting him instead of just following him back to the hotel room is a good sign they don't know he's hiding Tisiphone. He tries to concentrate on the and not the sound of blood rushing in his ears.

Tisiphone.

Her petite figure sitting on his bed, scrutinizing everything with an arched brow. The look in her eyes as she'd stared with a refugee's longing for their ancestral home at the image of earth, the green returning to the land after hundreds of long reclamation projects initiated by the UN.

"Nothing to trouble yourself with Alexander Turner," Agent Barnes replies patronizingly, "There is no further use for your services here."

Alex clenches his jaw, and walks out the door.

He lights a cigarette as he makes his way through the dim corridors, the orange fading into scarlet, stopping only to pick up supplies he imagines needing as they travel to space together. Not all at the same store.

Alex will have to get everything out of her, if he's going to throw in his lot with her and hope they get to the bottom of the conspiracy before they're arrested and killed. Or just killed.

What could be bad enough that the UN felt it necessary to send division agents after a woman?

The problem is the IDB has been made.

He's going to have to hope she can get another one quickly. Tisiphone, whose name is more than likely not Tisiphone as all, wouldn't have survived this long is she was stupid.

Fuck.

He really should just turn her in. Or give her a heads up and be on his way. Alex could be on Pallas in four weeks, having the most questionable weed in the system, laced with the hell knows what. Take a case every now and then. Finally make his way out to Titan.

Logan had been his favorite western growing up. Right after The magnificent Seven. He'd made Matt have stand offs against him for days after seeing it, pretending he could manipulate metal. And Titan was the new wild west of space. And still people flocked out to carve their little piece of real estate.

Humanity is ever expanding.

Alex has to press the lift button twice, cursing and lighting another cigarette when the lift's lighting system dies as he ascends up, connecting with Tranquility's passageways.

More than once, he has to stop himself from glancing over his shoulder, sure he'll see an Agent following him. Hugh Shen had been absent from their little meeting. But that didn't mean he wasn't still skulking about.

Even the air changes from the corridors to the base. It's drastic compared to Ceres where the air quality is shit everywhere you go. The base has crisp clean air that didn't leave you all cotton mouthed for the wrong reasons.

From there it's easy enough to head to his room. Alex is already flicking through the net, looking for tickets to the belt. Or maybe they should go to Callisto. It was famous for being a no extradition zone: refusing to acknowledge any authority other than theirs and SFN's by extension. The relative safety was tempting, but he couldn't plan until Tisiphone told him everything she knew.

Alex wasn't stupid enough to think she wasn't holding something back. Her earlier explanation had been as vague as she could manage given the circumstances. He had no clue who her friend was. What she had seen other than a wrongful death.

There had to be a reason behind the coverup after all.

No government went around coverup murder for no reason. It just wasn't economical.

"You have to tell me everything you know," Alex tells Tisiphone in what he hopes is a commanding voice, as he tosses his bags on the bed, plopping down. His only shortcoming as a commander had been the complete and utter lack of confidence he had when giving orders. "Division has just shown up and thrown you under the bus."

Tisiphone's hair hangs down, damp as she listlessly scrolls through the catalogue of music offered by the hotel. She flinches at his words. "I should've left when I had the chance," she tells him harshly, uncurling from the settee and moving to grab her things. She jams her feet into her boots in one swift motion, clearly having been ready to make a run for it at a moment's notice.

"You're right," Alex tries, taking out the gas casing, ensuring the glint of metal catches her eyes. "It's a coverup."

"Obviously," Tisiphone scowls.

"I'm sure they've circulated your IDB by now," he continues, "they wanted to frame you for Ivan's death. I want to know what you saw so I can help you."

"Why so they can kill you as well," Tisiphone shakes her head, "No. . .no."

"What's so important that Division would risk breaking the treaty of Schiaparelli for," Alex asks, rubbing his temples. He wasn't a politician. The inner workings of government fell to the wayside of his thoughts.

There had been no major battles fought in a hundred years but relations between colonies were always fraught with tension over resources. Those skirmishes were usually fought in the Solarium Federations regulatory body, but Alex wasn't naive enough to discount the darker talk of division--their tendency to enhanced interrogation.

"Why do you want to help me so badly," Tisiphone counters, hands on her hip, glaring down at him as if he was the reason that Division had found her at all.

"Someone should," Alex shrugs, peering up at her. The line of her body fell naturally into a defensive stance, something that could only be so natural if she'd started training when she was very young. Tisiphone wasn't an innocent civilian, but she still didn't deserve to be disposed of. "And if I don't, they'll probably kill you and throw your body in some incinerator."

"Or they'll kill us both," Tisiphone replies archly.

"I'm offering you my help if you want it."

She peers down her nose at him, her lips pressed into a flat line, the slim line of her jaw fitting in perfectly with her feline features: a cat deciding if batting the toy was worth it. Turning on her heel, stepping into the bathroom, Tisiphone orders him to, "strip."

Smart girl.

It doesn't keep the burn from making its way up his neck as she turns the refresher, the low static drowning out any background noise as she takes a seat inside the fogged glass.

Alex kicks off his boots, gratefully that he'd actually kept up with his fitness all these years as he pulls his shirt off. There's still bruising in the crook of his elbow. He doubts she misses it as she stares up at him. It's a rush of relief when he notices the scarlet on her cheeks. This is embarrassing for both of them then, as he unbuttons his trousers, before taking a seat in front of her.

"Division blew up my crew." She starts with, staring at a spot behind him, her eyes welling up with tears. "They launched a missile and it tore their ship apart." She wipes her eyes with the back of her hand, shaking her head, "I'm sorry I just. . .let me start over."

"It's okay."

"Shut up Alex and let me tell this in a way that makes sense." She swallows thickly. Taking a deep breathe during which she closes her eyes before continuing. "My name is Vera Albaicin. I'm an agent of the Guoanbu. Sixty eight sols ago my crew was handpicked to participate in an interplanetary task force with the UN. It was supposed to be an easy retrieval mission. We met up with the other crew. Everything was normal."

T-Vera closes her eyes, her hands closed tightly by her sides, trying to suppress the shiver that runs down her spine. Alex wants to offer comfort, but he isn't sure there is anything he can do to make things better in this situation.

"I took an EMU suit to-it was a strange ship. More like a capsule or probe. I had just made contact when my ship was hit." She shakes her head, a desperation in her eyes at the helplessness she must keep on feeling. Not having been able to do anything to save her crew. "Space. They died in seconds. The thing is. . .the only people who would've known about the mission were the UN and MPC. Earth and mars."

Alex nods, trying to probe her as gently as possible because there is still one unanswered question, "how did you know to find Ivan."

The UN and MPC must have decided that the knowledge was better off lost after having sent a retrieval team. Something they didn't want anyone to know about it. That fact that mars and earth had cooperated at all was throwing Alex off. Weapons would make sense if it was just mars or earth. But together?

Vera shakes her head slowly, her gaze meeting his, an intense anger to their depth he had not seen before. She was digging because she was fucking mad. This was a woman seeking justice. "I can't."

"Vera," Alex utters, unable to look away, trying her real name out on his tongue. "My name is Alexander Turner. I'm kind of famous for breaking the law," he finished with a self deprecating smile.

Usually, the last thing he wanted a potential date to know was his past.

Her eyes widen, her whole body freezing up as she takes in the new information, pursing her lips in an attempt to suppress a telling gasp. But instead of recoiling in disgust as he expects her to, Vera reaches for her neck, revealing a necklace obscured by her hoodie. It's a cheap metal thing that must be of sentimental value.

She doesn't stop there, thumbing the ring at the end of the chain before meeting his gaze once more. This time there's no hard glint to her cognac eyes, but a woman at last having caught on to a life preserver. "Julian-Captain Casablancas told me to find Ivan. Trust no one-trust no one but Alex Turner," Vera admits, unable to hold his gaze. "He must have known what was coming."

It's a ring he recognizes well, a twin to his own commander ring. The classic exploration insignia: the atom. Every detail identical for Julian and Alex had received their rank at the same ceremony, only Julian had been eight years older. Already the man Alex wanted to be: wanted to be with. The man had inspired camaraderie the way a good leader should, and clearly he had managed it in a martian girl as well if she had come all this way on his word alone.

"Can I," he motions, aware of the closing distance between them. Between him and Vera. Vera. He had to get his head around that one. Same woman, different name.

No. Not the same woman.

This woman was a martian secret intelligence agent. Not some naive little girl.

She nods, closing her fist around the ring before yanking the chain in a quick motion. It snaps off. The sound like the hull of a ship nearing the end of its lifetime, creaking. Then drops the ring into his outstretched palm.

Without Alex having to prompt this time, still caught up in seeing Julian's ring, still warm from Vera's body heat, in his hand. Julian hadn't responded to Alex's messages. He'd assumed it was because of Alex's past, but now he was left to wonder if Julian had wanted to protect him by keeping away from him. Keeping whatever he'd gotten caught up in that had killed him away from Alex. Vera adds, "I was confused why he'd told me that, given me his ring as I got into the EMU suit but. . .Ivan told me that he was just the messenger. He'd worked for so many sides not asking questions. Earth, Solarium, Mars. They were all the same to him. So he decided that the children of prometheus had a point and got in contact with them. Relaid information. Ivan-he was going to tell me more."

But he'd died.

Vera looks at him meaningfully, "but he did manage to give me the coordinates that he was given by his CoP contact. In case he ever needed a safe house or extraction."

"He never-," Alex begins to ask, not taking his eyes off the ring. In his hand was proof that Julian had been killed.

"He never met his contact," Vera confirms. "But they're on Callisto. Some hippie hub." She rolls her eyes and what a martian thing to do. Look down on every colony not hell bent on terraforming.

Alex turns his gaze on her once more, seeing her in a different light for the first time. Trying to spot what made her a martian. As if he could spot in vitro augmentation just by looking her over.

But all he saw was a petite woman with a hollowness under her eyes. Her full lips pressed into a grim line. Hair slowly drying into waves, catching the light like oil on water. Despite Alex's new information about Vera, he was no less drawn to her.

There was no sadistic edge that spoke of oprichnik operatives who the Martian People's council refused to acknowledge existed despite all the mounting evidence about their methods.

His gut was telling him that Vera was telling the truth.

"One thing though," Alex points out, taking off his own ring for the first time since he'd first received command rank, a command long since stripped from him, and sliding Julian's ring on his finger in its place as he stands up. His mind was made up. He was going to help Vera uncover this conspiracy. Clear Julian and Vera's name. And maybe, just maybe, reclaim some respect on his name.

"What?"

"You said earth and mars sent you," he says gently, having encountered enough martians to know how loyal to their colony they were otherwise known as having bought into the propaganda, "but Division killed your crew.. ."

"Yes," Vera nods, tapping her foot on the floor.

"Then wouldn't both earth and mars have sent the missile that killed your crew? Or wouldn't have mars already used this as an excuse to advance their agenda?"

"No," she supplies, refusing to even contemplate the idea that Mars would've been complicit in such an act. "The Guoanbu wouldn't have killed their own. We're-they're not like that."

“Vera," he sighs, "there's nastiness under every corner, no matter how nice everything is on top you know."

She shakes her head again, averting her gaze, There wasn't much to look at on the walls, but she was making due.

"Let's just find ya another IDB and get to Callisto-"

There's a knock at the door.

Alex and Vera trade wide eyed looks, having taken the plunge off the same cliff with nothing but a string of brand new fucking trust between them. A dead man's word to go on.

Fucking hell.

Matt and Nick flank each side of the room's door. Nick's stone face offsets the mixture of parental concern Matt's features contain, sighing at Alex's appearance, sticking his head out the door. Vera hiding next to the door, alert to every word.

He has to wonder how good her hearing is. Martian's always messed with embryos biology, designing the next generation to be fitter. Could she hear down the hall? What the people in the next room were saying?

Matt steps forward, "jesus fuck mate," he shakes his head. "Can't respond to a bloody com now Alex."

"I told you I got a job," he protests, trying to remember if that was true. His friends had fallen to the bottom of his priorities quickly. Alex had a habit of self absorption with whatever obsession came his way. It had made him a terrific ensign, practicing the same maneuver for hours until he could do it with his eyes closed.

"No," Nick corrects, not bothering to move the curls out of his face, watching him carefully, "you didn't."

Alex sighs, but doesn't budge. They mustn't see Vera. Soon her face will be plastered all over the net as a manhunt begins. Her IDB must already be flagged for travel.

He had to make his rightfully concerned friends go away and quickly.

"Al," Matt levels with him, "I asked you to be here because you might as well be my brother. I knew when I did that it would mean coming back to the moon. That it would bring up a load of shit for you."

"We're worried about you mate," Nick explains. "You're still here. You won't talk to any of us."

" 'm fine," Alex mumbles, unable to hold eye contact with either of his friends. He looks at his shoes as he realizes how unfair he's been to them both in the last two days.

This trip was supposed to be about Matt.

He shouldn't be here worried that Alex finally went off the rails.

"Alex," Matt utters, placing his hand on the door frame, leaning in close to Alex. "You know you can talk to me. I don't care what you did or why."

"Really," Alex tries, because as much as he'd like to have this long overdue discussion, finally get to explain why--no one had ever asked him why, they'd just condemned his actions as w r o n g--he has to get Vera off the moon. "I'm fine. Just been in me head."

"That's what I'm worried about," Matt responds, eyes locked onto his, as if Alex could disappear at any moment. "You've always been in your head too much Al. And it didn't matter when I knew you were looking after yourself. Had me and the lads with you but-Alex you looked like utter shit back in Vesta last time I saw you, hopped up on who knows what."

Alex swears internally. They really knew when to pick the worst moments. He was actually doing good. "I know. . .," he tries to find the words that don't require him to have an emotional breakdown in Tranquility Hotel, aware Vera's listening in, "it's been rough. Some days worse than others but Matthew," he whines, "I really am good."

"For how long though," Nick counters, crossing his arms against his chest. It was a good point but Alex really hadn't been in the dark lonely place in months. Maybe closer to a year now. Progress.

Something about waking up missing shoes and jammed into the seediest by corners of an asteroid had lit a fire under his arse about moving on.

He hadn't even hit the agents earlier. They would've deserved it but who gives a shit. Alex will always be a mutineer but at least his hands were clean. His conscience is a white pearl like a meditating bodhisattva.

"Can we just go inside and talk man," Matt pleads, his shoulder resting against the door, clearly seconds away from shoving his way in.

Guilt wells up in his mouth. Despite having every reason to say no, Alex wants to say yes, the word making its way to the tip of his tongue at Matt's insistence.

It was Matt and he was Alex and he couldn't just deny him like this after everything.

Terrans were only allowed one child.

The law didn't keep Matt from being his brother any less.

"I can't," Alex sighs. "I just-you've given me a lot to think about."

Matt rolls his eyes, hurt flashing through his features as he takes a step back, "bullshit."

"Just open up the damn door Alexander," Nick tries, clearly having had it with trying to do things the nice way, realizing Alex wasn't going to budge on his own. "We're ya friends."

"It's been six years Alex," Matt added. "I thought you'd want to talk by now."

Alex shakes his head, "it's not always a straight line."

"Let's have this conversation inside," Nick insists, "who knows when you'll be around next Al. And now Matt has a command. . ."

Matt shoves his way in.

Alex had forgotten how hot headed he could be. The foil to his cool and calm temperament: translating Alex's lit to others. Not that Alex had much trouble verbalizing, necessity being the mother invention. He no longer took hours to get a sentence out of his mouth.

"Matt!"

"Don't Matt me Al," Matt retorts spying Vera in seconds, who's already fallen into a defensive stance.

Matt brings a hand to his face, pinching his nose bridge, before heavily sighing, "You've got to be kidding me Al. You're hiding a murderer now."

"She's no-"

"I didn't kill anyone," she tries, folding into herself, trying to appear smaller and innocent than she actually is. Vera tries to play at being Tisiphone once more. "It's all a misunderstanding!"

"Then turn yourself in," Nick challenges, closing the door behind him.

"Al," Matt says, placing his hands on Alex's shoulders, "what the hell are you thinking mate! They're going to lock you up for this and not even-"

"Matt," he interrupts, "trust me. I'd love to have a nice long chat but things have gotten. . .complicated and-it's safer if ya don't know. Just. . .trust me."

Matt stares back at him, mouth drawn. An entire childhood together on earth, their toes digging into the soil, tracking mud all over the floors. Later a shared adolescence, their accents charming the girls and boys at school, Matt doing all the talking and never leaving a painfully shy Alex behind.

He nods. "You better come back because we're having this talk even if I have to go visit you in prison."

"There are things far worse than prison," Vera unhelpfully points out, tugging on her jacket over her hoodie, the collar lined with actual animal fur. Given the martian rationing system, it was an untold luxury for Vera to own a leather jacket with fur at all. "I'd even take death over enhanced interrogation."

She pretends to tremble with fear, "anything but gravity."

Alex snorts in spite of the dark subject matter. "Not helping."

Ignoring the other two men in the room, Vera hands Alex one of the spare IDB's he'd seen in her bag earlier. Had it really been only hours ago? "Here's your IDB now. Alexander Collins. Born on Pallas. Married to Morgana Collins," she points at herself, already dispatching the old IDB off her wrist and throwing it in her bag. "Came to the moon to get married. Off to Callisto to make a living," she explains calmly.

"Short and sweet," Alex notes, looking down at his own wrist, the IDB a second skin. He hadn't taken it off since he'd left earth. Many colonies like Callisto chose to implant the ID chip.

It was the key to getting on any ship. His passport and last link to earth. His last hope at ever stepping foot on the big blue planet again, however slim.

Visas for foreigners pretty much nonexistent.

Nick hands him a swiss army laser, "I implanted mine." It's news to Alex who hadn't even noticed, Nick having always been a bit chilly, wearing long sleeves year round. " 's nice actually."

Matt dramatically covers his eyes.

Alex slices through the metal, leaving a band of unblemished creamy skin.

It doesn't last long, as Vera easily replaces it.

"You should keep it," she tells him, patting his arm like a parent half heartedly consoling their child after a pet fish dies. "We are planning on fixing things."

"Yeah," Alex answers, running his fingers over the band. He already felt less confident without it.

[sometimes-sleeby-octopus]

Robots Don't Go To Parties

(The start of a sci-fi robot love story at a whopping 1266 words that nobody asked for but that y'all are going to get :D)

Robots didn't go to parties. That's how it had been for a long time. However, there 023 was, in a setting that was unusual and uncomfortable to them. Their “real name” was 0237849, but they weren't going to talk to anyone. There would be no need for clarification and no need for a forecast report.

Robots made three thousand years after the start of AI had become very different. They could eat, “sleep”, and feel in various ways depending on who made them. 023 was created by a company centered around solar power and the weather, causing their group to become artificially nocturnal. This group of bots became “The Asteroid Faction”.

Due to the advancement of technology, it only took 12 hours of charging for these bots to stay awake for 2 days. Even so, their sensitivity to weather and vibrations could be bothersome at times, resulting in some more reclusive personalities. They knew about the current weather and could predict future weather. With help from special sensors that detected anything from fault shifts to humidity, they had 90% accuracy that was only going to get better with time. They also had naturally good balance and vision from their sensors. In addition, the bots could take care of and even possibly prevent disasters as big as falling asteroids, hence their group’s name: The Asteroid Faction.

There were many different groups of robots, made by both humans and robots themselves. At the moment, 023 only knew of the most famous ones, including the Glow Faction and the Star Faction. They couldn't bring themself to care much about the factions anyway.

At the moment, they were hiding under a table with some water in a plastic cup. They could hear humans and robots having the time of their lives, dancing and consuming various edible items. While humans and bots bonded better with their own kind, they could certainly party together and befriend each other.

023 found this surprising considering the biggest war between machines and humans was only 500 years ago. Robots had very long life spans and memories compared to humans after all. Or, that’s what they thought since they were only twenty years old. In fact, the first and only other party they had gone to was twenty years ago after they were brought to life.

023 had about half of their drink left and decided that they would depart after it ran dry. It was surprising how long they had gone unnoticed considering the table cloth didn’t even reach the floor.

“Well, what are you doing down there?” a stranger joked cheerily, sitting down on the floor.

They jinxed it. Why did they have to jinx it?

“I suppose you could call it camouflage,” 023 said bluntly.

“You’re right! I found you though, so it doesn’t count!”

“Animals such as octopuses and chameleons could be spotted by the human eye thousands of years ago. And you are the sole person who spotted me.”

The brightly colored robot laughed loudly. 023 made a face.

“You take things too seriously! What’s the name of such a serious guy?”

“023. Or 0237849 if that may confuse you.”

“First of all, that’s so cool! I’m a 02379 so we’re not too far off from each other! Second of all, you don’t have a name?”

“023 suffices.”

“But you have to have a name! Gives you more humanity, you know! My name is Spoon!”

023 tuned “Spoon” out as the odd fellow went on a long tangent. They wondered how the name contributed to one’s humanity. Especially when said person isn’t a human in the first place.

After a little while, Spoon remarked, “We should give you a name!”

The other robot sighed, “I told you: 023 suffices.”

“Come on! How about ‘Chad’ or ... ‘Karen’!”

023 glared at Spoon as they erupted into even noisier laughter.

“Humans with those names were notorious for their foolish behavior in the early 2000s.”

“Okay, okay! Then what do you want to be called?”

023’s glare turned into a curious frown. They had never been asked anything like that. Or asked anything at all that wasn’t about the weather. Their curiosity spread to Spoon, who had started waving in their face. 023 grimaced.

“...What are you doing?”

“Humans use it to get people’s attention! You kinda spaced out there.”

“Am I right to assume that you were made and raised by humans?”

Spoon shook their head with a smile.

“Nope! Just robots!”

“Oh. Well then.”

It was silent for a bit.

“So what do you want to be called? I just gotta know!” Spoon blurted out.

023 rolled their eyes before searching their database. With careful decision, they selected something and put it into their profile.

“...I suppose you can call me Ceres.”

“That’s an asteroid, right? Oh, that’s so funny!”

“Why so?”

“You’re part of the Asteroid Faction!”

Ceres looked more surprised than before. Spoon just simply smiled.

“You are correct. Although, I’m afraid I do not know your faction. I am...less social to say the least.”

“No worries! I am part of the Glow Faction!”

A peppy song began to play and Spoon lost their focus. There were stars and excitement in their eyes. Ceres could not see why, but found it amusing if not only slightly admirable.

“We should go dance! Now get out from under that table!!!”

Before Ceres could say a word, they were dragged out of their hiding place. In the process, they hit their head and grumbled, attempting to escape with no luck. Spoon laughed sheepishly and apologized before continuing, twirling and dancing happily. Ceres stood there clueless. Spoon grabbed their hand and swayed them around the dance floor. Their dance partner stared in awe and intrigue, letting go of their doubts for once. Ceres’s sensors were infinitely new to the feeling of dancing. And perhaps the feeling of someone’s hand in their own.

“You look nervous, dear,” Spoon whispered, “Are you okay?”

Ceres blushed, absolutely speechless. They opened their mouth to speak to no avail and stumbled a bit before rushing off the dance floor. Spoon followed gently after. Ceres sounded like they had just run a marathon.

“That was a pleasant kind of horrible and absolutely horrifying.”

“I’m so sorry! I didn't mean to overwhelm you! Why don’t we sit down for a bit? Are you feeling sick or anything?”

“I’m...fine. I probably needed to experience that anyway. Speaking of which, I should probably be going.”

“I understand. Sorry again! I hope I didn’t get on your nerves too much.”

“It’s alright. You aren’t half bad.”

Ceres did not intend for that to come out so softly. Spoon let out a small laugh and scribbled on a small hologram: “5/24/50XX. ‘Spoon’ 0237903 of the Glow Faction” it read. They transferred it to Ceres’s system. Were they blushing too? It wouldn’t surprise Ceres if they were seeing things after the previous experience.

“Oh, right! You can find me in the database to communicate!” Spoon finally said, “I will also be going to another party in about a month if you’d like to give it another try.”

“...I’ll consider it.”

It was silent for a while before Spoon hesitantly waved.

“Well, uh, see ya, Ceres! Don’t be a stranger!”

Ceres waved back, almost shyly.

“Goodbye, Spoon.”

Ceres walked out of the building without much attention drawn to them. As they neared their house, they looked at the date on the hologram that was sent them. Perhaps they would go to one more party, they thought. For research purposes, of course.

For research purposes.

[etherealmrp]

.:Ship Showcase:.

This month’s ship under the spotlight is... 

Cayde and Bayonetta; Cerayde!

From their first encounter at the Valley:

(...) He turned his head back to look at her, "I see. I was gonna say, 'Yeah I have a lot of people who don't like me back home'. But that makes sense. ...Hm. Well, whatever you prefer me to call ya, I won't complain." Cayde chuckled a bit, before nodding.

"Oh, hell yes." The Exo reached for his Ace of Spaces, which was held on a sheath strapped to his leg. He took a moment to show off, tossing the gun up slightly and having it spin, only to catch it mere seconds after. The barrel clicked open, allowing him to swiftly slip a new set of bullets into it. And with a right-sided flick of the wrist, the barrel was back in place and the Ace was ready to go.

"If you kill more than me, I'll let you pick the most embarrassing, horrible nickname you can possibly think of for me. What’cha think?" Oh, was that a dare? Sure, she could go on and do that without having to follow through with his stupid shenanigans, but would that be any fun at all?

♠️

"Cere is just fine. Its endearing, really." She liked it a bit more than she actually cared to let on. It was simply adorable. And, best of all, it was forward of him. Not in the way she's usually forward but still. It was a good start. She'd had to figure out something to call him soon enough.

It was refreshing seeing someone with this level of absolute excitement about killing something. Outside of Jeanne and occasionally Rodin, she wasn't used to a partner for crowd control. She couldn't help but watch as the gun was loaded. "My, now that gun of yours looks much bigger in person." And nicer, but that was a given. Pictures couldn't truly encapsulate the beauty of a gun.

Cereza was definitely a bit taken aback by what he said next. She reached for her own pair of guns, an almost devilish smirk still on her lips. "And what if you kill more? Are you going to come up with some awful nickname for me? Or are you going to raise the stakes?" 

Cayde and Cereza met eachother through Etherealm’s dating app, Firstblush. What started as a bit of a “fuck it, why not?” type of thing, ended up in a bit of a realization they had a lot more chemistry than expected. And from there, something far more dedicated than either of them ever expected, bloomed. 

Their first date was at a Valley in the island, which is known to being monster-infested. They cleared out the area, while flaunting their abilities, before driving back to the city in Cayde’s sparrow to have dinner at Sora’s restaurant, Little Chef’s Bistro.

With Cayde and Sora (Kingdom Hearts) having forged a father-son bond, Sora considers Cereza his mother as well, and she helped him control his inner darkness after several mishaps regarding Anti. 

The two have been together for roughly seven or so months in IC time, and currently live together. 

From their relationships tabs...

Cereza

"Before I met you, I thought that silly little app was going to be a fun joke. Serious relationships had never been my style. Hard to keep up with them when life was going to go on and on. But you changed that. You're sweet, hilarious, dangerous, and, probably most importantly, you can take care of yourself. I could have never dreamed of someone more perfect than you, my little Unicorn."

Cayde-6

“Man, It's been a while since the whole us thing really started up, huh? That one day I thought you message you on that app, I never imagined we'd ever last this long or at all. I guess that goes to show there is some hope for me on the love front huh? I guess I gotta be doin' something right, if you know what I'm saying, heh. Either way, I can’t say I’m not glad to have you around, Cere. You and Sora have given me something I wish I had a while ago, and I ain’t lettin’ go of that anytime soon.”

[capricornus-rex]

Hey hi!! I just wanna say first that I love your writing and you just capture Cal so well and your talent oml we stan 🙌 would you take a prompt of Cal being very confused as to why his girlfriend keeps crying every five seconds because he has no idea at first what's even happening and like it takes him a minute to put it together (it can be that time of the month or it can be pregnancy hormones, whatever's easiest, I'm sorry hormones made ya girl emotional and moody) pls & thanks!🙇

Hi Anon! First of all, thank you so much!! 🥺💞 Second, I AM SO SORRY that this took a while!! I know I shouldn’t be overusing the excuse that I’m swamped with requests and my fics tend to be more than just oneshots, but that’s the predicament right now. I hope you understand 😭😔 Anyways, I’m glad you still took the time to write to me ;;w;; I just feel reaallly bad that I made you wait long. Still, I hope you enjoy the fic, anon and thank you too!

Chapter 4: Untimely Blessing | Cal Kestis x Reader

Summary: After a long time of running and fighting, you and Cal decided to finally settle down after all these years to raise a family. However, it was never a life of peace whilst the shadow of the Empire looms over your heads.

Other prompt/s in play: Anon 1′s prompt, Anon 2‘s baby prompt & Own fic idea

Also posted in AO3

Tags: Scruffy! Cal Kestis, Daddy! Cal Kestis, Adult! Cal Kestis, Jedi Family, Jedi Offspring, Force-Sensitive Offspring, Settling Down, Rebel Alliance

Chapters: 1 – 2 | Previous: Part 3 | Next: Part 5 | Masterlist

4 of ?

The weather was nice in Cerinda. Cal had been practicing with a self-made obstacle course in the forest, west of the lake where your wedding was held; meanwhile, you decided to take a breather by your wedding venue. You almost hated to admit that you couldn’t walk for perhaps a day and a half after that little private time you had in the Mantis with your husband.

About three weeks have already passed after that.

And for those three weeks, there was this feeling swirling in the pit of your stomach. Cal had noticed you craving for a lot of sweets—especially Jogan berries and space waffles—and you yourself felt sluggish, so you decided to sit by the sidelines of the training course.

While he had physical training, you meditated by the lake’s shore where it was tranquil. The peace helped you in getting into focus.

Your skin suddenly crawled in a good way, even though you were taken aback, you kept your eyes closed trying to keep yourself concentrated; but you ended up reminiscing how Cal’s lips trailed along your body, how his hands wandered and sank into your flesh. The feeling of his lips suckling at the exact same spots where he left his love bites jolted your nerves—your hand rubbed across your neck, chest, and shoulder and then crawled downward to your abdomen. You chuckled to yourself as the memories replayed in your head, struggling to remain focused.

“BD-1, over here!” Cal’s distant voice rang among the trees, but that didn’t distract you enough.

Suddenly, something was bubbling in your stomach and you could feel it rising to your throat each second. Your eyelids shot up and you fumbled onto fours, crawling away to anywhere until your entire body gave way, and allowed yourself to retch behind a tree trunk.

You coughed and spat out the bile, you clumsily crawled towards the edge of the lake, scooping a handful of water to your mouth to wash off the sour acidity that lingered in your cheeks. You did this for a couple of times until the taste was truly gone.

“Oh my…” you gasped, crawling away from the spot where you had your little accident and lay flat on the grass.

Your hand hesitated to crawl downward, to your lower abdomen just below your navel; your heart pounded with mixed emotions—you can’t pinpoint if you’re excited, nervous, or completely taken by surprise. But you’re primarily the latter, you just needed a second emotion to balance it out.

“Could it be…?” you mumbled.

You took a deep breath before your hand slithered below your navel, calming your heart of the eagerness—just to avoid breaking it if it wasn’t the case—and when your whole palm padded against your lower abdomen…

You felt it.

A tiny kick.

A little pulse.

Your heart leapt. You gasped—supposedly a laugh, but you were overtaken by emotion—your fingers rubbed across your tummy again.

There it is again!

“Aww…” you fawned, on the verge of happy tears.

Cal came out of the trees’ trail, spotting you lying down on the grass with your hand on your stomach. He bobbed his head to the side, quizzically looking at you wiping away a tear while standing at a distance.

“[y/n]?” he called to you, kneeling by your side on the grass.

Your attention shifted to his direction. He sat there next to you with a slightly confused look—mixed with a hint of concern for you.

You quickly propped yourself on your elbows, and then shifted to your knees. His nervous eyes followed your position.

“Are you alright?”

“Cal…” you started. Unable to say the words—even though they’re already at the tip of your tongue—you take both of his hands and reeled them to your stomach.

Your husband’s eyes widened. His smile stretched from ear-to-ear when he felt the ripple of life coming from within you. His heart bounced in perhaps the fastest beat it has ever beaten in years.

“Cal, I’m pregnant!” you announced.

BD-1 trilled a long note in reaction, the little droid is just as surprised as his owner is!

The redhead stammered and blinked away several times, struggling to gather all the words he needed to express; when he cradled your face in his hands, you could feel just from his touch that he was bursting with sheer, indescribable happiness. He exhaled sharply, his breath warm as he touched foreheads with you.

“This… This is wonderful!” he gasped. He couldn’t speak further, acting purely on impulse, he closed in to kiss you—he pressed his lips long and hard to yours. “We’re having a baby!”

The forest echoed with your laughter. Cal snatched you into his arms and held you for so long as he buried his face into your neck, muffling his continuous laughing, and slowly rocked you back and forth.

Cal remained with you by the lake for the rest of the afternoon, he couldn’t take his hands off of your stomach; he wanted to keep feeling for the faint pulse of the conceived child in your womb. He started to daydream about the games he and the baby would play, how they would turn out to be—if they’ll have your eyes or his, if they’ll take after their mischievous father or their headstrong mother, whatever the case, he has already loved them the moment he felt the smallest beat.

—–

It was your third month since the conception of your child. The first few weeks were difficult and overwhelming, considering that this is your very first pregnancy. Luckily, you had help with Merrin and Cere. Still, it felt like your energy was slowly ebbing way as the weeks went by.

To avoid getting rusty with your combat skills, you continued to practice your swings, spins, and flourishes without using getting to the more acrobatic moves that required jumps and wide strides. Cal also kept a close eye on you when it comes to practicing, seeing that you’re still eager for sparring.

“I am so against this!” he exclaimed.

“Come on, the training droids aren’t really doing much help!” you whined.

He wagged his finger at you as if scolding a child, “Only one round, okay? Whoever wins, that’s that.”

“Deal!”

Even if you were still itching for action, you moved with the greatest caution and care—both for yourself and your baby—you improvised the moves that were usually lively, you replaced the low ducks and slides with spinning, dance-link evasions that still eluded an attack in the same grace.

However, the power and strength of your sword arm didn’t seem to dull over time. You fenced with your husband—the contrast in the lightsaber techniques have become more obvious now, and he was being careful himself, he knew that you didn’t want to take it easy and so he came at a compromise.

“Aha!” he exerted as he had you at swordpoint.

“Okay, you got me. Deal’s a deal,”

“That’s my girl,” he cooed.

“Don’t be so smug, love. I want another try next week,”

When you got back to the Mantis, you staggered on your footing for a few seconds. It was a good thing Cal caught you before you slammed your back against the ship’s wall.

“How are you feeling, [y/n]?” asked Cere.

“A little lightheaded, more often than I probably should,”

“Usually, that becomes quite the norm, especially when a mother’s at her third month,” Merrin added.

“Is that so…?”

A few seconds later, the lightheadedness was gone and you settled yourself on the couch next to Merrin. Like the entire crew, everyone was so delighted to hear the news. First the engagement, then wedding, and now a baby!

But the most excited one is Merrin; if not Cal, the Nightsister was constantly by your side. She was practically your sister ever since. She offered to mix up potions that would help in easing your pregnancy without harming both you and the child; she was also the one who gave the most advice.

“My mother herself was a midwife, besides being an acolyte. She taught me everything, even if I never saw myself being in the same position as her,” the Nightsister disclosed.

Nevertheless, she was still delighted for your bundle of joy. The two of you traded secret wishes and future daydreams revolving around the child.

One evening, in the middle of the night where everyone had gone to sleep, you jumped out of bed, rushing towards the bathroom to vomit… again. For the second time this day. Earlier, Merrin had concocted a potion that was said to help ease the tensing of the belly, so the cramping would lessen for a few hours. For a while, that potion seemed to have worked—but it didn’t stop you from running to the bathroom just to retch it out again.

Cal was awakened by the abrupt shuffling of the bed, he heard the faint pitter-patter of your bare footsteps leave the room and followed you to the bathroom.

“No, not again…!” he heard your hushed voice as you rushed out of the room.

The sound of your retching was muffled behind the door. Bile exited your stomach, leaving a stinging feeling in your core. You ended up crying in exchange of not straining yourself and hurting your baby in the process. You struggled to cough out what’s left, but only clear saliva spat out of your mouth.

Your kneecaps suddenly softened, your grip around the sink’s rim was your remaining support to keep yourself from falling to the ground. Suddenly, you felt an arm coil around your waist and a hand rubbing across your back.

“Hey,” your husband cooed. “Are you okay?”

You sniffled, washing away the dribble on your nose, but you didn’t answer.

“Are you hurting?” he continued.

“I keep feeling sick,” you sobbed, rubbing the bridge of your nose as you try to fight back the tears. “Merrin’s potion works, but only for the cramps.”

Anxiety was also a constant in your visits to the bathroom during the wee hours. You hated yourself for stressing out on bad dreams, you always had to bite your knuckles when breaking down to muffle out the cries behind the bathroom door.

Swallowing the lump in your throat did little in repressing your tears, some droplets escaped your eyes, Cal spotted them instantly and wiped them away with his thumb.

“It’s okay, I’ll stay with you until you feel like sleeping,” he consoled as he guided you out of the bathroom when you were ready.

“You don’t have to do this, you need to go back to sleep,” you gently scolded.

“You’re my wife,” he said firmly, a steely yet gentle look in his eyes glinted. “I’ll be here for you. Anything you need, okay?”

You hoisted and folded your legs, leaning against Cal’s shoulder as you try to calm yourself down. He feels for your stomach again, speaking to his unborn child through his mind.

Don’t give Mommy a hard time, sweetheart. He prayed as his lips nuzzled your temple while stroking your hair.

Two more months have passed. It’s the fifth month now, your belly had grown significantly. The morning sicknesses have seemed to lessen as time went on, however, in exchange it has become a little bit more difficult to move. The weight that you carried along with you has become more apparent; but that didn’t matter to you, all you could think about is the baby and you looked forward to its kicking. You and Cal sat together in the couch by the holotable, he now uses both hands to hold your stomach and found that they could no longer contain your belly.

“Oh, there’s a little kick,” he giggled.

You bobbed your head to the side, leaning against your own arm as you stare at Cal. You didn’t even realize that he must have shaved his stubble for just a little bit. Your knuckles stroked his beard and then your skin suddenly felt the smoothness of his freckled cheeks; his lips followed to where your palm is and nuzzled in for a kiss. When turned to you, his smile dissolved when he spotted a tear that you yourself didn’t even notice.

“Something the matter?”

“I’m a little scared, a little nervous. I mean… I’m so close now, Cal. I don’t even know if I—”

“Hey, you’re gonna be great,” he cuts in. He gingerly caressed your nape, fingernails raking the bottom of your hair, “I promise.”

He leaned closer to plant a long and tender kiss on your forehead. He kept his hands on your tummy, feeling for his baby, and he started guessing.

“It’s definitely a boy,” he beamed. “A kick that hard? Definitely.”

“Oh-ho, so someone’s gonna take your title of being the ‘One Who Kicks Ass’ in the Mantis?” you played along.

“Aww, he’s gonna have to get through me to steal my crown!”

[creative-frequency]

Cal Kestis x Reader: DEAR STAR SYSTEM Ch. 01

Word count: 1772 Pairing: Cal Kestis x Female Reader Summary/Contains: Friends to lovers, mild angst, canon-rewrite. As part of the Mantis’ crew, you’re off to save the Jedi on Bracca. Notes: I have loads of plans for this fic, lots of fluff included. Don’t judge me for starting another multi-chap, I don’t know how to stop.

My Writing Masterlist

DEAR STAR SYSTEM // 01

“On Bracca?” you repeat and jump on the cockpit chair. You catch a flash of the serious look on Cere’s face.

“We need to go now,” she urges the ship’s captain and pilot, Greez Dritus.

Greez’s four arms are working in triple speed, a forgotten Salthia bean muffin in one of them. Greez absolutely hates crumbs and the cockpit of the Mantis is food-forbidden area, but this is a more pressing matter than a muffin.

A Jedi – detected hiding on Bracca. The Imperial Inquisitors are already on the move and so should your small crew if you are to reach the Jedi first.

//

The first glimpse you catch of him is dirt and flaring ginger hair.

Cere tells him to keep moving until you’re able to pick him up. You’re trying to pace Greez from freaking out. There is too much going on, including a moving train, Imperial troopers everywhere, several TIE fighters and a few Inquisitors flying around. You wish you could say it’s just another day saving the galaxy but you’re likely at least half as scared shitless as Greez, and he’s handling the Mantis expertly.

If you get through this, you really need to start complimenting him more often.

The Jedi is on the move. An Imperial fighter zooms past you and, no matter how much Cere yells, it drops an explosive on the train, making it break in half and derail. The train’s roof turns into a slide.

“Front of the train!” you shout and point to where the Jedi will inevitably fall down.

Greez steers the Mantis as close as he dares.

The drawbridge is open and the Jedi catches the edge. Before you can run to see if there’s any way you can help, he has already fallen down and the whole ship is shaking from the incoming Imperial fire. Greez curses heavily.

“He fell!” Cere shouts. You help her inside.

“Go down!” You try to peer below in the rain, to see any movement – or a couple of flashing lightsabers, a red and a blue one. A classic showdown but it’s not one of those days when you want to meet an Imperial Inquisitor.

“Shoot!” you scream so that Greez jolts and grabs the gun control. He blasts the Inquisitor, effectively separating the lightsaber fight.

Cere opens the drawbridge again. “Get on board!”

The Jedi scrambles up from the smoking ground, clearly injured and clutching his lightsaber. Cere pulls him inside and throws him right into your open arms when he tries to stay dallying by the doorway.

The poor guy looks like a scazz hit with a flash bomb. He is wet from the rain, dirty and shaking from the adrenaline. He barely meets your eyes before taking a broad distance and lighting up his weapon.

“Captain!”

It’s your signal to leave Bracca.

Cere slams the button and just as the ship doors close, the Inquisitor’s lightsaber leaves a molten slash on the metal.

Another thing Greez won’t be happy about.

The Jedi stares at you for a fleeting second, lightsaber in tow and ready, and sprints to the cockpit to see the Second Sister slam against the windshield. She uses the Force to wrestle control of the ship from Greez and the Mantis starts to spin recklessly. All warning sounds burst into a chaotic song and you try to hold on for your life and not bump into the blue lightsaber. Someone is going to get an earful about flight safety later.

Cere leaps forward and turns the steering wheel briskly. The Second Sister falls off the ship.

For a couple of short breaths, everyone waits. No one dares to put the collective thought of “did we really make it?” out there. Greez and Cere look at each other before he gets up and pulls the handle down. The Mantis jumps into hyperspace, to safety.

The Jedi withdraws his weapon at Greez’s behest and you finally risk taking a heavy breath.

Cal Kestis, he introduces himself. Cere explains the situation as best as she can and as far as she believes is required. Cal keeps rolling his right shoulder, flinching and grinding his teeth as he paces back and forth behind the holotable. His eyes skip between the three of you constantly, still wary and considering the possibility that he isn’t completely safe.

None of you can blame him. He’s been on the run for years to have survived this far. The encounter with the Inquisitor just cut all ties to his runaway life and made him a known fugitive.

“How do you know so much?” Cal asks, still slightly out of breath, “And why’d you help me?”

“We track Imperial communications. We heard the Inquisitors were heading to Bracca,” Cere says calmly, “So we made our move.”

“Oh yeah? What’s the bounty on Jedi these days anyway?” Cal asks in a menacing tone and looks at you on his left side.

“That’s gratitude for ya,” Greez states in a blaming tone, pointing at Cal. Cere sends a silencing look the pilot’s way.

“Look, I get it,” she continues, “You’ve been surviving on your own for so long that it’s impossible to trust anyone. And it’s what’s kept you alive.”

The experience of every surviving Jedi is different but when it comes to staying alive and under the radar, Cere knows what she’s talking about. What she says makes you think back to when you first hopped aboard the Mantis. Your situation was nowhere near as bad as the Jedi’s, but Cere has a way of bringing people together; giving, if not hope, then at least a direction.

Cal doesn’t look convinced.

“But this is about something bigger… Than just surviving,” Cere says. Her voice takes an almost pleading tone.

“Like what?” Cal asks, mildly curious but guarded.

“Like rebuilding the Jedi Order.”

Cere lets the silence sit in. Cal stares at her incredulously, trying to find the words.

“You three?” he questions quietly, scared of giving purchase to hope, “Anybody else?” He looks around as if to see more people in the ship. You notice the way his eyes enliven despite himself and already feel bad for what he’s going to learn next.

“Oh, we’re not good enough for you?” Greez bridles in his usual way.

“The Jedi Council?” Cal asks carefully and looks at Cere. A small shine of hope sparks in his eyes.

She cannot reply.

You step forward, hands folded on your chest and say: “They’re gone.”

Cere nods slightly in accord.

“Oh… So I’m all you’ve got.” Cal’s gaze sinks to the floor from you, disappointed. All those distant dreams about someone restoring the Order, while he works as a rigger on Bracca, are shattered. He knew things were bad but that didn’t stop him from hoping, somewhere deep inside in a place that was never to see daylight. Not that there was much daylight on Bracca anyways.

Your weight shifts from one foot to another, waiting for Cere to say something. She inhales deeply.

“Captain. Set a course for Bogano.”

“Aye, aye.” Greez steps back into the cockpit.

“In the meantime… Try and relax,” Cere says to Cal in a comforting tone. She motions towards the lounging area. “Go. You’re safe. For now,” she adds and goes after Greez.

Cal is left standing awkwardly in front of you, looking like a lost puppy. His ginger hair and dark blue clothes are dripping wet from the rain, covered in soot and the occasional dash of blood. He looks pale and as miserable as can be. You feel genuinely bad for him. He’s still inconspicuously rolling the shoulder.

“Does it hurt?” You nod towards his right arm.

“Uh, it’s nothing,” he replies instantly and lets go of it. The adrenaline is dying down and the pain gets more invasive with every heartbeat.

“Sit down. I’ll find you a stim.” You leave to dig through the containers, watching from the corner of your eye as Cal tentatively sits by the table and looks around him. If Greez dares to complain about wet stains on the sofa, you’ll eat him alive.

The Mantis is not large but it has everything you need. Though, you will be one cabin short now that your crew is expanded into four members.

“Here.” You hand the healing stim to Cal and sit a respectable distance away from him. Even the freckles dotting his skin look pale. He must be hurting.

Cal nods hesitantly and mumbles thanks before injecting it into his shoulder.

“Better?”

“Yeah, better.”

An awkward silence falls. You don’t want to push him into talking if he doesn’t feel like it. Greez and Cere are arguing about the Inquisitors in the cockpit. How to avoid them better. How to stay better informed on their moves. It’s a conversation you don’t want Cal to hear so soon after what happened.

He clears his throat and glances at you, trying to avoid staring. From what he can gather, you’re a human with no visible affiliations. Probably a bit older than him. He gets a very mixed feeling about you but that might be because he’s been used to pushing the Force down and not using it. It feels… odd to try to lean on it now. Like using a regained limb.

On top of it all, he’s afraid of breaking that limb again.

“How’d you get here?” Cal asks to push the surfacing thoughts away. He takes another glance at you. This time it lasts longer.

“Not nearly as fashionably as you. Less explosions,” you reply and flash him a smile that’s hopefully friendly.

He huffs, an almost chuckle, and you feel him relaxing just a little. His shoulder has stopped twitching and he looks more at you than the floor.

“I ran into Cere and decided I want to do something with my life,” you say.

“You weren’t a Jedi, were you? Or somehow related to the Order?” Cal’s voice finally loses the high alert undertone.

“Nah, nothing like that. I had… other engagements,” you explain vaguely.

Cal really wants to ask but decides he doesn’t meet the requirements to unlock your possibly tragic past. Not yet. Why would you even want to open up to a stranger you just met. He just needs something else to think about than what he just went through. Bracca is already far behind, both in distance and his life.

“There’s a free bed in the back if you’d like to rest,” you say and get up from the sofa. Cere and Greez have agreed to disagree and Cal looks a bit more at ease.

“Yeah, thanks.”

//

Next Chapter

[sadjediamira]

A Chance Meeting

Holding Out for a Hero, Pt. 3/?

Read chapters 1 & 2, also on AO3!

Cal seems to be very good at popping up out of nowhere and totally throwing Amira off her groove.

The civilian garb fit Amira well, it wasn't uncomfortable like her armored Inquisitor uniform. Her ginger hair hung loose except for a few strands tied up in a messy bun.

Her tattoos peeked from underneath her half sleeves, and for once the bags under her eyes weren’t as dark.

She was undercover, spying on the growing resistance to figure out their next moves. They were predictable, and leaking false plans of the Empire always helped her keep their numbers low.

The Inquisitor was strolling through a small market on some desert planet. All sorts of creatures roamed the streets, talking and shopping. The bustle of everything around her pulled her away from the stress and chaos of her normal life and provided a much needed distraction.

She was almost humming to herself when she noticed a...feeling. A pull in the force.

The same pull that a familiar-

“I almost didn’t recognize you.” Cal said.

Amira turned quickly, reaching for her saber hidden in her jacket, but stopped as she met his eyes.

The Jedi was smiling. “You wouldn’t pull a weapon on a simple man just trying to shop, would you?” He took a loud sip of a drink he was holding in his hand.

He was right, she can’t blow her cover, not in this crowded space. After readjusting her jacket so as not to look suspicious, she narrowed her eyes at him, “Damn. You’ve got a lot of nerve.”

Cal grinned and shrugged as they began walking together, “Cere says it’s recklessness. I just think it’s fun.”

She suppressed a smile as he took another loud slurp of his drink.

“By the way…” He scratched his neck as he looked at his feet, “You look nice.”

Amira’s eyebrows were raised as she looked at him, unable to hide a small smile.

“I-I don’t mean it in a weird way! It’s just...you look...normal, relaxed.”

Cal’s ears were as red as Amira’s cheeks.

She hadn’t received a compliment...well...ever. The fact that it was from her sworn enemy made it even more difficult to process.

“Thank you.” She mumbled, nodding once, hearing something like a muffled ‘yeah’ before they continued walking.

“I’ve wondered...” Amira began.

“Hm?”

“Why are you being so nice to me? I tried to kill you.”

“Everyone is going through something. I understand you have a job to do and I won’t hold the viciousness of your Master against you.”

Amira suddenly feels ashamed for trying to harm him, especially after what he just said.

He shrugs, continuing, “But I'm also very confident in my ability to stay alive. Trust me, I’m a lot harder to kill than you think.”

She nodded slowly, noting that confidence. For just a moment she envied him, wishing she could be that sure. Yet, something different is nagging her, and it’s frustrating…

“Cal...I can’t be your friend. We are enemies.” Her voice was somber but she wasn't having any objection.

The Jedi was quiet for a moment, “I know.” He stopped walking, “But. It still doesn’t bother me to show you some kindness. Even you deserve peace.”

He paused, “I really enjoy talking with you, but I think we should probably continue on with our day and pretend like this little chat never happened?” Cal gave her a smile, but he seemed sad.

“Yeah. That sounds good.” Amira nodded, praying their casual time together wouldn’t linger with her.

“Cool. I’ll see ya ‘round ‘Mira.”

Cal quickly sidestepped into the crowd and vanished.

Amara was shaking as she stepped into an alleyway nearby. Not only did she let him go but, being friendly with Cal went against all of the things she had ever been taught.

Yet, somehow, he tempted her. He allowed her to relax and let her guard down, two very deadly things.

And what if Lord Vader found out…?

She can’t keep giving in to him...still, every time they meet she does just that.

Amira sighed, leaning against the wall and closing her eyes, “Fuck.”

Thank you for reading!<3 I’ve got a lot more coming soon if you like it! ;)

[gg-astrology]

could u do a brief looking of nam taehyun too? I wish all winner, but I know you're tired. thank u!

Hey there! 💛💛 haha I probably won’t have time to do everyone in Winner, but I think Nam Taehyun is the one who’s solo now right? 💛 I can definitely do a brief look at him for you! 💛

[Below Cut: Nam Taehyun Brief Outlook]

Note: This is very brief and also just my own lil overview of everything, everyone can have differing interpretations, so please read with ur own discretions 💛

First of all we have a Taurus Baby! 

Taurus Sun/Moon – Gemini Mercury/Venus (Mercury at 0′31) – Mars in Aries and Scorpio Jupiter rx

With Taurus Sun/Moon this is someone who is incredibly dependable, often resilient and has a good head on their shoulder. 

Taurus Sun/Moon are often people who wouldn’t think twice about protecting those that they love, they have a hard time even giving up/separating themselves away from routine/habits that can sometimes be bad for them. 

Mostly because both the ego/self-esteem, and the emotionality of the person (Sun/Moon) is incredibly stubborn and relies strongly on routine. 

They look out for other people, nurture and care for them (Taurus as a Venus sign)  — these people are inherently very giving, and may humbly decline any success/attribute that comes their way (depending on what it is).

They are – also, very fixed on finding comfort and security within their life. That’s part of the motivation with Taurus/Taurus— as ‘peace-loving’ as they can be they are always motivated to work-hard and get success– their measurement is in their stability, an apartment, a lifestyle outside of work, small hobbies/details in their life that fulfills them internally. 

These people often need balance to live, and often compensating too extremely into something (like work, or lifestyle) causes them to feel dread/stagnant in themselves. 

They need a life outside of things, y know? That’s part of the Taurus ‘happy with the little things’ motive/ideas. They want to have a life just outside, able to manifest/take control over their own security and comfort. 

These people don’t do well with others pushing them to change their ways OR mind, they’re often too resilient and tenacious in their own ways to change.

Unless they made up their mind for themselves (which they’re often pretty cautious and slow in doing so– because they hate upsetting a routine more than anything) – no one could make them budge. 

Considering his Aries Mars as well— retaliation to his self-protection, or attacks on others in his field of visions would drive him into action to ‘stop it’ immediately (physically or just, emotionally invested in other’s well being. Protective and sensual Taurus)

Food takes priority for Tauresean. But so does artistic expression, often these people have magnetic voices or musical abilities (Taurus rules the throat traditionally) having that in his ego and emotional gratification— both of these things hold an importance to him on a personal level. 

Having the ability to express it out is always part of who he is– regardless of entertainment industry or nah. 

The thing about Taurus is that they are inherently hard-working and tenacious, often expects hardship and to face it with stead-fast-nature that they have. This is because they desire results, or the ‘good burn’ of working that comes from being treated fairly/justly. 

When the ego/self is in Taurus (Sun) that means that the material result/wealth (money/statues) is also important to an extent. Their self-identity comes with that, and often builds up based on their self-sufficiency, their independence away from others and what they can ‘make’ for themselves.  

Their own ‘comfort’ is their driving force, being able to live the way they want to, comfortably balanced between working autonomously and having a life besides of working/grinding for themselves. Thus– you can kinda see why his mental health is much more important than money. It comes with comfort that Taurus thrives/seek. And it takes a lot to break a Taurus’s routine, honestly. 

A note on aspect: he has his Sun-Neptune aspecting which – again– talks about his ego being tied to his musicality and expression. Honestly you can find a lot of artists with this placements, especially in personal planets and a tight conjunction. 

With Taehyun it’s trine– so in a way, he’s always had this intuition for his career/musical opportunity for him at the front of his mind. Considering his Neptune in Capricorn, he dreams about making it big (which he did) but within that– he also desire to have balance/personal popularity that Taurus sun brings in as well. Wants to be respected for his musicality, and often times admired for his hard-working spirit/charm.

One of the biggest factor is his Moon opposition Jupiter– since we talked about Taurus I feel like that’s a good base to talk about this too right? 

When his emotionality is in opposition to Jupiter’s social popularity, often time he’s emotionally at odds with the darker side of fame, of obsession. 

Scorpio Jupiter brings a deeper search, especially sacrifices made and having an unorthodox view/belief/ideas as opposed to the norm. It can make the person’s emotionality uncomfortable having to be ‘tugged/forced’ on the leash of Scorpio Jupiter to ‘be’ a certain way, ‘act’ a certain way, ‘charm’ a certain way. 

Scorpio Jupiter in opposition to the Moon can bring someone who slowly but eventually– emotionally distance themselves from obligations/things they have to do. The social/public obsession drains the Taurus emotionality, often times demanding more and more paranoia over the Taurus Moon until they can’t help but just be– numb to it all

It’s kinda like going ‘hey this is me :)’ and then someone going ‘ok but they said ‘hey’ so that obviously means SOMETHING’ and you explain yourself over and over until you’re just left….exhausted… because you just said what you said you know?

Moon-Jupiter as an aspect can also speak about over-indulgence in comfort as well, things and obsession over something else that they could ‘escape’ from the public/tension with. Especially combined with Sun-Pluto that can often live in fear of change, of feeling uneasy and that their life goes through so many tumultuous change (also in Scorpio). 

The Taurus native with these aspects  to Jupiter and Pluto may often find themselves more and more ‘complacent’ in their luxury, their comfort and become more ‘lazy’ over time. 

Not to say that he’s lazy, just that when ones get drained over and over again you lose motivation to ‘pursue/push’ and do something about it. 

Taehyun with his Moon sextile to Saturn– is quite capable of keeping his feelings on hold/in control until he can’t anymore. And that’s when he breaks. 

Alot of his passion/drive has to do with his Gemini placements– Mercury and Venus. A lot of varieties and interest, often a healthy stimuli and uplifting spirit. These people are animated talker, jokester, can be a lil unconventional with how controversial they are- yet at the same time, they endear people to them because of their inherent honesty and forth-right nature. 

Mercury-Uranus (trine) Supports his Sun-Neptune from earlier– with this marks a great singer/song-writer, since Gemini is domicile in Mercury (and Taurus is exalted in Moon) – Taehyun has a lot of romanticism and creative splurges, able to think and create visionary ideas and crafts. 

Often a person who ties dreaminess of the imagination to the commonality of the world in a way that lets people ‘escape’ their life for a moment. It fuels him personally, and often can lead to someone being well-spoken, well-read but also inherently a lil scattered at the same time (a fool)  

Mercury-Pluto makes him a little impatient, this is the only ‘change’ he can satisfy. It’s when his thinking and vision change, to a point sometimes that he doesn’t wait for anyone else to ‘catch up to him’. 

Gemini can be a little like that, a little selfish and self-serving especially when they’re intrigued/interested in a new venture/venue. It can lead them to pursuing it rather aggressively, or rather – obsessively to some extent. 

Same goes with Venus-sextile-Mars— often someone who has to ‘do the work himself’ in order to see it happening. Considering Aries Mars and Gemini Venus — he’s often temperamental when it comes to ‘getting things done’ 

Even though he’s patient and respectful, there’s a part of him that is stiff and doesn’t know how to ‘let up’ and get things down harmoniously. 

Venus-square- Saturn often points to someone who can have a hard time ‘opening up’ sometimes. 

Think about Gemini and consider that they are all sharp edges, fraught and cutting. They can sometimes cuts too deep into others and thus, ‘breaks down’ any stability that they’ve built because of it as well. Impulsivity is their worst enemy, yet at the same time he’s addicted to the motion/progression he makes when he ‘takes action’ for himself. 

With Taurus talking about patience, comfort and grudges, while Aries Mars talks about emotional release, impulsivity and self-assertion. You get a combination of someone who’s quite contradictory. 

Sometimes when others are looking in— his Gemini Venus/Scorpio Jupiter rx makes him seem unreliable or untrustworthy. His honesty can sometimes be seen as a ‘front’ because all the contradictorian nature discredit his hard work. 

Despite how hard he tries to prove himself over and over again, he doesn’t see how change and learning/listening to others could benefit him (a disadvantage of Taurus-Scorpio opposition) he makes the same mistake over and over (behaviorally/routinely)– because he can’t understand/identify the underlying message others want him to take/make an effort to change. 

Other placements: Virgo Chiron, Gemini Ceres, Libra Juno rx

Alrighty! 💛 Sorry for replying so late but here ya go! 💛💛 I hope you like it! 💛

[godseyegalaxy]

Candle and the Wax Flame- 2 - The Start

“You’re wish is futile, how hard is that to explain?” The mermaid’s silver tail kicked up water directed towards the pirate standing on the rocks. Then, she added, “Now, stop pestering me. It’s been a week, Icora, take your crew and leave this island behind.” 

The pirate, Icora, took off her hat and shook off the water droplets. The thin smile on her face never leaving. Cere pushed her tail through the water again and thought about leaving the pirate alone in the outlet, she probably would have, if the bitch wasn’t dangling her sister’s necklace just out of arms reach. With any other bastard she would have killed them and taken back what was hers, but Icora was a benefactor, and Cere had no intension of losing an asset.

Shards of red and green light bounced brightly off the neckless as it dangles casually midair. The lights flashed in her eyes and painfully reminded the mermaid how trapped she really was. Cere watched the neckless sink as the bastard woman knelt to her level.  

“Come now, Cere, ‘Futile’ is a harsh word-”

“Because you don’t know what it means?”

Icora paused mid-sentence, then started to laugh. She had a whole-hearted laugh, one of a seasoned mother or a well traversed clerk, not one typical for a pirate. Cere always hated the sound.

“No, no, my friend, oh my... Simply because I know it’s not futile. With your help and my crew, I’m sure we can find the remains of the city.”

Cere scowled, with her narrow face, it took up the majority of space. Icora always found it cute. With Cere’s big pitch-black eyes and boney features, Icora always thought the mermaid was cute. As cute as an ugly fish from the sea can be.  

“What makes you think there is anything left of Manora? Huh?”

“Oh, there is always something left.” She stood, taking the accessory with her. “If not proper things, say pieces of artwork, tools, and of course, metals… then ideas, traditions, and more.”

Cere snorted. “Since when do you deal in ideas? It’s always been about trinkets and gold with you.”

“Cus it seemed to be the only thing that kept you interested.” Icora gestured to all the gold and copper decorating the mermaid’s body. That is to say, she gestured to all of the mermaid, right down to the tail. Bangles, piercings, hair beads, rings and everything in between covered the creature, at it all was gifts from the buccaneer. Payments for previous jobs. “Life on land isn’t a concern for you, but for many of my crew, it is.” She continued. “Life on the islands is getting more difficult, and what would happen to my business if everyone on land moved or died?”

Icora rarely spoke about the troubles on the lands with Cere – as she said, why would the mermaid care?— however, when she did, the pained look in her eyes were bluntly apparent. Either she did care about the islands, or that was her puppy dog face. Still, it was off putting, just enough for her guard to be let down.  

The land dwellers were not the only ones being affected poorly, but not many land dwellers cared about the happenings under the waves outside the fishing industry. Eventually, the sea folk would have to leave the water surrounding the islands. But, that would be long after the humans, elves and whatnot left. Still, if the fearless Icora was worried, maybe there was something to the whole thing.  

Shit.  

Cere met Icora’s eyes to see that ugly smile spread across her face; the smile of someone who know they had won. The same smile she had seen as she captained her ship out of a harsh take over or a storm, the kind where the wind would pick up and the sun would shine in beams across the sky.  

Cere snarled at the woman. “I’ll meet you at your god damn fucking ugly ass ship.”

Icora laughed, full like the moon, or the vary waves that crashed on the rocks. “I should have never let my crew teach you curse words.”

“And you shouldn’t have fucking tracked me to a god damn random island, but here we are, Icora.” The mermaid brushed the sides of her shaved head and gathered up her hair before diving back into the turquois blue water.  

A wave of warm salty water came crashing down on the pirate captain, successfully soaking her. She wiped her face and brushed back her wild hair, turning around just in time to see Maritime break through the foliage shielding the lagoon from the rest of the island.  

“Martie, just in time, what is it?”

“Just looking for the captain, have you seen her?” She cocked her head to the side, “About this tall, old as shit, likes to wander off and leave the crew to her ship alone on a random island to find a mermaid with just a ‘gut feeling’ to guide her?”  

“Alright, Alright, Maritime.” Icora jumped to the shore, ignoring the helping hand from her apprentice. “But you’ll be happy to know that I found our guide.”

“Really?” the girl started to follow her captain back through the trees. “How’d ya convince her to help us?”

Icora had already put the neckless in her cloth belt before Cere left. “You know me, I have a way with words.”

Martie snorted and rolled her eyes. She had been recruited, or adopted as the crew put it, as Icora’s first and only apprentice when she tried to pickpocket her in the market place. She was maybe ten at the time, but, with no memories of her name, parents or her home island, that didn’t stop the captain from extending her hand. Nothing, she learned, stopped the captain.  

In the six years Martie has spent with the crew, she had learned an infinite amount of skills and tricks, not only to be a successful pirate, but also a business person, crafter, and navigator, but still she knew next to nothing about the woman who adopted her. She wasn’t cruel, wasn’t liked by those on the outside, but wasn’t hated either. She told impossible stories that happened years in the past like they were resent happenings, she spoke of gods as friends, monsters as things that really existed. Something, Martie knew, was off about her dear captain, after all it was obvious, yet that didn’t deter the crew from loyalty. They loved her just as much as Icora cared for them. Any secrets didn’t seem to matter.  

“If you say so, cap’t.” Martie shrugged. “The ships next to the beach. Brinkley went around the island like you ordered, but there’s a sand bar on this side, so we couldn’t get that close.”

Icora nodded and continued to push through island flora. “I’m glad that at least one of my subordinates can follow directions.” She said slyly, glancing behind her.

Martie groaned. “Ok fine, I got bored just waiting. I wanted to see Cere too.”

Martie and Cere had grown to be what someone might call friends. Pair a child’s persistence and open mind with a creature of superior intellect but little skill in land language and there was bound to be some sort of connection. Icora enjoyed their partnership, as before it was only she that Cere would deal with, but now Cere acknowledged the other members of the crew and even worked with some of them. It benefited everyone involved, just considering the knowledge transferred.  

“And what if you gave her an excuse to disappear huh?” Even though the captain was still smiling, Martie knew that she was legitimately annoyed with her.

“My apologies, Captian. I wasn’t thinking.” She frowned; she hatted apologizing, but knew when it was necessary.  

That was another fun thing about their friendship; they had some of the same mannerisms.

“I’m not angry.” That much was true, “But I will have you clean all the buckets before we pull of, yeah?”  

They broke through the forests into a plain of tall yellow grass and crooked palm trees. The ship could be seen a few leagues off of the shore.  

“Yes, ma’am.” Martie pulled ahead and walked to the rowboat she tied to a palm close to the beach.  

Icora took her time, gathering the odd coconut and flower, before settling down beside Martie and picking up an oar.  

Neither of them spoke on the way back to the boat. They breathed in tandem and rhythmically rowed through the midday waves. The water grew from glacier blue to black, then back to light blue as they passed over the sand bar. Sweet beaded and dripped down their faces and backs, for a few seconds Icora thought about pealing of her leather jacket, but when she looked back to check how far the ship was, she found it looming over her.  The shadow passed over the tiny boat, granting cool refuge.  

Two crew men looked over the edge of the ship and down at them, they waved and Icora waved back.  

“Welcome back captain!” Bo, one of the men, shouted down.

“Not back yet! Throw down the ropes!” Icora shouted back.

The men disappeared. Martie, who had grabbed the other oar, steered so the boat was almost flush to the barnacle crusted hull and underneath the apparatus. Immediately, ropes came down inches from landing inside and on top of the awaiting two.  

With practiced ease, Icora tied the boat up and soon after they were being lifted out of the water and up towards the deck.  

When she was finally able to see over the railing, she was met with her first mate, Brinkley. He smiled warmly and nodded. Brinkley has a colorful history as a first mate with other ships— interesting enough to catch Icora’s attention—however what really peaked her interest was the fact that all the ships under his proctor would vanish within a year or two. Crew, except for him, included. Many high-end navies lost proud vessels both as victim and while in search of the culprit. What was funny, is that Brinkley never changed his name, so it was a very easy trail to track. But of course, came the mystery of why and how? After all he was just one man.

Icora was prepared to fight him to prove that she was the captain he was looking for, however, according to legend, the moment Brinkley laid eyes on the young captain Icora, he bowed and proclaimed loyalty right then and there. Neither of them ever denied the story, but they never confirmed it either. Either way the results are the same, Icora and Brinkley have been partners in crime for years now, never been caught, and never without something to do.  

Most of the crew agreed; they were as perfect as a captain and a first mate could be.

“Welcome home, Captain Icora.” He extended his hand. “I hope your vacation was well worth it.”

Icora hopped down onto her beloved deck and scanned Brinkley. From the black braids in his hair down to his ink boots, he was soaking wet. His dark skin glistened in the sunlight, he was obviously exhausted, but his demeanor did everything it could to hid it. Icora laughed.

“It seems you already know the answer to that, Brinkley. Tell me, did she climb up and over or did she request a net.” She reached back to assist Martie.

“A net, this time, captain. She was furious that you weren’t already on board, and frankly, Icora, I am too. You know she doesn’t like me very much, and, it's not in my nature to carry sopping wet, naked women around. Tail or no tail.” He turned his attention to the young apprentice. “And you, young lady, I hope you know you will be cleaning –“

“All the buckets before we leave.” Maritime finished his sentence while rolling her eyes. “Icora already told me so buzz off.” She stuck her tongue out before leaving to go below deck.  

Brinkley’s brooding was interrupted by a strong hand landing on his shoulder, he leaned into Icora’s firm frame.

“You and I think too much alike, eh?” She smiled.

“Ey, much too alike. I don’t know what I’m going to do with her.” His eyebrows furrowed. As long as Martie has been aboard, Brinkley has tried to somewhat a role model. Icora always joked that it was the proper gentleman coming out of him, and that he wasn’t the father that Martie was looking for. He always denied his role, but it was painfully obvious that he wanted her to like him. At least a little bit.  

“Oh? I’ll tell you what you’re going to do, you’re going to do the same thing that you have been doing for the past six years. Go down to her with some treats, hoping to talk to her, and getting the door slammed in your face.” She jostled him. “Now, before you do that, where has my catch of the day flopped off to?”

Brinkley signed. “Cere’s where she always is when she waits for you, in your office with a bottle of wine and a dagger by her side.”  

The captain laughed, making the nearby crew members smile. “I guess I should give her some company then?”

“Probably, yes. Before she tears up what is left of your couch.” He looked around for a moment. “Are your orders to stay here until we know where we are going?”

“Yup. And to give Maritime the opportunity to clean.” She left Brinkley towards the bridge.  

--

A knife flew through the air and dug itself a few inches into the side of the door. Icora sighed, as it was both a few inches from her face, and the seventh notch in her door. She opened the door all the way, confident that Brinkley said ‘dagger’ and not ‘daggers.’ The mermaid lounged across her couch, tail lifelessly handing over the edge, almost blocking the door. A bottle of wine in one hand, while her other hand now free from the knife, fanned herself.

“You know how much I despise this room; its hot, its humid, and it smells like sex and booze. How dare you make me wait.”

“I’ll have you know that I have never had sex in here thank you very much.” She slipped off her jacket and set it on her chair on the opposite side of the room. Every time Cere was brought in here, she complained about something new. It was actually beginning to be a game. The heat and humidity were always on the high up, to remind Icora that she was dealing with a creature of the frozen deep, but the sex smell was a new one.

“I never said it was your sex. Gross.” She tugged at a clump of still dripping hair and pulled it over her body. right now, her long black hair was the only thing keeping her cool. Icora didn’t think that was the intention of mermaids having long hair, but it was a feature.

Icora ignored her guest’s comment and went through the stacks of miscellaneous things on her shelves. Mostly mapping equipment, keys, photographs, but also special items that she kept just for Cere’s visits. And by special; a fan, piece of patterned cloth, two cups and a canteen with the ocean’s water.

She wasted no time with idol chit chat this time around, which put Cere on edge. She had seen Icora in tense moments before, times where one on one became one on four or ten, times where the storms howled its loudest. This was not that close, but playtime was over. Icora carefully placed each item on the table before her and went back to her desk. Cere poured wine for the two of them and gladly helped herself to the oriental fan.  

She came back with a large scroll of paper, trading the wine cup for the map, she rolled out the map. Tons of markings cluttered the once pristine paper, red circles and tiny holes riddled the paper, marking all the old expeditions that the pirate had been on. Cere glanced over the map, the hand drawn islands and dark stains reminded her of all the time they used to spend together, and the time Icora herself tossed the mermaid over her shoulder and dove face first into an uncharted jungle. It was all ridiculous, Cere doubted the shenanigans would end soon.  

Icora placed one final pin through the map and sat down. A total of 8 pins marked places that she, personally, has not explored. If Cere was anyone else, it would have been impressive, given the thousands of archipelagos throughout the sea, but it was Cere.  

“Well.” She took a sip of wine. “These are all the places a hidden civilization could be. Not visible with regular trade routes, not in the dead zone, and were all the surrounding islands can support life. What do you think.”

Cere leaned in to study the islands closer. They did meet all of Icora’s standards. A place to hide, supported by life, not protected or colonized by other countries and, of course, not explored. However, there were a few problems.

She picked a pin out of the map and set it down. “This island is in the Witch Nagga’s territory. She would not let anyone live there.”

“What if Nagga moved there after the city was established?”

“Nagga has not moved since the beginning of the islands’ creation. Her territory has never grown nor shrunk and she has never let anyone stay more than a few passing days. She would not let people thrive.”  Annoyance shrouded her words. Every sea dwelling person knew about the great witch, telling someone was like stating the obvious.

“Aright, then. Next.”

If Cere had irises, she would have rolled her eyes. Instead she growled and returned her attention to the map.

“This one.” she grabbed another pin on the opposite side of the map. “Sirens frequent this area, it acts like a hub of sorts.”  

Sirens hated people. Hated the touch of people, and usually killed them off immediately. Much like flies or lice. They would never congregate if the island was tainted, and never let them in either.

Icora sighed. “I wish you would tell me this stuff before.”

“Not your business, Land-Lover.” She smirked. “Don’t want you messing up other people’s lives like you have mine.”  

“Oh please, your life has been enriched by me and you know it.” She took another sip of wine.

More pins were pulled out as Cere studied the map, she explained why each time and, Icora tried to remember each reason for the future. Icora knew some of the DeepSea trade route, just by Cere mentioning it in passing, but its extensions were still foreign, and truth be told, it didn’t concern Icora. It was, however, important to the merfolk and apparently, they and the members of the fae had outposts on islands far beyond the reach of others. Just that detail alone took out three from the running.  

And then there were two pins left. One in the upper left at the edge of a key, just outside the dead zone, and other one by itself in the June Sea, right outside mermaid territory.  

The captain set down her empty cup and leaned into the map.

“These are it? There are no more places that only you know of?”

“I’m done wasting time, Icora, these two places are the only ones a civilization like the stories depict could be. If it did exist at all.”  

Icora furrowed her brow, thinking hard about any other detail that could open up other areas. There was nothing.

“Alright then.” She tapped the one at the edge of the key. “This one is closer, it has islands close to it so the beings there might have had knowledge of the city. An easy supply and travel route, and as you said, benevolent beings under the waters. Shall we start here?”

Cere shrugged. “I can swim there in less than 3 days.” She started to trace her fingers on the map. “If you travel up this way, I can meet you here.” She tapped the space that was somewhat between the two pins left standing. “And let you know if there’s anything worthwhile there.”

“You and what legs?” Icora asked out of habit.

“Fuck you.”

“Promise to meet me?” She said without skipping a beat.

“You still have my neckless, I have no choice.” Then. “You’ve… Also piqued my interest with this new fascination of yours.”

“Oh?” Icora leaned in, a thin smile stretched across her sun-tanned skin. “Do tell. How does a ‘land-loving’ civilization pique the interest of a selfish mermaid such as yourself?”

Cere let her blank eyes speak for herself. Icora leaned back before deciding to stand.

“Fine fine, it’s not my ‘business,’ I understand.  I like your plan, we will set off as soon as you’re ready.” She held out a hand, adorning a few rings on her finders.  

A hand shake didn’t mean anything to those dwelling under the sea, and Cere made a point to say it every time she offered, yet Icora persisted. She was a business woman and god be damned if they didn’t seal the deal with touching skin. If someone was flaky on a deal then why would a handshake matter?

Cere took her hand anyway and, wiped her hand on the couch right after. Icora laughed, took up the map and brought it to her desk to make some more calculations. While her back was turned, Cere pored another glass and dumped a quarter of the water on her face. The surface was way too hot for any living creature. The fact that there were creatures above water proved that there were monsters out there. Worst of it all, the fan was doing next to nothing to cool her down.  

Cere sunk deep into the couch and sighed. She had to admit though, watching an experienced adventure work was mesmerizing. Icora weaved among piles on the ground to collect all the tools she needed to mark her course. A few minutes later, mostly due to double checking once or twice, she set her tools down and turned on her heels.  

Without a word she left the room, not even glancing at the mermaid that mostly blocked the doorway. In retaliation, Cere poured the rest of the canteen on her tail, letting the salt water spread on the leather.  

A few heat wreaking minuets that felt like hours later, a knock rapped on the door. The sullen face of Brinkley slowly opened the door and peered in.

“The captain has ordered me to take you to Maritime’s room.” He locked eyes with the mermaid and refused to look anywhere else. “Everything set?” He asked, out of political correctness more than anything.

“You’ll find out soon enough.” Cere stared at him with equal intensity and distain.

Ever since Icora dragged him on board, Cere never spent longer than she had to with him. She hated him, hated the way the feeling of his gaze got under her skin. Only once did Cere mention it to Icora, ‘it’ being the dark aura around the first mate, but Icora simply waved her off. That was the first sign that Icora knew exactly what she was doing, and Cere hated that. Hated Icora’s confidence and hated every single thing that ‘Brinkley’ ever touched. It was annoying too, why have her around when Icora’s just going to ignore her advice?

One day Cere would find out what made Icora and Brinkly such a pair, and she would wait patiently for that day. But for now…

“Shall I?” Brinkley cleared his throat.

“Do I have a choice in the matter?” Cere sighed and set down her canteen.

She opened her long arms like a child wanting a hug from a pet and allowed the first mate to scoop her up. The most comfortable way to carry a larger almost 7-foot mermaid was, apparently, over the shoulder so, that’s how Cere was carried. Like a sack of rotting potatoes, she was hauled down a level and to the other side of the ship. Neither of them speaking another word. Not even an apology when Cere tripped him up with her tail or when her head hit one of the steep steps.

Maritime was one of the lucky few that got a room to herself, being the captain's first and only apprentice and, of course, being a young girl. She lived alongside the other more important crew members down a narrow hallway, being ever so grateful for one of the cartographers eloping with a cook and them willing to move into the same room together. The rooms were small, smaller than any hidey hole she had ever slept in, but it was home to Martie.  

It was also, in part, Cere’s home too. Whenever she climbed on board this deathtrap of a ship, she always found herself spending at least a few hours with Martie. Maybe it was their hatred of Brinkley that brought them together, or their willing entrapment by Icora, either way, they were friends.

Brinkley politely knocked on the door and waited for a reply. Cere might have waited except her face was against the opposite wall, and it was Brinkley.  

Cere slammed her tail against the door as hard as she could without braking the wood. A startling thump sounded down the hallway, loud enough for other sleeping members to react with a start.  

“MARTIE! OPEN UP!” If people were still sleeping, they were awake now.  

There was a loud thump before the door swung wide open. As quickly as possible, Brinkley entered the room—which was filled with grimy buckets— dropped Cere onto the bed and left, knowing he was unwanted there.

The tiny space was barely large enough to fit Cere’s silvery- opal tail, even when it folded over itself. That paired with the buckets meant that there was little room for Martie herself, so she sat on her desk with a pile of dishrags in her lap. The two looked at each other for a moment before Martie threw a rag at Cere and started scrubbing.

[brigdh]

Reading Definitely Not Wednesday

Leviathan Wakes by James S.A. Corey. A space opera set in the relatively near future. Humans have colonized Mars and the asteroid belt, and a few scattered populations make due on the moons of planets further out. There is, however, no faster-than-light travel, no contact with any solar system beyond our own, no sentient AIs, and no aliens. A major theme of the book is the culture clash between those who live on Earth or Mars – the superpowers of this future – and those who live in the Belt, where mining is the preeminent economy and life is the hardscrabble sort where even water and oxygen have to be imported, never mind concepts like justice and equality. Different characters move from one place to the other or switch allegiances, but their origins are as baked in as we would regard ethnicity or nationality. As one character puts it, "A childhood spent in gravity shaped the way he saw things forever." Corey (who is actually two separate dudes writing under a penname) does a wonderful job of fleshing out the background worldbuilding. I loved references to fungal-culture whiskey, Bhangra as the default elevator muzak, hand gestures exaggerated to be seen through a spacesuit, and largely unintelligible localized slang (“Bomie vacuate like losing air,” the girl said with a chuckle. “Bang-head hops, kennis tu?” / “Ken,” Miller said. /“Now, all new bladeboys. Overhead. I’m out.”). It feels like a more detailed world than a lot of sci-fi does. Which is good, because the characters are not all that compelling. The two POVs are Jim Holden and Detective Miller. Holden is the second-in-command on an unimportant spaceship that works as a freight hauler, moving ice back and forth between the Belt and Saturn. Things change dramatically when a mysterious someone attacks their ship and kills everyone except for Holden and a few others, and he finds himself centrally involved in the runup to war. He has the most generic action-movie-hero personality I can imagine, with no discernable characteristics except 'idealistic' (and I really only know that because other people keep telling him he is), kinda nervous about being suddenly thrust into command but doing a good job, a womanizer (but see, it's okay because he just keeps genuinely falling in love with so many women!), and earnest. He's fine. He's not even objectionable, just incredibly boring. He comes with a crew of entirely indistinguishable followers that I couldn't keep straight, but that's all right because most of them get killed off so I no longer had to try to remember who was who. He also develops a romance that is 100% unbelievable, but I suppose that's what action-movie-heroes do, so who's even surprised. Miller is a detective on Ceres, the largest city in the Belt, who's been hired by a rich family to track down their anarchist, slumming daughter. Miller is an incredibly cliche noir protagonist - alcoholic, divorced, not as good as he used to be, cynical, a little bit corrupt but underneath it all he still remembers his good intentions – but at least that means he has more of a personality than Jim, even if it's a personality you've seen a thousand times before. On the other hand, Miller becomes obsessed with this dead/missing girl in a way that is painfully stereotypical Manic Pixie Dream Girl. Two things kept this from ruining Leviathan Wakes for me. One, Miller is at least somewhat self-aware about it: This was why he had searched for her. Julie had become the part of him that was capable of human feeling. The symbol of what he could have been if he hadn’t been this. There was no reason to think his imagined Julie had anything in common with the real woman. Meeting her would have been a disappointment for them both. And two, there's a twist near the end that allows Julie to finally have her own voice in the text, and not exist solely as Miller's imagined dependance on her. It takes almost half the book for Miller and Holden to finally cross paths, at which point the missing-girl mystery and the war plot combine and take a twist for a direction I DID NOT SEE COMING. I am ambivalent on whether to spoil this; on the one hand, I read it unprepared and it was incredibly awesome to experience it that way. On the other hand, I suspect this is information that will be a determining factor for many people on whether they want to read it or not. So: halfway through, Leviathan Wakes takes a wild jump and becomes about a zombie outbreak. I would not have previously thought that 'space opera' and 'zombie apocalypse' are two genres that should be combined, but the tension and excitement skyrocket once the book takes this turn, transforming it from average quality to 'I CANNOT STOP READING, MUST FIND OUT WHAT HAPPENS NEXT'. So, good choice! The sequence with Miller and Holden trapped on a small space station trying to sneak their way past zombie hordes is one of the most thrilling I've read in ages. Leviathan Wakes is the first book in a series (apparently it was originally supposed to be a trilogy, but there's currently eight books out with at least one more planned, along with a batch of short stories) and has also become a show on the Syfy network that I haven't seen. I feel like I've spent a lot of this review complaining, but honestly I mostly enjoyed the book and am planning to read the sequels. The fact that people seem to like the characters from future books more than these ones certainly doesn't hurt! Pig/Pork: Archaeology, Zoology and Edibility by Pia Spry-Marques. A nonfiction book about everything remotely related to the farming and eating of pigs. I expected from the subtitle and the author's personal background that archaeology would be the main focus, but it turns out that's really only the first two chapters, which cover the Paleolithic hunting of wild boar and the original domestication of pigs. The other chapters turn to topics as diverse as experiments on feeding farmed pigs leftovers from restaurants, the spread of foot-and-mouth disease, a special Spanish ham called ibérico de bellota which can only be fed acorns, genetically modifiying pigs so their manure would contain less phosporus, sunburn in pigs, minature pet pigs, organ donation between humans and pigs, the terrifying tapeworms to be acquired from eating raw pork, why pork is a 'white' meat, how to make sausages, theories on why pork is neither halal nor kosher, the use of an enzyme from pig pancreases in wine production, EU food-safety regulations on traditional pork dishes, Cuba's 'Bay of Pigs', the Pig War between the US and Canada in 1859, and Oliver Cromwell's favorite pig breed. Basically if it has the remotest connection to the title, Spry-Marques has included it. She even includes recipes for each chapter, though some of them are clearly more for amusement than actual consumption – I can't imagine anyone having just finished a chapter on how eating raw pork will give you cysts in your brain is eager to try figatellu, a type of uncooked sausage from France. And it would take a braver foodie than me to taste "Asian-inspired pork uterus with green onion and ginger". In fact, as is probably not surprising for any book which touches on factory farming however briefly, you will probably come away not wanting to eat pork at all for a while. Spry-Marques's writing is breezy and conversational, which kept me turning the pages even when the structure was a bit scattered. I wish it were more focused, but it's a great book for anyone who enjoys popular science, history, or food writing. I read this as an ARC via NetGalley. Song of Blood & Stone by L. Penelope. A YA fantasy novel with some unusual elements. Rather than being set in vaguely medieval England or a dystopian sci-fi future, we're in a country where the technology seems to be around 1900: cars and electric lights exist, but they're restricted to rich cities, and someone coming from rural poverty might well have never seen either. Magic exists, but comes from one's heritage; you're either born with it or not. In Elsira, where our story is set, it's rare to the point of nonexistence. Our heroine Jasminda, however, does have magic, due to her father having been a refugee from the neighboring country of Lagrimar, where magic is common. Elsira and Lagrimar have been constantly at war for hundreds of years, but are separated by a magical Barrier which allows no one to pass through, except on rare occasions when a temporary breach happens and violence erupts. Elsirans are light-skinned and Lagrimari are dark-skinned, so Jasminda has dealt with fairly severe racism throughout her life. The story starts when Jasminda runs across Jack, a Elsiran soldier just back from spying in Lagrimar who has super important information that must get back to the capital as soon as possible; unfortunately Jack has just been shot and is closely pursued by a troop of Lagrimari soldiers. Jasminda and Jack team up, fall in love, and try to prevent the coming outbreak of war. The most revealing thing I can say about Song of Blood & Stone is that it's very, very YA. (As you could probably guess, what with its title that fits exactly into the pattern of the 'YA title' meme currently going around tumblr.) Almost everything that happens is easily predictable from the back cover (Jack's long-withheld backstory is clearly supposed to be a shocking twist, but it's obvious from the moment he appears), the prose is mediocre but fine, good and bad guys are clearly signalled, the real world parallels (racism, treatment of refugees, domestic abuse) are good-hearted but extremely Social Justice 101. On the plus side, the beginning was the worst part and it got better and better as it went along; several developments near the very end were so interesting that I'm tempted to read the sequel, despite my initial boredom. Overall it's not a bad book, but I'd only recommend it to people who are extremely affectionate of the most repetitive tropes of the YA genre. I read this as an ARC from a GoodReads giveaway.

[DW link for easier commenting]

[harold-theyre-lezbians]

DO ALL THE SPACE ASKS MY FREN 🌍🌕🌟

THANKS FOR ASKING FREN

pluto: what do you love most about yourself?

I like that I’m determined and passionate I guess

mars: who is your ideal best friend?

probably my current bff - someone who I have a lot in common with but we still have our own interests that we tell each other about, and someone who I can have lots of fun and laughs with but also sit in silence and it be totally normal and lovely, and someone who I could spend days on end with and never feel drained or like I needed to get away for a minute

earth: what’s your ideal house/home?

I really can’t wait to decorate my own house when I’m older, and I’d really like a big Victorian house with the nice big rooms and tall ceilings and narrow hallways, they’re cool houses, and I’d just like books everywhere and big comfy sofas and chairs and lots of candles and cushions and big framed posters of my fave things (framed because I’d be an adult and adults frame shit otherwise you get your adult card revoked)

saturn: what’s your aesthetic?

I genuinely have never set out to have ‘an aesthetic’ like I’m just not that put together as a human, but due to who I am, it’s sort of morphed into ‘grandma meets english student’ - lots of shirts or jumpers, books and paper everywhere, many many notebooks, too many coffee mug stains on my bedside table and bookshelf and chest of drawers, polaroids, film prints, some fairy lights here and there - idk, I guess I like it, I didn’t really create it, it just evolved of its own accord out of my inability to stop buying books, my aggressive accumulation of paper, and my inability to drink hot drinks properly without staining surfaces - I did originally set out for a blue/white aesthetic in my room, that’s what I’ve always had, but it didn’t work unless my room was neat, and I’m not about that life, I tidy once a week or when I get anxious about the mess, and then I don’t know where anything is cause it’s tidy, so I moved away from the aesthetic that demanded neatness

jupiter: if you could choose your own name what would it be?

Idk, I like my name, and I’m not hugely creative, I do really like the Irish names that I’ve grown up around, like Niamh and Ceili and Sorcha

neptune: what’s an album that you can listen through entirely w/o skipping song?

most of the albums I listen to I do that with, but currently I’d say ‘The Last Five Years’ original cast recording - great musical

venus: go to piece of clothing/outfit?

my brown/beige wooly turtleneck, or my grey jumper, they’re so comfy

mercury: what’s something you couldn’t live without?\

tea, coffee, netflix, friends

uranus: what’s your zodiac sign?

Cancer

the moon: favorite quote?

uhhh idk it’s hard to choose, I really like ‘I want to do to you what spring does to cherry trees’ because yas Pablo Neruda coming up with something that is all at once so loving and caring but also erotic and passionate, I also like one of Leslie Knope’s lines in Parks and Rec ‘I am going to be direct and honest with you. I would like a glass of red wine and I’ll have the cheapest one you have because I can’t tell the difference’ because I honestly can’t

the sun: what motivates you?

Leslie Knope, Lilly Singh, fear of failing 

kepler-22b: if you could go anywhere, where would it be/why?

New York because it’s my dream city and I’ll live there one day and it’s full of culture and exciting things and things that make me happier than any of the other things and it’s a proper city, like London is so big it feels weird, but New York feels like proper city living. Also Iceland, that’d be cool 

phobos: what was your favorite song as a child?

The Voyage by Christy Moore because it’s soft and sweet and I’d fall asleep to it on car journeys

ceres: out of everyone/thing in this world, who would you elect president?

Eddie Izzard

titan: if you could die your hair absolutely any color and pull it off, what would it be?

Electric blue dip dye

callisko: what’s your ideal job?

Actress

enceladus: who is your favorite person? what are they like?

I’ve already talked about one of my bffs, so I’ll talk about my other one, Riyana. She’s super sweet and lovely, and she’s amazing at baking and always has something that she’s just baked to give to everyone. She’s great at knitting and made me socks and she taught me how to knit and now I know how and I feel like a grandma. She always gives the best hugs and advice and always makes me feel calm and centred. She is an awesome human

hyperion: do you have a favorite store/shop?

Waterstones and Oxfam have all of my money

comet: what’s your biggest secret?

why would I put that on tumblr

astroid: what’ your biggest fear? i there a reason why you’re scared of it?

Deep water - ohhh I’m so scared of it, nothing could actually be worse. It’s dark and DEATH CREATURES live there and you don’t know what’s under you and it’s so so deep like we can’t even fathom how deep it is, it’s so scary, and there’s no where to put your feet and it’s awful. I can just about deal with deep pools, but I will not take my feet off the ocean floor unless the water is crystal clear

shooting star: who is your ideal s/o?

someone who loves eddie izzard and b99 and neflix and cuddling and tea as much as I do

[mostly-plants]

Week 3 of eating vegan

Day 15 started with baking a couple of loaves of my new favourite bread: Caraway Rye Sourdough. It is soooo savoury and delicious, and develops such a beautiful rich chestnut colour when baked. I was taking one to a friend, and one was for the boyfriend and I to eat over the week.

Once the bread was out of the oven I travelled through the city to go to a workshop on plant based nutrition by Bloom Nutritionist, who my friend had recommended. The workshop was very informative and covered a range of key practical info, including recommendations to supplement a whole food vegan diet with B12, Algal Omega 3s, and a multivitamin to cover things like Iodine and Selenium. I got a lot out of the workshop, but I had made the mistake of not having lunch because I’d had a reasonably late breakfast, and wasn’t hungry - until I got to the workshop venue. I managed to score an apple at the event, but I got the brain-fades half-way through the talk, and then by the time I got home I was so hungry I ate a stack of food including Popcorn Tofu with chilli sauce, leftover vegan pizza, and a handful of these very un-nutritious cookies. Oops!

Day 16: I had some bircher muesli with blueberries for breakfast, and ordered some more fruit and veggies / pantry staples from CERES Fair Food. I had a late snack and then made wholemeal pasta with lentils and veggies for dinner, topped (of course) with a generous amount of Cashy-Cashy Parm-Parm. YUM!

Day 17 was a very busy day getting prepared for some upcoming work deadlines and then going to class in the evening, but because the fridge was stocked with leftover pasta that made lunch easy. The boyfriend and I were both finishing our days late, so we ended up meeting up in the evening and getting dinner from a local Mexican food place. Luckily they had good vegan options, but I did feel a bit sad not being able to just share our meals like we usually would. I think this was the first day that I started to feel challenged by eating vegan. For me it’s not the food part, because I love fruit, veggies, nuts and seeds (and yes, I love my legumes now too). I can imagine being fairly happy eating these things as the main components of my diet, but I realised I would really miss the positive feelings that comes with sharing the same food together with loved ones. In starting this challenge I had thought that the social aspect of eating vegan would be the most difficult part for me, and that’s probably the case. 

Day 18: Overall I’ve been feeling really good after eating vegan for two weeks - my energy levels are the same or better than they have been, I feel fine physically and mentally, my digestion is great, and weirdly I don’t seem to be sweating as much? (Not that this was particularly a problem before, it’s just my observation). I have been trying to read and listen to more information about the case for (or against) plant-based eating in order to weigh up the available evidence and decide whether to continue. 

Although I’m leaning towards more plant-based eating (mostly because of the environmental and welfare impacts of animal products), I do think I would struggle with not being able to share things with my partner, or participate in family dinners etc. in the same way. At the moment, I think I might end up settling on more of a flexitarian approach (i.e. mostly plant-based, but flexible on occasion). I guess I’ll see how I go with the rest of this challenge...

Day 19 I woke up a bit tired because I’d had coffee about 5pm the day before and was a bit too wired for sleep until about 3am. My bf had the opposite problem and woke up super early. Luckily, he somehow managed to be functional anyway, and because he is lovely I got coffee delivered right to my bedside <3 I made a quick breakfast of avocado on toast, and chopped up some raw veggies that needed using, to take with baba ganoush dip for lunch. I also packed some homemade granola, a bit of dark chocolate, an apple and a banana (I’m getting better at this “always have plenty of snacks available” thing.  Work was pretty hectic, so I didn’t get to have lunch until about 3:30pm when I realised I was getting pretty hangry. I felt much better after some food, and a little afternoon chocolate pick-me-up. I felt like something a bit different for dinner, so ended up making miso-glazed eggplant with garlic bok choy, and crumb-coated smoked tofu and sweet potato. I know that sounds super fancy, but actually it was mostly so I could use up the wilting bok choy at the back of the fridge (and bump up my calcium intake for the day!). 

The miso glaze for the eggplant is sooooooooo ridiculously good, and actually very quick and easy to make (my favourite combination in cooking!) We got the recipe from a vegetarian / vegan cooking class at Gourmet Kitchen Cooking School - I’d highly recommend their classes as something fun and special to do. Anyway, so, you want some miso glaze? (Spoiler alert: yeah, ya do). Just get a small saucepan and mix in: 2 Tablespoons of Miso Paste (I used white miso) 2 Tablespoons of sugar (or a neutral tasting liquid sweetener like agave syrup) 1 Tablespoon of Mirin 1 Tablespoon of Sake (I didn’t have this, so used Shaoxing Chinese cooking wine instead - it worked totally fine) Pop the saucepan on a low heat, stir/whisk the ingredients together, and in mere moments you will have your golden brown and delicious miso glaze! The eggplant gets sliced in half lengthways and roasted cut side down at 220c for about 30 mins. Then you turn the eggplant cut side up, and coat generously with miso glaze. Like... Seriously. Just pour that goodness all over everything, it is DELICIOUS! Pop the glazed eggplant halves back into the oven/under the grill for a few mins (watching that the glaze doesn’t burn), and then when you just can’t wait any longer, take them out of the oven, sprinkle them with some green spring onion and sesame seed, and try not to burn your mouth as you inhale that deliciousness!  The bok choy I (finally) learned how to cook properly from watching the Viet Vegan, and the crumbed tofu and sweet potato was just to use up the rest of the coating mixture from making Popcorn Tofu earlier this week. It was great! If you want to try this, I’d definitely recommend marinating your tofu beforehand, or dunking it in a really flavourful sauce afterwards, because although the crumb coating is tasty, the tofu itself doesn’t have much flavour. The sweet potato was a definite winner! No oil needed, just toss bite-sized pieces of raw sweet potato in your crumb/seasoning coating, and bake them in the oven at 220c for about 45 minutes. NOM. So, at the end of Day 19 I’m feeling good about kicking some nutrition goals, and eating some hella tasty food. Yay!

Day 20: I felt like something savoury for breakfast and since I had the luxury of working from home on Friday, I decided on a Mexican inspired breakfast, with a spicy mix of cooked black beans, onion, carrots, corn, topped with fresh tomato, chives and coriander, and (of course) guacamole. Tortillas from La Tortilleria because they are by far the best I’ve had. A very satisfying start to the day!

Lunch was nice and easy - leftover bok choy and sweet potato with steamed silken tofu and a quick miso dressing (1/2 tablespoon miso paste, 1/2 tablespoon mirin, 1/2 tablespoon maple syrup and 1/2-1 tablespoon of water to get the desired consistency. Then, because it was so tasty - more Mexican for dinner, along with some red wine and dark chocolate for dessert. :)

Day 21: BREAKING NEWS - Scrambled silken tofu with miso dressing and chives on toast is DELICIOUS. I know the recipes say to use firm tofu for scrambling, but personally I think silken tofu matches the texture of scrambled eggs more closely. The miso dressing works great in this, because it’s got the salty/savoury flavour going on, and the slight sweetness balances the slight bitterness that some tofu can have. Sold!

After breakfast we went to the markets to pick up a few ingredients for the bakesale we were doing on Sunday. We braved the supermarket on a Saturday, bought many kilos of flour and sugar, and then paid a visit to Trang for Banh Mi - they have stacks of vegan options so I’m keen to try more, but so far I can’t get past the vegan BBQ pork because it is so tasty!  I was pretty hungry by the time we ate so forgot to take a photo, but trust me - it is packed with lightly pickled veggies, fried spring onion and delicious magical vegan meat (I’m guessing they’re probably seitan-based, but I don’t know for sure).  Pretty much the rest of Saturday was spent baking a ton of things for Sunday’s bakesale, and “quality testing” the several batches of cookies I made. I also ate wayyyyyy too much cinnamon coffee icing while trying to get the right consistency to top the chocolate cupcakes I made. Whoopsies! So... I guess I’m proving that you can definitely be vegan and eat a bunch of junk food, but then you probably won’t feel so great afterwards. Eat your veggies, kids! 

[kxlinthesky]

Trope Tuesday

Happy Tuesday! My trope this week was “Prince Charming Wannabe”! I’m not sure how well I did it justice, but...well, that’s what TT is for! Experimentation and possible failure! So, for your enjoyment, a piece involving my own characters and setting.

Alan liked to think that after being around his eccentric classmates for a few months, he’d figured out some of their qualities by now. If Rilla wasn’t in her desk ten minutes before class, she was out sick. If Isa came in asking for Adolfo, the latter was in a world of (probably well-deserved) trouble. If Ceres wasn’t making eye contact, best to just leave her alone because she was not above giving people mild food poisoning.

Alan had figured out all of that and more, so when Gideon came bursting into class all sweaty and shouting something in half-gibberish, Alan just assumed that the guy was trying to summon demons again. This was the third time in two weeks.

“Guys! Guys, help! Agkh –”

Gideon barreled straight over to Alan’s area, ignoring Alan’s mild glares and subtle gestures that Gideon shouldn’t come over while he’s in the middle of working on forgotten homework with Rilla and Kam. His classmate, upon arrival, proceeded to slam all four of his hands on their joined desks, rattling Alan’s juice and upsetting a few of Kam’s papers.

Rilla barely glanced up from her work. “What’s the matter, Gideon?” she asked absently. “Ah, wait, Alan, I think this one’s an irregular.”

“Shit. Give it here.”

“Guys! Pay attention to me for a sec!” Gideon raised his four arms only to wave them wildly around his entire person. “Just – listen, you remember that guy I was talking about last Friday?”

“Prime-1, super tall and could probably break you in half?” Kam checked.

“Yeah! Him!”

Prime-1…oh, Alan vaguely remembered that conversation. He’d even seen him crossing campus once – he remembered the guy solely because his curled horns had reflected the sunlight and blinded Alan for a good three minutes.

“He’s after me again, just – hide me if he comes by!” Gideon crouched behind Rilla’s chair, receiving a conciliatory pat on his head from the latter and a barely-concealed snort from Kam. Gideon was far too tall to conceal much of himself behind one of the shortest girls in class, but he got props for effort. “And tell him I don’t wanna talk!”

Alan leaned back in his chair and stared Gideon right in the eyes, making sure his friend could perfectly see his raised eyebrow. “And you can’t do that yourself?”

“No! He doesn’t listen!”

“Okay, so maybe try harder?” Kam suggested lightly. She appeared to have given up completely on the homework; her entire body was leaning over their desks to have a proper conversation with Gideon. Alan could barely extract his worksheet. “Like, just putting this out there, you have electric powers. Give him a good zap and he’ll back off, maybe?”

“Dude, I tried that. I tried that!”

“And he didn’t give up?”

“No!”

“Ouch. You’ve got a masochist on your tail.”

“Guys,” Rilla interjected calmly, “I know this is interesting, but if we don’t get this done by the time lunch is over we’re gonna be in trouble.”

Kam clicked her tongue and leaned back. “Fine.”

The door to the classroom chose that exact moment to bang open. Alan barely suppressed a groan; the Prime-1 swaggered into the room, chin raised and teeth glinting in a proud grin. He could see why Gideon would run from this guy – he wasn’t threatening, necessarily just off-putting with his supposed confidence.

Once the Prime-1 caught sight of their little trio, he strode right over. Alan winced as the sunlight slanting in from the windows caught his horns – why were his horns so goddamn shiny and laser-guided to smack Alan right in his eyeballs? Rilla and Kam seemed fine, the assholes.

“’Scuse me,” the Prime-1 hummed, half-smug smirk tilting from one person to the next. Somehow, he hadn’t noticed Gideon. Alan chanced a glance back – oh, Gideon had crawled underneath the desks. “Name’s Peter. Ya know Gideon, right? This’s his class?”

“Yeah,” Rilla replied. She didn’t bother to look up. “What do you need him for?”

“Just lookin’ for him. I wanted to give him this.”

Alan nearly choked as Peter flourished his wrist to reveal a bouquet so massive it was a shocker anyone let him on campus without questioning it. The thing was half the size of Alan’s body!

“Holy shit, dude, where’d you get those?!” Kam leaped out of her seat and made a grab at the flowers. Leave it to the gardening club member to freak out over flowers. All they did was make Alan’s nose itch. Thankfully, Peter pulled them out of the way of Kam’s mad lunge, and the pollen and nose itch went with it. “Aww, come on, don’t be an ass, I just wanna see! Who’d you have to kill to grow those for you?”

“These ain’t for you,” Peter huffed. Alan didn’t much care for how he emphasized the “you” – Kam took some getting used to, sure, but she wasn’t an asshole like Peter seemed to be. “These’re for Gideon. Now, do you know where he is?”

Kam’s tail rose behind her. Alan shifted away just a hair – he figured she’d never actually do it, but being stung by her tail would hurt like hell. “Hey, buddy, no need to be a dick,” she growled.

“I’m not, I’m just more interested in Gideon than…you all.” Peter’s lip actually curled. Alan had never seen that before. “So? Yes or no? Or have I just wasted my time?”

Rilla grabbed Kam’s arm and forced her to sit back down. “Don’t cause a scene,” she chided her friend. To Peter, she answered, “We haven’t seen him since lunch started. Sorry.”

“Damn. Fine.” Peter stowed his bouquet away – how he had room for that in his bag was anyone’s guess – and marched out of the classroom as pompously as he’d arrived.

Alan whistled as soon as the door swung shut. “He’s an ass.”

“You’re telling me.” Gideon popped up from underneath the desks, sweat glistening on his brow. “I don’t think he’s even all that bad of a guy, he just doesn’t understand the word ‘no.’”

“If he doesn’t understand the word ‘no,’ he’s not a good guy,” Kam retorted, still bristling. “Didn’t even say ‘thanks,’ did you notice? I should go rough him up.”

“No one says ‘rough him up,” Alan muttered.

“I say ‘rough him up,’ so shut up.”

Rilla, Alan noticed, was staring at the door, mouth twisted into a pensive frown. He would’ve asked what she was thinking about, but the bell rang at that exact moment, sending everyone into a scramble to rearrange the desks.

Good thing he’d been doing his homework the whole time Peter had been around. Kam certainly hadn’t, and she had to deal with Miss Millson’s disappointment-fueled lecture.

--

The next day, interestingly enough, Rilla was four minutes later to class than usual. And Ceres, who usually didn’t bother to speak to Alan, greeted him amicably. Gideon came by at lunch to declare that Peter had been sent home for the day because of food poisoning.

Alan would ask if that was legal, or if he should maybe report it to the teachers, but…eh. He figured he’d let it slide just for today.

[capricornus-rex]

Playing Pretend (4)

Requested by: @calkesttiss​ | Prompt:

Hi! I just watched isi & ossi (rich girl and poor boxer boy AH) on netflix and now i cant stop thinking about cal and fake dating. Do with that what you will 😂

Cal Kestis x Reader

1 | 2 | 3 | Next: Part 5 | Masterlist

4 of ?

Cal found a way down the building and walked his way back to the Mobara Palace, one of the few cantinas in the Capital that have docking bays. The Mobara Palace was one of the biggest in the city too; occupying a whole block to cover the bar itself as well as the elaborate network of paths that connect the bays to one another, with the cantina at the starting point of it all.

The Mantis’s entrance ramp hissed and lowered, opening the door before him. An aromatic waft was the first to welcome him upon his entry.

“Looks like Greez is cooking something good,” he comments to BD-1.

As he entered the ship, Greez’s dual pairs of arms were all over the pantry and yet each arm was carefully distributed to a certain task in cooking.

“Smells good, Greez!” Cal beamed.

“Oh good, you’re just in time for dinner—with all that wandering around you’re doing, you’re probably hungry,”

He joined the others at the table as soon as Greez lifted the pot from the stove and served everyone their own plates. The meal was solemn and yet there was a warm aura emanating around them. Cal decided to up the mood by striking a conversation.

“How long do you guys still think we’re gonna stay here until this blows over?”

A silence at the dinner table. Cere’s eyes shifted, she searched Greez’s face and studied his reaction toward Cal’s question. There was only one possible and realistic answer, but the boy doesn’t seem to concur with it.

“Cal,” she clears her throat. “You do understand why…”

Before she could even reiterate her question, Cal already knew this mere dinner table conversation was going to be another lecture.

“I know. We’re hiding from the loan shark that Greez borrowed the money from to get this ship,”

It was an embarrassing truth, but a truth nonetheless. Greez felt like the situation required him to say a piece.

“Look, kid, we can scrape by with what we have. I mean, I still got coin on me—but not that enough to cover the loan plus with its interest!”

“Odd jobs, honest jobs, aren’t gonna cut it in a short time, Greez. At least you would know that, of all people,” Cal argued.

Cal had been wandering around the city looking for a quick way to earn some coin in the quickest way possible. The downtown and underground areas of the planet had some questionable methods of earning money—but they were easy money. Although Cal had grown up with street smarts, part of that knowledge is when and where a solution is either a real solution or another problem later on.

“You know the Sabacc, don’t ya?” Greez whispered with the left corner of his mouth directed to Cal.

“Greez, we are not going with gambling!” Cere sternly exclaimed. The impact of her fork dropping against the plate was just as scary as a fist landing on the table like a gavel.

There was another silence amongst them again. Cere continued on with her own piece.

“We cannot endanger anyone in our crew with something that won’t be worth our while. I don’t mind pretending to be some stranger in a different name just so we can have someplace to stay safe together. But I will not allow anybody in this ship to get into something that would jeopardize themselves or the crew altogether, understand?”

Cere’s outburst hardened the silence. Everybody understands that she hasn’t outgrown her military discipline from her days of participating in the Clone Wars—and she’s utilizing them in predicaments such as these amongst the Mantis crew members.

These episodes of hers were occasional, therefore it made her unpredictable, intimidating, but somehow her aggressive delivery doesn’t outweigh her rationale or true motive. Everybody—Cal, Greez, Merrin, and ultimately BD-1—knew that she means well and that she always will.

Cere processed what just had happened with her. She attempted to recompose herself in the midst of the awkwardness. She cleared her throat.

“I’m sorry… I didn’t mean to yell.”

“It’s fine, Cere,” Greez consoles.

The dinner proceeds. Cal wondered if the girl he met yesterday and bumped into just now would be a better subject to talk about.

“I met someone last night. Bumped into her again,”

All heads turn to Cal.

“She frequents a pub not too far from here. I always see her near or inside that place. Maybe if I bump into her again, I’ll ask her where I can find a place to get some cash—and a clean one at that,”

“Are you sure she is to be trusted?” Cere maintained her stern tone even after recomposing herself.

Cal was so sure of his judgment about you. He recalled the moments where you two were together. He felt your kindness and compassion—he knew of your good intentions, you meant no harm—but he also sensed some sort of sadness in you.

“You probably have heard of Senator Bail Organa?” Cere takes the conversation reins.

Cal shrugs, “Yeah sure, I know him. I saw him sometimes in the Senate Building in Coruscant.”

“Well, he knows of our presence here—don’t worry, he doesn’t know about the loan shark at our tail—and he’s invited us to a social function,”

“Social function?” Cal raised his eyebrow at Cere’s unusual choice of word.

“Apparently, this party was being held by a colleague of his. Perhaps they needed to fill the guestlist,”

“Proxies,”

“Exactly.”

“How bad can a few no-show guests be? It’s not like it’s gonna dent their bank account when the catering bill comes!” Greez dryly joked and it was the received likewise.

In light of this new announcement, Cal began to wonder how long does he have to stay in the party before he could sneak back out in the streets and find the unusual girl who had to drag him up a rooftop from the Tipsy Taun-Taun just to ask for some self-defense moves.

The following days passed until the day of the banquet has come. That morning, your mother personally made sure that you don’t sleep in and get yourself ready as quickly as possible. She also announced that the stylists are coming in half an hour.

“Mom, I’m perfectly capable of doing my own makeup!” You detest despite still being groggy from being woken up without your consent.

You force yourself out of bed so that you could take a shower. Unfortunately, you didn’t have the luxury of staying too long in the bath—however, you sorely wished you did. You slid deeper into the cold, ivory and gold-trimmed bathtub until only your eyes are on the surface.

A pounding on the door disturbed your watery peace.

“[y/n], hurry up!” your mother growled from the other side.

“Almost done!” you cried back.

You were actually done minutes ago, you only chose to soak yourself for a bit longer with the wishful thinking that they’ll never realize that you’ve locked yourself in your own bathroom. You’d love that though.

“No one could ever go wrong with black,” you muttered as you pulled out an off-shouldered black cocktail dress with stars and planets embroidered with golden thread.

You made quick work of yourself. You did your hair and makeup: applying minimal makeup as possible, you wore your hair down and clipped a silver headband on both ends with four tiers of golden cords hanging over on top of the other. Staring back at yourself in the mirror, a brush in your hand slides down to the length of your hair; with every stroke, you ponder if all this your parents are doing is ever worth it either for themselves or for the family.

You sigh for an answer, or lack thereof. Afterwards, you donned the dress and the shoes—both pieces were in black. The finishing touch—a personal one at that—was a pair of leather fingerless gloves.

“Here goes nothing,” a mantra you tell yourself before exiting your room in attendance to any social gathering you were obliged to attend.

The party started without you. No surprise in that, you thought. Nevertheless, you made your way to ballroom where the chatter of the guests became more and more audible yet incoherent as their voices meddled.

Immediately, you searched for Tazha in the room. She wasn’t easy to miss. Her glittering dress outshines everyone else’s, literally making her a beacon for you to easily see her. You walk up to her.

“Oh you look great!” she compliments.

“Thanks, you too,”

Suddenly, one of the Ithrel sons, Logan who was the third son and was the same age as you, appears ot be walking toward you with what you thought is the stupidest grin you’ve ever seen on a face. He comes in strong by grabbing you by the waist, reel you in for a kiss except you successfully dodged it with your gloved hand.

“Logan? What the hell are you doing?!”

“Well, your mom paid me to flirt with you until you end up falling in love with me, I’ll have a chance in the Junior Legislator’s Program! Plus, we get to support your family until your dad becomes Senator or whatever, I mean, we don’t have a choice on that, we just gotta roll with it,” he beamed with an imbecile’s optimism. “Big bonus if we ever get married though. I mean, she wanted that to happen. So, marry me?”

“Hold up. She did what now?”

Logan repeated your own mother’s plan, he reiterated that this part wasn’t even in the original agreement. Your mother had to negotiate her way through the Ithrels in promising a much stronger bond of support to your family—therefore, you became a sacrificial lamb.

You and Tazha exchanged glances. Both of you communicated clearly through the furrows of your brows and the hard rolling of your eyes. A gradual burst of rage was flowing in your bloodstreams.

“Oh my God, this is just sad and pathetic of you, Logan,” Tazha condescendingly comments.

“I’m gonna give her a piece of my mind tonight,” you growled, your knuckles were white from gripping the bannister too hard.

You searched for your mother in the ballroom. When you spotted her and your father speaking with some guests, you marched through the sea of people until you reached her.

“Mother, may I speak with you?”

Yasina excused herself from her guest and she was in for a surprise with what is about to go down.

“You paid one of the Ithrel sons to date me?! Because you thought that would strengthen your connection with them just so Dad can secure his win in the election? You did this without me knowing? Whatever the hell happened to consent, Mom!?”

“[y/n] Elvas Torvel, I do not allow you to speak to me with a tone like that in an important event like this!” Yasina hissed, struggling to maintain her composure—both mentally and physically—after just being bombarded with questions by her daughter.

“Did you even ever stop to think how I’d feel if you paired me with a complete imbecile?!”

“[y/n], honey, please listen,” your father intervenes but the argument was heating up between you and your mother.

“The Ithrels are a good family. They uphold a clear reputation. We Torvels and Ithrels would be a great collaborative enterprise,”

“You don’t see the problem here, Mom? I don’t want to get married!”

Yasina was silent. Her face was completely aghast: her eyes wide open, her lip was trembling as if wanting to say something but couldn’t because of so much nerves thrashing underneath her skin.

“You will not ruin this event for your own selfish, adolescent needs, young lady. We are not finished with this discussion.”

“Don’t worry, I don’t plan on ending it soon.”

You walked out from your parents. Turning your back on them to wipe away the tears that was welling up in your eyes.