#Tinker chronometer

[cqkevkat]

Hey so im back from artblock🗣🗣

While I was at the time, I thought about that I never EVER actually made an official oc for dandys world, and I always leave a fandom with an oc bro.

Anyways here's tinker chronometer, she's a pocket watch.

Her hobbies and interests are based on inventors and (as what her name's suggests) she's a trinket tinkerer or tinker uhhh whatever.

Her relations???? UhhhIdk yet leave me alone😔

[swaps55]

Mezzo - 03 - Know Your Devils

Pairing: mshenko | Rating: M Tags: Canon-typical violence, trauma, dealing with your problems poorly, body autonomy struggles   Summary: The twists and turns of ME2, through the eyes of everyone but Commander Shepard. Chapter Summary: Kaidan and Joker meet devils they know, and devils they don’t. Jacob and TIM have a heart to heart.

Thank you, @sinvraal for betaing!

Chapter 3: Know Your Devils | Read on Ao3

27 October 2185, Serpent Nebula, Widow System, Citadel

Kaidan wakes up with a start in the dark of his temporary quarters on the Citadel, heart hammering, the pleading voice of David Archer still ringing in his ears.

(Please, make it stop!)

He exhales, grinding the heels of his palms against his eyes and then wiping the sweat from his brow with a shaking hand.

Rogue geth. Cerberus scientists playing god. David Archer, hardly more than a kid, strung up on a dais begging for help.

“Fuck,” he mutters under his breath before getting out of bed. The chronometer reads 05:42, which isn’t much better than the 02:15 he’d seen before finally closing his eyes.

Not much point in giving sleep another try. The debriefing is scheduled for 07:00 sharp, and he still has some notes to put together.

A quick shower and a fresh uniform later he’s ordering coffee from a kiosk on the Presidium, blinking resentfully into the Presidium’s eternally bright afternoon lighting. To his surprise, a familiar face sits at one of the nearby tables, brooding into her own cup of coffee. At the sight of Kaidan, she pushes the chair across from her out with a foot.

“You’re up early,” Kaidan says, sliding into the offered seat. Muriel Aslany scowls at him over her nearly empty cup.

“Didn’t bother sleeping. Went for a walk instead.”

“A walk? We got here four hours ago.”

“It was a long walk.”

Kaidan grunts. “Where’s Pendergrass?”

“Tinkering with that geth electronic countermeasures mine thingy last I checked.”

“The damping mine?”

“Yeah. She wanted to improve on it. Didn’t like that you got singed.”

Kaidan rubs his shoulder, then shrugs it in a circle. The doc on the Ain Jalut had healed the burn, but the skin is still tender. He hasn’t let himself even think about the repair his armor is going to need yet. Too much else to triage, first.

Read from the beginning | Read the rest on Ao3 | The Mezzo Playlist

[ourrobotculture]

Chapter Two: The Inventor's Secret

The small room behind Elizabeth’s shop was filled with the scent of oil and metal, a testament to the countless hours she spent tinkering with her creations. As John stepped inside, his gaze was immediately drawn to the myriad of gadgets and blueprints that adorned the space. It was a stark contrast to the dusty streets outside.

Elizabeth watched him with a mixture of pride and anticipation. “Welcome to my sanctuary,” she said, gesturing to the workbench cluttered with tools and parts. “This is where I bring my ideas to life.”

John approached a curious device that resembled a clock, but with additional gears and a series of intricate dials. “What’s this?” he asked, unable to hide his intrigue.

“That,” Elizabeth began, her eyes lighting up, “is my latest project. It’s a chronometer, but not just any chronometer. It’s designed to measure time in a way that accounts for the variances caused by gravitational fields. It’s still a prototype, but I believe it has potential.”

John was impressed. “That’s remarkable. You’re far ahead of your time, Elizabeth.”

She shrugged modestly. “Necessity is the mother of invention, they say. I’ve always been fascinated by the concept of time. It’s the one thing that seems constant, yet it’s the most elusive.”

As they talked, John couldn’t help but feel a sense of kinship with Elizabeth. Her intellect and passion for discovery mirrored his own. It was a rare connection, one that transcended the boundaries of time.

“Elizabeth, there’s something I need to tell you,” John said, taking a deep breath. “I’m not just from another town. I’m from another time. The 22nd century, to be precise.”

Elizabeth’s expression was one of curiosity rather than shock. “I had my suspicions,” she admitted. “Your clothing, your mannerisms, and of course, the Tipler cylinder. It’s unlike anything I’ve ever seen.”

John nodded, relieved by her calm reaction. “I’m here because of an experiment. I wanted to see if time travel was possible, and it seems I’ve succeeded. But now, I’m not sure how to return.”

Elizabeth’s eyes were thoughtful. “Perhaps we can help each other. I have theories, ideas that could benefit from your knowledge of the future. And in return, I could assist you in finding a way back.”

It was an offer John couldn’t refuse. Together, they could unravel the mysteries of time. And perhaps, in the process, they would uncover secrets about themselves and the world they thought they knew.

As the sun set outside, casting long shadows across the room, John and Elizabeth poured over blueprints and equations, their minds alight with possibilities. The adventure had truly begun, and there was no telling where it would lead.

[anakinlove]

Hi wow okay, so I definitely cried whilst writing this. I absolutely took this great romantic prompt and deSTROYED IT I am so sorry anon 😭😭

If enough people come into my ask box and yell it me I could be persuaded to write a part 2 happy ending 😌

✨requests are open✨

See my Valentine’s Day post!

My Masterlist

(Join my taglist in my bio!)

Set It Free

1.5k words (angst)

Sometimes, when Y/n thought about her boyfriend, she thought about the avril. Native to Yavin 8, the bird was a large hawk-like lifeform. It was beautiful as it soared high in the air. Being the top of its food chain, the avril was also ferocious, swooping in and killing its prey in one bated breath. Anakin was a lot like the avril, both beautiful and ferocious, and so completely beyond Y/n.

She wonders now, how she had ever let herself fall so completely for him. But then, there always was something so freeing about his smile, his eyes. Y/n remembers with such clarity the first time she saw that smile,

“Hey! Y/n, wait up!” Y/n whipped around, looking for the source of the voice, only to see Anakin Skywalker jogging after her. 

“Skywalker. To what do I owe the pleasure?” Y/n raised her eyebrow at the boy, looking him over. She couldn’t deny that he was attractive, but with his usually shorn hair overgrown he looked a bit like a narglatch. 

“Well, I uh, I noticed you looked confused today in class?” That was funny. In all her years of classes with Anakin, Y/n had never known him to stumble over his words. The boy was always so confident, cheeky even. 

“I guess you could say that. The Huttese dialect is much more…” Y/n bounced her head, looking for the right word, “well, less refine than basic.”

Anakin snorted, looking down at his toes. He didn’t say anything. Y/n waited for him to speak but he just stood there, looking down.

“Skywalker?” Y/n prompted. Anakin whipped his head up.

“I was just going to offer, as I’m fluent, if you might want a tutor?” Anakin said softly. Y/n was thoroughly confused with the Anakin was acting. First, he stumbles over his words, and now one could say he looked bashful! Still, she really was awful with Huttese, and of course she knew the Chosen One to be from Tatooine, therefore he must know the language well.

“Yeah, okay, I’d really appreciate the help. Does today in about four standard-hours work?” Y/n smiled up at him.

“Yeah, yeah that works great!” Anakin grinned, bouncing up and down, “Sorry, but I’m late for meditation with my Master, I have to go!” He looked one last time in Y/n direction and walked back the way he came.

Y/n could only stand there, speechless. In all of the time she’s known him, she couldn’t remember ever seeing him smile like that. It left her breathless, standing like a fool in the middle of the hall, staring after him. 

Looking back on it now, it was so clear to tell that he had just wanted to spend time with her. Get to know her, be her friend. He never had that many friends in the temple, Y/n knows. Choosing to spend his time with Master Kenobi or tinkering with droids in his quarters. Sometimes spending time with Aayla Secura, but only when they both had time, which was few and far between.

Y/n reached their shared apartment, separate from the Temple. It was eight months ago when Anakin suggested finding someplace where they could be themselves, away from the rules of the Jedi. Together, they found this place. It was small, but it was them. It was Anakin’s boots by the door, his tools scattered randomly, oil staining parts of the carpet no matter how much either of them scrubbed. It was Y/n’s robe by the door, her favorite mug left on the counter from her morning coffee, hair ties left in every crevice of the couch. 

Y/n’s heart hurt looking around the room, and his smell suffocated her, leaving her more choked up than she already was. She looked at the chronometer on the counter, its time indicated that Anakin should be home, and squared her shoulders. She found him just where she knew he would be, hunched over his desk, fiddling with something so small It should have been impossible.

She stood in the door, watching him, for what felt like an eternity. Taking in the pattern of his curls today, the way he bounced his knee, and the back of his shoulders as they rose and fell with each breath. She knew that he knew she was there. He was so attuned with the force that he probably felt her four blocks away. His power was unimaginable. He was radiant, a glowing force that any force-sensitive could have felt him from a mile away. All the more reason, for Y/n to not be the one to dampen him. 

After a while, or probably when he finished whatever he was doing, he placed his project down and stretched. If Y/n wasn’t already devastated, she might have laughed at just how many joints he popped with one movement. It was a wonder that Y/n had managed to shield her feelings from him so well, knowing that he should have felt what was wrong the second he felt her. 

“Hi, angel, how was your day?” Anakin finally looked up, a smile softening his features. Y/n could say nothing, staying in the doorway. 

“Y/n?” Anakin stood, slowly walking over to her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her in. Just for a second, Y/n told herself, you can indulge yourself for only a second. Y/n steeled herself, forcing herself to pull away. 

“What’s wrong? What’s happened?” Anakin scrunched his eyebrows, staring down at her. He was unnerved at how blank she was, scared even.

Wanting it all to be over, to be able to never have to do it again, Y/n prepared herself to speak. 

“I think,” she paused to try to control her tears, “I think we should stop.” And there, the words that had been controlling her all day were finally out. 

“Stop? Stop what?” Anakin’s voice was measured, words slow. 

“This. Us” Y/n looked down, unable to look him in the eyes. 

“Us. Us? Why? Why would you ever think that? What’s happened? Have I done something? Y/n you can’t just walk in and say that what is it?” Frantically Anakin tried to catch her eyes, ducking his head down into her view. Y/n shook hard, doing everything she could to hold in her breakdown, despite her efforts, tears began to track down her cheeks. She took measured breaths, counting each one. 

“I cannot be the one to hold you back.” Her voice cracked, more tears leaking through.

“Hold me back? Hold me back from what? You could never hold me back! If anything, I’m where I am because of you!” Anakin raised his voice but didn’t shout. 

“No, Anakin, you deserve to be the greatest jedi of them all, to have everything you’ve ever wanted. I cannot take that away from you. I won’t.” Y/n voice shook, but she was determined as ever, trying to just make him understand that this was for him. Not her. 

“But I want you, not to be some… some great jedi! I want you.” He pleaded. 

“Anakin you don’t understand, your place is on a throne!” Y/n sobbed, backing away from him. 

“No, my place is by your side!” He walked towards her, reaching for her. She evaded his every attempt, solid in her decision. 

“Y/n, please, stop. Come back, think about this. Let’s talk about this.” Anakin begged. 

“There’s nothing to talk about, Ani. This is all for you, for your life.” She replied. 

“But I don’t want this!” Anakin tried again, once more advancing. 

Y/n shook her head and backed further away, towards the door. Taking a quick look around the room, she thought of every happy memory here. All the times they cuddled on the couch, the one Life Day they spent here, every moment. Each called to her, and she longed to answer, to stay. But she couldn’t.  Looking once more at Anakin, at his state of disarray. The tears in his eyes, his hair mussed from his hands, his body shaking. It broke her more than any of the words she said did. 

“I’m sorry.” Y/n cried, turning around for the final time, grabbing her robe and walking out of the door. 

“Y/n! Y/n wait!” Anakin lurched forward, desperately calling out for her. By the time he reached the door, she was gone. He fell to his knees then and cried. Cried for Y/n, for their life, for the ring he was working on a room over.

As Y/n walked away, hood drawn, she thought once again of the avril. Free to soar high above, without anything shackling him to the ground. A force of nature, unbelievable, and so, so beautiful. 

Taglist:

@anakinswhore @gonnakickanakinskywalker @etherealsanakin @ani-skyvvalker @haydens-moles @anakinshmanikin @anakinsprincess @agent-catfish-kenobi @saltybreaddream

[whirlybirbs]

;   ---   SHATTERED HILT   /   01

summary: ru’kali survives order 66. cal kestis does, too. while cal spends his days on bracca, stripping starships for parts, ru spends her days earning her protection from the empire in the fighting pits on ordo eris; both do what it takes to survive. but, when a wayward quest and a plethora of owed debts lead cal kestis straight back to his fellow padawan -- a once shy girl turned raging fire -- the pit fighter is left with a choice: leave, or spend the rest of her life a pawn in a game much bigger than her. pairing: cal kestis / original female character, ru’kali lof word count: 2k a/n: i cannot remember the last time i wrote something that wasn’t a reader-insert, and i’m not sure how this will do -- feedback is genuinely appreciated on this, since i know i’m mostly a reader writer! everyone loved ru from her intro to my clone trooper squad, which you can read here! 

Ru’kali Lof startles awake to the sound of three loud, rough bangs on the door to her quarters. 

She wonders bitterly, as she blinks up at the ceiling, if she can just ignore the sound. With any luck, they’ll leave her alone and Ru can go back to bed --

Then, the knocks come again. Louder and faster. 

“Rise ‘n’ shine, sweetheart!”

Ru snarls.

Beneath the durasteel door, she can see the long shadow of someone shifting back and forth in their boots -- immediately, the Mirialan, as she stands and throws herself to the door, knows it’s Atticus. The sheer bombastic chaos that follows the bounty hunter swims through the force to greet her before she even opens the door.

When she does, he’s got an arm on the doorframe and he’s leering. 

Atticus Rex isn’t much to look at, nor is he kind nor smart, but he’s muscle -- his head is shaved in a tight buzz, littered with scars, and his muzzled grin is picked clean with a toothpick that hangs from his lips. 

He smells like day-old ale and sweat.

“Where y’ been, Ru?”

It leaks out of him like a jab. She has to restrain the snarl that threatens to leap across her face. Her attitude is sharp and wants to go straight for the Haxion Brood Lieutenant’s throat. 

“Asleep,” she bites, crossing her arms and cocking a hip as she goes to hit the switch and shut the door, “Do you mind?”

Atticus snorts, hand planted on the frame and forcing the door to stay open. 

Ru leans back, peering into her room, to eye the chronometer hanging on the wall. The digits read 1038 -- it’s late, and she’d finally fallen asleep after she’d managed to quiet down the usual roaring river in her mind. Not an easy task. 

"Get dressed,” the Bounty Hunter chirps, “S’ fight night, sunshine.”

--

Fight nights were common.

But, fight nights were Ru fought? Those were rare -- and though she’s sure Sorc Tormo would put her in the ring every night if he could, she’s also aware that to the Umbaran crime-lord she’s an asset. A big asset. A big, money-making asset that draws a big crowd and big bets.

Huge bets.

(The exact kind of bets that got Greez Dritus into this mess in the first place, and by proxy his new-found friend.)

Ordo Eris, on fight nights, becomes more like a city than the cold, lonely, terrible astroid colony it really is. The space station fills with scoundrels and thugs from all across the galaxy who traverse the rocky space around the arena’s hub to get a spot around the ring -- Ru eyes the growing crowd, nearly every attendee with credits in hand, as the lift carries her upwards to the top level of the arena’s loge.

Beside her Atticus flicks the smoldering bud of his deathstick down the shaft.

Speaking of Sorc Tormo, the sleaze ball greets Ru’kali with wide open arms and a devious grin. 

“Ah! My prized warrior princess!”

Ru cross her arms and swaggers forward -- the small rope of lucky beads tied to her sash tinkers as she does, knocking against the chromium smelted hilt of one of her two sabers. One is hers from when she was a Padawan. The other is a recent build and it’s temperamental. Using a stolen, mined kyber crystal is to blame, no doubt.

Master Yoda was right -- the crystals are supposed to pick the Jedi. 

Atticus meanders along behind you. Skulking as per usual.

Ru looks out past the arena to the screens bolted up along the pit. Pale blue eyes narrow tightly, the deep scar over her right eye warping slightly as she does. The broadcast is in the lower levels. Some idiot running around on the walls. Plugging wires in. 

A show, for sure.

Ru raise a brow.

“What’s all this about?” she asks, turning to eye Sorc Tormo.

The Umbaran man is eccentric, to say the least. His facial hair runs right down his chin in one fine line, green in color. That same green, punchy and vomit-reminiscent, echoes in his Canto Bight-esque outfit. Large, pompous sleeves and pants that are three sizes too tight. All green. 

He looks like seventy kliks of bad road, honestly. 

Hell, everyone on Ordo Eris does. 

Ru’kali is no exception -- she’s rougher than she was when she first arrived here. Littered in scars and bitter. The years of pit fighting have settled in her stance and though she’s athletic, she’s a rogue brawler with enough crackling, dangerous rage to power an entire Star Destroyer.

Fighting takes the edge off. Makes her feel less afraid. 

“Well,” the lone, pale fingers of the Umbaran curl around Ru’kali’s pale pink shoulders, nails drumming against the diamond shaped markings there, “I am glad you asked, my dear. We have a special contender for you --”

“Cut to the chase, Tormo.”

The egg shaped head of the Umbaran rolls as he steps away, waving off Ru’s evident irritation; the crime-lord gestures to the screen. “He’s friends with someone who owes me a lotta money. He was carrying this around --”

His fingers snap twice.

“Atticus --”

Ru’kali was not expecting Atticus Rex to procure, from the back of his belt, a lightsaber.

And she certainly wasn’t expecting him to hand it to Tormo and for the Umbaran to ignite it, presenting a glimmering yellow blade. 

The Mirialan’s face falls -- anger bubbles up there, warping the navy tattooed features of her face as she steps forward and yanks the hilt from the hands of the crime-lord.

Her lips twitches.

“What?” she sneers vengefully, “Did he pull this from a corpse, then?”

She has seen another Jedi’s saber three times now in this station. Once on the belt of a traveler who’d laughed in her face and waved the blue thing around, proudly proclaiming they’d bought it off clone trooper for drinking money. The second time, on a bounty hunter -- he’d murdered a Jedi Knight for Imperial credits, kept the blade though. The third, was now. 

Ru could only assume the weapon to be another stolen relic, a ground-in-the-dirt memory of her life before Ordo Eris. This contender probably had no idea how to use it, let alone the life this saber had before now.

A laxidasical wave. “Maybe. Don’t care. But! My sweet, sweet, Jedi -- I want you to kill him. Seeing two saber swordsmen dueling... Goodness, me oh my, that will certainly bring in the money, won’t it, Atticus?”

“Sure will.”

And it does.

--

Cal Kestis is having a pretty shit day.

Not that he’d ever say so -- no, because, sure, it might be terrible and he might be navigating some wild underground dungeon maze, but Cal has BD-1 back on his shoulder and that’s all that matters. 

He’s got a mission, he’s got BD-1, and despite being a little sore, he’s good. All good. Everything’s good. Totally good. 

As he rides the lift to the upper levels of this... place... Cal wonders if he’s gonna eat that sentiment.

The first thing he hears is the chants -- raucous roars of a large crowd. Before him lays a large square space, illuminated by stark spotlights and swarmed with drone droids, each with blinking red lights on their helms to show their recording status. 

It becomes abundantly clear to Cal that he’s suddenly in the spotlight. And, that the itching feeling that he was being watched was correct. 

The redheaded Jedi steps out from under the bay, suddenly exposed to the bright light of the arena. 

Around him on the upper decks are hundreds of people, all clamoring to get a view of him -- the large screens on the sides of the loge show him squinting, raising a hand and grimacing into the light. 

BD-1 gives a worried boowoop. 

“I got a bad feeling about this too, lil’ buddy.”

Suddenly, a holo-projection fizzles in before Cal -- large and tall and to the excitement of the crowd. The man’s appearance is met with a rise in cheers, rolling off the voices of the spectators with thirst for action. 

Sorc Tormo laughs.

“Ah, finally he arrives!” 

The projection waves wildly, spinning about, and Cal watches carefully as this eccentric ego-maniac waves his hand with a grandiose flourishes as he speaks. 

“We had action on how long it would take for you to get here!”

Yeah, well, BD-1 was kinda his priority.

Irritation bites at Cal’s features. The Jedi scowls. His stance is tense.

“And who are you?” Cal calls out, voice rising over the roar of the crowd.

“Ha ha ha! Who am I? I’m Sorc Tormo, baby! I’m the boss of this operation!”

The crowd goes wild at that, whoops and hollers serenading the arena to the tune of the crimelord’s name. A television drone swoops close to Cal’s head and the Jedi side-steps it with a disgusted look on his face. 

“Right,” Cal snarks, “Is that supposed to mean something to me?”

“Maybe not you, but to your friend Greezy Four-arms it does! You’ve got him to thank for gettin’ you into this pickle!”

Of course. 

Cere had made a comment off-hand about the pilot’s penchant for gambling -- not that Cal was any stranger to the concept. Back on Bracca, Prauf had muscled Cal into tagging along to a few card games here and there. And though the redhead never partook in wagering his entire week’s pay on precious metals, Prauf had once or twice. On those nights that Prauf lost -- because he always lost -- there was nothing that could lift the Abednedo’s mood. 

Not even a signature Cal Kestis smile 'n’ pat on the back. 

Cal could use one of those right about now. 

“Yeah, well, once I’m finished with you, I will thank Greez,” it comes out just as cocky as it feels -- and maybe Cal shouldn’t had tried the attitude. 

Either way, when this Sorc Tormo guy laughs and waves his hand, proclaiming, “No, no, my friend, you won’t be fighting me...”

Suddenly, the air becomes electric.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the crime-lord turns on a heel, gesturing to the crowd with the all the practiced cool of an entertainer, “Our lovely little guest will be going head to head with our favorite...”

There’s a crescendo of excitement. Cal notices an uptick on the counter on the broadcast screens -- he realize, quickly, that they’re bets and currently, someone named Fropolo’f is betting the most money against him. Real confidence booster that is. 

“Someone get baby his toy! He’s gonna need it!”

His lightsaber is launched from the loge, and the Jedi catches it quickly, igniting it on instinct as his skin crawls in anticipation. The redhead looks around, eyes cast on the crowds of smugglers and thugs lining the balcony.

The wide angle shot of fear on his face is painted across the rumbling arena’s screens.

Before Cal can bite in a retort, the echo of boots on durasteel begins -- coordinated and rhythmic. Boom... boom... boom... boom, boom, boom.

“You know her well -- a pure whirlwind of rage! She’s pink, she’s tatted, she’s daaaaaaaangerous!” 

Boom-boom-boom. Boom-boom-boom.

BD makes a nervous boo-weeeeeeeep as the pace picks up. Cal swallows, gloved fist tightening nervously around the hilt of his glowing, golden blade. Green eyes dart around the square expanse of the arena, trying to get a gauge on where this opponent might appear from --

“Give it up for our girl...”

Boomboomboom, boomboomboom. 

“RUUUUUUUU’KALLLLI!”

The roar is deafening. 

Suddenly, the paneling in the floor separates, and from it emerges --

“...Ru?”

Ru’kali Lof is suddenly staring face-to-face with a ghost.

Her stance, wide-set with double blades humming in a hot white, seems to crack when she finally sees the face of her opponent.

She’s a handful of meters away but she’d know that flash of red hair anywhere.

Cal Kestis.

Cal fucking Kestis.

Oh, this is bad. 

This is really bad. 

[vegetacide]

TaG: Bloodlines (Part 7.. )

Veg • notables: Any errors in this are strictly my own

Ty to @gumnut-logic and @scribbles97 for the brainstorming help and the encouragement.

Previous: Part 1 | Part 2 Bit 1 & Bit 2 | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6

Rating and General warning: Mature content head. If you are not a fan of medical issues of a female nature in relation to pregnancy please proceed with caution.

Characters: Virgil, Kayo, (V/K)  Jeff, Scott and Grandma.

Location: TaG-verse AU | Tracy Island

E N J O Y

8-8-8

Part 7 Kesalahan

The quiet tinny sound of music and a steady bass beat were the first things Kayo noticed as she started to drift in the land between wakefulness and sleep.

Grogginess sat heavily on her achy body but the comforting scents of home;  a pleasant mix of the sea and her husband’s aftershave, greeted her waking mind.

Opening her eyes just enough to peer through her lashes she was surprised to find the room still heavily shadowed with the exception of the table lamp set on low across from the foot of the bed.   

Its soft light spilled gently into the room and played over the form of her husband.   Casting a juxtaposition of shadows and light across his stubbled jaw and the little dent in his chin she loved so much.  

She wondered briefly who their child would take after.  Her husband’s strong handsome features or her Malay curves and angles.  Either way, she thought as she shifted her hand to cup the swell of her belly,  she would love the child with all she was worth. 

There was no way she was going to let this little go through the beginning of its life like she had.   Running and hiding from a mad man bent on destruction. 

Pushing those thoughts aside she turned her mind back to Virgil.  

He’d pulled up one of the arm chairs from their small sitting room to the side of the bed.  His bare foot was perched up on the side of the bed while he tinkered on a data pad that was resting on an upraised knee.   

He was awake, for that she was certain as he’d dawned a pair of headphones and he’s head was bobbing to whatever musical composition he was generating.   

Intent on whatever it was he was doing, Kayo just watched him.  Enjoying the play of light through his tousled hair and the way he nibbled his lower lip when he was concentrating.  A trait he swore he didn’t do.

It was a good five minutes before he looked up,  his brow shooting up into his hairline when he noticed she was awake. 

Setting the data pad down,  he pulled the headphones from his head.  It was obvious he’d been doing whatever it was he was doing for some time but the banded, depression the headphones had left across the top of his head.  

He smiled at her,  checking the time on the bedside chronometer and dragged a hand over his face as he stretched his shoulders out with a pop.   

“Hey,”  There was a huskiness to his voice that had she been in better shape would have curled her toes.  

“Hey”  She whispered back.  “What are you working on?”  

Virgil shrugged, glancing down at the pad.  “Nothing much,  just passing the time.”  

“Can I hear it?”  

“It’s not done and really it’s just fiddling.”  

“You don’t have to sit vigil.”  She said, holding her hand to him and hoping he would take it. “Doctor Coxley said I would be fine in a couple weeks.”   

“Yes, I do.”  His reply was matter of fact. “And he did but had I been watching you better we wouldn’t be here now.” 

“Virgil…”  Kayo sighed in exasperation, pushing herself up with some effort  so she could see him better.  She wasn’t going to have this conversation lying down like an invalid

Virgil came to her aid,  sliding his arm across her back and holding her steady as he propped her pillows up.  

“Thanks.”  She said, laying her hand on his cheek before he could turn away.  She wanted him to kiss her but she wasn’t sure if they were there yet.   

He put his hand over hers,  turning into her palm but he pulled away a moment later and sat on the edge of the bed.  

“You need anything?”  It was asked as a distraction and Kayo knew it well.  She’d used this trick a few times herself over the years.  

“Virgil,  look at me.”  

He did, reluctantly.  The fidgeting of his fingers against his knees as if he was running through scales told her he was uncomfortable and wanted to be discussing anything but this.  

“You’re not to take it all on yourself.  I am just as much to blame, if not more so for this.”  Kayo pointed at herself,  circle her index finger around all of her and then some.   

“I was the one that messed up with my pill five months ago.  I was the one that was pushing myself to do too much.  I was the one that withheld things from you.”

“Which you apologized for.”  He stated. “And five months ago I messed up just as much as you did.  I’m the one with the medical training and I gave you those antibiotics.”  

Kayo nodded, and fiddled with the edge of the sheets at her waist. “You did but at the time,  neither one of us was thinking very straight. Other things seemed more … pressing.”

That comment got a chuckle out of Virgil.  “Ya,  was kind of reckless of us. If Scott ever found out…”  

She smiled and nudged his backside with her covered knee.  “Who said he doesn’t know. He might be just too embarrassed to say anything to us.”  

He peered back at her over his shoulder,  a thick brow arched in curiosity. “What makes you say that?”

She only had to say one thing.  “Biometrics.”  

Virgil groaned and dropped his face into his hands.  “That would actually explain a lot.” 

“How so?”

Virgil pursed his lips in thought.  “Odd little comments that seemed to say more than they did.  The odd awkward silence.”  he gave a shrug.  “Like something was on the tip of the tongue but then the words never came..”

They sat in companionable silence for a moment.  Kayo, languishing among her pillows and soft sheets.  Virgil’s warmth comforting and lolling her mind.  

She caught herself,  not wanting to fall back asleep just yet.   Enjoying this quiet moment as their bridge to each other healed.  

“What time is it?”

“Late or early.  Depends on which you prefer.”  He rolled his shoulders,  bracing his hands on his knees as if to get up. “Little after 4am. You’ve been asleep for about 5 hours.”  

“I’ve done nothing but sleep since we left Auckland.” 

“You needed it.”  He replied, scrubbing a hand down his face. 

“And so do you.”

“I’m okay.  Grandma will be up in a bit. She’s keeping taps on your vitals for the Doc.” 

She’d figured as much.  If not Grandma than her husband would be but considering how tired he looked it was probably a good idea that Sally was doing it.  

Stretching, he got to his feet.   Grimacing as his shoulder popped in the process, he rubbed at it absently. Obviously the way he had been sitting hadn’t agreed with the old injury and it was bothering him again. 

“Come to bed.”  Hand out, she reached for him.  “You need to get some sleep and by the way you keep massaging your shoulder it looks like your body agrees with me.” 

He hesitated a moment but ultimately the call to sleep won out.  

Grabbing the edge of his shirt,  he tugged it over his head.  Discording it lazily on the floor by the foot of their bed,  a mere four feet from the laundry shoot..Kayo resisted the urge to scold.   Men truly were lazy creatures, though Virgil for the most part picked up after himself there were times that she was reminded of that fact. 

His jeans followed and she rolled her eyes as they too ended up on the floor though the view more than made up for it.  She’d always been a sucker for abs and Virgil’s were … well, words could not describe or do them any justice. 

A thick brow arched at her as he came around to the other side of the bed.  “That is not going to help either of us.”  He pointed out, slipping under the covers and opening his arm to her.

She took the invitation with ease, snuggling into his embrace and settling her head on his broad chest.  “The next two weeks are going to suck.”

His chuckle rumbled through his chest and kissed her brow.  “You’re telling me..”

Scott read over the intel reports from security again and gave up three words in.  He’d already gone over it several times and each time he came up with the same conclusion.

It was quiet on all fronts.  Their unscheduled trip to the mainland had been completely unnoticed.  Not one word of sightings of the famed Tracy Clan in any of the usual media outlets.  Not even one captured image.... Nothing.  

He knew John and Eos cast a wide net when it came to protecting the family’s privacy but usually there was something out there.  A comment on one of the social media platforms,  a blip from the military junkies that loved to watch what sort of aircraft came in and out of various GDF bases despite the numerous no trespassing signs. And a personal jet with civilian tags would have garnered at least one comment somewhere… but there was nothing.  

Sighing, he dumped the reports on the desk and flopped into his seat.   He was being paranoid but when it came to the safety of his family what choice did he have. Looking for things in the shadows when it was a bright and cheery day had been a habit born out of necessity over the years.  And now that the Hood was at large… that habit had grown tenfold.  

The main reason for that was sitting in the lowered lounge going over stock reports and grumbling at some inventory issues at one of Tracy Industries aeronautical plants on the other side of the globe. 

The others were tucked away upstairs resting, he hoped.  Though knowing his brother’s penchant for worrying that was an unlikely case.   Kayo on the other hand had been sleeping on and off since returning to the island late last night so at least that was a blessing.  

Rubbing at his eyes again he contemplated tossing the whole lot at Penny and seeing what she could make of it.  

If he was being over the top,  she would let him know in her polite aristocratic way but he knew she had her hands full at the moment with Kayo being out of action and having to compensate for the deficiency in man power. 

Usually this sort of thing was Kayo’s domain. She was an expert at reading the nuances of what was between the lines.. Or in this case; wasn’t.  Seeing the patterns in the ebb and flow of people. Finding what was out of place or suspicious in a sea of normalcy.  

Being five months pregnant and now with complications put a wrench in that resource though and Scott didn’t dare take any of this to her,  she didn’t need the stress and he didn’t need Virgil coming for his head.  

When the Bear was in full on protective mode of his mate.. Well lets just say the ferociousness of it could even unnerved Scott.  

Most of the mundane day to day tasks Scott had redelegated out among the TI security team. A group of well trained ex-forces members that Kayo had personally hand picked and vetted.   

They were a trustworthy lot that had been with them for several years and had never let them down. Trained,  retrained,  drilled and put through their paces on a regular, they never complained and were well compensated for all their hard work.     

Kayo was a very hands on person,  taking on a lot of the nitty gritty daily duties that could easily be dispersed among the people at her disposal. It allowed her on one hand to get her finger on the pulse of what was going on around her and by extension her family.  On the other hand by doing so she freed up her staff to focus on the more important task of protection. 

Thinking about protection, he was probably going to have to call someone up from the ranks that they could bring to the island.  The security system’s here were in depth but there had to be someone they could use for the interim to maintain everything.. That was a job that he would have to prioritize over the next couple of days and another thing to add to his growing list. 

 His father cursing, roused Scott from his thoughts.  “Issues?”  He asked, in need of distraction as he came around the desk. 

“Just eye strain and stupidity.  I may need to make an appearance at the office to handle this personally.”

“Dad, I don’t think..” 

Jeff waved him off one handed. “I know.  I know but I may not have a choice.  The board is being unreasonably ornery with the current project projections and if the inventory issues aren’t sorted soon there is a real possibility of a delay on production…”

“This sounds rather familiar…”  Scott groused. “You could always have legal look into the contract, see what wiggle room we have.”

“I’ve got Tom working on that now.  It’s not something that is going to bankrupt us by any stretch of the imagination. It’s just a pain in the backside. “

“And the timing …”

“Exactly,”  His Father yawned, stretching out on the couch. “ It’s the  last thing we need at the moment.”

“What’s the last thing we need?”  Came a feminine voice from the other side of the room. 

Father and son turned as one and blinked.  

“Good Heavens,  Kayo you should be resting.” 

Kayo rolled her eyes and came further into the room.   She was dressed simply in a pair of yoga pants and a Denver Tech sweater obviously belonging to Virgil considering how it dwarfed her petite frame. 

She was pale but looked rested.  An air of calm surrounded her with no evidence of the fear that had been present the previous day.  She looked settled and the relief of it had some of the tension leaving Scott.  

Hair hair was down,  curling over and around her shoulders and by the whiff of jasmine he could pick up from where he was freshly from the shower. 

Scott looked past her expecting the large frame of his brother to be shadowing her.

“I convinced him to get some sleep.”  She said, catching the direction of Scott’s gaze.  “It was either that or I was going to sic Grandma on him. 

She toddled over to the lounge and Scott offered his hand to help her down the stairs. The look she shot him would have sent most people running for the hills but he wasn’t put off by it in the slightest.   

There was a silent war for but a moment until he arched a brow at her and she conceded.   Taking his proffered hand and alighting down the stairs with ease.   

“You shouldn’t be on your feet.”  Jeff spoke up, stepping to the side to offer her the closest couch. 

Her hand settled on the swell of her belly and she smiled with exasperation at Jeff. “I wanted to stretch my legs.  I’m not used to sitting around.“

Jeff smiled back in sympathy and took her elbow, urging her to take a seat.  

Kayo complied,  easing back in the soft leather with a mild wince of discomfort.  

Zeroing in on the flash of pain, Scott crouched before her.  “You alright?”

“Just a little round ligament pain. It will pass.”  

“You sure?”  His eyes darted up to his Father’s and Jeff reached for him comms.  

“Most definitely besides,” She held up her wrist, a band like that of a watch encircling it.  “Grandma has me wired up for monitoring. I am not to take it off even to shower so there is no hiding for me until this little stowaway decides it’s time to come out.” 

The hand cupped over her small rounded belly did a gentle sweep back and forth, Kayo seemingly unaware she was even doing it as she glanced at all the data pads on the table.  

So much love for the little one that hadn’t been planned. 

Scott was still in awe of the whole situation. So much had happened in the last eight months.  

They’d gotten their father back from the dead of space after eight long years. Whole and mostly healthy though there would be long term medical issues to contend with

The relationship that Kayo and Virgil had been trying to keep under wraps from the rest of them had been found out due to a nosy reporter when they’d been on scheduled leave. Luckily with the help of Eos and John the rumours had been smothered. 

They’d had a private wedding on the beach shortly after that.  Just the direct family,  and closest friends in attendance.

And not two months after that, they’d found out the couple was pregnant when the whole family thought the relationship was on the rocks. 

So much to process and Scott still had trouble wrapping his head around it. 

“So what’s this I heard when I came in?”

Crap,  Scott had hoped that had slipped her mind and he scrambled for an appropriate response.  One that wouldn’t raise her suspicions.  His father stepped in though before he could formulate a plan.

“It’s nothing to worry about.  Just some concerns with the board in the U.S.  I got it handled.”

“You sure?  I don’t mind looking into it if you need me too.”

Jeff shook his head.  “It’s alright.  I have legal doing the leg work already.  They can handle it.

“Really, it wouldn’t take me anytime at all if you need to go in person to set up a detail.”  She stated and shifted as  if to get back to her feet. 

“I beg your pardon” Came the voice of the family Matriarch that had off three of them freezing.  ‘Tanusha Kyrano Tracy, the last thing you should be doing at the moment is working. “

Sally Tracy whooshed into the room like a woman on a mission and beelined straight for Kayo.  “And secondly to that, you better not have been walking around the island unaccompanied, young lady.  You’ve barely been back on the island twenty four hours and you’re already getting into mischief. 

Kayo’s mouth snapped shut and she looked thoroughly chest fallen.   

“I know you hate not being able to help out but really right now you need to look after yourself and that baby. “  The retired doctor plucked a random tablet off the table, swiped whatever was on the screen away and pulled up the med-reader.  

Kayo’s bio-signs flickered across the screen,  Red lines blipping out a steady beat as O2 saturation levels and blood pressure blinked in the corner. 

Grandma didn’t need to say anymore on the subject as all the proof she needed was right there on the screen. Those blood pressure readings were far from Kayo’s normal levels and creeping towards preeclampsia just like they had been not even a day prior.

Grandma tutted and handed the data pad to her son.  There was a sternness in her gaze as she perched on the couch next to Kayo and patted her knee.  “I want both of you healthy and hearty,  you still have another twenty two more weeks before that little one should make an appearance.  The faster we get on top of this the better it will be in the long run.”

Their Grandmother softened when she saw that her message was getting through and she let up in the lecturing.   

“But since you’re up we might as well get you some food After which we can go for a little walk around the pool for some fresh air.” 

There was a mute nod in response and Kayo was assisted back to her feet. Grandma took her arm and smiled, looking rather pleased that she’d managed to wrangle the security specialist   

“Oh and luckily for you,  we are going to be having a visitor on the island soon.  Doctor Coxley suggested we consult a nutritionist that specializes in pregnancies so Lady Penelope is looking into some for us.”  

“Lucky for all of us.”  Jeff muttered and blinked when he realized he’d said that out loud.   

Grandma shot him a look while Scott coughed to hide his chuckle.    

8-8-8 

TBC

NEXT

[chaoticookie-autonomous]

Under Your Spell

Day 6 - AU

AU: Drive (2011 Film) with some of my own twists; Star Wars-verse(ish). No space magick, Jedi, or Sith. Pairing: Maul x Móni (OC) Rating: T Word Count: 2.5k

A/N: So... did a thing. Hope you enjoy :]

_________________________________________ 

A small window framed a dark location covered in smog and sweating buildings, often a flash of bright lights from speeders zooming past was about all the color that splashed onto the bleak picture. It was also the bedroom’s only view, the resident never bothering to cover up the gaping reminder of a life she had to force herself to wake up every morning to.

Durmónia tied her thick head of black curls on top her head, unable to pull back the stray strands over her forehead. She checked her dark features in the bathroom mirror and noted the black circles forming under her eyes--their sunset hues dimmed under the poor lighting. For a moment she considered hiding her weariness with some layers of make-up but decided it wasn’t worth the risk of being late.

Outside the room was the chattering voices of the holonews coming from a hologram displayed before a theelin teen in a hoverchair. He stared on without interest in what was being said, his thoughts far away from the drab apartment.

“Kyp,” Durmónia returned him to the present. “Want me to bring you something back from the diner?”

He angled his hoverchair to face her better, his blue eyes blinking slowly with a hardship no one his age should be allowed to carry.

“No. I’m okay. Betts is making something for me right now.”

Coming around the kitchen was a service droid on a single wheel holding a tall cup that gave off a whiff of fruit juices Durmónia was skeptical about.

“Where did you get those ingredients from?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?” was its terse response before holding the smoothie’s straw to Kyp’s mouth.

With no time to argue, she gathered a double-breasted jacket with faded stains off a chair and slung a bag over her shoulder.

“Okay. I gotta go,” she pressed a kiss to Kyp’s lavender forehead then smacked Betts’ metal head. “We’re having a talk about stealing when I get back.”

Checking the chronometer, she cursed under her breath and sped down the hall of doors and glowing numbers to the lift at the end of it. The seconds it took to reach the garage floor, irritation igniting her nerves when it halted for other residents, was endless. At its final stop, she slivered her way out the moment the door spun open and sped walked to her landspeeder, passing the silent neighbor who was making their way to the lift.

His crown of ivory horns curved out prominently against the crimson skin where black tattoos marked every section of his bare skull, face, and neck. She glanced his way a moment and caught drops of golden amber peeking back at her as well.

+

A hand smacked a panel with buttons bent and faded from the number of times it had been pressed for an order ready at the window. Within the steam of food in the clamorous kitchen, a balosar female sigh in aggravation.

“Hey!” she pressed the panel several more times. “Get the kriffing food! Stupid droid…”

“Shysha, give them a second,” Durmónia came around and plated sizzling, charred meat. “Their processors are as old as some of the freeze packages of food still packed in the storeroom.”

“You know you can do better than work in some backwater diner, right?” Shysha rubbed one of her antennaepalps with discomfort from the oil spitting at them. “Only reason why this place is still open is because of you.”

“Yeah, well,” Durmónia finished sautéing a pan of multicolored vegetables and distributed them on several plates, “not easy to find work when you have an extensive criminal record you’ve been falsely accused of.”

“Thanks to that we got less shoot outs and bar fights in here.”

Durmónia broke into a laugh, “Is that the real reason why I’m being kept here?”

“Secret’s out.”

“And here I thought it was because of my charming personality.”

Shysha raised her brows, “Charming isn’t quite the word I would use to describe you.”

The order she had placed on the window was still being warmed under the heat-panel and slammed the panel prompter again.

“Droid!”

“I got it.”

Durmónia checked for the table number on the console and took the plate to the customer who had their blue hands patiently folded over their face. He moved aside his wide-brimmed hat to make space for the meal.

“Sorry, Bane,” she met the striking, red gaze meant to keep bystanders at bay. “It’s on the house.”

He waved a hand of indifference and spoke with grains in his throat and the support of his breathing tubes, “I’ll pay what needs to be paid.”

Unconvinced, she grinned at a proposition, “Ale on the house?”

“Two,” he agreed easily.

Durmónia squinted, “You didn’t sabotage our droid did you?”

“What gave you that idea?” he hid a coy smirk by taking a bite into his meal.

“I’m only allowing it this one time as a thank you for taking your bounty outside the restaurant and not shooting up the place the other day.”

“Much obliged, ma’am.”

Past the transparent pane that extended across the diner’s front face, a speeder bike parked alongside the other vehicles and a male with a horned helmet and a black, leather jacket swung off the seat.

“Is it our steel-legged regular?” Cad Bane observed. “What does the fellow order here anyways? Don’t think I’ve ever seen him eat.”

Durmónia followed the masked male, the neon lights of the diner’s sign reflecting off the visor.

“Tea.”

Bane hummed with mild interest and remained silent when the being with crimson skin removed his helmet and sat himself down.

“He’s a strange one.”

“You’re one to talk,” she scoffed. “You order the same thing every week too.”

“He wears the same jacket every night he comes here,” he explained. “New markings on it each time. New bruises. Carries no blaster. And he’s no bounty hunter. I would know.”

“That’s quite a study. You thinking of asking him out on a date?”

He released a grainy growl, “Get me my ale. Two of them.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

Her eyes followed a droid hovering to the zabrak’s table and taking its order before returning to the kitchen where there was a single order on the console’s display.

“Same thing?” Shysha came up behind her.

“Same thing,” Durmónia confirmed.

+

“You have got to be kidding me.”

Three in the morning and her feet hurt from being on them all day without taking a single break, but her speeder decided to steam and made strange noises when she started it. She opened its hood and was engulfed with black fumes she waved and coughed at then stared at the coils, cylinders, and wires as if they were her greatest enemy.

“Okay,” she calmed herself and started to reach for the first thing Kyp had taught her from memory. But she yelped in pain at her burning fingers.

“Kriff!”

In the corner of her eye was a shadow looming beside her and on impulse slid her foot forward and brought a fist into an undercut that was stopped with ease by a leather bound hand.

Amber eyes gleamed with mild amusement at her hand in his, then fell away to the somber exterior she always saw on him in the sparse seconds of their silent interactions.

“Sorry!” she returned her hand. “Didn’t know—didn’t hear you. You’re so quiet.”

Durmónia cleared the nerves building in her throat at the proximity and catching the details of his tattoos for the first time; how well the designs accentuated his features.

“Do you require assistance?” his voice rumbled smoothly from his chest.

“Ah,” she rubbed her bare arm, the uniform discarded long ago to release the kitchen’s heat. “A bit. Not good with machines. They have a vendetta set out against me.”

“Let me take a look.”

“Oh, no. You don’t have to,” she held her hands up. “It’s really late and I can take the train home.”

Halfway through her protests he maneuvered his way to the speeder and dug his hands into the engine.

Durmónia scratched her head in thought, considering several times to push him out of the way and be more direct about it being alright to take the train. However, she lost herself in his tinkering, the knuckles moving under the fabric of his gloves in the low light of the neon sign which also reflected a helix earring.

“You need more light?”

“No. Almost finished.”

“That was fast.”

“A temporary fix to get you home. You will need to have it looked at.”

“I know someone who’s pretty savvy with this stuff. Keeps telling me to just get a new one.”

“It is...,” he faded as he straightened himself up, “not a good speeder.”

“The model?”

“This one specifically.”

“No need to be so harsh,” she patted the vehicle. “It’s been through some tough times.”

“Its time has ended.”

Durmónia barked a laugh, “Alright. Well…” What am I thinking? “To thank you for your troubles would you like to come over for tea? I have your favorite kind.”

He paused halfway to shutting the hood.

“I mean—,” spurts of panic elevated her heart rate and backtracked. “I mean, maybe not now. It’s super late and you probably have other things to do and I take stuff from the diner all the time, so I have a bunch of other stuff at home, not just that tea specifically. Plus, I don’t live alone and—”

“Now is fine,” he closed the lid then turned from her being able to see his face. “I will see you there.”

It wasn’t until he reached the speeder bike and placed on his helmet did Durmónia stumble into the driver’s seat and whirred the speeder’s repulsorlift to life.

+

The lift’s glowpanels flickered when they raised to their floor.

Durmónia softly chewed on her lower lip, taking in the disciplined posture of the being beside her who also stared intently ahead of them.

“I’m Móni.”

His rigid form softened, the shoulders dipping in just the slightest, and showed her a bit more than his profile.

“Maul.”

+

Steaming, black liquid poured through a strainer and into a cup, which was then set on the kitchen’s island that divided the living area. Durmónia did her best to not stare at the black diamonds on his knuckles when he grasped the beverage in his hands.

He didn’t take a seat, instead standing while he took a sip.

“How long you been on Coruscant?” she leaned back against the sink, steadying the quake in her legs.

“Several years.”

“So, only relatively new here in the building.”

“Yes,” his attention was taken away to subtle movements behind a closed room. “You live with a boy.”

She nodded to Kyp’s room, “Yeah, he’s been with me a year before you moved in.”

“Related?”

“Uh,” Durmónia shifted her weight with discomfort and decided to start cleaning the single cup Kyp drank his smoothie out of before she left. “No. I’m a friend of his father who’s in prison. Taking him in until he gets out.”

The cup striking the counter hit her ears louder than the running water, and from over her shoulder caught a scowl pouring into his cup. Before he could open his mouth to speak his apologies, she dropped the dishes and dried her hands on her pants.

“What do you do?”

This time, it seemed it was her turn asking the wrong questions when he searched for an answer to give off to the side.

“I am a contractor for a businessman,” he chose his words carefully.

“Oh,” Durmónia felt she had broached a taboo subject which pushed her curiosity. “What kind?”

Maul remained unmoving, a shadow of anger casting over his features; hardening his appearance into something wild.

Cad Bane’s warning echoed in her head, inciting her to scan the leather jacket that was frayed at the ends and had darkened splotches of carbon scoring. There was also a decolorization on his cheek bone she recognized from experience what the cause was.

He downed the remainder of the tea and gently set it aside.

“The kind that provides my services to those in need of it,” the helmet slid off the counter and under his arm. “You should rest.”

Before Durmónia could try to act like a good host and show him out, the area littered with articles of clothing she really should have put away when she woke that morning, Maul already had his finger to the door panel.

“Thank you for the drink.”

“Not a problem. Hard to pass on a free drink, right?” 

Maul inclined his head some, unable to hide the deep furrow of concern on his brow ridge. 

Not wanting to end the night on a sour note, Durmónia sucked in a deep breath.

“See you at the diner again?”

He stopped just past the doorframe and faced her.

Their similar height forced them to look directly at the other, a spark igniting in between the distance.

How long had she watched the unnamed zabrak? From the moment he moved-in to his constant appearance at the diner. Never eating, only taking the same order while staring past the customers and the muggy moisture that fogged Coruscant’s lower levels. Always deep in his world, never been seen with another or held any interactions with another lifeform, except when she caught his stray glances into the kitchens.

But now the mysterious rider had a name to the face, and he had become a reality she could possibly touch and not this unattainable being. And when the lines of his discomfort smoothed away, she melted into the kindness that rose on the corner of his lips.

“Yes.”

She watched him off, the joints of his cybernetics whirring past several doors down the hall, until he reached his apartment.

“Who was that?”

Durmónia jumped at Kyp hovering close behind her.

“A friend,” she recovered from the scare then gathered her clothes from the couch and chairs.

“That’s good.”

She faced the teen with a pile in her arms, “Good?”

“Yeah,” he maneuvered the hoverchair to the couch and motioned his eyes to the space behind it. “You haven’t hung out with anyone since I’ve been here.”

“That’s…,” a bra was recovered she thought had been lost forever. “It has been awhile.”

“Shouldn’t stop your social life on my account. Also, if you’re worried about how I feel about it because of Dad, don’t be. I know you two haven’t really been together for some time now.”

Durmónia spun on her heel, “Alright. What do you want?”

Kyp hovered back to his room, hiding his victory, “I get to bring a friend over too.”

“I never said you couldn’t bring him over.”

“Yeah, but,” he gave a dramatic sigh, “didn’t want to make you feel like a third wheel.”

“How considerate of you. Little monkey-lizard,” she paused at pulling out a pair of shorts from under the couch. “Wait a second. Maul isn’t that kind of friend.”

“Alright,” Kyp didn’t sound convinced. “Tell me that when you’re not actually cleaning the apartment you haven’t touched in months.”

She clicked her tongue at him and carried the high stack to her room, “Go to bed. And tell Betts I haven’t forgotten her recent escapades.”

“Night, Móni,” he chuckled.

Durmónia collapsed on her bed, breathing in the rush still thrumming in her veins from the encounter and hugged a pillow to bury her grin into.

Her grip loosened when she recounted Maul’s possible occupation, though. How it could affect her life. Kyp’s life. If it was something that should be pursued.

She undid her hair and massaged the scalp under the thick mass of curls from the main dilemma at hand. How she had been completely trapped under his spell.

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A/N: I will be writing Maul’s POV for the SWPOC week for coded characters of color. As for the story itself.. depending on how many notes the fic gets, may or may not continue with this.

Thanks for reading!

[sithdestined]

SEND 💗 TO KISS MY MUSE TENDERLY WITHOUT EXPLANATION

@libertydefendr​ asked: 💗

                  Anakin   would   much   rather   be   sleeping   in   their   bed,   with   Padmè,   but   instead,   he’s   sitting   at   the   dining   table   of   her   senate   apartment,   tinkering   with   his   arm,   trying   to   pretend   he   isn’t   nearing   the   point   of   exhaustion   where   things   stop   making   sense   -   this   is   day   three   with   no   sleep,   early   still,   he’s   gone   for   longer.   It’s   the   dreams.   He’s   decided   if   they   won’t   cease,   he   simply   will   not   sleep.   By   the   will   of   the   Force,   he   will   sustain   himself.   It   is   his   only   reprieve   from   the   madness.   It   does   not   matter   if   they   believe   him,   his   wife,   his   master.   It   does   not   make   it   easier   to   watch   her   dying   every   night   while   he   can   do   nothing   to   ensure   it   will   not   manifest.   They   tire   of   hearing   about   it,   he   tires   of   speaking   about   it   -   so,   he   will   not   bother   them   with   it.   He   will   take   it   into   his   own   hands.   That   is   why   he   finds   himself   tinkering   at   -   he   looks   at   the   chronometer   -   half   past   three,   sitting   in   his   robe   (far   nicer   than   anything   the   Jedi   might   provide,   a   gift   from   Padmè).   It   is   only   him   and   the   silence   and   the   sound   of   metal   scraping   on   metal   as   he   works.   That   is,   until   the   door   of   their   bedroom   slides   open,   whisper   quiet.   He   almost   misses   it.   The   sound   of   her   feet   on   the   ground,   the   fabric   of   her   night   gown.   He   knows   without   looking   at   her   that   she   is   beautiful,   dark   hair   cascading   down   her   back,   colors   of   her   night   attire   off   setting   the   hue   of   her   skin.   After   a   moment,   however,   he   does   look,   because   he   will   never   tire   of   seeing   her.   “Did   I   wake   you?”   He   knows   he   hasn’t,   he’s   been   too   quiet   for   that.   She   doesn’t   respond   and   instead   comes   to   stand   beside   him.   She   easily   turns,   arms   lacing   around   his   neck,   and   then   she   is   sitting   sideways   in   his   lap   and   he   braces   her   with   his   true   hand   on   her   hip.   He   gives   her   a   questioning   glance   but   her   only   reply   is   a   tender   kiss   upon   his   lips,   gentle   and   chaste   but   no   less   full   of   love.      He   kisses   her   back   and   forgets   about   the   nightmares,   just   for   a   moment.

[yshai-tia]

LFRP: Y’shai Tia ☀️🌙

LFRP – Y’shai Tia (Crystal, Balmung)

The Basics ––– –

Age: 27

Birthday: 28th day of the 1st Umbral Moon

Race: Miqo’te, Seeker/Keeper mutt.

Gender: Male

Sexuality: Homosexual

Physical Appearance ––––

Hair: Black as pitch, feathery cut with oft adornments of small braids tied off with beads, a style from his young Tribal years that he continues to maintain to this day. Lazy days will have the braids undone and free flying.

Eyes: Blue on the left, green on the right. Pupils a touch wider than the average Seeker's though it's hardly noticeable at a distance.

Height: 5 fulms, 9 ilms. (5'9")

Build:  Built and toned, compacted muscle that's common among his race. Broad shoulders and noticeably sculpted arms and thighs. Much like their totem, Miqo'te of the Y tend to build strong physiques through years of swimming and tree climbing that mark their hunting ways.

Distinguishing Marks: A scar of his jawline, dark coloured traditional tribal tattoo on his nose. His torso is covered in angry scars that healed poorly, along with distinct lightning scarring (lichtenberg scars) up along his arms and various spots of healed burns on his hands and fingers. However he's rarely seen in revealing dress so these are usually covered up.

Common Accessories: Gloves, more often that not fingerless. Silver hoops in his ears. When in casual, work dress; a toolbelt around his waist adorned with various pouches, holds a number of things; pliers, flint stones, needle and threads, at least one marginally clean rag, magnifying glasses, gil pouch, adhesive, a balm or two for soothing burns, just to name a few. When dressed for fieldwork rarely is he seen not sporting a pair of scarlet goggles.

Personal ––––

Profession:  Hunter, tradesman, jack of all trades for hire. Not exactly picky with the work he picks up as long as it pays and isn't abhorrently morally askew. Naturally he'll jump at any chance to work with tech, however. Most of the gil he pockets comes from repair and commission work.

Skills: Former huntsman of the Y turned engineer, skills lie in archery, tracking, marksmanship and machina work. Things he would consider more hobbies than skills of his own are botany, fishing, swimming, weaving, leatherworking, carpentry and cooking, as these were basic skills taught to all tribespeople of the Y.

Languages:  Eorzean Common, Huntspeak.

Residence: Previously the Raincatcher Gully in Eastern La Noscea, currently frequenting various inn rooms depending on where he last picked up a job. Most often spotted in Gridania and Ishgard.

Birthplace: Raincatcher Gully.

Religion:  Though not as fervently as when he was at home, he still personally follows the teachings of Azeyma. He has a desire to learn the teachings of Menphina as well.

Patron Deity: Azeyma the Warden, Goddess of Inquiry.

Fears: Tight, closed-off spaces, caves deep underground, cages, etc. Freezing to death. Being bound and imprisoned.

Relationships ––––

Children: None.

Parents: Y'sharai Vanoh, high priestess of the Y (Mother, Status unknown), unknown Keeper (Father)

Siblings: He considers those he grew up with around his age group as his siblings regardless of blood relation

Other Relatives: In reality, blood relations matter little and, though he left, he still considers all of the Y of the tribe he grew up with his family. However strained.

Pets: Not that he would consider him a pet in those exact words, but his Chocobo, Omelette. Don't ask about the name, or do if you fancy seeing Y'shai embarrassed.

Traits ––––

* Bold your character’s answer.

Extroverted / In Between / Introverted

Disorganized / In Between / Organized (in a chaotic way he can make sense of)

Close Minded / In Between / Open Minded

Calm / In Between / Anxious

Disagreeable / In Between / Agreeable

Cautious /  In Between / Reckless

Patient / In Between / Impatient

Outspoken / In Between / Reserved

Leader /  In Between / Follower

Empathetic /  In Between / Apathetic

Optimistic / In Between / Pessimistic

Traditional / In Between / Modern

Hard-working / In Between / Lazy

Cultured / In Between / Uncultured

Loyal / In Between / Disloyal

Faithful / In Between / Unfaithful

Additional information ––––

Smoking Habit: Never / Sometimes / Frequently / To Excess Drugs: Never / Sometimes / Frequently / To Excess Alcohol: Never / Sometimes / Frequently / To Excess

RP Hooks ––––

★ I Can Fix That: A freelance tradesman and borderline obsessive tinkerer, Y'shai is pretty handy when it comes to most styles of craft. Clothes need mending? Chronometer on the fritz? Aetherotransformer not converting properly? Did a Big Bad blow a hole in your armor? He might be able to solve your problem for you-- for a fair price of course, guy’s gotta eat after all. Though it's said that if he's brought an interesting piece of tech his curiousity will override and he'll eagerly look at it for free. ★ Custom Built: Along with repairs Y'shai also offers a modification service on the side-- mostly for firearms, though more mechanically built bows also fall under his expertise. Looking to add a scope? Or alter the chambers so you can utilize different sorts of elemental-aspected ammunition? Or maybe you're just looking to get some fancy engraving work done. If you're looking to treat yourself and your six shooter, look no further. ★ Skysteel Frequenter: With his recent apprenticeship at Skysteel Manufactory he's currently seen in the workshop quite a bit. If you happen to also be in and out of there on a nigh daily basis chances are you've seen him around. Whether it's a mutual love for the marksman life or to geek out together over tech, there can be common ground to be struck here. ★ Putting the Cat in Catburglar: Though he doesn't exactly make it common, public knowledge, when Y'shai needs to replenish his sources of Garlean tech he'll wait until night falls and raids the nearest Castrum for parts. And to cause a general ruckus. Do you hate the empire? Do you have an interest their magitech? Love storming their bases just for the hell of it? It'd be a lot easier to carry out more parts with more hands on deck after all... ★ Ehcatl Nine Blackguard: It's not uncommon to find Y'shai around the Twelveswood, originally he sought out Gridania for multiple reasons; to improve on his archery, to learn of Keeper culture, to visit the woods his mother once spoke of so fondly. But it was among the beastribe of Ixal known as the Ehcatl Nine where his, at the time, novice experience as a craftsman was free to take wing. Literally. Though it's been some moons since he finished contributing to the development of the Dezul Qualan airship, he still enjoys visiting from time to time to see how they're coming along. He feels permanently indebted to Sezul and his crew. ★ Moon Gazing: Though not all too open about his heritage, Y'shai does have a secret desire to learn more of Keeper culture and the teachings of Menphina. Part of him feels he shouldn't care, not as if his Pops was ever a part of his life-- but on the other hand it's clearly something his mother knew of and loved enough to stay distant from home from some time. Are you a tribal Keeper? A priest/priestess of Menphina? Don't mind inelegantly asked questions? Apologies in advance. ★ Jaguar of the Rainforest: Fellow members of the Y who grew up in the Raincatcher sept would know Y'shai as family or former family considering their stance on his departure. And, though very rare, there is always a chance outsiders have happened upon the Y settlement in the past and met Y'shai long before he became who he is today. (this would take some pre-plotting together!)

★ Restoring the Firmament: Working out of Ishgard via the Manufactory means Y’shai is in prime, and eager, position to devote a good portion of his time to the recently begun restoration of the Firmament district. Are you also dedicated to seeing Ishgard flourish once more? Crafter and/or gatherer of no small renown? Maybe you’re just into watching from the sidelines and admiring the very nice view of all the hard-working men and women doing heavy lifting.

What I’m looking for ––––

Just about anything and everything in between. Friends, enemies, rivals, someone you have to work with that you can’t tolerate but secretly admire (and oh no they’re kinda hot?), a complete stranger to get drunk with under the stars and discuss the intricacies of life and why apkallu omelettes are superior to dodo omelettes-- c’mon dude they are way fluffier! I love light-hearted slice of life moments, intense, high-stakes action scenes and espionage, meaningful angst and scenes rife with emotion, falling into the dark underbelly of Eorzea and learning what grey morality really is. Chances are if you think it sounds dope and worth exploring so do I! I love writing for the sake of writing and if you feel similarly we’ll probably click.

The ultimate dream is fulfilling my favourite trope of a Found Family, but ‘course something like that would take dedication! 

OOC info ––––

18+, Canadian, EST. Here to have a good time.

I have discord and all that jazz so if you want a snappier way to communicate just lemme know. I like to think I’m pretty laid-back in all regards and not too much can ruffle my feathers, so don’t be scared to hit me up, world is your oyster! yeehaw

my boy also has a carrd, you’ll find everything here on there but with Extra Lore™! 

[etherian-affairs]

Morning Preparations

The next chapter in the thrilling saga of Mirak.

Mirak could hear the rousing in the bed behind her. Currently the specialist and leader of the Horde United was tinkering with a stun baton. Specifically modifying its power systems. She already had one heavily modified unit she's been using as her primary weapon but now she's working on a second. This one has a different use case. That's not really important right now though.

Currently Mirak is set up in a small village inn. The Horde United has spread itself out, decentralized. It's really taken off. Relatively speaking. It's no Hordak Horde or Bright Moon rebellion but they have enough people that they can set up a presence in a few villages and offer protection.

Such is the case with this one. Mirak, Tim, Cass and a few others are staying here acting as guards in exchange for room and board. The relative down time is useful. It gives Mirak time to think, which is definitely getting harder. It takes more time, more silence.

A small groan of being unhappy to wake up escapes from the bed. Causing Mirak to turn and look back at the occupant.

Cass is sitting up. She looks at Mirak. Blinks. Looks at herself. Blinks. Then suddenly shouts and scrambles back against the headboard, pulling her blankets to chest. "Mirak?!"

"Good morning Cass." She notes. Turning back to her work. It is notable that Mirak herself is naked. Which might not be the best idea since she is working with high voltage equipment. Perhaps she should actually get dressed. This is the sort of thing that has been slipping her mind lately.

"What are you doing in my room??" Cass suddenly asks. Sounding concerned and confused.

"This one is my room." A forgivable mistake the rooms here all look very similar actually.

There's an awkward silence as that fact makes its way through Cass. "What am I doing in your room!?"

Mirak turns around again, raising a brow. "Your memory is that weak? We slept together."

They stare at each other for a long moment. Then Cass looks over at nothing. "Oh Etheria we did didn't we..." It's coming back to Cass apparently.

There had been a celebration, a big one. Cass had enjoyed it quite a bit. She had come on to Mirak pretty hard, and they had ended up coming back to bed together after the kissing started. It turns out Cass really was into her. She pulled a knife on Mirak and everything. Mirak didn't even know that Etherians knew of such courtship rituals but apparently they did. Not that Mirak actually reciprocated any of those sorts of complex feelings for Cass but a quick romp never hurt anyone. Well it never hurt anyone who wasn’t on Mirak’s hit list at least.

It was pretty good all in all.

"You fell asleep afterwards." Mirak notes. "Do you need breakfast or anything?" She asks. Etherian’s often need breakfast. Apparently it is the most important meal of the day for them. Mirak herself has always felt that lunch is in fact the most important meal of the day but to each their own. Not everyone can be right.

"Uh. I can...” Cass shakes her head. “No I'm good. Isn't this awkward?"

Mirak just turns back around to her work. "Nope! I had fun." And also didn't try to fall asleep beside Cass which helped keep her mood stable. If you don't try to enjoy the afterglow the crippling feeling of wrongness caused by it being the wrong person can't get you. That is a clear lesson learned from experience.

"oh... Well that's good. I'm pretty sure I did too.” Cass nods, squinting. “It's coming back to me..."

"Good to hear. I aim to please!" Mirak says with a raised finger! Cackling a little bit.

Cass chuckles a little. “I’m sure you do.” she relaxes some, remaining in bed. “What time is it?”

“0506 Etherian time.” Mirak says quickly. Her chronometer is still functioning correctly at least. Presumably. Unless it went funny since the last time she looked up at the glowing moon. Which is weird, is no one here aware of how weird the glowing moon thing is?

“Wow... when did we... when did I fall asleep?”

“0234 Etherian time.” Mirak nods.

“So... two and a half hours of sleep. Great... that’s not going to make today suck.” Cass notes while staring up at nothing. 

“You can get more. I am not using the bed.” Mirak is starting to get slightly annoyed by the continued conversing but she needs to hide it. Cass does not know that she is having focusing troubles. 

“Nah. Once I’m up I’m up.” Cass sighs. 

Mirak decides not to respond to that one. Hoping Cass will keep quiet and let her work in peace. It only works for a minute before Cass starts asking more questions. Trying to converse more. Can’t she just try to stab Mirak again or something? That was at least fun. Eventually the subject actually gets to what Mirak is even doing right now.

"What are you working on?" Cass has moved over to the edge of the bed, watching.

"Increasing the power output of this baton. Removing the safeties.” It’s more complex than just that, but it is a ‘standard’ modification for ESS. All of them know how to do this even without their memory engrams.

"Oh... Like your other one?" Cass glances over to the weapon sitting on the desk near Mirak. The heavily modified baton turned into a hand canon.

"Much more dangerous to the operator. The one can be used as a bomb by overloading the firing capacitor."

There's a pregnant silence as Cass kind of shifts uneasily. "Why?"

"Sometimes you need a bomb." Mirak glances back, she’s actually annoyed now. What kind of stupid question even is that? Why does anyone need a ready to use bomb? 

"What plan do you have that needs a bomb." Cass asks, a bit more determination entering her voice in response to Mirak’s annoyance. Bedding her built some courage it looks like.

Now it's Mirak's turn to be silent for a moment, deciding if she wants to be honest or not. Cass has stuck with her through a lot so far. Useful woman. Honesty can work though Mirak is not happy about it. "I need to get into the Fright Zone."

"Excuse me?" Cass blinks.

"I need to get into the Fright Zone!" Mirak repeats with anger rising in her voice. Even Mirak is surprised by that, she did not expect that much emotion to be behind the declaration. 

"Why would you possibly need to go there?! To try and Kill Hordak? To mess with them? Either way it’s way too dangerous right now!

Now Mirak spins around "I’m dying!” she actually shouts. 

Cass looks shocked. She stammers before finally getting out a simple "What?"

Mirak growls. "I have an... Illness. I need to get into the Fright Zone. Hordak has the tools I need to fix this. Now you are aware."

"Does Tim know?"

"Not yet. I have been making the plan first. It is nearly done. I believe it is time you get out of my room however." She turns back to the work, frowning. 

Cass wants to protest that. Then she simply sighs and gets up. She gathers her things, dresses herself, and leaves. Pausing before she does. “I’m sorry, that you’re sick... didn’t know.” she adds before exiting the room.

Mirak clutches her head the moment Cass is gone. It hurts. She’s starting to get migraines. 

[hithren]

OC-tover 2018 | Inktober 2018 Day 5: Handy

I-I am gunna try and catch up today. 

Josie has always liked to tinker. Besides music, mechanics have been an interest and talent from a young age. She got into trouble in the orphanage taking apart things like chronometers to see how they worked. (Especially before she could put them back together.) It’s one of the few things she finds joy in these days.

[writer59january13]

While daydreaming about timepiece inventors...

as the figurative curtain closes on 2022

How arbitrary the assignment of seconds, minutes, hours,

days, months, years... to the passage of time, and I would be hard pressed to differentiate one moment from the next without the aid of some handy dandy mechanism linkedin to clocking existence. An especially keen awareness piques the one mind

among plethora of Foo Fighters

particularly at the strike of midnight December thirty first when people Kiss veritable strangers relishing The Lovin' Spoonful of each Pink lips.

Who knows whence the measurement

of time came about, though this chap

proposes the following general happenstance until one becomes

among Grateful Dead.

Perhaps psalm body named Judas

Priest arranged to congregate, but cohorts

restless (sans Quiet Riot), did Accept a Mercyful Fate

asper their Iron Maiden pact,

but needed to reassure doubting Tom us

(a petty detail), how to coordinate self

anointed Black Sabbath.

An Idol Billy Graham

proposed a resolution; this

coincidentally enough would be calculated,

figured, and interpolated vis a vis

to happen on New Years Eve circa

unknown when Beatles endured mania when their fans acted like The Monkeys who went bananas.

Some metal-heads

put their Smashface together, and contrived

a crude modus operandi, which

involved each musician to crank up

and amplify to the max

his instrument of choice.

No matter distance extant between

closest and farthest member,

RUSH of Earth, Wind and Fire would be faintly heard

analogous to Genesis of new beginning.

The era re: these off Phish hill

bit players didst dabble with primitive

chronometers comprised hamlets a mere

shouting distance apart.

Once a quasi reliant (and affordable) methodology

evolved, one singer songwriter

upped the (space/time quantum theory)

ante by conniving, fostering (the Village

People), inviting live on stage performances.

Quite a bit of fancy free footloose gimcrackery

reckoned to be sale-able to sell at audiences,

thus drawing a Crowded House.

Nonetheless, there remained the confounding,

irksome, pesky quandary sans figuring precision

concerning how to segment morning

to night cycle.

Perhaps the town nerd

might own the (get) smarts to tinker

satisfactorily until...PRESTO about equivalent to 5 Seconds of Summer.

The purported impossible mission

solved with refinement propelling one geek after the other into

the klieg lights if only

for a blink (182) of an eye.

A quick and easy

(makeshift, albeit very temporary)

Cheap Trick would suffice in the interim

(which might entail many generations)

to rock a Super Tramp off The Farm.

Lo and behold a panacea arrived

in form of Jethro Tull.

Beastie Boys (more or less

marauding hooligan gangs

comprised of Arctic Monkeys)

possessed an uncanny verve zeroing

in on the challenge to enable Crowdsource sing.

They designed, hand

crafted, and linkedin all knowledge

about mathematics and physics.

One contrivance edged out other equally

farcical gizmo.

Via some lack of clarification

Badfinger referred both to the longer

of two needles pointers plus included

the entire mechanism.

Individuals would no longer

find themselves in Dire Straits

getting someplace

with markedly greater accuracy.

Sooner or later a confluence of

beginners dumb luck witnessed

a Mötley Crüe, whereat brainstorm

(of course in tandem with consciousness

expanding material) yielded a great

burst of inventiveness within The

Human League, though after end

less modifications credit for

the handy dandy blues clues

pocket watch allotted

to a plethora of anonymous minds.

[song-of-the-rune]

A short writing I did because I couldn't sleep, about crafter!Xyll ft. Nero. Probably will not end up coming back to it but it was nice to jot down.

The room is, as so often happens, a disaster. Schematics and small bits are strewn about the area, starts of prototypes form mounds in various corners, and every surface has at least one empty mug, bottle, or teacup somewhere on it. The Viera, hanging upside-down from their old cat tree, pulls on his ears and glowers at the latest attempted prototype. He types, on his tomestone, [Project driving us mad. Come over] before getting up and hauling the machine to the latest scrap pile.

Ping. [This better be worth it.]

[Don't worry. It will be.]

They start disnantling a piece from one of the older piles, as much as possible without un-welding some of the more joined pieces. It's a sizeable attempt at a magitek pot, meant to cook food faster than over a stovetop and without the need for a fire. The problem, at present, was keeping them from exploding, or boiling over, or deforming. They're almost done with the process when they hear another ping. [Lol. Just woke up Garlond.]

Xyll looks up at their wall chronometer -- just past two o'clock. [Ah, my condolences to his nap.]

Ping. [He was actually getting a full night's rest tonight, if you'll believe it.]

They look out the window. [...It's 2 A.M., isn't it?]

Ping. [Yes. Biggs and Wedge are tinkering with my transporter again. Hold on.]

[Well, stop leaving your stuff in their workshop. See you soon.]

[mallelondon]

It’s becoming more real by the hour! After almost one year of logistics, motorcycle tinkering and Rally planning, in just 10 days time The Great Malle Rally 2022 will begin! The longest, wildest and arguably greatest motorycle rally ever attempted in Great Britain will begin at the very southern tip of England, for the 6th time. With 100 riders on a variety of classic, café racer, custom and choppers, taking on the 1500 mile cross-country adventure to the most Northern tip of Scotland. With 6 Rally stages meandering through all of the wildest landscapes in the country, supported by the inexhaustible traveling Malle Rally crew. This week we hosted the Pre-Rally Dinner in London, which is a very special moment as we meet the ’22 riders and the entire Malle Rally team for the very first time, who will all be taking on the Rally challenge together. A huge thank you to the fantastic Duke of London, for hosting us all so kindly, their new Plonkers wine bar is the perfect spot to hatch grand rally plans and talk bikes, well into the wee hours! Set your Breitling chronometers now, for the 10 day countdown to the first Rally flag drop at Lizard Point. 🏍📸🍾 @sbarham @breitling_uk @persol @mallelondon @duke_of_london @plonkersbar #TheGreatMalleRally #1500Miles #Rally #Motorcycle #RallySquad #RealAdventure #MotorcycleAdventure #InappropriateMotorcycle #Custom #Classic #CafeRacer #Chopper #MalleLondon #MotorcycleRally #PreparedToGetLost (at Duke of London) https://www.instagram.com/p/CelniC1otho/?igshid=NGJjMDIxMWI=

[outfitandtrend]

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[bhavael-song]

bubbles and breakthroughs?

Tal watched Kes toss in a fitful doze and checked the chronometer for what seemed like the hundredth time.  Three minutes from the last time she’d looked.  An hour and half had passed and neither the rolissisin ritual nor the attempt at sleep seemed to be helping her friend much.

*What she needs—or rather who she needs—isn’t here.* An irrelevant thought, as Seven would no doubt point out, but a factual one.

“Too hot....”

Tal jerked her head up, glancing over at Kes, but her eyes were still tightly closed.  Apparently, she was just talking in her sleep. Picking up the wet cloth she’d snagged out of the fresher earlier, she gently patted Kes’ brow, cheeks and along the curves of her ears in an attempt to cool her off a little.  Kes mumbled something unintelligible but didn’t awaken. Setting the cloth back down on its dish, Tal rubbed at her own brow without thinking, then paused, realizing her fingers had come away sweaty.  *So it’s not just the elogium.  It IS actually warmer in here.*  “Computer, lower the room temperature by five degrees.”

There was a long moment of silence before the computer responded.  “Unable to comply.”

Tal’s brow furrowed in confusion as she exchanged a glance with the first officer.  “Why can’t you lower the temperature?”

“Unable to comply.”

*Great.*  Standing up, she shrugged off her jacket, slinging it carefully over the back of the chair she’d been sitting in.  Her mind turned over possible ideas to cool the room down and, after discarding the idea of trying to get the replicator to come up with items that likely wouldn’t even be in the ship’s catalog, an old Academy memory resurfaced.  Getting back to her feet, she circled the room in hopes of finding what she was looking for and finally spotted it by the door: Dalby’s tool kit.

“Tal, what are you doing?”

Chakotay’s question made her jump; she’d almost forgotten he was there.  “It won’t help much, but I thought if we remove the air filter and eliminate the byprocess of the heat generated by the scrubbing cycles, we could manually lower the temperature a few degrees since the computer won’t respond.”

“Good point,” he agreed.

Tal passed him a hyperspanner from the kit.  “Since you’re taller,” she said with a shy smile.  He returned the smile with a nod and moved to the corner of the room, reaching up easily to the discreet vent placed there.  Five minutes of tinkering later, the filter had been removed.

A familiar high-pitched whine distracted them both and Tal turned in time to see a dark burn mark appear on the main door that led into the corridor.  “What in the—”

“That one looks—left a mark. Maybe we’re—through this bubble—”

Tal’s eyes widened.  “That sounds like Dalby.”  She reached out a hand to feel for the bubble “wall” and stumbled forward, her hand making contact with the door itself.  “Wait, I think the bubble is gone.  Or moved.  Or something.”  

She frowned. “I wonder if maybe....”  She tapped her badge.  “Tal to Dalby.  Can you hear me at all?”

@rebelwithoutacausedalby, @lieutenantayala