#i got a foot cramp standing on the ladder and you know what? rather that then the pool

[salvia-plathitudes]

Yesterday I put up some more of my peel and stick wallpaper and we’re so nearly done. I know this is going to sound crazy considering the precision necessary for the task but it was actually so much fun! Although it didn’t seem it at first high quality peel and stick IS forgiving.

My tips for anyone who is insane enough to try wallpapering something is to choose a really busy pattern. At first you will ask yourself why you chose something that requires each point to line up precisely. Then when the full picture is produced you’ll realize that you were never going to be completely lined up and that the business of the pattern hides those imperfections, and you’re going to love yourself.

And for the love of all things that need caretakers, always have at least one if not two people on hand. It’s not humanly possible to do it with just yourself.

The tip that saved the project was the realization clear masking tape / duct tape wouldn’t hurt our paper if it was taped to it, so we taped the sheet to the wall to pre-align it before taking the backing off. Only downside was sometimes when taking the tape back off the heavy duty yet thin tape didn’t come in one piece, so I would fold the tape over on itself and leave a pull tab.

When you’re using a razor to cut away the excess always hold the razor straight on and never at an angle, or you will lose some of the paper and the wall behind it will peek through! I have a black wallpaper so with any imperfections I was able to cut strips from another piece and fill in the gaps where I could see the wall behind.

Expect it to take hours and hours and hours and hours. Tomorrow is our last day with it and we will have spent three separate days on what doesn’t look like a lot.

This is my pattern!

[nessinborderland]

Be Mine (01)

Pairing: Niragi x Reader

Genre: Smut, Angst, Fluff, Omegaverse

Word Count: 4.6k

Summary: You were able to stay unbounded throughout your life. You didn't want an Alpha; you didn't need one. You would rather die than to give yourself to some random male. But the man that saved your life thinks differently.

Warnings: Alpha/Omega, Dubious Consent, Vaginal Sex, Vaginal Fingering, Finger fucking, Rough Sex, Rough Kissing, Unprotected Sex, Creampie, Breeding, Pregnancy Kink, Other Additional Tags to Be Added

AO3 Link      Masterlist   

You can't do it anymore.

You collapse on the ground as you turn a corner, legs giving up on you. Whatever breath you have left leaves your lungs as you hit the floor with a hard 'thud'.

You can hear them behind you, running and howling like a pack of wolves on a hunt.

You happen to be the prey.

You had been careful until now; walking mostly at night, making sure no one was around when you went scavenging for food, keeping distance from others during games, masking your natural scent with all sorts of perfumes. Just avoiding people altogether. 

You had no idea how you got there, but you knew that, as an unclaimed Omega, you would be more at risk than anyone else. Alphas were rare, but if one happened to find you, you couldn’t imagine it ending well for you. Even Betas were a risk, as most could also distinguish you from a regular Beta.

And here you are, proving yourself right. Running from him.

You had been careless. You were tired, always on edge, always hiding. So you ate your portion of stale cornflakes after another sleepless night and headed out from your hiding spot. Completely forgetting about masking your scent. 

Your visa was almost over. You needed to find a new game. And so you did.

You are regretting that now.

A loud laugh from not that far behind you gives you the encouragement you need to stand up and run. Just run. If he catches you, you're done for. If he catches you, you're his.

You can smell him. That strong, masculine, unrecognizable Alpha scent. His is so strong that it almost overwhelmed you when it first hit your nostrils, back at the game.

Six of Spades. That was the game you had gotten yourself into; kill the predator or be killed by the predator. In a zoo. 

How fitting, you had thought to yourself as you climbed a tree to escape an actual wolf. You had seen at least four different species of predators. All animals that you were completely unprepared to defend yourself against, never mind killing. Your hunting knife could only do so much. Fortunately for you, wolves couldn't climb trees.

But tigers could.

You had felt the big cat's eyes on you before you could even see him. All you had managed to do was let out a gasp and close your eyes as the huge orange beast pounced in your direction.

Gunshots. A heavy body falling to the ground. A wolf whimpering; that might have been you.

And then it hit you; that overwhelming, strong, musky scent.

You had opened your eyes and, no more than twenty meters from you stood a tall man, dressed in black. Eyes locked on you. You felt a shiver run down your back, and the hairs on the back of your neck rose; you weren't sure if in fear or something else.

The tiger was dead. The wolf had run away. But there was a new predator. And he was looking straight at you.

An Alpha.

You had no doubt about it. Betas didn’t smell anything like that, but Alphas...Alphas were made to lure you in. To let you know who they were. Alphas and Omegas were biologically connected. It was almost impossible to fight the urge to possess and be possessed.

And you no doubt had the same effect on him.

You noticed when he took some steps towards you and then stopped. You saw how his eyes had sparkled, his body language shifting to that of a predator. You hadn’t dared to move, waiting for his next move. You doubted he was going to shoot you, but the man did have a gun. Before the stranger could give another step, a lion had appeared right behind him, taking his focus from you and allowing you to escape.

That’s how you got into the position you are in right now; running from the man with the sniper rifle. You had managed to keep yourself hidden until the end of the game, but he had somehow found your scent and was tracking you down, together with his crew.

You stop again, taking labored breaths as you hide yourself the best you can in an alley. If life taught you anything about Alphas, is that they don’t give up until they get what they want. You would know; you managed to be unclaimed through all these years out of sheer spite for your biology, and determination. And a lot of pepper spray. 

You try to think of a plan, a way to get them to lose track, but you can’t think of anything. If he got your scent, he will find you eventually. That doesn’t mean that you will just get on all fours and wait for him to take you. If it depends on you he can hunt you till he’s dead. You won’t be some Alpha’s bitch.

You hear footsteps getting louder, together with the voices of the people pursuing you. You can smell him, getting closer and closer. You have to act fast. You spot a ladder on the side of a building and try to get it down, climbing on top of some trashcans for easier access. He won’t be able to track you as easily if you go up. The ladder is rusty and doesn’t budge, even when you desperately pull it with everything you got. With a last angry pull, the ladder finally releases, and you start climbing as fast as your tired legs allow you.

“Gotcha!” exclaims an excited male voice as you feel a hand grab your calf. Your heart almost stops. “Niragi, over here!”

You glance down at the man grabbing you before kicking him right in the face with your free foot. The man falls back, holding his now bleeding nose in his hands, and you take that moment to continue climbing. You want the most distance from that Niragi guy as you can.

You don’t look back even when you feel someone climbing after you. You have to keep going. It's only four stories high. You’re almost at the top.

A loud gunshot. Pain sparks in your leg and you scream, almost releasing your grip on the ladder.

“You fucking idiot, who told you to shoot her?!” a voice growls, followed by another gunshot. “I want her alive and unharmed! Whoever touches her dies!”

You dare to glance down, and you see the body of the man you had kicked just moments prior, now with a bullet hole in his forehead. Then you lock eyes with him; your predator.

He's looking at you with fire in his eyes; like he wants to eat you alive. Your body feels his glare more than your mind ever could, and a warm sensation pools at your center. You can't look away.

He can smell it; of course he can. You're now much closer than at the zoo, and you can see his face clearly. How pretty he is. How his nostrils flare and his eyes go dark; scenting you. You’re glad that at least you’re not in heat; it would have been game over for you before the game even started. 

"You know I'm gonna get you, right?" he says with a malicious grin, voice low.  "I'm gonna catch you, and I'm gonna make you mine."

His words bring you back to reality, and you take the last steps up into the roof, ignoring the laugh of the man below you.

"Run little wolf, run!"

You pull yourself up and run as fast as you can. You're pretty sure the bullet only grazed the skin, so you ignore the pain in your leg as you jump to the next building. You are lucky houses here are all so close to each other. You keep running, not daring to look back.

You can hear him running behind you, catching up to you, and your eyes start tearing up. Your lungs feel like fire and your legs are cramping; you can't go on for much longer. You prepare to jump when a hand grabs you by the wrist. His touch feels like electricity against your skin. You both gasp and his grip soften. The sensation is so surprisingly new that you lose your balance and trip, falling. For a second, you wonder if this is how you die; falling from a building while in that hellish place.

The next you’re wondering how can someone smell so unbelievably good. 

He smells like spices; it’s delicious. You are pressed firmly against his chest, his arms around your waist. You’re sniffing his shirt before you can control yourself. Never in your life had an Alpha’s scent been so strong and so alluring. You want to lick him; to feel his skin against your lips and his taste on your tongue. You feel his face on your hair like he’s burning your scent in his memory. You let out a needy whimper when one of his hands slid up your body to grab a boob, squeezing the soft globe in his large palm. His hands feel so good on you. Warm and big and pleasurable

“I said I was going to catch you, little wolf,” he whispers in your ear, hot breath making a chill go down your body. His tongue licks a long strip of your neck and you let out a moan. He chuckles. “Now you’re mine.”

No.

Those words make you gasp like you have been burned, and you push him away from you. You belong to no one. And it will stay that way; you rather be dead than be bonded to some random man. 

“D-Don’t touch me,” you say, a slight tremble in your voice. “Stay away from me.”

His eyes darken and you gulp, looking around. You’re trapped; no way you’re able to run more. But you can fight; you have your hunting knife, while he seems to have let go of the sniper he was carrying earlier. You still have a chance.

“Now, why the fuck would I do that?” he asks with a lopsided smirk. “I can smell how much you want me. How much you need an Alpha to fill you up and mark you.” he gives a step in your direction; waiting.

Waiting for you to fight back.

You wouldn’t want to disappoint. You reach for the knife strapped to your hip, but...it’s not there. You freeze, eyes wide.

“Looking for this?” he chuckles in your direction, your knife in hand. He’s taunting you; playing games. You take a deep breath and lock eyes with him. How did you not feel him steal your weapon? You can feel your anger building up. You’re tired, you’re hungry...you’re furious.

“Give it back!” you command, fists closed, “And I don’t want anything to do with you so fuck off!”

The smile on his face falls, substituted by a scowl. You can feel the anger radiating from him. That only makes you angrier; he has no right in feeling that way. You’re the one about to be taken against your will. You jump and try to grab the knife, but he’s faster than you, trapping you against his chest. 

His skin touching yours makes a wave of heat spread through your core once again, but this time you ignore it as best as you can. You feel him press himself against your backside; hard and warm. Your mind fogs and you release the grip you have on his forearm.

Maybe you could...just for a moment. Your wolf mind keeps screaming at you to accept what you were born to do; be a baby-making factory to some random man with high testosterone levels and ego issues.

The back of your head hits his face with a loud crack; you hope that was his nose breaking. You crouch to grab your knife, now on the floor, but he’s on top of you before you can even touch the handle. You both fall on the hard roof, struggling to get a hold of the damn knife first.

“Stop!” he has you pinned down on the cement, one hand holding your wrists down. You’re trapped; now without a chance of escaping. His other hand has your knife, now pressed to your throat. His eyes burn like coals and half of his face is covered in blood. You feel a little pride at the sight, even if the blood has stopped falling due to his Alpha healing. He presses the blade against your skin. “What the fuck are you trying to do?” there’s a hint of confusion in his question. “Do you know who I am?”

“Don’t care, didn’t ask.” You reply, struggling against his grip. The blade on your neck nibs your skin and you stop. “Do it. Kill me.” You know he will never hurt you to that degree. He was biologically programmed to protect you; he has to be fighting every instinct in his body to even be able to hold that knife against your neck. You notice how his hands are slightly trembling. “I dare you. Slit my throat; it’s the only way I’m leaving this roof with you.”

His eyes go wide for a second before he lets out a sudden laugh. He buries his face against your neck, and you feel the sticky blood get on your skin. You don’t dare to move or take more than a shallow breath; you’re too scared of losing control of yourself again. He continues laughing against your neck, and you have to control the urge to moan at the proximity.

“I knew you would be fun when you just kept running, but this-?” he presses himself against you, firm and warm. You shudder; you can feel your control slipping away. “Refusing me even when I’m this close? Touching you?” his tongue is on your pulse. “Kissing you?” 

“Please stop-”

“-Biting you?” his teeth graze the skin where your shoulder meets your neck. You cry out, instinctively pushing against him, neck at his disposal. The marking spot; if he bites you there while knotting in you, you’re bonded. Your wolf is screaming at you to let go and let him take you. You need him. You want him.

The wolf is out.

Your legs are around his waist before you can control yourself. Your whole body feels like it’s on fire, and you can feel the wetness growing in between your legs. You grind your core against his crotch, groaning in displeasure at the lack of skin contact. His lips take yours in a rough kiss, his tongue pushing against yours as he kisses you senseless. He lets go of your wrists to handle your body, one hand on your breast as the other slithers down to your shorts.

You whine when his fingers finally manage to reach your throbbing cunt. He smiles in the kiss as he starts playing with your clit. You moan and your hands fly to his hair, pulling on the soft strands; you want more of him. He bites your lip and you pull his face further against yours. He chuckles when his fingers enter you without warning, swallowing your cries with a kiss. You move your hips against his hand, wishing it was his cock instead.

Alpha, Alpha, Alpha.

“More,” you whine against his lips. “Please- Alpha, please.” 

He doesn’t answer. His hand leaves your pussy with a wet sound, and you cry at the void he left with only his fingers. He doesn’t break the kiss as he gets rid of your shorts, throwing them somewhere. Your panties soon follow, and you moan when the cold air hits your swollen clit. His fingers go back to your pussy, now playing with the slickness that sticks to your thighs, spreading it up and down your slit. His lips move to your neck, where he sucks the skin right above your pulse. You whine and he chuckles, teeth nibbling your skin.

The hand on your pussy rises, fingers glistening with your slick. His eyes glint when he sticks his tongue out, licking his fingers clean of you. You gasp at the sight. He moans like it’s the best thing he has ever tasted. 

“Fuck, you’re so sweet,” he says, lust-filled gaze locked on you. “So beautiful.” You blush at the praise, wanting more. You want whatever he has to offer you. His fingers go back to fucking your wet entrance, and you feel your eyes filling with tears; you want more, more, more.

“Alpha, I need you-” 

“Now this is more like an Omega,” you can hear his belt as he fumbles with his pants. You open your legs wider; hoping. “All wet and ready for me to take.”

You scream when he slides inside you, thick cock replacing long fingers. The feeling is unlike anything you have ever felt before. The Betas you fucked during your exasperating heats can’t compare. Nothing can. You feel so full. So deliciously filled to the brim. You never felt pleasure like this.

You moan as he roughly thrusts into you, moving your hips in time with his shoves. His cock touches all the right spots, and he feels even deeper every time he penetrates you. You can feel the pain as the cement floor grazes against your back and bottom, but that doesn’t matter; you have something more important to focus on right now.

“You feel so fucking good,” he grunts against your mouth. You clench around him at the praise and he moans, eyes rolling back. “Fuck, do that again- oh shit yes! Good girl. So good, all ready to be filled to the brim with my cum.”

“Yes, yes, I- I want you.”

“Say my name, Omega,” his tongue starts licking your neck. “Niragi,” he gives a particularly hard thrust, and you yelp. “Say it!”

“Ni-Niragi!” You feel the name on your tongue. You’ll say that name until your throat turns raw. “Niragi, fuck me harder,” you beg. “Knot in me- please, please.” He does as you say, his thrusts becoming harder and faster. You arch your back as his cock abuses your g-spot with every shove. You see stars behind your eyelids; if you knew how this felt earlier, you would’ve let him take you right there at the zoo where he saved you. 

Niragi, Niragi, Niragi. Alpha, Alpha, Alpha.

“It’s such a shame you’re not in heat,” he grunts with a hard slap to your ass. You shudder and slid your hand in between your bodies, wanting to touch more of his skin. “I would love to knot and mark you right here.” He practically rips your t-shirt in a rush to take it off, exposing your hard nipples to the cold air. He buries his head in between your breasts, latching onto a nipple like a starved man.” Fill you up till I was sure you’re pregnant with my pups,” he continues with a lick to your nipple. You moan and clench around him again. “Make sure that everyone knows who your Alpha is, who you belong to. And I will. This is a promise”

Yes, yes, yes. You want that. All of it. All of him.

You can feel your orgasm growing, pulling at your core like it’s about to explode. He feels it too, and the hand previously pinching your nipple goes to press on your clit, taking you closer to the edge. You can feel how close he is too, thrusts getting sporadic and breath getting heavier. You stare at his face, actually looking at him; his eyes are closed and his mouth is open in a moan. You notice the glint of the piercing on his tongue, as you do the ones on his face. You take in the detail of his pretty nose, the shape of his eyes, his plush lips. Half of his face is still dirty with blood. He’s beautiful.

You feel a weird emotion go through you; something your rational brain knows is strictly biological, not real. But the wolf one is howling in happiness, absolutely delighted. You pull his face to yours and kiss him hard, wondering if he feels the same. Part of you is scared he does; the other is terrified he doesn’t.

“Come for me, Omega,” he moans against your lips. “I want to feel you come around my cock.”

Your orgasm hits you like a truck. You lay there as it flows over you in waves, legs shaking and mouth open in a silent scream of euphoria. It’s like fireworks inside you, consuming you. You wonder if you lost your consciousness when you feel him come inside you, filling you with his cum. You had never let anyone come in you before. But, as the warm sensation spreads inside you, you realize you love it. You want more. You feel like you will die if he doesn’t do it again.

Most of his weight is on top of you as you both regain your breath. He’s still inside, and part of you doesn’t want him to ever leave. But your wolf had what she wanted, so you’re able to regain full control of your mind again, fog dissipating to be replaced by shame and anger. How could you have been so weak? Now it would be almost impossible for you to escape; you weren’t bonded ('yet', your wolf happily adds) but now you had a connection. If bonding was like a marriage, what you had done definitely counted as engagement.

He feels when your body tenses up, raising his head from your chest. He looks at you through half-lidded eyes, waiting for your next move. 

“Was it that bad?” he asks after a moment. With a sigh, he kisses your breast before raising himself on his hands, one on each side of your head. He looks you straight in the eye for a beat, before sliding off of you with a hiss. You moan at the loss, especially when he stands up; you feel so cold without his warm body on you.

You don’t answer; he doesn’t look like he expects you to. Sitting up, you wince as you feel every pain your body has been ignoring until now. Part of your back and backside are covered in scratches from the cement floor; your cunt burns like it’s on fire, but now for a completely different reason, and your chest and neck are covered in fresh hickeys and small bites. Part of you feels like dying of shame, while the other is overwhelmed with joy by finally being marked by an Alpha. An uncomfortable feeling sits in the pit of your stomach.

You look around for your clothes, being surprised by your Alpha, no, Niragi, extending them in your direction. You take them with a mumbled 'thanks', doing your best not to wince as you get dressed. You feel his eyes on you, so you pretend he’s not there. You gather the courage to finally stand up, and his hands are supporting you before you can make a move.

His skin on yours feels again like a spark of electricity; only that now is familiar and, dare you say, wanted. You keep your eyes down as you stand up on wobbly legs, trying to ignore everything about him. But you can’t; not really. His scent is on your skin and hair; his cum is inside you and on your inner thighs. Even his blood is on your skin. 

After a moment of hesitation, you pick your knife from the floor; he doesn’t stop you. You feel like crying; this wasn’t how things were supposed to go. You’re just trying to do your best to survive while being completely alone. And now this. 

A sob erupts from you with such strength that you feel him jump next to you. You hide your face in your hands as you sob uncontrollably, tears streaming down your face. Your mind is a mess, everything hurts and you’re so, so tired. You miss home, you miss your family, you miss your bed. You need a nap.

“Oh fuck, did I hurt you?” you hear the slight panic in his voice as he gets closer. “Tell me, what did I do?”

You shake your head and take several steps back; you need as much distance from him as possible. You turn to leave, a still defiant part of you daring him to stop you. As you expect, he’s on you before you can take more than a couple of steps.

“Where the fuck do you think you’re going?” his tone is angry and confused. “You’re coming with me.”

“N-no.” you manage to say, sobbing. “I’m not go-going with you anywhere.”

“What the hell is wrong with you?!” he grabs your hands, forcing them down so he can stare into your eyes. “You’re mine down, don’t you feel it in you?”

“We- we are not bonded,” you remind him. Remind yourself, “I- I can still leave.”

His eyes wide in an incredulous expression, like your words are the stupidest, most ludicrous thing he has ever heard. “Are you out of your mind?” he asks in a raised tone, “Do you actually think I’m gonna let you go?

“We don’t know each other!” you scream in his face. “I never- I never wanted this to happen,” your last words are barely audible as you keep crying. “We’re just two strangers forced together by something beyond our control.” 

You whimper when you feel him hesitantly touch your shoulder, before pulling you against his chest. You mumble a 'no' in-between crying gasps and lightly struggle against his grip; you have to get away from him. He ignores you, one arm going around your waist while the other awkwardly pats your head. You finally give up when you feel his lips on your temple, whispering something you can’t quite understand. Whatever he’s doing, it calms you down. 

You stay in his arms for some time. You hate how much you enjoy it; how safe he makes you feel. He killed one of his own, for goodness sake. You know nothing about him.

“Let me tell you something,” he says against your forehead. “I am not...a good person. I’ve done a lot of bad shit, and I will keep doing so. But if you come with me, I promise I will keep you safe.”

“I-.”

“Be mine,” he says. It sounds like a command until he adds a 'please', almost as an afterthought. “I don’t understand why you keep fighting, but I know you want me, even if part of you doesn’t know it yet.”

You let out a loud sigh; you’re tired of fighting with yourself. You review your options; go willingly or go by force. If you know one thing is that he won’t let you go. Quite possibly never. If you’re honest with yourself, a part of you doesn’t want him to. You don’t even know which one of you is talking; the human or the beast? Does it even make a difference?

You don’t think it does. Not anymore.

You raise your head to lock eyes with him. You can see hope in his gaze, but you also see determination and desire. You’re his now. And he’s yours.

“Okay,” you finally say. His eyes spark with something akin to satisfaction. “I’ll go with you. But I have some rules.”

He smirks, teeth spotted with blood, and you wonder for a moment if you made the right choice. “Sure,” he says. As long as you’re mine.” 

Next Chapter

[acraftedmistake]

Nether Time!

Cassie and Petra need to get stuff from the Nether! It’s been a while since they’ve done this.

“Nether time!” Petra sang as she leapt out the portal.

“Nether time!” Cassie Rose chimed as well, landing right beside her friend.

The two exchanged big grins with one another. Cassie was holding onto her outfit so tightly she thought it’d tear.

It’s been ages since they’ve been in their house together. Everything still looked and felt the same. The red and teal carpet was still covering the netherrack floor, still stained and torn, the walls were that weird combination of wood and netherrack that she remembers so fondly, shelves and counters surrounded them, holding both their’s and the previous owner’s items. Those four cushioned chairs they placed in the upper left corner of the house--the ‘kitchen’--have yet to move. The kitchen itself was just a few chests filled with food, a battered stove that stopped working years ago, and a cauldron with strange splatters in it. There were also the remains of their kitchen table. Used to be fine, sturdy wood, but when they first arrived at this house, monsters were trying to break in, so they had to use the base of the table and the legs to fend themselves. The decorations were still hung up too! Bells, chimes, other sorts of art pieces attached to strings that hung from the ceiling, just as Cassie remembers it.

Well, it technically isn’t ‘their’ house. Their portal just happened to appear inside this strange old place one day, and they claimed it. Finders keepers, you know? Besides, the previous owners were probably long dead.

“Come on, we need to get your pumpkin.” Petra made her way to the counters beside the portal. The countertops were covered with broken weapons, ores, and strange nik naks they found over the years, and sitting in the middle of it all: Cassie’s white pumpkin.

Petra grabbed the hollowed fruit and spun it around in her hands, “You’ll be happy to hear I’ve been taking good care of your other pumpkins back at the cave.”

“That’s impressive, considering you somehow managed to kill a cactus that one time.”

“Hey, I already told you that stupid cactus killed itself. I was gone for one day, and when I came back, it was dead. I did nothing wrong.” Petra denied as she tossed Cassie her pumpkin.

Cassie quickly dropped her extra set of clothes to catch her it, “Did you water it when the soil got dry?”

“It’s a cactus. Water’s irrelevant.” Petra avoided Cassie’s little glare by facing the counter again and sorting through the random items.

Cassie held the pumpkin in her hands and stared at it for a moment. It’s been a few years since she’s worn it last. Memories were flooding through her. She still remembered how she first got her hands on her first pumpkin; she stole it from a crazy old guy’s backyard. She just happened to spot it while walking through a random town one day, Petra told her ‘If ya like it, get it.’ And she did exactly that. It was a real strange pumpkin. When the two cut it open, it hardly had any guts, and the inside smelled like… Nothing. Well, it smelled ‘wet’ if that was possible. The sorta wetness you’d smell in a forest after it’d rain. They were surprised at how durable it was too, which soon sparked the amazing idea of shoving her head inside the pumpkin and using it for protective gear. It sounds ridiculous--heck, it probably looks ridiculous--but it works, and Cassie likes it, so that’s all that matters.

Cassie ended up planting the few pumpkin seeds years ago, and before she knew it, she had a bunch of = pumpkins to last.

Cassie can trust Petra with the pumpkin care, but she always makes sure to check in on them. That white pumpkin got her into plants, she even has a few houseplants back at home, but she’s still too embarrassed to tell anyone yet.

“Oh!” Petra snapped her fingers. She dashed back to the portal, shoved the upper-half of her body into the vortex, then came back out with her Wither Skull in hands. “Nearly forgot this bad boy.”

“I’m surprised that thing’s still in one piece.” Cassie said while she watched Petra grab a cloth from a chest in the kitchen.

“Right? This thing’s insane!” Petra exclaimed as she cleaned the inside of her painted skull. “One time I forgot it outside, a quake happened, and when I ran out to get it back, a tree landed on it and it was still in one piece.”

“You ever thinking of repainting it?” Cassie asked. She began putting on her long, oversized, dark blue pants over her leggings.

“Nah, the stripes are iconic. “ Petra tossed the cloth aside then shoved her head into the skull.

Cassie let out a grunt as she struggled to put her large long-sleeved shirt over her hoodie. She knew she was going to be drowning in sweat with three layers on, but that’s three extra layers of fire protection. When she finally got it on, she began tying the belt around her waist and slipped on her thick, brown gloves.

As she was adjusting her gloves, Petra handed her a crooked pickaxe and a worn-down sword.

“If I knew you were comin’ over today, I would’ve made some better tools for you.” Petra said. She was holding a blue backpack in her other hand that’s seen better days. One black strap had been completely torn off while the other was just barely holding on. There were holes where the buttons used to be. Hopefully it’ll be able to hold their stuff.

“Nah, don’t worry about it.” Cassie said, holding the tools by the sides of her arms. “We’re just gonna pick up a few things anyways.”

Cassie stuck her head into the pumpkin.

“You ready?” Cassie asked, her voice muffled. She took the weapons out and held them firmly.

“Super ready.” Petra smiled as she watched Cassie twirl the tools around before shoving them into her pockets.

Petra swung open the front door, and a horrible heatwave rushed in and hit their faces. Cassie’s eyes watered. You’d think after all those years of exploring the Nether, she’d get used to it, but it always seems to get worse each time.

Petra held the door open with her foot and the girls made some quick, last-minute readjustments with their outfits.

Cassie glanced to the side and spotted a familiar sign hanging under the doorknob. It was a piece of oak wood with the words “No Boys Allowed” that she made as a joke. That was way back when they first spawned into this house.

“Why do you still have that old sign up?” Cassie asked, surprised it hadn’t burnt to a crisp.

“To keep the boys out.” Petra said casually as she closed the door.

“But we’re the only two here though.”

“All thanks to the sign.” A little smirk formed on Petra’s face.

Cassie rolled her eyes and gave Petra a playful shove as they went out into The Neighborhood.

The Neighborhood… A sweltering ghost town. Awakening members used to live here years ago. Their ‘homes’ were just hollowed out holes in netherrack hills, making the place look more like a Hellish wasp nest than a cozy neighborhood. The openings were usually covered in old wood, and their front doors were rather busted or missing. And the way these houses were placed in such unorganized clutters just felt… Wrong. People weren’t meant to live in the Nether.

Any leftover space was taken up by Nether portals. It didn’t matter if the space between the houses were huge or cramped, people found ways of making the portals fit. Maybe the Neighborhood looked real pretty when the portals were all activated, but they’ve been deactivated for years, and Cassie and Petra weren’t planning on lighting them up anytime soon. It was bad luck to reactivate dead portals.

“So what things you lookin’ for again?” Petra asked.

“Gold’s high on the list,” Cassie replied, “we also need extra iron, extra flint, and some netherrack just in case.”

“Awh shoot, what?!” Petra froze. Her tone turned serious.

“What? What’s up?!”

“Do you know how hard it is to find netherrack!? We’ll be looking around for hours!” Petra exclaimed, standing on the netherrack floor. Surrounded by netherrack hills. With a netherrack covered sky.

Cassie couldn’t see Petra’s face, but she KNEW she had that big, dumb smile.

Cassie gave her a quick bonk on the skull and bent down to gather an arms-full of netherrack chunks, all while Petra was laughing.

“Damn, talk about lucky.” Petra teased, “You always had a good eye for rare items.” She slipped the bag off her shoulders and opened the flap for Cassie.

“Yeah, yeah. You gonna be messing with me the entire time we’re here?” Cassie rolled her eyes as she shoved the netherrack into the sack.

“Awh, come on, it’s been almost two years since we’ve done this. I’ve missed ya.” Petra said. The two began walking again. “It’s really boring without ya, you know?”

“Man, has it really been two years?” Cassie stared at her feet, a feeling of guilt starting to gnaw at her.

“But I mean--mentally, it’s only been two days.” Cassie said, looking back at Petra.

“Ex-ACT-ly. Time doesn’t move unless we’re together. Common knowledge.” Petra gave her a grin. Cassie couldn’t see most of it, but she could feel it. It was reassuring.

The two stepped over a wooden bridge that was splayed out over the ground. It’s been there since day once, wood planks, rope, and all. They kept telling themselves they’re gonna move it, but they never do. It’s not like it’s a huge obstacle or anything.

There was a lotta stuff like that around the Neighborhood. If you looked up, you could see more bridges hanging between the hills, many of them missing their planks or dangling by their threads, and a bunch of the houses built into the top of the hills had staircases, ladders, or ramps that stretched all across the area. Cassie and Petra had the “fun” experience of finding out which ones were stable or not.

“So, shouldn’t we start looking through the houses or somethin’?” Cassie asked, her eyes scanning the dozens of houses they’d have to scour through.

There were still items in these houses. Even though this place was abandoned years ago, a looming presence remains. Dirty dishes sitting in cauldrons, rotting meals on kitchen tables, unfinished letters on desks, wrinkled blankets on unmade beds, all signs that this ghost town was once full of life. Petra and Cassie have spotted many weird trinkets The Awakening members have made; chunky jewelry, small dolls carved from nearby materials, chimes, and masks that lacked eyeholes. Many, many art pieces included the Awakening symbols: A red flower with hundreds of petals, their empty eye, and the Hero. Another thing many homes seemed to have were mirrors, but they were never in one piece. Instead, they were often broken into several large parts and tied to strings that’d hang from the ceiling, or arranged in odd shapes on the walls. Sometimes the shape would resemble their eye, but most of the time it looked like nonsense.

“Nah, I have a different place in mind.” Petra replied.

“Have we been there before?” Cassie tilted her head.

“Perhaps.” Petra said, “Just gotta wait and see.”

The two stayed on the path, which was a mix of netherrack, gravel, and soul soil, passing under the hanging decor above.

Wooden poles were on each side of the path with rope tied to the tops, connecting them together while chimes, flags, and glass hung from the threads. When a hot breeze came by, the Neighborhood would create its own music. The clinking of the glass, the flapping of banners, the clattering of metal chimes, and the creaking of wooden doors created this strange but soothing sympathy to fill the silence.

“How’re things with the other Jesse and Olivia goin’?” Petra asked, swinging her sword around.

“Frustrating.” Cassie huffed.

“Oh?”

“Things were kinda going okay until Aiden decided to basically blurt out what was happening to our Jesse. Now Stella’s all stressed out, and we gotta keep an eye out for that cult creep, and Aiden’s probably gonna be super bummed that he made poor little Jesse upset--” Cassie ranted.

“I remember bout Aiden spillin’ the beans.” Petra commented. “Sorry everything’s been stressful.”

“It’s been so freaky with those two around! I dunno if I should be happy, upset, but Hero, everytime I look at them for more than a minute I start to feel sick.” Cassie felt that familiar queasy feeling rising in her stomach, “I’m not saying they’re bad people or something, just that… Everything sucks. And having our Jesse running around isn’t helping.”

“I mean, it’s a weird situation. Don’t blame you at all for feeling that way. Heck, even when I first saw them I was thrown off. Felt like two freaks wearing Olivia and Jesse’s skins.” Petra noticed her friend falling behind and waited for her to catch up.

“That’s a fun way to put it.” Cassie said, trudging along.

“Jess and Liv,” Cassie mumbled, “they’re nice, but I can’t wait for them to go home. I wanna forget this ever happened. They make me miss those two all over again.”

“I can imagine.” Petra went quiet when Cassie joined her side. The sounds of the Neighborhood filled the air.

Petra extended her arm out, “I’m here for ya, though, ya know? If you ever wanna complain, cry, or get angry about that Radar guy, I’m always here.” It was hard to see it, but through the gaps of the skull’s teeth, Petra was giving her a smile.

“Thanks.” Cassie took one hand out of her pocket and went to lock arms with Petra, something they used to do years ago, “I mean it.”

“Course.” Petra said.

And with that, the two picked up the pace.

Petra glanced at her friend then glanced at the various portals surrounding them, “I’m gonna guess Jesse and Olivia didn’t walk through an obsidian portal, right?”

“No, some weird blue portal. Probably lapis. I wish it was somethin’ as easy as obsidian.” Cassie sighed. “I’m guessing you haven’t seen Jesse recently?” She asked.

“Nope.” Petra lied, “Not yet. I’ll let you know though.”

Cassie gave her a nod and looked ahead. They were nearing the Nether Fortress. Their Nether Fortress.

Seeing this place after so long… It was like seeing it for the first time again. The broken, tall towers, the bridge stretching across the sea of lava, the ruined railway system, it was so otherworldly. The only thing missing were those hundreds of monsters crawling around the place that Cassie and Petra used to beat up.

That wide open bridge over boiling magma--with the Fortress being so close--was just begging Cassie to run across it.

Petra noted Cassie’s excitement and unlocked arms with her.

“Go ‘head, I’ll be right behind ya.” Petra said with a grin, and on cue, Cassie bolted off to the entrance.

Memories of the two of them raced through Cassie’s mind. The hot air hitting her face, the colors blurring together, her feet stinging each time they hit the ground, it was just like old times. This was liberating.

“Hey, I’m winning!”

Cassie whipped her head at just the right time to see Petra taking the lead.

“Not for long!” Cassie hollered as she picked up the pace.

They were both set on the entrance. Cassie could see Petra out of the corner of her eye. She could feel the confidence radiating from her, like she knew she was gonna win. But not this time.

When Cassie was just feet from the entrance, she dived. She crashed into the ground, her pumpkin making a loud THUD when it hit the floor.

Before she could push herself up, Petra fell on top of her. She must’ve had the same idea.

Both of them were laying on the ground, panting and laughing.

“Pretty sure I won.” Petra finally said.

“Nu-uh, my hand made it past the entrance first!” Cassie shot back, still breathing heavily.

“Yeah, but your hand didn’t touch the ground first, so technically--”

“Since when were you about technicalities?!” Cassie exclaimed. Petra could hear the laughs between her words.

“Alright, if it’ll make you happy, then I’ll admit it…” Petra got up and helped Cassie to her feet. “We tied.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Welp, guess we’ll never know who won.” Petra shrugged. Cassie gave her a playful shove.

“Yeah, yeah.” Cassie adjusted her belt. The two stopped and faced an intersection of three hallways.

“Which way do we need to go?” asked Cassie.

Petra glanced at the wooden arrow signs above then pointed ahead, “Straight, then a left, then straight again.”

“Got it.” Cassie started walking and couldn’t help but snicker at the words on the signs. There were a bunch of those signs hanging around here, their original words have long since faded, so she and Petra took some creative liberties.

Cassie recalled those directions, they were heading towards the ‘Spicy Abyss’, which was the second bridge on the other side of the Fortress. It's in ruins, so the two of them just like to sit on the edge and enjoy the view.

The middle sign was ‘Lotsa Boxes’, which is the hallway they’re currently walking through. It’s a rather wide hall--nearly as wide as the bridge they just crossed--that’s filled with abandoned stalls, carts, and chests. The stalls had boxes in, on, and around them, the old carts had boxes in them, and the chests--the chests were already boxes. This place must’ve been a Trading Hall, a storage, or even a marketplace for the Neighborhood back then. The way everything was arranged reminded Cassie of the night-market in Obsidian Town; lots of trading, buying, and selling, except not in the middle of the blazing-hot Nether.

Banners hung from short poles in the walls, all shades of red, turquoise, and gold while covered with symbols and faded words advertising goods. When Cassie and Petra first found this place, they were surprised at how many tools, ores, and old books were left behind, so of course they gathered them all up and sold ‘em. Made them a great deal of money!

The two took a left and continued down another hallway. They were pretty close to ‘Petra Fell’; those were the words on the last sign. It was one of the three tall towers you could see through the windows. It was the shortest of the bunch, it’s upper half is completely missing, but it was the best place to climb and get a fantastic view.

Cassie and Petra haven’t been on top of that tower in years. The last time they were, Petra was playing around near the edge, stumbled, and nearly fell to her death had it not been for Cassie catching her. Petra’s been terrified of heights since then. Cassie can’t blame her.

It’d be nice to rush through that tower again with Petra, even if she didn’t want to go to the very top, it’d be a great… The tower…

It looked different.

Cassie couldn’t put her finger on it, but something was off. She could feel it.

“Hey, did that tower get shorter? Or have I just been gone for too long?” Cassie asked.

Petra didn’t even glance at the tower, “Already noticing my hard work, I see.”

“Hard work?” Cassie tilted her head. Petra didn’t elaborate. Cassie kept pestering her, but she wouldn’t budge until they reached the end of the hall.

Where there used to be a big, gaping hole was now covered up by tons of banners. They were sloppily sewn together, trying to hide every piece of the other side.

“So,” Petra began, “Remember how I said I had a different place in mind to find those items?”

“Yeah?” Cassie answered slowly.

“And remember how we always wanted to build that bridge to the other side of the Nether?” A grin grew on Petra’s face as she watched Cassie’s eyes light up.

Cassie gasped, “No, nu-uh, you did not!”

“I did.” Petra raised her brows. When Cassie took another step forward, Petra yanked the banners off to reveal a magnificent bridge that stretched across the sea of lava and connected to the other side of the Nether. It was a mish mash of netherrack, nether brick, gravel, and even some obsidian. There weren’t any rails on it, and Cassie was certain it hardly had any support underneath it.

It looked dangerous.

It looked fantastic.

Petra watched Cassie take all this in. She was bouncing in place, hands over her mouth, all excited like a li’l kid. Man, Petra could only imagine what Cassie’s face was like under that pumpkin. Her eyes were probably sparkling and she had that big, dorky smile that’s bright enough to light up this entire fortress.

“Oh Hero, oh--Oh I canNOT believe you!” Cassie exclaimed, grabbing Petra and shaking her excitedly before giving her a big hug.

“Hey, we always wanted to see more of the Nether together.” Petra chuckled, “Thought this would be a nice little surprise for when you came back.”

Cassie let go to look at the bridge again; Petra took a lungful of air.

“And don’t worry, it’s stable.” Petra said, “I’ve tested this bad boy out hundreds of times and only had several near death experiences.”

“Perfect, great! All I need to hear.” Cassie was revved up. She dug her feet into the ground, ready to blast off, but she stopped herself. “Agh, wait. I promised Aiden I’d come back home soon.”

“How soon?” Petra leaned against the wall.

“Like, by the end of tomorrow, I think?”

“Well, you got here at a pretty good time, so we got, what? Several hours to work with?” Petra tapped the skull’s chin, “If we’re fast enough, we could see some good sights and get your stuff. So whaddya say?”

Petra got closer to Cassie, “Wanna see how fast we can blast through this sucker?”

Despite the skull hiding her face, Cassie knew Petra was smiling, and Cassie smiled right back at her.

[oumaheroes]

Earthbound 2/?

Summary:

Centuries after humanity fled a dying Earth and found sanctuary in the stars, the planet has healed enough to support mankind once more. For some, there is something more than curiosity; memories from another life whisper history in familiar voices, calling them home.

 'He closes his eyes and thinks about blue flowers and large statues of stone, of ships and red coats flapping over a green meadow.'

Part 1

Part 3

AO3

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                  Chapter 2: Journey to Neverland

Morning comes, and Alfred finds himself huddled on the floor of a toilet stall. He was fine up till very recently, having spent the previous night occupied with travelling to where his ship was docked via his dome's rather old shuttle bus. The covers of the seat of the bus had been cracked with age and Alfred had absent mindedly picked at the stuffing whilst he watched his childhood home zip by in a blur of dusty yellow before slipping away into the distance. The Earth-bound ship, his new home for now, was very different in comparison to anything he'd ever seen on the planet before, all bold, sleek lines of monochrome with bright lights and shiny windows that hadn't yet been smeared opaque by the atmosphere. It was exciting, it was different; it was like a dream coming true because there in front of him had been something which represented a future, a very large representation of the possibilities he could find.

He queued up to board and was assigned his room all within the space of a hour and Alfred had quickly unpacked with a frenzy of excitement in his small room. His room mate, a small, quiet man called Kiku, had watched the sudden chaos with an unreadable expression from the bunk he'd retreated to with a book after he had introduced himself. For Alfred, that was all easy. That was all doing something, there was a plan and it needed action and Alfred lost himself in the motions.

But then he'd run out of things to do. Kiku had watched him from the corner of his eye as Alfred grew progressively more anxious, rearranging his things, standing up to stare out of the window, sitting down to his laptop, getting up again, all whilst the feeling of panic took root and bloomed in his chest. It was now, with an empty task list and hours to wait before take off, that Alfred suddenly understood what exactly it was he had just done and was in the process of doing.

He had excused himself for a walk but hadn't got far before all of his anxiety came to a head and he needed to get away from all of the people, away from the windows where he could see the landscape he'd soon be leaving behind without knowing if he'd ever see it again and away from the exits and doors, most of all, because he was half scared that he'd just walk out of one.

He chose the first bathroom he came to and squashed himself on the floors in a stall, pillowing his head in his arms as he squeezed, and still squeezes, his knees in a desperate attempt to calm down and rationalise.

Breathe.

He extracts an arm from where it is hooked under his knee and glances at his watch. It is 10.38am. By now, he should be at work. By now, his parents would be up and assume he is where he is supposed to be, at work now themselves. It took him five hours to get to the ship, so he has until 12pm to board a bus back and get home before them, to pretend that nothing had happened. He has until 12pm before whatever choice he makes becomes the only one he has left. If his parents were to find out, if they were to know where he plans on going or if his job were to get wind of what he is doing then he doesn't think there will be any chance of fixing it completely. His boss and colleagues would consider him a flight risk and which would ruin his chances at moving up the career ladder, his parents would be broken hearted that he had thought about leaving in the first place, not even adding on the hurt that he didn't plan on saying goodbye, and he knows that if he goes home to talk about it with them he'd be talked out of it instantly. He doesn't even think that he'd put up much of a fight.

Alfred buries his face back into his knees and bites on his cheeks, not hard enough to draw blood or cause any real pain but enough for him to focus on. What was he doing? Was he really going to throw his whole life away, all of what he'd built and all of what he could have, just like this? On a whim? Because that's what this is, a whim, and he knows it. What if there is nothing waiting for him on earth, what if there isn't anyone who wants him to work in history, what if he can't settle in or make friends or get enough money together to try again; is it worth the risk?

He hears the door to the bathroom open and he stills, breathing slowly through his mouth before carefully going to uncurl himself and move to the toilet where his feet won't be seen.

He's too late. The footsteps of the other person stop on front of the mirrors over the sinks but they quickly start moving again, towards where he's hiding. The footsteps slow down before coming to a stop in front of his door and Alfred watches as the person shifts their weight from one foot to the other, as if they're deciding what to do.

'Hello?' They say in a soft, tentative voice. Alfred knows it's stupid, because the other person, a young man by the sounds of it, obviously knows that he's here, but for a second he thinks that maybe if he doesn't say anything they won't notice him.

'Um, are you okay?' Still Alfred doesn't answer and watches as the person outside his door shifts to the other foot.

'Do you need me to get anyone, or anything?'

'No,' he surprises himself by answering and without his self-control his voice catches before he's able to stop it. He forces himself to speak again, more normally, 'I'll be alright, but thanks! Just ah... just needed to get away for a bit.'

'Cool uh, okay. Me too, you know? It's a lot to think about.'

It's hard to keep up a conversation when one of the participants in locked in a toilet but the other man has that small wobble in his voice that Alfred is trying to cover up in his own and he realises that this guy isn't going to go away any time soon. So, legs beginning to cramp anyway, he shakily gets to his feet and unlocks the door.

The other man is his height and seems to be his age, with shoulder length, wavy blond hair and large round glasses perched on his nose. They're slipping, and he pushes them up as Alfred emerges.

He gives a small smile. 'Hey, glad you're alright. I didn't know whether to disturb you or not, if I'm honest.'

Alfred shakes his and sticks out his hand for the other to take. 'Nah, I'm glad that you did. I was talking myself round in circles in there.'

The man takes it and gives it a quick shake. 'I know the feeling, bit crazy this, eh? I'm Matthew.'

'Alfred.'

Matthew nods at him. 'Nice to meet you. You here with anyone?'

He obviously doesn't mean the bathroom and Alfred swallows the hot flash of loneliness and regret that makes itself known in his throat. 'Nope, all alone! You?'

Matthew ducks his head and shifts his feet again. 'Same.'

'Do you...' Alfred pauses, uncertain if he wants to hear the answer, but he heard the wobble in Matthew's voice and he must be Alfred's age; he must be worried about similar things to what Alfred is so he presses on, 'Can I ask you something kinda personal? Do you think we're doing the right thing, leaving here? I mean it's a long way away and everything and it's not like there's an easy way back.'

Matthew blinks at him and takes a long breath in before answering with a voice filled with unexpected finality. 'Yeah. I mean, I don't know what your reasons are, of course, or what you're giving up, but-' He stares at the spot between Alfred's eyes and continues, 'but we're going to Earth, even if it goes horribly wrong or we don't get what we're going there for, it's Earth, isn't it? It's worth a try.'

It's what Alfred wanted to hear, it's the validation of his selfishness that he needed but it doesn't quite soothe his concerns as much as he had hoped.

Matthew must have noticed, because he tries again, sounding slightly panicked, 'I'm sure you'll be fine though, whatever happens! I mean, I'm going there because I'm hoping to work with all of the animals they've got; my parents warned me that they won't care about that and will probably put me to work on a farm or something but as long as you're fit to work they're not gonna turn us away, right?'

Alfred fights down the euphoric glee trying to become a grin on his face and instead says, 'Yeah, but farms have animals too, right?'

Matthew laughs. 'I bet I'll get trodden to death by a cow.'

Alfred claps him on the back. 'Hey, that sounds like a great way to go! Don't worry, man, I'll write home for you and say it was a elephant, or something. You know, keep your street cred up.'

Matthew rolls his eyes and grins at him. As he jabbers about the elephants that used to live on Earth before the Fall, later on in one of the canteens on their deck where they go for lunch, Alfred notices the clock hit 12 and feels nothing but excitement.

He'll be fine.

……………………………………………………………………

Peter is twelve, and the trip is finally coming to an end. It's been so many years, here on the ship, that if not for the books and videos he sees in school he would have forgotten how the domes and living stations from his home planet looked, now far far away. He thought that he was prepared for the sight of Earth, their species' old home world, he's seen so many photos of it that all he needs to do is hear the name to have it brought up in his mind, as detailed and as clear as anything he's seen with his own eyes. But, nothing could have prepared him for the real thing.

He is sitting in the corridor outside his living quarters. Mum and Dad are arguing, again, and he doesn't really want to be in there right now because he knows that as soon as they see him they'll pretend that nothing's the matter and he thinks that that's probably worse. With a sigh, he gets up, floor too hard to actually sit on for long periods, and goes for a wander around his 'neighbourhood'. As he passes doors of the others living here he wonders what kind of families live inside them: a mum and her kids, an elderly couple, someone young looking for something new, or maybe they're just like him, dragged here because their planet couldn't support them and they took a chance at building something better. A split family with barely anything to their name hurtling towards an unknown utopia.

It's been hard to get news of Earth and of the colony they'll be joining, when their ship stops only to refuel itself, but apparently it's going well. This is a comfort, at least, because not much else is these days. Some people live on space stations or spaceships and nothing else and although Peter finds an odd sort of comfort being surrounded by metal his parents, and many others, do not. Fights and spats amongst the passengers and crew have been increasing in the last few months, especially once everyone knew that they were getting close to the end of the flight. The ship they're on isn't even that small, so maybe it's not cabin fever after all and more impatience that drives the tempers high and tolerance down.

As he gets to a plaza of sorts, (the town square, as it is affectionately known,) he notices a huddle of people clambering over each other to reach and get a look out of the large, expansive windows there. Deciding against trying to force his way through the excited mass he goes forward and off to the side of the huddle to a smaller porthole and gazes out curiously.

What he sees is spellbinding, unlike anything he has ever seen before. It is not difficult to understand what is so interesting. Amongst the glittering, never-ending stars lies the Earth, shining bright and blue and all of a sudden Peter forgets how to breathe. It's blue, more blue than it ever was in the photos from his school books, there are swirls and blurs of greens and browns and whites mixed in all together but there is blue blue blue. In no picture did it ever look like this, earth was brown and dead and dry, this wasn't Earth. This wasn't the home humans had ruined, this wasn't what they had left behind. This, this couldn't be Earth, couldn't be his new home because there was so much water and-

Peter is jostled, another boy has pushed him away from the window where he had pressed his face close to the glass to see -his breath still mists the glass- but now he can only see the inky blackness of space from behind the boy's head and so he ducks away from the crowd of bodies and goes off in search of his parents, heart pounding furiously in his ears.

……………………………………………………………………

Francis, and the people he is with, are the first who will arrive on Earth. Their ship will get there the fastest and thus all aboard will be trained in a skill necessary to facilitate the setting up and maintenance of the first colony, distinct from the research bases already dotted about there. His mother must have known, because every adult he encounters are all young and healthy with intelligence and passion. There seems to be a entry requirement, because there are people from other planets besides his own that share the same qualities and all see to be formally trained, in one way or another. For the first time, he is grateful for his drafting.

Francis is happy to learn that he can pick what he wants to learn, out of the options that are available to him, and he chooses geology. The study of the soil and its chemistry isn't what he ever foresaw himself doing, but it seems to fit, somehow. As he learns about the tectonic movements of the earth, how the structure of the planet operates and how this in turn can affect and be affected by the weather, he feels like he's becoming a part of something once more. There is a goal at last, a purpose, and though he still feels as though there's something missing from his life the feeling is lessened by simply working past it; there is something to focus on.

It is lessened more so, maybe, by Arthur. Arthur is the unfortunate man assigned to share Francis' room, sleeping in the bunk above his, and specialising in agriculture. He wants to see the sea, has always wanted to see the sea, and when he talks about the oceans and cliffs and the rocking of far away waves Francis feels a part of himself become alive and real. Despite the nonchalance he coats it in, there is passion in Arthur's voice, there is a drive and a yearning which Francis recognises as one he used to share and to see it reflecting from Arthur's eyes makes his own burn with a longing he can't understand or explain. There is a tugging deep in his stomach and he starts to gaze out of the windows in anticipation, Arthur's voice drifting around his head to settle between his ears.

When Francis is twenty six, they finally get there. The stations below are set up on a nice bit of land close to the sea but also to a freshwater river too; there's fertile fields and dense forests with lots of wild-life and wild fruits and vegetables. He knows all of this before they're allowed down because that's all part of the training and survival lessons they're given. Each member must be capable of pulling their weight in areas other than their specialisation and Francis is now well versed on which plants he can eat and which he can't, how to make simple animal traps and how to catch a fish.

He feels ready to go and is excited to finally get to work and see these fields, seas and forests for himself, excited to see so much that he's only heard about and seen in pictures. And though he says otherwise, Arthur is just as excited, Francis knows, because anytime anything to do with Earth is mentioned he sits a little straighter, comes a little closer, and opens himself up a little bit more to get as much information as he can.

'Do you ever think,' Francis asks him one night, 'about where we're landing?'

Arthur turns over in the bunk above him and the metal creaks under his weight. 'What on earth are you talking about.'

'We're landing on what was once a country,' Francis explains, 'it once had people who had a language and a culture and a history. It's not just land, it was once a place that humans long ago spoke about.'

Arthur offers no further input, so Francis continues. 'It could have been someone's favourite place to go on holiday, or it could have been a small village where children grew up and played, or it could have been the site of a terrible battle from long long ago.'

'It probably was the site of a battle, at least once.' Arthur mutters from his bed.

Francis ignores him. 'It seems like a shame. Whatever is there will be built on by us; it's almost as if we're destroying its history.'

'We're not destroying it,' Arthur's voice is quiet but speaks volumes; he's thought about this before, 'we're adding to it. We're just another story for it to keep.'

Francis laughs and calls him sentimental but regrets it when Arthur throws a well aimed pillow at him.

'Shut it! Now, give that back.'

'No.'

'Francis! Give. it. back.'

'Why? You threw it at me, I did not take it from you.'

'For fuck sake, you utter waste of a human.' He's clambering down and once Francis sees his toes on the rungs of the ladder he rolls onto his belly, trapping the pillow beneath him. Arthur tugs on his shoulder and succeeds in rolling Francis back over but before he can do much else Francis grabs him and pulls him down to the bed. Arthur gives an undignified squawk, his head hits one of the metal frames and he tumbles gracelessly onto Francis' lap.

Francis can't help but laugh. 'Oh Arthur I'm sorry, are you-' but he's stopped by Arthur punching him in the eye, hard, and then there's one of their neighbours hammering on the wall next to Francis' ear, bellowing for them to shut the fuck up already because it's 1 am and some people plan on trying to sleep tonight.

They are taken down in the shuttle the next day in the afternoon. They're not allowed outside yet, they need to adjust to the planet's gravity and get used to the micro bacteria in the air, so they are housed in the Arrivals' building and assigned a room to sleep in for the time being. Francis has a black eye and Arthur has an egg-sized lump on his forehead but they're both too busy staring out of the window at the dazzling sunshine to complain that they've been put together, again.

……………………………………………………………………

Ludwig disappeared with Gilbert two days after his attack. Thanks to his illness though, they both easily convinced their parents that they'd rather stay home than making the trip to their grandparents' house and so they saw them off with ease, Gilbert trying not to grin and Ludwig trying not to give them away with how much he was sweating. As soon as they were alone he and his brother went to their rooms and packed a bag, Ludwig agonising over the situation with himself the whole time. When the day came a still wobbly Ludwig was bundled in his brother's transport pod and they both travelled to their boarding dock. It was so easy to leave.

Maybe that's what Ludwig is hurt most about. Neither parent seemed to care that he couldn't make it to his grandparents', neither parents called to check in one them whilst they were away. They probably wouldn't know anything was wrong until they returned, a few days too late to stop them.

Despite the ease of everything else, the trip itself is horrible. Ludwig's body, having only barely adjusted to his own ship's gravity systems, now finds itself thrust upon a different one and is rebelling angrily against him. The attacks are more frequent now than ever, leaving him unable to work at anything for long before another one knocks him back to bed. Today is one such day, he curls up in his bunk and tries not to complain or let his brother know how bad he feels; Gilbert does enough for him already.

He must have fallen into a daze, because he wakes up in a panic to the sounds of Gilbert kicking the door open and flinging his work bag against the wall with a thud. He tries to sit up but the world pitches alarmingly, so for the good of both of them and the state of their floor he lays back down gingerly. 'Bad day?'

Gilbert snorts and flops down on the floor to tug off his boots. 'I'll fucking say, there was massive electrical surge in one of the computers and it fucked up at least a third of people's personal systems on the ship.'

Ludwig clucks his tongue in sympathy and looks his brother over with concern. Despite looking harried he doesn't seem too worse for wear, but he works far too much in order to support them both and it's tiring him out. However, someone needs to pay for their keep and it sure as hell can't be Ludwig at the moment.

Gilbert catches him staring and glares at him, knowing what he's thinking about. They've been down that particular road before and despite how guilty Ludwig feels he can't get further than simply mentioning the topic before Gilbert either walks away or throws something at him to get him to shut up. The guilt sits on Ludwig like a stone, pushing down on his chest. His brother had a life, had a future, and he gave it all way to become this, an engineer's whipping boy for a brother who can't even sit up most of the time let alone pull his own weight. Useless.

Gilbert throws a boot at his head and Ludwig yelps. 'Get rid of that look from your face, I'm doing this because I want to, ya hear?'

Ludwig nods, because that's what his brother wants him to do.

'Good. Besides, it wouldn't have been half as bad if the head engineer wasn't such a dick. Rumour is that there's a boy genius on board we picked up at the last stop but when ol' Stevie went to get him to help the boy turned him down.' Gilbert gives a scoff. 'He's got balls, whoever he is. Either that or he's an idiot. Besides, if they'd let me have a look at it I could've probably done it.'

Ludwig rolls his eyes but refrains from saying anything further. He leaves Gilbert to undress and unwind in silence, only speaking to him again once he's sure his brother has relaxed enough.

'What if nothing changes, when we get to Earth.'

Gilbert, from where he's sprawled himself in their chair, visibly stiffens. He's obviously considered this too, then. Maybe the possibility has been on his mind just as much as it's been praying on Ludwig's. How could it not? 'It will.'

'But-'

'It will!' Gilbert has clenched his e-tab tighter, Ludwig can see the whites of his knuckles from here. 'It will, so there's no point worrying about it.'

Ludwig breathes deeply. 'It's something we've got to think about.' He says gently. If not for him, for what Gilbert will do next.

Gilbert curls his lip and refuses to look up. He prods his tab awake with more force than is needed. 'No, it's not. If it don't work, if you still can't do anything more than roll about, then at least you'll be better off than home.'

'I might be, but what about you?'

'What about me?' Finally, Gilbert looks up and he's furious. Gilbert is very free with his emotions, but never has anything negative been directed towards Ludwig before and it startles him. 'You think I was happy back there? Just because I was strong enough for them? Well you're just as fucking stupid as they were if that's so.' He stands up, crosses the room and starts to pull on his boots again.

'Gilbert-'

'You were wasting away there.' Gilbert's voice cuts though Ludwig like a knife because it's the truth, no matter how much he tries to deny it. 'They were happy to let you die if that's what it came to and I somehow was supposed to not care about that. It was fine, right? As long as they had one of us. But that meant I had to be everything, Lud. I had to be both of us and both of us had to be fucking perfect.'

Gilbert looks at him, curled up pathetically in bed and shakes his head at him, face unreadable. 'What kind of life is that?'

Boots on he wrenches open the door and walks out with a bang, leaving Ludwig mortified. How selfish of him.

[damn-daemon]

Home - A Reckless Abandon drabble

After a mission on Corellia, Jaira and the Mandalorian have a talk.

“You could have stayed, you know.”

Jaira shifted, having lodged herself under the Razor Crest’s console. Just over her left shoulder, she spied that helmet peering at her from the doorway. He’d managed to fry some of the circuitry the other day when an overly ambitious pirate thought he could steal the ship. Turns out electric shocks aren’t good for the system. 

“Where? Nevarro?” she asked, turning back to her work. She had one last wire to place, unless they didn’t like having a nav computer on hand. “Not exactly my first choice. Or my tenth.”

“On Corellia.”

She sighed, hands dropping to her sides as she silently stared at the jumble of wiring above her. This conversation had been coming, she knew that, but he’d sat on the topic for so long, Jaira began to wonder if he would ever bring it up. For a man who wouldn’t show his face, it probably felt wrong to pry into someone else’s life. 

But she had brought him to her home for a reason. Of course, he was allowed to be curious.

“You have the money. Your family is safe,” he continued, clearly uncomfortable with the silence she left him with. 

“It’s not about that,” Jaira replied, awkwardly crawling out of the space. She stood slowly, grabbing the rag she’d left on his chair and wiping her hands. “Corellia just…isn’t the same.

“Growing up, there were good memories. The farm, my brother, this little lake we used to skip rocks on. Then came the bad ones. The Imps burned our fields, they put me in a factory, my father lost his hand, my mother got sick, on and on it went until the bad memories far outweighed the good ones.

“My parents were born on Corellia and they will die there, I know that, but it isn’t home for me. It hasn’t been in a long time.”

“I understand,” he said quietly. She knew he did.

Jaira watched him for a while, still attempting to gauge his thoughts despite the helmet. Sometimes, she thought it actually worked. 

“Besides,” she said, shrugging past him to the ladder. “Someone has to keep this hunk of junk running.”

She slid down into the hull, grabbing the tools she had left out and replacing them into their correct locations with practiced ease. She knew he was watching her – she’d heard him come down the ladder – but he was quiet. Something was on his mind. 

“Given how often you put her through the ringer, I’m surprised she doesn’t just shake apart every time you hit re-entry.”

Now she was the one filling the silence. 

Jaira finished up, taking her rag and tossing it on her bag, before observing the space. It was as clean as it was going to get. 

“You know where everything is.”

It wasn’t a question, but she had a feeling he was looking for an explanation nonetheless. 

She shrugged. “I’ve been here long enough. I notice things. I even know where your secret compartment is.”

“I don’t have a-”

Jaira cut him off by leaning against the far wall and kicking back with her foot. A small compartment toppled open, revealing a couple extra weapons. 

She expected him to sigh – it was his go-to reaction after all – but her Mandalorian partner said nothing. He simply watched her, and though she could not see his expressions, she was beginning to chafe under his gaze. 

“Did you know the cockpit door has a scrape on the right side?” Jaira asked, hoping to break him out of whatever he was in. She found herself moving back to the workbench, shifting the tools around. “You have a matching one on your armor. You favor your right side too much, and the door is starting to pay for it. Same with the landing gear, actually. We’ll have to take a look at it at the next port we reach. Wear down the struts too much and they’ll snap next time you-”

“Why are you still here?”

There was a slight hitch in his voice. It wasn’t simply a question of curiosity. He had a personal stake in this. 

Suddenly, she was nervous. She’d smuggled Rebel spies deep into Imperial territory on nothing more than a potentially outdated officer’s pass, and somehow being alone with the Mandalorian right now was far more intimidating. 

Jaira put down the hydrospanner, wondering what route she ought to take. 

Kriff it.

“Because this is home.”

He was quiet for a moment.

“This ship?”

Now she was the one sighing, though she smiled as she did so, turning to face him. The Mandalorian was one of the most tactically proficient individuals she had ever met while simultaneously being a complete laserbrain. 

“It wouldn’t be much of a home without someone occupying it.”

And that was the truth of it. In the past several months, Jaira had grown comfortable in the cramped living space. It was where she expected to sleep at night and return to after a mission. She expected her mostly silent Mandalorian counterpart there, watching her back, giving her intel, or just losing very badly at an argument. 

She felt more at ease on the Razor Crest than Corellia, even at her parents’ home. 

She felt more at ease with him.

The man in question had yet to move. 

And then he did.

He walked straight up to her, and she could feel his gaze piercing his helmet. 

“Close your eyes.”

She blinked. “What?”

“Humor me.”

Jaira sighed, but did as he asked, closing her eyes. At first, nothing appeared to happen. He might have been watching her, making sure her eyes were truly closed, so she scrunched them tightly together to ease his mind. 

“When I swore my creed, I vowed to never remove my helmet, to never let another living being see my face,” he said slowly. Jaira heard the sound of moving fabric, and then his voice, clear as a bell, free of anything impeding its sound, like a helmet. “If your eyes are closed, who’s to say I took it off?”

The utter surprise of what he had just said and done almost made Jaira’s eyes open, and she closed them even tighter to keep that from happening. 

There was trust between one professional and another, the obligation to watch one another’s backs and make sure they made it to the next day, but this…

This was so much more.

This Mandalorian standing before Jaira had just given her the power to ruin his entire livelihood if she chose to do so. All she had to do was open her eyes, and everything he had trained for would be for nothing.

But he trusted her, deeply, with no hesitation. 

As if confirming everything she was going through, Jaira felt his hands guide hers, until his helmet rested between her fingers. She traced over the edges, feeling the shapes that had become so familiar to her over the months, the bits of beskar that she had come to associate as his face rather than a piece of armor.

And here it was, in her hands. 

She looked up at him, or rather where she thought he was, and reached a hand out. It moved slowly through the space between them until she felt his gloved hand grab her wrist. He held her there, gently, but with caution. This was pushing his boundaries at little further than he cared for. 

“I won’t do anything you don’t want,” she whispered.

His grip flexed, and Jaira thought he might let her go, but instead, he drew her closer, bringing her hand upward until she could feel barest hint of skin under her fingers. Her hand stretched out, feeling everything, the warmth of his skin, the stubble of a beard growing in, a curling, lock of hair twisting about her middle finger. He had hair under that helmet, and for whatever reason, it made her laugh. 

Meanwhile, his grip had subsided, and she heard him sigh, heavily, under her touch. 

Only then did she realize how long it must have been since someone touched him. 

Since he was a child, she thought. Since everything was taken from him.

Her thumb rubbed the area beneath his eye and it came back wet. So, she took the helmet and set it on the table behind her, and brought her other hand up to his face. 

And just...held him.

“My name is Din,” he said after a while, voice shaking. “Din Djarin.” 

Jaira smiled at the man she could not see. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, Din.”

Tagging Clan Green Bean: @chuck-hansens​ @drbobbimorse​ @susiesamurai​ @emiliachrstine​

(I swear, I didn’t steal, I’ve been writing this for weeks, this ep just really got me going)

[lulu-balu]

Piper and Dorothy having a silly argument over hats

So for context, assume that Dorothy and Rusty have met up with Piper and co. after years, and Fen’s insistence results in Piper allowing the two to stay with the crew. Only problem is that it’s a bit cramped…

Piper jerked her head up from her desk as she heard a clatter coming from the other room, followed by an irritated “Coggarn it!”

Sighing, she rubbed the sleep out of her eyes, and quickly sorted through her paperwork, before getting up to investigate the racket. Her steps were clumsy and lethargic as she descended closest ladder, but she trusted herself enough not to misstep or fall over.

However, instead of the satisfying clunk she was expecting when she touched the floor, her foot made a whumf sound as she stepped into something very soft.

“Hats, hats, everywhere! Why do you even have so many of them?!” yelled a short Steambot, who was currently digging herself out of an ample pile of headgear. She did not look happy, steam spewing out of her vents as she flung the hats out of the way like baseballs.

Dollie—no, Dorothy. Good grief, why can’t I remember this lady’s name?

“Sorry miss, but I’ll have you know that we take great pride in our hat collection,” explained Piper. She bent down to gather some in her arms, planning to put them in their rightful place—that is, a precariously erected tower of hats that, while Piper knew was disastrous, was currently the only way to efficiently store them in their cramped ship.

When she stood up, however, she was surprised to find the Steambot standing in front of her, or rather, below her. Being tall had its benefits, but Piper never expected one of them to be a tiny, outraged yet adorable Steambot glaring daggers at her.

“You’re proud of all of these? Really?!” Dorothy said, sounding like her father had just been insulted.

“Every single one.” Piper started putting them away.

“They fall over and make a mess every other day, some of them are ratty and gross, and some of them aren’t even hats at all!”

“Says the one with goggles on her head.”

“Where else would I put them?!”

Piper shrugged and bent down to pick up more hats. “I dunno, your neck, maybe?” At this point it was becoming increasingly obvious that the little Steambot was not amused with how nonplussed Piper was acting. While it was funny, Dorothy was starting to grate on her nerves. After all, this was the hat collection they were talking about. You don’t mess with Piper and Company’s hat collection.

Dorothy let out a snarl, muted by her closed mouth, as she plucked up a hat from the ground with harsh and jerky movements. “Look at this one.”

“It’s a bird nest.”

“Yes!”

Piper stared her down, as if asking her to elaborate on her point.

“Doesn’t it seem odd to you that you would wear the home of a living creature’s home on your head?”

“No…? Besides, whatever lived there has clearly abandoned ship.”

“THERE ARE EGGS IN IT!”

“Yeah, it’s a shame that two of them never hatched.”

Dorothy suddenly stopped, looking down at the nest’s contents. Two fully intact eggs were inside, but the third one…

“A baby bluebird hatched from one of them. The crew collectively agreed that our ship was no place for a baby bird to live, so Dora contacted an animal control crew and asked them to take care of it.”

Dorothy shook her head in exasperation, tossing the nest aside. Piper felt an itch of irritation at the sight, but restrained herself.

Picking up another hat, Dorothy said, “Look at this one.”

“An Octopus plushie. Let me guess, it’s a literal toy?”

“Exactly! Why would you even wear this? Why do you even have it?!”

Piper thought for a moment, but she couldn’t think of a witty comeback this time. Why did they have it, that was an easy answer, but why they wore it…

Balling her hands into tight fists, Piper became defensive. “We take everything we can get; that’s how space pirates work!” she yelled, looming over Dorothy and pointing an accusing finger in her direction

“But why do you wear it?”Dorothy repeated, putting on a smug grin. She felt rather satisfied seeing that she had finally made the normally stoic captain snap.

At that moment, Piper happened to look up from Dorothy to see Fen lurking in the back, curious about the heated discussion happening between their two best friends. At that moment, she was struck with an idea.

“You should ask your friend the same thing.”

Dorothy startled at this. “Who?” She glanced back, finding Fen waving nervously at her. “Fen?”

“Not only Fen, that copper friend of yours—”

“Rusty?! You’ve got to be kidding me. What does he have anything to do with this?!”

Piper knew from experience that the closest equivalent to cracking knuckles in a squabble was to gain a proud posture, so she straightened up, crossed her arms, and held her head high. “I’ve had a chat with him recently, and he’s quite the hat enthusiast himself. Told me he amassed a decent collection, he did. Some of them ‘aren’t even hats’ as you would put it.”

Dorothy was already gaping, looking around for Rusty to earn an explanation, but the shy little Steambot was nowhere to be found.

“One of them is a little octopus plush much like the one you hold—”

On cue, light footsteps entered the room, their owner instantly drawing stares.

There was Rusty, a cute green cephalopod plush on his head.

“What? Fen told me to try it on. I rather like it.”

Dorothy’s optics twitched.“Rusty… that’s mine.”

Judging by the varied expressions of surprise on everyone’s face, no one knew this.

“You see, Miss Dot, there isn’t a solid explanation as to why ‘we wear it,’” Piper’s voice said from behind her. “All that matters is that it fits on wearer’s head and if they are content with it.”

Dorothy looked at Piper, then Fen, then Rusty, her continuously changing expression implying that she had just gone through a battle of sorts and that she was still processing everything that happened.

“I need to be alone for a bit. Scratch that; a very, very long time.”

[amillionsmiles]

just the lonely talking

Title: just the lonely talking Summary: Rose is used to sharing a bed. / Rose with Paige, and Rose without. Oneshot. A/N: anyways you can’t put two sisters onscreen and not expect me to spew feelings at some point. this is rough as hell and multiple attempts will probably be made to explore their backstory and bond but here’s round 1, for the time being

[Read and review here] or continue under the cut.

i.

Rose is used to sharing a bed.

Hays Minor is a cold planet, covered in ice sheets and shrouded in twilight year-round, but the artificial light in the Tico family’s living pod glows soft and warm. When Rose is four, she is still small enough to steal from the mattress she shares with Paige and wriggle between their parents instead.  Ever the light sleeper, Paige wakes up in Rose’s absence.

It doesn’t take long for her older sister to decide that she wants to be part of the family cuddle pile, too.

“Move over,” Paige says, digging her elbow into Rose’s side as she slots herself into place.  Their rearrangement of limbs wakes their parents; Mom stirs and reaches over to adjust the blankets, which have been kicked down.

“There are my girls,” she says, blowing a raspberry against Rose’s shoulder.  It tickles so much that Rose snorts, right in sync with the trumpeting, moan-like sound that their dad emits.  She and Paige are facing each other on the mattress, foreheads nearly touching; they share a conspiratorial look.

“Dad snores like a bantha,” whispers Paige, making both of them giggle. They’ve been working through a holobook detailing the creatures of the galaxy; Paige got it for her birthday.  Rose’s most recent favorite animal is the sand bat, but before that it was the stunfinn.  Tomorrow, she’ll probably have a new favorite.

“And I’m going to eat you two up like a krayt dragon, if you don’t go to sleep,” their mom threatens.

Under the covers, Paige nudges Rose’s foot three times.  Part of the secret code they’ve developed.  Rose closes her eyes and smiles, nudging back.    

ii.

When Paige is eighteen, she gets a job piloting a stripped down bomber, blasting away polar ice for the Central Ridge Mining Company.  She uses her first paycheck on a new pair of gloves for Mom, welding tools for Dad.

“What about me?” Rose pouts.

“I’m saving up for your birthday, you spoiled brat!”

“Fine.”  After a beat: “What’s work like?”

“Repetitive,” shrugs Paige, resting her hands on her stomach.  They’ve grown bigger now but still share a mattress, and Rose can feel, rather than see, every gesture her sister makes.  “But I like flying, and firing the cannon.  It makes me feel—I don’t know, powerful.  Can you imagine what piloting a fighter would be like?”

“Too topsy-turvy for me,” shudders Rose.  “I would like to fly, though.  Just to explore, see other worlds.”

They’re both staring at the ceiling, imagining it opens up into the sky.

“One day,” Paige says.  It’s in the same voice she uses when she’s about to win at cards: decisive, full of change.  “We’ll do it, Rose.  You, me, and hyperspace.”

iii.

The First Order arrives two years later, when Rose is seventeen.  Rose is used to the darkness of Hays Minor, but this is something else.  It’s not just perpetual twilight that obscures the sky now—oily smoke leaks from the pockmarks on their planet, thick enough to choke on.  Paige loses her job at the mining company.  The First Order has little interest in cooperation; it takes the ore it wants by force.  People, too.  Chip, the boy with the gap-toothed smile who Rose went to grade school with, goes missing.  She hugs her dad a little tighter each day, fearing a time when he’ll leave for work and disappear.        

When the first bomb hits, it’s instinctual, to scramble into her parents’ bed.  To hold close the things she loves dearest as, around them, the world falls apart. The walls of their living pod rattle.  Paige’s fingernails dig crescents into her arm.  A tremor travels through her bones, and Rose pretends the shaking is just that of a takeoff.  They’re blasting away from the surface of her home world. Aiming for the sky.

iv.

They get their own beds once they join the Resistance.

It’s all wrong.  Rose climbs onto her mattress—she’s claimed the top bunk—and is immediately barraged by an image of her parents as she saw them last. Dad and the wrinkles by his eyes, his hands rough around hers as he pressed the medallion into her palm.  Mom’s voice, lost over the wind: look out for each other.  The cramped underbelly of the ship they’d been smuggled aboard.

When they’d first reached the Resistance, Rose hadn’t cried, either in sorrow or relief.  Crying would mean she’d have to lift her filtered goggles to wipe the tears, and her eyes still hadn’t adjusted to the light of an inner planet.

But it’s dark now.  No rays to protect her eyes from. Nobody to put up a front for.

Below her, Paige offers: “Rose? Do you want to come down here?”

Rose doesn’t need to be asked twice.  Foot, hand, foot.  She maneuvers gingerly down the ladder, cheeks wet.  Paige shifts aside to make room, and Rose feels immediately lighter for it, as if her sister siphons off some of her grief just by being there.

“General Leia’s going to do whatever she can,” Paige says.

“It might not be in time,” says Rose.  The medallion burns hot against her skin, an imprint of loss.  “These were goodbye gifts that Dad made us, Paige.”  And then the tears are flowing faster: “We might be orphans by tomorrow and we’ll never know.  Orphans with—without a home—”

“Rose,” Paige repeats.  If Rose squeezes her eyes shut, she can almost pretend it’s Mom.

Fingers tug at her necklace.  Rose opens her eyes to find Paige leaning over her, fitting their pendants together, the two leaves forming a circle, one with all the dips and valleys of—

Home.  Rose rubs a thumb over it, wonderingly.  Two halves of a heart.  Hays Minor.

“There,” says Paige.  There’s a slight wobble in her voice, but she masks it well.  “We have a piece of home with us.  And we have each other.”

Rubbing her cheeks, Rose presses herself back against the wall to give Paige more space on the bed and says, shakily: “What do you think the General will have us do tomorrow?”

“Who knows?  We should get some rest, though, so that we’re alert.  You’d better not push me off in your sleep—if I end up on the floor—”

Rose smiles despite the tears.  Paige is so slim and bony, all hard angles where Rose is soft.  She tucks herself under her sister’s chin.

“I’ll hold on tight, I promise.”

v.

After the evacuation of D’Qar, she will hate herself for being soft.  She will look in a mirror and wonder: if my cheekbones were sharper, my face thinner, would I be able to find Paige in it?

Moon cheeks, Mom had always called Rose, pinching their roundness.  Rose had loved it then.  The recollection aches, now.

When she can no longer endure staring in the mirror, she goes back to their shared room.  Paige’s bunk still carries her scent, and somehow that hurts the worst: the promise of a warmth that will never return.

She lies on the mattress—alone—and cries herself to sleep.

vi.

On Canto Bight she gives away her ring.  It’s the only piece of jewelry she treasures beside her necklace.  The stableboy she gifts it to cradles it close to his chest.

There are two others, another boy and girl.  Silent, watchful.  They are young and have seen too much already, how the world continues to shake apart no matter how tightly you hold. ��Rose wants arms big enough to scoop them up and spirit them away from here. She wants to tell them to hide.  To crawl into the hay bales and not emerge for the next hundred years, however long it takes to resolve this war.

Instead, she smiles and beckons them closer.  Reaches out and adjusts the strap of the girl’s overalls, the brim of the boy’s cap.  What Paige would do, if she were here.

(The medallion sings warm against Rose's chest.  I'm still with you, Rose, I still am.)

Finn stands off to the side, waiting.

“Now let’s set these fathiers free, huh?” Rose says.

vii.

“Pae-Pae, what’s that?”

“It says here that it’s a fathier,” Paige reads slowly.  Her eyes brighten.  “Wow, can you believe people ride them? I bet it feels great to go so fast, to feel the wind in your hair.”  She claps her hands together.  “I have an idea.”

“What?”

“Here, get on your hands and knees.  You pretend to be the fathier, I’ll be the herder, and I’ll chase you around, see?”

“Why do I have to be the fathier?  Why can’t I be the herder?”

“Oh come on, Rose, we’ll take turns.  Now hurry up.  If I catch you… If I catch you I get to tickle you!”

“No!” Rose shrieks.  Paige makes a move toward her and Rose jerks away.  The game is real, now.  She’s thundering down a racetrack, an open plain, her sister chasing after her, and the world is only as big as their living pod, safe and warm and bright.

Their laughter spirals upwards like sonar swallows, chasing the light.

[qarajhcreations]

A Tal’Dorei Misadventure, part 3: Ship Wrecker

This story is told from a first-person perspective, of the character Tenarhik-ga-Rovhtark, better known as Tena Barkfang. As such, things that happens might not be described, as Tena didn’t experience all of them.

After resting near the beach, but still in a relatively safe distance from the cave and the ship, I was the first to wake up the next day. We had not talked about someone standing guard during the night, but luckily the night had passed by without anything happening, at least, so it seemed.

I had taken quite a beating, first by the corpses in the cave and later, by the boar that I killed last evening. And I had not taken my armor off before the night and as result, my body was so sore, that stretching out after a good night’s sleep, was an activity that ached badly. I looked over my traveling companions, sleeping soundly, peacefully. I took an extra look at the pretty lady, her cheeks so smooth, enticing almost, I wanted to touch them, but that would probably end up being weird. And it would certainly wake her up, which wouldn’t exactly be a nice thing to do.

I scouted the area, but it seemed like all was quiet. With a sigh of relief, I sat down on my bedroll, and began to open my armor. Oh man, my skin needed a breather, after the beatings and all, I ran my fingers over some of the bruises, and a jolt of pain shot through my chest. Ow, okay, don’t do that again. I looked at my armor, but apart from a few bent and battered scales, my armor had held firm. It was first now, with my armor in my hand, that it struck me how happy I was, that my friends were asleep, I mean, I was in undergarments, but still, I hadn’t even known them for more than a week.

It had been a little less than an hour, of me trying to work out the kinks on the scales, which is not easy without any tools. It also doesn’t make it easier, when you don’t want to wake people up. To be frank, armor-making and black-smithing wasn’t at all for me; who want to stand near a hot furnace, beating on iron all day, getting soot on all parts of your body, in your hair, in your face. My scale armor, and my axes, had been sitting on a big lump of a human male warrior. He was lying face-first down in the swamp, just off of the road going into Stillben. I couldn’t make out any wounds on him, but he was dead alright, eyes all rolled up in his head and all. At first, I tried pulling the armor over his head, which I quickly found was difficult. I then noticed the leather straps, looking like four belts, sitting on the back of the armor. That made things a whole lot easier. It also made the rather large armor fit me better, as I could tighten the straps holding it over my stomach. The axes were nice too, I almost expected them to be heavier. It took a while to get used to the weight of the armor, I had been living in rough, regular clothes. Maybe it as time to leave the swamp and go out and do good, father did bad, and I don’t want to end up like him.

As I heard one of my new-found travel-mates waking up, I hastily donned my armor again. The pretty lady seemed quick to awaken, and without a word, she sauntered off towards the edge of the forest. I’m assuming she had to relieve herself, that’s usually a first-thing-in-the-morning for me too. She soon after came back, looking pleased, no wonder. With my short friend all up and awake as well, we quickly took down our primitive camp, and headed back onto the beach.

With the cave looming ahead once more, we made sure to try and be quiet. I do not know if corpses and skeletons can actually HEAR anything, but, why risk it, right? I readied an arrow, but was surprised to see neither the pretty lady bring her long stick out and my short friend seemed content to not have his axe in hand either. I don’t know what they were thinking, I mean, I’m a pretty decent shot, but would they go in, practically unarmed, that’s like... halfway to naked. Perhaps their theory was “if we do not pose a threat, the undead won’t see us as one”. I don’t know about that, the undead that I have met in the swamp, didn’t seem to care much about if you were a librarian or a knight, but these could be different undead.

In the back of the cave, by the big chest, four skeletons stood, like statues, they didn’t move a muscle... No wonder, now that I think about it. But yea, they were standing completely still. Each by it’s corner of the chest, most certainly, guarding the chest. We also saw the sorry remains of the corpses, but there was no sign that they would stand anytime soon. No skeletons guarding the two smaller chests on the right though. When dad was home, he talked about arguing with some of the other highwaymen, about spoils and who should get what. My short friend was the one that suggested going back for the treasure, and seemed very eager to get his hands on whatever was in the chests. So he and the lady went off, I told them that I’d have their backs, in case the skeletons started moving. I was a bit concerned with my own position, three corpses laying relatively close to me, if they started to rise, I’d have serious problems.

They didn’t move. The corpses, neither the skeletons nor the more fresh ones near me. My two friends soon after returned with pleased looks on their faces. They must have found something nice, but I’ll refrain from asking about it. I know of greed from both my father, and later, my mother and brothers as well. Sure, it was nice to have money to your name, for buying food and a warm bed in an inn, but I had seen what money, what greed, can do to people. And I did not like it. At some point, it might be worth having a conversation with them both about this issue, but I’m not sure how I’ll be able to phrase it in a way that they will understand.

Out of the cave once more, our attention was turned towards the wrecked ship. From this distance it seemed only slightly larger than the fishing boats, I had seen in Stillben’s harbor, but once we got close, we could finally grasp the sheer size of it. What looked like a reinforced iron-band pattern, turned out to be hatches for large crossbows, each standing on a small set of wheels and seemed way too heavy to lift. That seems impractical to me, but I have never set foot aboard a ship, so, how would I know? We found two ways to get into the ship; a rope-ladder hanging from the railing and a small opening near the sand, that I assumed was made when the ship wrecked. The rope-ladder was all the way down, so my short friend would have no issues reaching it. The hole was a different story, almost all covered by sand.

I began digging, the others didn’t find it in them to help, I do have the biggest hand and longest arms, so I reckon their thought was that I’d be most efficient. It doesn’t bother me to do labor like that, I’m no dainty flower. Plus, if it’s doing good and helping people, it’s all that I need. As soon as the hole was big enough, my short friend darted inside the boat. I hope he’s careful, the pretty lady too, I’d hate for them to get hurt, when I can protect them. Finally the hole was big enough for me to get into.

The inside of the ship felt cramped, despite the size. My short friend was already going to town on some innocent barrels, I was going to tell him that people don’t usually store valuables in barrels. But one, it probably wouldn’t help and two, maybe that’s something you do on a ship. Most of the barrels had remains of food, but on barrel had a strong sweet smell to it, compared to the rot of the food. A smile, of width I had not yet seen, beamed on his face. He tipped the barrel, carefully, and began to roll it out of the hole. However, it got stuck in the sand. I tried to help, but ducking my head under the rafters, between the barrels and odd crossbows, it was hard to use my strength properly.

With our exit now blocked, we began heading up through the decks. If life at sea meant moving through such a cramped space every day, I think I’d prefer the shallows of a swamp. Sure, there’s leeches, bugs, pot-holes, and a lot of other nasty stuff, but at least you don’t have neck-cramps all the time. Finally we got up to the top, I had to do a bit of back-stretching. The top deck was clear, no corpses, no barrels, no treasure, which I find to be strange, but hey, if our mission was clearing out the cave and the ship, making the beach safe, finding nothing would mean that we had done a good job. At least in my mind.

While I headed for the rope-ladder’s top, preparing to get off the ship, my short friend went straight for a weird gate into a room below the steering wheel. The pretty lady seemed to be heading in that direction as well. They’ll be fine. As soon as I had thought that, a sound like thunder roared through the screams of the seagulls. I looked at the sky first, but it was all clear. Then I looked to the gate, my short friend had just opened up. A strange contraption of metal had a smoking ring, like it was on fire. I also saw my short friend having a different haircut, as if someone had dragged a strange knife atop his head, I glanced around, if something had been fired, it might be worth checking out. i couldn’t see an arrow, bolt or knife anywhere on the deck, but finally I saw it, smoking, red hot and stuck in the strange tree in the middle of the deck.

As my friends headed into the room, looking for more treasure, no doubt, I squatted down in front of where the thing had lodged itself into the wood. My fingers started moving towards it, it looked metallic, I could feel the heat as I pulled of my gauntlets; where I to dig it out, I’d need my fingers nimble. If I had a bucket, I could get down on the beach, get some water, and cool it off. Or I could wait for the thing to cool off on it’s own. Kind of lucky that it didn’t ignite all the wood around here. Then it struck me; I have a water-skin with me. Slowly and carefully I poured some water on the metallic object, making it hiss and sizzle. As it stopped smoking, I tried wrapping my fingers around it, but even without the gauntlets on, I could not get a grip on it. It’s surface was smooth and shiny.

Grabbing an arrow, I began to chip away at the wood holding the item, slowly digging the arrowhead in, pulling pieces of wood out. This was going to take a while, but if my friends started looting, it was probably safe to say; I wasn’t exactly pressed for time. I could hear them talk, calmly, well at least they weren’t arguing about loot, but I could not hear the subject of their conversation. I think I felt the metallic object shift, I pushed the arrow in and began prying it out. Man, it was lodged in there, must have been shot with a hefty amount of force.

Finally it became loose. I held my other hand under it, as it popped out. A sphere, seemingly made out iron. As it came out in the sunlight, it really shone. Mesmerized, I must have been looking at it for a while, as my friends finished looting the room, I didn’t even care what they had found, I had a treasure of my own. I was about to head over towards the rope-ladder, when a strange shadowy-creature appeared on the stairs from the lower decks, I called out to it, I wouldn’t want to shoot someone innocent, it seemed to be approaching me, I couldn’t see it wielding weapons, but something felt wrong about it.

It took a swipe at me, though I managed to step out of the way. My short friend was already en route, swinging his battle-axe wildly, slashing away at the shadowy figure. He hit, but it was as if he was cutting into thin air. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw another shadow appear from behind the pretty lady. I didn’t have time to warn her, not that I needed it, she suddenly made a really bright column of light appear, vaporizing the shadow entirely. That must have been magic. Okay, so I’ll have to keep an eye out for the pretty lady and her tricks in the future. The first shadow had turned it’s gaze and limbs towards my short friend. As it struck, he appeared to become weaker, as if it had hit his muscles straight on, a scary sight actually. I fired an arrow, to protect him, but the close range, and with the shadow’s attack scaring me, the arrow just whizzed off of the deck. Despite the clear weakened state, my short friend swung his axe again, and as it cut through, the shadow vanished.

Without breaking much of a sweat, we left the boat, and began to carry, roll and drag my short friend’s barrel of alkohol, he was determined to bring it back to the city, to sell it, I think. With the barrel moved between me and my short friend’s strength, our overall speed was significantly slower. However, despite that, our spirits were high, and we decided to not camp outright for the night, due to the idea that none of us had trouble seeing in the dark.

It took almost double the time it had taken us to get to the beach, to get back to the city, but as we finally did, we all headed straight for the tavern. I still had sand on my hands from the digging earlier, so after placing down my short friend’s barrel at the bar, I headed out to wash up. After that it was straight up to my room, finally being able to take my armor off, letting my skin breathe. Despite the almost too small tub, the hot water was so relaxing and pleasant, I could almost have slept there. My muscles were tensing up, I would sleep soundly tonight. Placing my clothes in a neat pile next to my armor and gear, I were finally able to unwind. I slept only moments after I had placed myself in bed.

The next morning, we all gathered at the bar. We were to hand in the mission, so we all trudged towards the barracks near the large tree. As it was the pretty lady who had obtained the mission, she would be the one to confer with the guards about what had happened. I had bumped pretty hard into the door-frame on the way in, and was now rubbing my hurting forehead, so I didn’t really pay attention to what the lady said. On the way out, one of the imprisoned pirates reached out between the bars, grabbing onto my belt. I’m assuming he was trying to grab my rear, I hear prison can do strange thing to people, make them need certain... things... more than others. He muttered some words to me, before he passed out in his cell again. Life at sea, huh? Not for me it seems.

In the hurry to get the mission turned in, we had forgotten something very important; breakfast. Naturally, we followed a sweet, delicious scent to a bakery. I went straight to the counter, perhaps a bit too fast, as it seemed I scared the boy overseeing the store... I didn’t mean to, I was just hungry. It’s not like I was going to eat him or anything. Raw meat isn’t good for you, honestly. We got our cakes, payed for by my short friend entirely. With our immediate hunger settled, we headed back towards the shop, my short friend had apparently found something he wanted to learn more about.

Inside the shop, I started to look around for weapons, my axes were okay, but maybe it was time to update. I felt comfortable that I would be able to use pretty much any odd thing, mauls, swords, hammers, axes. The shop seemed more “general store and item” shop, than selling and buying weapons. As the pretty lady went up to the clerk, a strange sound could be heard behind him, almost like a fart, but prolonged and less... Flatulent, somehow. A mere moment later, a very handsome elderly man came out to the counter. There was something to him, I can’t really explain it, it was as if someone as tickling the inside of my stomach. I probably interrupted the pretty lady in her shopping, but she would probably take a long time finding special stuff for her tricks and what not. I, on the other hand, was pretty certain what I wanted and what I needed, plus, my funds were limited, going by the amount of coins that I had, though it was more than I’d ever had owned before. The two of them had given me a total of... twen-ty-five, was it? Of the shiny, yellow coins. The pretty lady said that it was five, then five, then five, then five and five more.

I told the man, Gil-something, that I needed something that could pack more of a punch against undead, I was really hoping for some weapons to be stored in the back, and he’d bring them to me to browse. Instead he found three vials of some kind, and explained that if I were to add it to my weapon, arrows or my axes, it would do special damage to undead creatures. I was only able to afford a single of the vials. But I couldn’t bring myself to sound disappointed within ear-shot of the nice man, even if I was. The problem was; I doubt, after looking at my remaining coins, that I could find a blacksmith, willing to part with a pair of weapons, or even one, for what I have left. I didn’t really focus on what my friends bought, I should ask them later, out of curiosity.

With the mission past us, and shopping done, we headed back to the square with the tree. We must have attracted some attention as we walked, I didn’t see many short ones like my friend, and I saw none quite as pretty as the lady. We found like an elevated wall, people had been putting paper on it. We found a missive that someone needed help with some cow-watching down south, there were other options, but they didn’t entice us. As we took off, I looked over my shoulder, back at the city between the trees. I felt like a better person, like I had done something important, something good. It was great feeling, as if something inside of me had grown bigger, stronger.

[aleinnilatibae]

Atop the Billboard, chapter 2

(chapter 1 here, AO3 link here)

In which Robbie gets stuck on the billboard again, and also some Distress happens.

                Robbie was rudely awakened the next afternoon by a loud BANG!  Momentarily disoriented by the sound, he sat straight up. “What? Buh? Huh?” he garbled, looking left, right, left. He blinked a few times, and rubbed his eyes.  "That is the sound of a rubber ball hitting a shed wall,“ he observed blearily. Oh, that’s right. He was in the shed, in his fuzzy orange sleeping bag.

                "Now why did I come out here?” He asked himself, and that triggered his memory. Eggs. Stink. Billboard. Sportacus saving him…

                Sportacus TALKING to him.  He couldn’t even REMEMBER the last time they had just had a normal conversation, like the one last night.  Usually he was too embarrassed to stick around after he was unmasked,  and it’s not like they were on speaking terms generally.  They were hero and villain, and they stuck to their roles most of the time.

                Didn’t stop Robbie from having a crush on him, though.

                “Yuck,” he gagged.  He felt a little sick whenever he was forced to acknowledge that. It was embarrassing! He was the VILLAIN. And yet…every time Sportacus was nice to him, he felt a twinge in his midsection.   But nobody EVER had to know about THAT. He had those feelings locked RIGHT up.

                Except talking to him last night, had really…STIRRED up those feelings, making it feel like he had restless bees swarming around in his midsection. So he had to admit…

                “It was uh, nice…to talk,” he mused. “But oh, how humiliating to be carried down the ladder like a baby!” He moaned, kicking off the sleeping bag with some difficulty, and then kicking it into a corner of the shed. “Whatever. Good thing that’s over,” he smiled, and wiped his hands of imaginary dust.  “I’m definitely not going back up THERE again.”

---

                “I….” Robbie sighed deeply, steepling his fingers together. “I set a…battery powered robot loose.”

                Sportacus sat down next to him on the sign. “You what?”

                “Well I HAD a battery powered vaccuum,” Robbie held up one hand,  “And I had a few spare kits from the Metal Monster Jaws company,” he held up the other, “now tell me WHAT was I SUPPOSED to do but COMBINE THEM??” Robbie smashed his hands together haphazardly, which was a not inaccurate demonstration of the process.  He let his hands fall to his lap. 

                “I don’t know, Robbie.  I guess that is the only logical next step, ” Sportacus said, eyes sparkling with mirth. Was Sportacus LAUGHING at his SUFFERING??

                “It has FOUR SETS of gnashing teeth! I got scared!” Robbie said defensively.  "I’m waiting til it runs out of battery!“ He gulped, and hugged himself. "Even though I REALLY do not like it up here.”

                “At least the moon is nice,” Sportacus said.

                “Yes, yes it is,” Robbie said, fixing his eyes on that instead of the 22 foot drop below.  With that, he felt a little more relaxed.

                “If you are in a situation that really frightens you, sometimes it is better to focus on what’s good about it, rather than the fear, ” Sportacus said.

                Robbie gasped.  Tricked! Into panicking less!

                “You…REALLY take this hero thing VERY seriously, don’t you?” Robbie said, looking at Sportacus now. “Even helping ME, the VILLAIN.”

                Sportacus just smiled and nodded. “Everybody needs help.”

      ��         “But this could be your chance to get one-up on me! Get revenge for all of my schemes!” He dimly thought that maybe he shouldn’t give him any IDEAS, but…Sportacus never DID any DEFEATING! It was so confusing! He would save everyone from a scheme gone haywire but…he let Robbie get off scot-free every time.

                 "Robbie, I’m everyone’s hero!“ he declared, holding his arms out as if presenting himself. "Including you,” he said, clapping him hard on the back.

                Too hard–Robbie could feel himself slipping.

                “HELP!” he screamed, as his behind lost traction with the sign.  He felt the sick, lurching feeling of gravity acting on the pit of his stomach, and worse-complete and total helplessness.  He could only squeeze his eyes shut as he plummeted toward his own demise, then-

                -he stopped.  A strong arm had caught his own, suspending him awkwardly like a rag doll.  He chanced one eye open, then the other. He was alive! He looked up to see Sportacus, breathing heavily, the other arm hooked around a ladder rung. “I got you,” he was mumbling. “I got you."  He pulled him up with a single bicep curl to standing position on the sign. 

                "I am so, so sorry,” he said, still holding his arm for stability. “I almost killed you.”

                Robbie’s vision was swimming, he felt woozy from the aftermath of the sheer terror he had just experienced. 

                “Just-please-get me down,” he managed.

                “Hold onto me,” Sportacus offered, pointing to his back.  Robbie uh…“climbed aboard,” and they descended the ladder, a trembling Robbie clinging tightly to him like a koala, face buried in his neck so he didn’t have to look at the ground.

At least he doesn’t SMELL like fruit,  Robbie thought dimly.

“We’re here,” Sportacus said gently, and only then did Robbie let go and find his wobbly feet on blessedly solid ground. 

“Again, I’m so sorry to have put you in danger,” Sportacus said, looking…sad? Upset? Robbie didn’t really care at the moment, but it was different than usual.  “You sure you’re okay?”

Robbie’s mouth was dry, heart beating HARD in his chest, he swallowed with great difficulty.

“I’m fine,” he panted.

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, yes, now go away,” he said, shooing him off.

Sportacus hesitated, then climbed back up the ladder–but not without a backward glance or two.

Once the ladder had ascended too, Robbie sat right on the ground, his panicked breaths rushing free now that he was alone.  He spent some time trying to hyperventilate a little bit slower, get the oxygen to stay in his brain so he could process what happened instead of reliving the feelings over and over.  That was his absolute worst nightmare, being pushed off the sign.  And it had happened.  Thankfully he was ALIVE, due to Sportacus’ fast reflexes, but it was also due to Sportacus that he fell off in the first place!

“God damn it!” he swore, getting up to pace. “How am I supposed to FEEL about this??”

He stopped as an idea struck him. “Maybe…maybe I’ll hate Sportacus for real this time?” he asked himself, tapping his chin with a finger in thought.  "No, no, that didn’t work. I still…“ he couldn’t say it out loud.  He did feel upset! Because of the horrifying thing that just happened! But it killed neither him nor his crush on that blue kangaroo!

"One thing is for certain,” he growled, “I am NEVER.  EVER climbing that thing again.”

 ---

The  first thing he did when he woke up the next day, was make a decision.

“I am going to STAY. DOWN. HERE,” he announced to no one,  "Where I don’t have to SEE anyone or TALK TO anyone or…DO ANYTHING!“ he yelled.

"And nobody can stop me,” he said, satisfied.  He leaned back in his chair and intended on sleeping again.

But, his stomach chose that exact moment to cramp, painfully. He popped his eyes open and grabbed at it, looking down.  How long had it been since he had a good meal? How long had it been since he had gone to the STORE?

He looked to the ceiling, and counted back the days in his head.

Both of those things had been since…before the Egg Incident.

“Is that REALLY how long it’s been since I’ve been to the store?” he gasped. “Time flies when you’re evil, I guess…and eating cake mix for every meal,” he said, looking down as his stomach made more angry noises. “Ohh,” he gasped, “An omelet sounds SO GOOD right about now.  Maybe, I can sneak to the grocery store and buy some more eggs!" 

                His lip curled. "I really don’t feel like going up there today though. I REALLY don’t."   He was still feeling the aftermath of his brush with death from the night previous, and he would love to just…sit down and ignore the world for a while.  But, his stomach decided that was the right moment to give him a sickening hunger pang that almost made him double over. That was a bad sign. "It looks like YOU’RE not giving me any CHOICE,” he told it. He sighed deeply. He knew what had to be done.

                “Well,” he said, laboriously standing up, “If anything WEIRD happens today, I’m blaming YOU.”

                He froze.  “I’m talking to my STOMACH,” he realized, grimacing. “I really DO need some food.”

                Rising up into the bright sunlight was just another onslaught to his senses.  Ohh, he was THIS close to becoming completely overwhelmed,  the hunger and the irritability were putting him on thin ice. He took a deep breath, and put on his best villain stride, furrowing his brows.  Maybe nobody would bother him if he looked angry enough.

                His strategy worked well for almost the whole way to the grocery store. Probably because he didn’t see anyone. When he rounded the strange, standalone section of wall that honestly had no purpose, (seriously why was it there?) there was the grocery store! He was so close! But there was also a VERY LOUD soccer game going on that he would HAVE to pass to get there.  He looked at the store and the game, back and forth, back and forth, calculating. Was it worth it?  “I must do it,” he said, steeling himself.  His stomach growled in agreement.  So he furrowed his eyebrows a little more, and strode on.

                He was JUST passing the soccer game when heard from behind him what sounded like someone stomping. Or-or jumping, with both feet-

                “Oh no,” he said to himself. He turned around to see Sportacus flipping right toward him.  Caught like a deer in the headlights, he searched for a place to hide…

                “Robbie!” he called.  Fear gripped his heart. Too late!

                His next course of action was to ignore him and continue on, a plan which Sportacus ruined by doing a double backflip DIRECTLY OVER HIS HEAD and landing right in front of him.

                Robbie stiffened and stopped in his tracks, letting out a little “eep!”

                “H-how are you, Robbie?” Sportacus asked.

                PLEASE. NOT. NOW. “Don’t talk to me, Sportaflop. I’m only up here because I need food. NOT to play with the little brats,” he gestured at the soccer game.

                Sportacus nervously fidgeted. “There is something I need to say to you.”

                “Whatever it IS, I’m SURE it can wait until TOMORROW,” Robbie said, irritably.  He needed to get out of there, and FAST. Every sound from that godforsaken game was POUNDING in his ears. He winced as the Pink One started to scream and cheer. Nope. Time to go. He started walking away.

                “No, Robbie,” Sportacus said, catching his arm.

                RED ALERT. DO NOT GRAB ROBBIE ROTTEN WHEN HE IS ON EDGE. “Let go of me!” he snarled, and wrenched his arm from his grasp, finally looking Sportaflop in the face.  Oh, heaven help him, Sportacus looked DISTRAUGHT. He was NEVER this upset when Robbie was rude to him before, what could he POSSIBLY want to say?  But the emotions on Sportacus’ face were spilling into Robbie, and it was making him wobble on the edge of a meltdown. “T-talk to me later,” Robbie said, attempting an apologetic tone as he sprinted off, tears starting to pour as he ran.

                He ducked behind a house and sat against the cold brick, head in his knees, sobbing.  Too bright, too loud, too noisy too…MUCH!  He tightly grabbed around his own legs as he tried to control his sobs, but he knew in the back of his mind that they would come and go as they liked. At least the cool of the shade and the relative quiet were soothing, in comparison to everything that came before.

                Even when his sobs subsided, he still kept his face planted into his own knees. Moving was simply out of the question, so he just…stayed there. Sitting on the cool grass, back against the rough brick, head against his uncomfortably bony knees. He had no idea how long he had been in that position, but it was absolutely long enough to regret it later when he heard a familiar voice.

“Robbie Rotten?”

He snapped his head up, and his neck and back protested angrily.

“OW!” he exclaimed, his stiff neck and back freezing in position. “Go away kid,” he gasped in pain. Not very effective.

Stephanie didn’t move.  "Are you okay?“

"I’m fine,” he said, trying to force a smile through the pain. He must look like a mess, sitting in the dirt, tear tracks on his face, shoulders raised involuntarily to his ears.

Her eyes narrowed. “Are your shoulders SUPPOSED to be like that?”

“Yes, it’s the…new style.  Quite relaxing,” he strained, giving another grimace-smile.

Stephanie went closer to him.

“You LOOK like you were CRYING,” She observed.

WHY are kids LIKE THIS?? “Thanks for NOTICING,” Robbie snarled.  Maybe if he was MEAN, she would go AWAY.

But Stephanie only nodded sympathetically. “Once, I sat in bed for two whole days.  Then when I got up, moving hurt SO BAD that I started crying too.  Sportacus had to help me get flexible enough to dance again!”

“I swear if you call Sportaflop right now I’ll-”

“Don’t worry. I got this,” she said, rubbing her hands together with a downright DEVILISH look in her eye.

“No, no,”  he said, laboriously, and far too slowly, finding his way to his feet. “No way, Pink Girl. On second thought, Sportacus sounds like a GREAT op-” he froze midsentence, as she was not in front of him anymore. “Where’d she go?” he asked nervously.

The answer turned out to be, behind him.

“AAGH!” he cried as she wedged her tiny fist into the base of his spine.

“Kid, kid, have mercy, you’re gonna damage my-UUGH!!” he cried again as she JUMPED ON HIS BACK and stabbed what felt like a knuckle inbetween two of his shoulder muscles.

“Don’t worry Robbie, I do this to my uncle all the time!” she reassured him, as she attacked his other shoulder.

“Get off me, child!” he commanded, but she did not listen.

“Relax, Robbie!” she said in return, before shoving an elbow into the side of his neck.

“Re-LAX?!” he squeaked as she continued on her quest to cleave every muscle from his bones.  “I am NOT-UGH!-A-HRK!-T-BONE-AAHAH!-STEAK!” he protested, punctuated by his involuntary reactions to particularly SHARP jabs to his body.  Good LORD this kid was absolutely RELENTLESS.

This is how I die, he thought numbly.  Killed by the Pink One, and her amateur chiropractics.

Something cracked, very loudly, and she  jumped off of her own accord.

“All done!” She squealed, clearly very proud of herself.

He whirled around and pointed at her. “Oh, NOW you’re done?? Now that you’ve completely DESTROYED my body, NOW you’re DO-” he cut himself off as he realized something.  He was wildly gesticulating, pointing…without any pain at all.  His mouth dropped open. He wiggled his shoulders.  He moved his head around.  He moved one arm in a circle, and then the other.

“You-” he said, pointing as if he was going to continue yelling at her, but he just…couldn’t do it. “You should REALLY, REALLY, get LICENSED, before trying that kind of STUNT again,” Robbie said, a bit lamely.  Because she DID help him.  But, it would be irresponsible to…encourage her, lest she become some sort of chiropractic mini-vigilante who jumped on the backs of unsuspecting adults.

“You’re welcome, Robbie!” She beamed, and skipped off without another word.

He stood there, in the alleyway, for a little while longer.  “Why do these things always happen to ME?” he asked the universe.

The universe had no answer.  So he just sighed, and walked the rest of the way to the grocery store. That was what he came up here to do, and by god, he was going to accomplish that goal today.

Arriving back home with his hard-earned groceries, WITHOUT any more surprise attacks from children or superheroes, he breathed a sigh of relief.

“TOO MANY THINGS happened today,” he announced to his lair.  “First order of business: MAKE an OMELET!”

 Eggs, diced onions, and cheese.  “That’s all an omelet should EVER be,” he grumbled as it fried, inspecting it for doneness.  When it was finished, he didn’t bother with a plate.  He took the entire pan with him to his chair, settling in amongst the soft fibers, and placed it on his lap.

Big mistake.

“AAAHHH!” he screamed, picking up the searing hot pan from his lap in a flash. “Ugh, it was JUST on the STOVE, Robbie!” he scolded himself. “HOW could you FORGET that the STOVE is HOT??”

He sighed. “And why do I keep getting HURT when eggs are involved?” he lamented.  He rocked once, twice, three times, until the momentum from the chair carried him up to his feet.  Grumbling, he went back into the kitchen to get an actual plate.

When finally, FINALLY, he was safely in his chair with his food and without any more…hazards around, he put the first bite in his mouth.

BLISS.

Oh, the flavors were perfect.  He knew that not everybody liked omelets like this, but did he look like a caterer? No. He was a caterer for one: Robbie Rotten.

And his single customer was EXTREMELY satisfied.

“Ahh,” he sighed, contented. “Problem solved.” he leaned back into his chair with a smile, closing his eyes.

Onto problem two: Guilt.

His eyes popped open.

“Guilt?” he spat, like the word tasted disgusting. “Really?”

But yes, as much as he didn’t want to believe it, he was feeling guilty about snapping at Sportacus.

“Why SHOULD I feel guilty?” he asked himself. “I’ve done far worse to him before! I’m supposed to be bad anyway! WHY am I feeling-” he cut himself off with a gasp as the answer occured to him.

“Everything I’ve done,” he said slowly,  "All of my schemes against him…he has never looked that SAD before,“ Robbie said. He closed his eyes and let out a shuddering sigh.  "Oh, I’ve got to at least EXPLAIN myself somehow…”

But he couldn’t figure out quite HOW.  It was never the right TIME. When would he do it, anyway? He couldn’t exactly do it in disguise, and he certainly wasn’t going to let the KIDS overhear him, he had a REPUTATION to uphold. So he went on as normal for a few more days, a few more schemes, trying to find the right time.  There was a tension in the air, Sportacus seemed a little less…enthusiastic, than usual, in dealing with his plans. And with each day that went on, the guilt ate at Robbie more and more, and the harder he tried to find a way to talk to him with no one else around. But the more he tried, the more it seemed like Sportacus was AVOIDING him, he kept flipping away into his ship as soon as the problem was solved!  How was he supposed to explain himself NOW??

The answer ended up coming to him when he was least expecting it: during another chaotic night in the lab.

---

“Carefully…” Robbie was muttering, using an eyedropper to transfer an extremely volatile substance into an even MORE volatile substance that would, theoretically, make a somewhat stable smoke bomb.

“Carefully…” he said again, tongue between his teeth, one eye closed as he squeezed a single drop into the flask. “Last…drop…” he said through gritted teeth, trying to calm his shaky fingers.

And then he sneezed.

BOOM! The entire lair was filled with purple smoke in a matter of seconds.  Robbie coughed and tried to wave it from his face, but there was ENTIRELY too much of it for that now. “C-can’t-breathe-” he spluttered, but realized that monologuing was not worth the precious oxygen.  That he was rapidly losing. He had a gas mask somewhere, where was it?! Where was it?!?!  All he could see was PURPLE!! He felt around for one of the most likely piles, metal pieces clanging to the ground as he dislodged them in his search.

It was taking too long.  His eyes were stinging, he could see spots at the edges of his vision, and his body was physically rejecting the attempts to breathe in any more of the smoke. He needed to get OUT of there or he was going to DIE. He mercifully found the first rung of the ladder by touch, and started the climb.

Somehow, possibly just through muscle memory alone, he made it up and out.  He coughed until his throat was raw, gulping in deep breaths of night air and hanging onto the light fixture as tightly as possible.

Wait. Light fixture?

“UUUUUUUUGHHH!!!” he drew out his groan in frustration. “I didn’t want to end up HERE!!”

He crossed his arms and huffed, because sure enough, he was sitting atop the billboard.  AGAIN.

“Well, I’ll just have to wait for Sportakook to descend from the heavens and-”

He gasped. “Oh no!” he looked around. “Sportacus has been avoiding me! What if he doesn’t COME this time??” He bit his fingernails on the hand not grasping his anchor, anxiously watching the sky.

That thought was SORT OF on his mind every time he was in trouble, and he had been proved wrong every time, but still-

THUNK.  The unfolded ladder hit the billboard right next to him, and he exhaled a HUGE sigh of relief as the hero climbed down to his level.

“Robbie,” Sportacus said, a note of surprise in his voice. “I’m surprised to see you back up here after…”

“Don’t remind me,” Robbie said tersely, kicking his feet against the billboard.

They sat in silence, and Robbie sneaked a glance at Sportacus.  He still looked…down in the dumps.

“I understand that you don’t want to talk to me,” Sportacus said, quietly. “But…I still need to tell you something.”

Don’t WANT to?? Oh no, that was very, VERY wrong.  This is your chance Robbie! Take it!

“Uhm,” Robbie said, looking around for cues. He hadn’t planned for this in advance. Time to improvise!  "You know that I can be mean, cranky, and irritable.“  What an OPENER, Robbie Rotten. Bravo.  "When you tried to talk to me before,” he stopped, took a comically deep breath and barrelled on, “Four days ago, the-the bright sunlight-” he screwed up his face, “-and the loud children-” he made high pitched mocking noises imitating their voices, “-and I was just…SO HUNGRY.” he groaned, grabbing his stomach. Sportacus looked confused still. “And then you grabbed me and it was all…too much.  I simply COULDN’T take it,” he said, grimacing at the awful memory. 

“But look around,” he continued, actually grinning now. “No sun, no kids, and NO. NOISE.  Tell me what you wanted to say.”

Sportacus’ face changed from entirely upset to…something else.  Understanding? “Thank you for explaining,” he said, nodding.  “And what I wanted to say was…I’m sorry.”

Robbie was taken aback.

“For what?”

“You know, about the last time we were up here,” Sportacus said, gesturing around. He paused for a moment, pursed his lips, and continued on.  "I, as a hero, am supposed to keep people from danger, not cause it. I’m…I’m sorry I failed you.“  His face looked the same as it did that night, which Robbie was clear-headed enough now to see that-

He was VISIBLY upset. Possibly on the verge of tears?? Robbie again felt the urge to flee, yet there was nowhere to go. He’d have to face this.  Quick, how does Sportacus make people feel better, think! Think!

"Hey, uh, it’s okay!” Robbie said, smiling wide. “I didn’t die so…it’s fine!” he said, putting two thumbs up. Sportacus managed a half-hearted smile.  Good, good, it’s working!

“But you COULD have.  And that…is unacceptable for a hero.  I hope you can forgive me,” Sportacus said, a bit thickly.  He wiped at his eye, and Robbie went wide-eyed.  if Sportacus started crying right now he would NOT know how to deal with it. His whole world might come crashing down. Try again, Robbie!

“Pah, what’s to forgive?” Robbie scoffed, trying to bring back a little lightheartedness to the hero.  “You HAVE to get me back for all I’ve done SOMEHOW! What’s a little terror between friends, eh?” he bumped him with his elbow.

Sportacus didn’t budge, and he didn’t say anything either.  He was just looking down at his own legs. Robbie sighed.

“Ugh, Sportacus, look.  You might have…pushed me off this sign, which is my, uh, NUMBER ONE fear, but-” Sportacus clapped a hand to his mouth in horror.  Oh, Robbie, you HUMAN DISASTER. Get to the point!  “But-did I even get hurt? No! Not a scratch,” he said, fake-examining his body. “Ta-da!!” he presented.

Sportacus was looking at him intently.  Did that mean he was considering what Robbie was saying?  A good sign! Keep going!

“Even after all I’ve done-or tried to do-to you, you still did your little hero thing-” he wiggled his fingers for emphasis,  “-and saved me. So, you made up for it by…doing that.  And I…forgive you and everything,” he mumbled.

Sportacus blinked several times. “Thank you, Robbie.”

“Whatever,” he said gruffly.

Sportacus wiped at his eye again, and then shook himself out of the fog, giving Robbie a real smile.  Robbie gave a forced smile in return. Thank goodness, he seemed to be back to his old self. It worked!

“Anyway. What’s the trouble tonight?” Sportacus asked, in a much cheerier voice.

“What? Oh, yeah,” Robbie said.  He had forgotten momentarily the reason why he had run up there in the first place.“There’s a whole bunch of smoke down in my lair.  So thick I couldn’t find my gas mask.  So up I went.”

“No wonder my crystal went off. Your lair sounds VERY dangerous, Robbie.”

Robbie considered. “It is. But, I accept the risks of the job, so I can come up with MORE villainous contraptions!!"  he let out a villainous laugh. Sportacus just smiled.

"Well, be careful.  Your wellbeing is important to me, you know.”

“I-” Robbie sputtered, heart beating faster. “Th-thanks?”

“You’re welcome,” Sportacus said, jumping up and bringing his fists to his hips. “Now, let’s get down from here."  Robbie knew what to do.  He climbed onto Sportacus’ back, piggyback style, and held on tight the entire way down. 

(In a small part that Robbie didn’t like to acknowledge existed, he thought that holding onto him like this was REALLY NICE.)

Sportacus put him down on the solid ground with a "Good luck with your lair, Robbie,” and then skipped to his ladder, scaling it lightning fast.

Robbie watched him climb up, and then watched the ladder disappear into the clouds.  He sighed. He actually, really…LIKED watching Sportacus perform his feats of acrobatics.  Not that he would ever TELL him that. 

“UGH! I could have told him to leave TOWN to make up for almost killing me!” He thunked himself on the head with his open palm.  “Robbie, you really ARE a big softie,” he grumbled, as he stalked back over to the entrance.

“Now,” he said, rubbing his hands together and grabbing the latch, “Let’s see if things have cleared up down there." 

FWOOSH. What must have been a cloud’s worth of thick purple smoke flew upward out of the entrance hatch, right into Robbie’s face, and upward toward the sky. 

"No. No they have NOT,” he observed, blinking a couple times.  "I think I will…let that AIR OUT a little,“ Robbie decided, making a 180 away from his mildly smoking abode and heading back toward the shed.

He was still giddy about his talk with Sportacus.  He thought it was going to go disastrously, but somehow, he had HELPED him. ROBBIE ROTTEN had somehow HELPED the HERO. "That might have been the only plan of mine that ever worked!” He said happily, but immediately soured.  “Oh boy. THAT might have been my ONLY plan that EVER WORKED,” he said, grimacing.  He sighed. “Oh, Sportacus,” he said, settling into his sleeping bag.  “What am I gonna do with you?”

[laurens-lil-fics]

Pins and Needles - Chapter 3

Cassian x Reader

Previous Chapter

Series Summary: Reader is a combat medic who joins the Rebellion at the age of seven and is assigned to be Captain Cassian Andor’s field medic. But Cassian carries a dark secret with him as he and Reader go on more and more covert reconnaissance missions. The closer he gets to reader, the harder this secret is to keep.

Chapter Summary: (Y/n) and Cassian go through the ultimate trust exercise after they run into trouble on their first mission together.

Word Count: 1566 words

NSFW: nope!

Author’s note: Here’s chapter three! hope you guys enjoy!

At exactly 0800 hours (Y/n) was waiting beside Cassian’s ship on the landing pad. The morning air was a little too fresh for her tastes, especially considering she went with a sleeveless vest that day rather than her coat.

After a few minutes, Cassian hadn’t shown up, successfully aggravating the medic whose patience was growing thinner by the minute.

An hour later he finally showed up, his Imperial droid in tow. Cassian looked at her innocently and even had the nerve to smile at her as if he wasn’t an hour late.

“Nice to see you made it on time, I was worried K2 and I were going to have to leave you behind.” He teased. It was apparent that he was egging her on, trying to make her say something to get her left behind.

(Y/n) only returned his smile and yanked away one of the cases he was carrying with him. “And miss my first mission with you? That really would’ve been a shame.”

K2 looked between the two as (Y/n) made sure to cut in front of Cassian to get on the ship first. After entering after Cassian and looked down at the medic and tilted his head.

“It appears to me you two don’t like each other very much. That severely lessens the probability of this mission’s success-”

“Tell that to your captain who just played the shittiest power move in the book.” (Y/n) grumbled loud enough for the two to hear.

Cassian glared at her over his shoulder and shook his head, wanting nothing more than to grab her and throw her overboard.

“What is this mission anyway? I received no information on it yesterday.” (Y/n) stood back as Cassian made his way to the black cases and snapped them open, revealing a small arsenal.

“Strictly reconnaissance only. Covert. Meaning staying as hidden as possible from Imperials.” Cassian explained. He held up a blaster and handed it to (Y/n), watching as her face scrunched up.

“You have any idea how to use that?” Cassian asked, studying how she put it in one of her holsters with ease.

“I do, but I prefer not to. My job is to heal people not attack them.” (Y/n) took yet another weapon from Cassian, a dagger with a blade almost the size of her forearm.

“Where we’re going you’re most likely going to have to use it. Especially if you get cornered.” It sounded almost as if Cassian was trying to scare her away, but (Y/n) only put the dagger in its sheath on her thigh.

Cassian looked her over, making sure to glance away before she caught him. He made his way into the cockpit and sat beside K2 who eyed him suspiciously.

“Why is she coming? We never needed a medic before, we certainly don’t need one now.” He probed as he prepped the ship for take off.

“Mon Mothma thinks it’s best. The Imperials are getting smarter. It’s safer having a medic with us.” Cassian avoided eye contact with K2 as he flipped a few switches and pushed a few buttons, starting the engines.

“Are you sure that’s why she’s with us?”

“Yes, K2 Im positive. Now help me get this ship of the ground.”

K2 turned back to the controls and did as he was told, occasionally looking back at his Captain who seemed hyperfocused on his task.

After getting out of lightspeed they arrived at their destination rather quickly. Cassian made sure to put on a coat to cover his rebellion jacket. He grabbed a matching coat and draped it over (Y/n)’s shoulders, explaining that they had to look like civilians rather than soldiers.

Cassian ordered K2 to stay put and led (Y/n) into the city. The city crowded with people, all trying to get to their destinations as quickly as possible. Large buildings touched the sky which had little to no air traffic. It seemed like it had been untouched by the Empire, not a troop was in sight.

“Where are all the troops?” (Y/n) asked, almost losing her partner as she glanced around.

“Probably guarding the information I’m supposed to be retrieving.” He mumbled, grabbing hold of (Y/n)’s jacket sleeve and tugging her along like a child.

He pulled her into an alleyway and glanced out at the crowd before looking back at her. The shadows covered majority of his face, only allowing one beam of light to shine on his eyes, making them all the more intense.

“It’s obvious I’m going to run into a lot of trouble out there… this is your first covert mission, you won’t be ready for it. Stay here, I’ll radio in if I need back up… If not we’ll rendezvous here. Just stay hidden.”

The tone in his voice told (Y/n) he wasn’t messing around with her, there would be plenty of time for her to prove herself to him.

She nodded and watched as he moved out of the alley, softly calling out for him to be careful before he disappeared into the crowd.

(Y/n) looked around, not knowing what to do with herself while Cassian was off probably dying. She fished her earpiece out of her pocket and put it in place, making sure it was on. So far only static. It was probably best for the two of them to maintain radio silence unless there was an emergency.

An hour passed and (Y/n) still hadn’t heard from Cassian. While he was an utter dick she couldn’t help but worry for him. The radio silence was too much for her and she pressed her finger against the small button, speaking into the small microphone.

“Cassian? Come in, Cassian. What’s going on-”

“You! Come out of there!” (Y/n) froze at the voice and reluctantly turned towards it, seeing two storm troopers with their blasters trained on her.

She took her hand off the ear piece and stuffed it back in her pocket. Stepping out of the alley she noticed the street was now flooded with troopers, all stopping people and searching them randomly.

(Y/n) put her hands up at their command and slowly approached them, trying her best to look as unsuspicious as possible.

“Search her.” One mumbled, watching as the other began patting her down.

He stopped when he felt something solid under (Y/n)’s multiple jackets. The trooper pulled the jacket and vest aside, tilting his head when he spotted a lightsaber strapped into her vest.

Before he could say anything, (Y/n) grabbed his head and pulled it down, smashing her knee into the visor of his helmet. She grabbed her blaster and quickly shot the two who had seen her mother’s saber.

The blast caught the attention of the other troops and they began firing at her, forcing her back into the cramped alley. It was hard to hit anything from her position, so she quickly crouched to avoid the gunfire aimed in her direction.

One Stormtrooper ran into the alley, earning a shot to the chest. More and more began flooding the alley, forcing (Y/n) to stand and take them down as best as she could.

She began feeling more and more cramped and began hyperventilating, watching as the troops she missed managed to get closer.

“(Y/n)! (Y/n) come in!” the tiny voice from (Y/n) caught her attention and she grabbed the headset from her pocket, putting it on as quick as possible.

“Cassian I’m surrounded!” she shouted, taking a few more shots at the Imperials as she walked backwards until she backed into a wall.

“(Y/n) K just picked me up, we’re headed your way! Get somewhere high!” he shouted into her hear, static occasionally interrupting him.

Somewhere high, somewhere high. (Y/n) spotted a ladder a few feet in front of her, raised high off the ground. It would take a lot to get up there, the fact that the Imperials were only a few feet in front of her exit didn’t offer her any comfort.

(Y/n) screamed and ran forward, taking out as many troops as she could before dropping her blaster and jumping as high as she could.

Her hands grasped at the ladder and she hoisted herself up, grunting as gravity worked against her. A blast narrowly missed her, zooming past her head as she managed to get her foot into the lowest bar. (Y/n) quickly climbed the ladder, pushing herself to go faster and faster.

She collapsed onto the roof of the building, her lungs burning as she forced herself to stand. The sight of the ship made her breathe a sigh of relief. Her small celebration was short lived as the sound of the troops climbing the ladder caught her attention.

“(Y/n) we can’t land on the roof, it’s too small! You have to jump!” The door to the ship opened and Cassian came into view.

“I can't jump that far!” (Y/n) shrieked, stuffing her headset back into her pocket, watching as Cassian steadied himself.

“I’ll catch you!” He shouted, his voice carrying over the sound of the ship’s engine. “Trust me!”

(Y/n) sighed shakily and sprinted as fast as she could towards the edge of the roof. She lunged and reached out for Cassian, praying to whoever was listening that he would catch her.

He grabbed hold of her arms tightly and struggled to hoist her up while (Y/n) frantically kicked her legs, trying to find anything to step onto to help him.

The ship tilted, forcing Cassian to fall backwards and pull (Y/n) with him. The two rolled until they hit the wall of the ship, the sudden noise cueing K2 to shut the door from his console.

Cassian ran to the cockpit and put the ship into lightspeed, breathing a sigh of relief once they were out of the planet’s atmosphere. He looked back at (Y/n) who was still laying there as she struggled to catch her breath.

He got out of his chair and collapsed beside her, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to relax.

“I don’t know what you did… but it must have really pissed them off.” he chuckled breathlessly, looking at her as she shakily sat up. She gave him a sheepish smile and shut her eyes, resting her head against the wall she sat beside.

“You caught me…” she stated in disbelief. It was almost like she was trying to convince herself it had really happened.

Cassian sat up as well and ran a hand through his hair, looking her over for any injuries. So many words he could say to her, he was more than impressed. He saw all the troops she managed to take out before escaping. But he had to keep up his hard exterior. If he allowed himself to care for her he would only suffer.

“You should have more faith in me. I am your Captain after all...”

Next Chapter 

[writingrampant]

The Profundus Problem

My legs were tingling and cramped, but I did my best to hobble after the towering form leading me to the surface. I squinted in the sunlight and the sea breeze blasted me in a joyous rush of enthusiasm.

“We have emerged!” the hero stated. I hadn’t caught his name during the battle below. He stood, hands braced on hips, and surveyed the desolate landscape. “You are free from that infernal pit!”

“Yeah, thanks,” I wheezed, winded and shivering. The sun was warm, but the long days below ground had left a stubborn chill in my body.

“Come, young Stanley. Let us away.”

I had barely time to yelp before he grabbed me around my waist and we shot into the air. I closed my eyes and prayed he was flying, not plummeting. The rocks were a long way down and looked depressingly deadly.

Numb with cold once more, we landed some time later. My teeth were chattering so hard my vision rattled. The hero, who ever he was, was once again standing with hands on hips, profile turned to highlight his chiseled features.

“Ha! Ha ha ha ha ha!” His stilted laugh was a crow of pride in his accomplishment. Already people were swarming, phones out to cement proof they were there to witness…whatever was going on. I scowled and slid out of the limelight.

Not that I wasn’t grateful. I was, truly. Demonikor was not a nice – er – person and I was happy to be freed from his dungeon. But I wasn’t looking forward to my parents’ reactions. Nor the ever-increasing security precautions they were sure to adopt.

I didn’t creep fast enough. “Young Stanley!”

He appeared even larger surrounded by ordinary things, like buses and street signs. “Young Stanley, we must seek medical attention for your wounds.”

“I’m okay,” I lied. I hadn’t gone without a fight. It was satisfying to know some of Demonikor’s henchmen were nursing broken kneecaps, if not tossed into a lava pit for their incompetence. “I’ll just call my mom and – “

“Yes! Your parents must be alerted to your safe return at once. Ha ha ha ha ha!

My phone had been crushed beneath a black boot heel to prevent GPS from tracking me down. I reluctantly borrowed one, hoping in the excitement the owner would not notice when I deleted the call when I was finished.

“Parker and Grant Associates,” a bored, nasally voice recited. “How may I direct your – “

“Natalia, it’s me!”

“Stanley!” Still nasal, but now choppy with concern. “Stanley, where are you?”

“Ummm…” It was interesting how so many places looked alike. If you couldn’t see an iconic landmark, the general feel of regional cities was rather similar. The bus stop next to us had a symbol of a stately, red bridge on the sign. “San Francisco, I think.”

“Stay there! Your parents are on their way!”

I expertly fumbled with the phone and ‘accidently’ deleted all of the calls instead of just mine. Oops.

Before long, a roar grew and everyone’s hair whipped as my parents’ Aeroship hovered over us. The street was too narrow for it to land, so Dad leapt down. The pavement cracked beneath his feet.

“Stan!” he cried. I was caught up in a hug a tad too tight for comfort.

“Dad!” I gasped, the wind knocked out of me. It gave me a good excuse for my eyes to water. “I’m fine! Just cold. And hungry.”

“Are you hurt?” he demanded, setting me down to examine me all over. He scowled at my bruises and the cuts to my face.

“Fine,” I insisted. “Gave as good as I got.”

My rescuer stepped up at once to join the spectacle. “Young Stanley is a good a fighter as ever I saw,” he praised, knocking my shoulder with a beefy, friendly fist. “Kept two or three of them busy while I handled Demonikor.”

Dad’s eyes widened, a swift look between us. I scowled, wishing the name had not been brought up.

“Thank you, um…”

“Profundus,” the well-built Adonis said, clasping my father’s hand in a firm grip. He seemed to pause. “Young Stanley is your son?”

That flummoxed him. I was used to it.

“Really hungry,” I reminded everyone.

Dad extracted his hand. “Profundus, please come visit us.” He produced a business card from nowhere. “I would like to know more of your…adventure.”

Profundus’ wide grin had faded, his piercing eyes bent on me. A rope ladder fell between us and I clutched the rungs desperately.

“’Bye! Thanks!” I called to Profundus as I climbed. Dad’s weight kept it from wobbling too much. I was no longer cold, but hot and itchy as I hauled myself over the edge and into the Aeroship’s hold.

Dad leveraged himself up and over with one hand and bounced forward on light feet. I cursed under my breath and was swallowed by Mom’s anxious arms.

“My darling!” she murmured, kissing me all over. “Baby, are you okay? What happened? Are you hurt? Who was it? Did you kill them?”

I said nothing, as responses were not necessary to my mother’s inquiries. She produced water and food, which I ate single-mindedly until replete. She tucked me into a narrow bunk in the main cabin and hushed us, though she was the only one talking.

I fell asleep holding her hand, Dad looming over her shoulder.

It took a lot of explaining, but I finally convinced them I shouldn’t be locked in the house for the rest of my earthy existence.

“It is only seventy more years or so,” Mom insisted, worry making her eyes wide and pleading. “After your Rebirth on Kheranstak, this century will be like an instant, I promise!”

“Mo-om!”

“He’s nearly a Man,” Dad countered, the capital letter clear and definite. “He can make his own decisions.”

The prospect of being a Grown-Up was not as appealing as they thought it was. Seventeen was an annoying limbo year I had no intention of leaving too soon. No responsibilities, living at home, easy expectations (Turn in assignments! Don’t do drugs! Hang out with friends!). But in this case, I put down my usually easy-going foot.

“What about college?” I heard myself saying. “What about my future? I can’t live here forever.”

By the tremble of Mom’s mouth, she had been wishing I could stay home forever. I hugged her so I wouldn’t have to see her worry.

“Please, mom. It was a freak thing. Demonikor is crushed under a mountain. It will be, like, fifty years before he can escape.”

“But there are so many villains,” she protested.

“And I could get hit by a bus tomorrow,” I said and immediately regretted it. Tears swelled. “Just saying!” I added hastily. “I have to live my life!”

“Glorinda,” Dad said softly, his hand on her shoulder. She sniffed but tossed back her shimmering silver hair in a gesture I knew meant she was bracing herself for disaster.

“Very well,” she conceded. “But you will never do something like this again!”

I over-looked her logical fallacy and swore on my family name, my blood, my royal status in the House of Khell’la’mon, and my Scout’s Honor that I would do everything I could to be safe and not get abducted again.

It was a long day the next Monday.

Everyone wanted to hear my adventure and I wearily tried to put them off. It was fifty-fifty, those who sneered at me and my glory-hogging and those who hung on my lips as though I was disclosing the secrets of the universe.

My friends just laughed at me and went about our usual routine. I showed my appreciation by grunting when they expressed gladness at my safe return and shrugging when asked if it was exciting.

Felicity asked the pertinent question. “But, how did you escape?”

“Profundus.” She made a face at me. “That’s his name,” I explained. “This hero found me and tackled Demonikor.”

She did a quick search on her phone. “Wow, he’s cute.”

“Not my type.”

Jess looked over her shoulder. “Wow.”

I mistakenly looked. He was posing with his shirt off, sculpted musculature glistening in the sun. Making a gagging face, I left them to ogle.

I saw the real deal in person that afternoon. I was waiting for Natalia to pick me up from school when a blast of air knocked me back and the hum of voices went silent.

“Young Stanley!”

I looked up from where I had fallen and scowled at Profundus.

“How are you this day?” He helped me to my feet, nearly dislocating my shoulder in the process.

“Fine,” I grumbled, retrieving my new phone where it had dropped. The case was scratched. Irritated, I stuffed it away and tried to ignore the blank camera eyes staring at us. “What are you doing here?”

“I wish to visit your Father, as he so graciously offered at our last meeting. And…” he hesitated. “And I wished to see how you were faring, Young Stanley.”

“I’m fine.”

“Excellent. Ha! Ha ha ha ha ha!”

I wondered if laughter was a foreign concept on his home planet. He had to be an alien. Or maybe a robot. He was too tall, too perfectly built, and too awkward to be anything else.

We stood in silence until Natalia drove up to the curb. The passenger window rolled down, radiating disapproval only augmented by her raised eyebrow.

“Stan?”

I sighed. “This is Profundus.”

Her mouth was prim, but the doors unlocked.

We rode in silence.

Mom and Dad were pleased to meet my savior. Profundus seemed rather awed by my Mom, which most people were. She was seven feet tall, muscular, shimmering skin and hair, eyes unnaturally brilliant green. And you could tell she could rip you in half if you robbed a bank or put your shoes on the couch.

Dad was less exotic, but no less dangerous. Human at one time, he had fallen into a vat of something and emerged indestructible. He played it down, though his reflexes gave his Super away instantly. If you tossed him the remote, his arm blurred with the speed of his reaction.

And then there was me, sitting awkwardly at the table as they spoke over my head. Not human, but certainly not a Celestial Warrior hailing from Planet Kheranstak. Not human but inclined to drop things and get hit in the face by basketballs thrown in my general direction. I swam junior varsity freestyle and liked hiking.

Yeah.

Profundus’ brow continued to be wrinkled in thought as he bid my parents an extremely formal good-bye and took off into the sunset.

“Well, he’s nice.” Mom said.

Dad snorted.

We ate dinner.

He was back the next day. I was sitting in Chemistry. A flash of color at the window set my hackles up. Demonikor had taken me out of a mall, no regard for civilians. I was trying to be cool, but my nervousness was wearing. So, at the first available disruption, I edged to the window to take a peek.

It was Profundus, wheeling expertly over the school. He would pause at each corner and look out over the housing developments. The sun glistened on his golden hair. I scowled and hunkered down behind my chemistry book.

I escaped during lunch to the stretch of useless lawn in front of the school.

“Good day, Young Stanley!” he hailed from above.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I demanded.

He was confused as he slowly sank to the grass. The neatly shorn tips just touched his boots. “Why, I am protecting you, Stanley!”

“I don’t need protection!”

“What if Demonikor or another vile beast comes to capture you?”

“I’ll deal with it.”

“How?”

“Just leave me – “

“But you have no powers!”

“I know!” I snarled, with several additional expletives, just to make myself feel better. They didn’t.

Text Block Limit! Read the rest at https://writingrampant.wordpress.com/2018/07/11/writing-prompt-wednesday-the-profundus-problem/