#rayx

[rainbow-wolf120]

Dumping my RayEvils here because these guys are floating in my brain again

A lot of these are very self-indulgent I mean, very reasonable and totally make sense

Couple of facts / hcs below:

They were all created to oppose Rayman or someone else once in their life

All the RayEvil’s were built / ‘owned’ by a different Rayman villain throughout the franchise. Some overlay, yes, but mostly it’s diverse

Most of the times their creators would leave 'brands' on them to know who belongs to who

RayEvil’s aren’t entirely natural Thingamajigs. They were all artificially made for whatever their creator desired. These normally consist of a Blue Lum and whatever else they have (most commonly Dark Magic)

Now some individual facts about the characters!!

Raymesis:

Created by Mr. Dark, stolen by Ales Mansay at a young 'age'

Hates Mansay and wants to go back to being Mr. Dark's creation (Mansay claims that he created Raymesis)

Became an 'older brother' figure to Shadow after Mansay dumped the two in a room together

Super snappy, angry, and extremely petty. Thinks he's Rayman's true rival but Rayman couldn't give a shit

Created the Antis (Him, Glombrox, First King, and Selena) as a way to get back at Rayman

Shadow Ray:

Created by a Blue Lum and copious amounts of Dark Magic. This made them extremely unstable and (if they could feel it) in lots of pain

Ales Mansay's favorite creation. Thinks that they're the most 'sucessful'

Half-blind and only really cackles / giggles. Needs glasses to sorta see

Can't fully move. They need to 'mark' someone and follow their 'trail' to even go anywhere

Fascinated with art and film. Loves a good movie and is easily amused

Shadi (Bad Rayman)

Also created by Mr. Dark but left for dead in the Livid Dead after his defeat

Did not understand free will until she met Goth Teensy. He helped her find her own personality and being

Very disliked in the Livid Dead with the other Nightmares. She looked too much like Rayman for them

Can pick things up super easily by just watching

Still friends with Goth but became distant after he because the Livid Dead Door guard

RayX

Created by Razorbeard; he was left in the Glade after the Robo Pirates fled the Glade

Made to tire Rayman out and keep him occupied. Very much destined for sports and high-energy activities

Very competitive and will do anything to win. He will cheat, cry, and fight to get what he wants

Cannot handle loosing. He will throw a fit and get extremely violent

One of the only RayEvil's without a Blue Lum. He is pure machinery and alien technology

Showbiz

Mansay's first RayEvil. He created him, but he was sold to Rigatoni. Gave him a hatred for Mansay

Athletic, can breathe / control fire, and can detect his limbs. Everything Rigitoni wants in a star

He's very snobbish and under the impression he's more popular than Rayman (He also has never left the circus)

Even as a performer, still has his old programming. If he see Rayman or anything similar, he will get needlessly violent

Extremle 'one man show' and hates working with others

So yeah, these are my silly guys!! Feel free to ask me anything about them. I love them all dearly <3

[schlushiii]

i dont actually remember if i posted this? if i did oops. my archive is weird at the moment and certain things ive tagged wont show up under the tag filter. either way

family photo!!! i drew this for the con stall way back when. even now im still proud of it <3 i wanna draw more family things like this because it makes me happy.

[imnotevencatholic]

📂

Mother Superion has actually broken two of the stiletto dagger she keeps in the head of her cane. The one we see at that meeting is actually the fourth–Camila took the third out of curiosity, forgot to put it back, and is now taking the secret to her grave. (Mother Superion absolutely knows and takes great amusement in bringing up the mysteriously missing dagger. Just to watch her sweat.)

[detective4blog]

Okokok hi I'm still alive sorry for like, vanishing, my mental health got really bad but I'm back. Probably.

[detective-writes]

hi! i'm really desperate for lockwood and co. content so i was wondering if you could write locklyle fluff? thank you <3

Very sorry for the delay in writing this! I hope it satisfies your need for content :D

Her head leaned on his shoulder, hands wrapped around a cooling cup of tea. She could feel Lockwood look at her before leaning his head on top of hers.

Despite the creaky furniture, it was comfortable. A little moment of rest and peace with the comforting scent of tea wafting in the air. Lucy took a small sip, careful not to disturb Lockwood.

He seemed undisturbed, even getting more comfortable. He was practically leaning against Lucy now, making her laugh a little into her drink. She didn't mind the weight he brought on, cradling the cup carefully in her lap. Moving to place it down would disturb things.

"Are you falling asleep?" She whispered, tapping her finger against the cup lazily. Lockwood gave a rather sleepy sounding 'mhm' in response. "You get half an hour then I wake you up. And get my half hour nap in. Deal?"

"Mmm...thirty-one minutes?"

"You're lucky you're cute." She muttered back, nudging him a little. Tea swashed dangerously close to spilling over but didn't, luckily. Lucy tried to sit perfectly still but felt too aware of the need to slightly move.

Regardless, Lockwood fell asleep relatively fast. His breathing was slow and steady and sounded comfortable. It made her smile slightly, looking around the room lazily. She didn't mind sitting and doing nothing for once.

After all, she had the comfort of Lockwood's body heat and presence. It was nice.

[fictionallyinparadise]

Should. Should I make a promo??

[the-darkness-does-not-bargain]

8, 10, 19

8. What projects am I currently working on? Rated G for Gamer Girls, How to Stitch Holes in the Sky, and Lazarus Woke with a Kiss. I have the next chapters for each started. Lazarus may come out first, as its the furthest along, but we'll see.

10. Is there a fic that got a different response than I expected? Lazarus! I really didn't think an SCP crossover would garner that much interest, but it did. Guess I underestimated how much people would thirst for Bea and Lil as mad scientists lmao.

19. I added one here, but here's another!

“Mary, I need a reservation Thursday night for two.  Can you do that?”

In retrospect, the call shouldn’t have been her first clue.  There were other signs for months before that, but that was the one that Mary noticed first.

“Sure thing, baby girl, although we won't have space until 7.”

“That’s fine.  If it can be one of the tables facing the water, that would be even better.”

Facing the water, eh?  “I’m sure we can work that.  Shan just finished finalizing the new menu.  Anything we should know?”  She asked her question in as neutral a tone as possible, because she knew from experience that if Lilith detected even a hint of probing or curiosity that she would close up like a steel trap.

“No,” Lilith responded.  “I’m sure whatever Shannon has picked out will be fine.  She has broad tastes, and no food allergies."  She.  Interesting.  Not that a particular pronoun meant anything by itself.  Lilith often had work dinners with colleagues of all types, and Cat's Cradle was one of her restaurants of choice to host them.  But those dinners usually weren't scheduled for such a late hour, and none of them came with a request for a specific table.

"Alright, Lil, we'll put you down for 7."

It was tough to pick up, and she might have imagined it, but she thought she heard a sigh of relief on the other end of the call.  "Thank you, Mary.  I'll see you two then.  Goodbye."

"Bye, Lil."  Once the call ended, Mary pocketed her phone and went to find Shannon.  The restaurant wasn't yet open for the lunch hour, so she found her stacking wine glasses at the bar.  "Lilith is bringing someone Thursday night.  For a date.”

[kaijubluu]

I just noticed that Lucas' hair kinda looks slicked back so now all I can think about is he gets up super early to get his hair done. And immediately his sleepy boyfriends are complaining bc he left the bed. Then when he's more awake Brodie gets up to see what's going on, sees his boyfriend with gel on his hands and half his hair slicked back and just-

"YOU LEAVE THE CUDDLE PILE FOR THIS????"

HAIRSPRAYS FOR DAAAAYS

[eclipixnova]

sandwich x lemon, sandwich x pomegranate or sandwich x mocha ray... I wonder

[detective4sideblog]

Have the urge to write smut. So um. Except something.

[sunny-haven]

My experiences with being hypnotized and why I'm trying out self hypnosis

Ever since getting into hypnosis, I've always wanted to be hypnotized but throughout the years that I've been into it, I can count on one hand the amount of files that have actually put me under. Even doing live sessions with other hypnotists didn't really do that much for me, though they were always beginner hypnotists and/or ones I had taught myself. Because of this, I had believed that for me to go under, I would need an experienced hypnotist that I know and trust well, and even then, it would likely take several sessions to go anywhere due to my ADHD (which made it extremely hard for me to focus during a hypnosis session). And because for the longest time, I didn't really know any hypnotists I knew and trusted well and who I wanted to hypnotize me, that belief was left unchanged for years.

The deepest anyone had put me under was my headmate Rayx, we had to do it via text. The constant switching and doing it over text prevented me from going that deep but it was more effective than anything I had ever experienced, although those two or three sessions were so long ago that my memory is fuzzy other than he got to make me chant a mantra, haha. Nowadays though, I'm not interested in Rayx putting me under and I don't think he's interested either.

In 2019, when I was still living with my family and we all stayed in one room, I finally attempted self hypnosis, and the easiest method I found was creating a hypnosis file specifically for myself. I had to be very quiet and had to wait to have the room for myself. It was mostly focused on general relaxation, more aimless than usual when I'm hypnotizing someone. Then, when I was able to have a moment to relax by myself, I laid in bed and listened to the file. None of the suggestions stuck, but it was the most relaxed I had ever been in my entire life.

I then recorded another file, one focused on helping me overcome my anxiety from phone calls (one that I still have to this day, and is currently making me procrastinate from making an important call). For whatever reason though, I avoided listening to this one, despite Rayx's insistence, and stopped making self hypnosis files for myself. I still wanted to be hypnotized and would sometimes complain about how I wished I was easier to hypnotize and that I wished that I knew someone who was experienced with hypnosis, and Rayx would always tell me that I could still go back to doing self hypnosis files since the first one worked so well, especially because I lived on my own and making them would be way easier. And for whatever reason, I wouldn't, and wouldn't have an answer for him.

Fast forward to about five years later, and being in @/nocturnowlette's community has surrounded me with several experienced hypnotists (as well as Owlette herself). It took me a long while to get around to trying out one of Owlette's files, mostly because they were either about things I wasn't interested in or I just felt like wouldn't work as someone who was inexperienced with being hypnotized. And I hadn't had the courage to ask someone to try to put me under, especially because those who I was interested in I had already hypnotized several times and I felt like some part of my brain would have a hard time submitting to them as a result (which has happened before). But then Owlette one day released a file that was supposed to be for those who struggled going under and was supposed to make it easier for them, which peaked my interest. Eventually, I decided to make myself comfortable and give the file a listen. I'll go over what happened in a moment.

Since joining Owlette's community, a deep-rooted fear of mine had been cracked wide open, one I had never even realized was there and something I still struggle to put into words. I had discovered that I had a fear of loss of control. And what "loss" and "control" mean are very nebulous in my head, but essentially when it comes to hypnosis, I want to feel like the one in control. Oftentimes that means being the hypnotist and the dom, but in other scenarios (like with one couple I'm friends with), it could mean that two people have a hypnosis relationship, but they still happily submit to me and I can mess with them easily. Maybe someone is hypnotizing a group of others, but I'm still hypnotizing the tist as well as everyone else if I want to. And this want applies to both in and out of sessions. So if I would see two people who I had hypnotized before enjoying a hypnosis session without anything to do with me, I would feel like I'm "losing control". If I was listening to someone do a public session and I have no part in it and am just a spectator, I feel like I'm "losing control". And a myriad of other things I've found can trigger this, ranging from making me mildly uncomfortable to severely, even making me break down into tears at times, even though consciously I'm trying to be happy for my friends.

I really fucking hate it. I'm currently attempting to work on this, but this was and is a thing I'm dealing with. One philosophy I used to have was simple exposure therapy, telling others to just carry on and do what they're gonna do so I can expose myself more to situations where I "lose control" so my brain can understand it's okay. Whether or not it's helping, I'm not entirely sure. But since discovering this and looking for ways to help, I had gotten the idea that hypnotizing myself and showing my subconscious mind that it was okay would probably help a lot, especially in a community who had been very focused on safety and pretalk. I decided that Owlette would probably be good, since they're a very skilled hypnotist and we already had a good hypnosis relationship in the past, and she had already mentioned several times before she was interested in putting me under. Before actually talking with her about it though, I figured I'd listen to one of her files to see what it'd be like, which was perfect when she dropped her more beginner-friendly file.

So with all that in mind, I listened to the file and it was... well... I won't go into detail, as it is not an experience I want to think about for long, but it ended up being the worst experience I've ever had with a file. And I don't mean it simply didn't work, I mean that it was genuinely painful. This isn't at all a slant to Owlette, the actual contents of the file were good and it wasn't that different from any other competent beginner-friendly hypnosis file. This instead was like a massive slap in the face that something was deeply wrong with me and that I needed to work on myself. I dunno why I even listened for long, it felt like I was actively pushing away suggestions at one point. Something in my mind just told me I needed to "see it through" or some bullshit, I don't know why. I have to wonder if my reaction ended up being comparable to a PTSD reaction or something (I am NOT saying I have PTSD btw, I'm just wondering).

Normally when I listen to a hypnosis file in the past (and I actually attempted to listen and be hypnotized), it was always by someone I never knew. That combined with the fact that I know hypnosis files for a general audience - as opposed to one made for a specific person - tend to not work unless the subject listening was particularly suggestible. So from the outset, my mind was already geared towards the file not working on me, no matter how much I tried to keep an open mind. At the same time, my ADHD would go into overdrive. Normally I don't have an easy time focusing on things (and god, I would love to try being medicated but that's unrelated) but it's never that bad, and if I'm particularly invested in something, I can more easily focus or even hyperfocus. But almost as a mental defense to prevent me from being hypnotized, my brain's hyperactivity would flare up a ton and would constantly jump from topic to topic, way more often than it normally does, and it made it virtually impossible to focus on the file for long.

For those who I did trust and let them attempt to hypnotize me, my mind took a different stance. They were inexperienced and sometimes there was even a bit of a language barrier, so my hyperactive mind would focus on tiny details they likely didn't notice and would start constantly mentally critique their methods, what words they said, or even if something was grammatically correct or not.

For this file though, I trust Owlette a lot, and more importantly, they are quite skilled and experienced, and though they've been a hypnotist for less time than me, they are definitely one of the better ones I've seen and are a very experienced subject. That, combined with my newfound knowledge of this fear that had been running in the background for years and years... I suppose it made me feel exposed in a way I never felt before when I listened to the file. The mental defenses were still there, on even more of an overdrive than ever before, but being aware of it all and knowing that Owlette was someone who's experienced and someone who I trust seemingly clashed with whatever the hell is going on deep in my mind.

All this to say, I've given up on attempting to be hypnotized by someone else, at least not until whatever is wrong with me has been solved. Exposure therapy definitely did not help in that instance. But, my mind went back to those self hypnosis files I made before and just how effective they were for me when nothing else really seemed to be. I couldn't really be afraid of losing control if I was the one putting myself under. So earlier this month, I made a self hypnosis file, based on relaxation like before but also trying to slowly get rid of that fear of loss of control. It was a bit aimless like the other self hypnosis files, but that was okay, and editing in sounds of rain while indoors next to a fireplace also helped a bunch. I certainly don't think it can be hypnotized out of me, but I'm hoping that if I keep at it, that fear will fade over time.

And as for that file itself... It again was one of the most comfortable experiences of my life. I honestly don't remember a comfier one, to be honest. And it's hard for me to judge because I'm not at all used to judging to how I respond to hypnosis, but I think I ended up going pretty deep. I nodded along to what I was saying without really thinking. I would imagine myself as my fursona a lot of the time (which is what happened during Owlette's file, though in that instance, it was not at all fun), and it felt like I was drifting off to sleep. In fact, towards the later half of the file, I don't remember any of it - it felt like I had just drifted off to sleep. I didn't even wake up during the awakener, though as soon as the file ended, I started to wake up, then was jolted awake at the realization I didn't even wake up when my voice was counting me up from trance. Like wow. Is that what it's like being hypnotized for you all??? Gosh.

Earlier today, as an attempt to calm myself before making an important call, I decided to listen to the file again. And I pretty much had the exact same experience. The only difference was that my consciousness started becoming aware as the file was waking me up, though I chose to stay in trance until the file ended, then I woke up quickly and easily the moment it ended. And then for whatever reason, I decided to listen to the file a third time while I was still in bed, and though it wasn't as effective, I still had that moment of going deep enough it felt like sleep (and thus I don't know what happened). I woke up from trance as I was saying the number 5, as I thought I was done counting then, lmao.

Needless to say, I'm definitely making more hypnosis files, though I'm unsure of what I should do next. I feel like I should make a file to help with my nervousness for phone calls, though I'm afraid I will not listen to it like I did in 2019. But I'm unsure what else I would do right now, especially since a file like that would definitely be helpful as there's an important call I need to do soon. So I might just make that particular file.

My end goal is to make me see myself as my fursona, as I have done with some people, as that has been my dream with hypnosis for years and years. I have hope now, I realize I'm a more suggestible subject than I thought. I also hope I'll be able to overcome this fear someday, because it's really getting in the way of me being able to be happy for my friends.

[schlushiii]

Some silly lil accetta family sketches I did while on the bus today

The rare and elusive smiling praxis

[whaledocboi]

Hmmm i was thinking of some of your older au posts and got hit with the thought ASOIAF baratheon!Lilith... as a greyscale survivor

you guys just really like lilith huh

thank you rayx for the greyscale idea, i can now add the scales (sorta) to the design and explain it away really well

not to brag, but baratheon lilith with one parent (probably mother) being a targaryen is one of my best headcanons to date, it fits everything so well (black hair with white streaks, familial pressure due to heritage, etc etc)

[daisychainsandbowties]

prompt! mary + "we give those we love nicknames, because love requires a word that belongs to us alone" (fredrick backman)

Mary sits cross-legged in the courtyard, hood pooled around her shoulders, staring straight ahead without seeing the younglings in her eyeline, pretend-duelling in a patch of sunlight.

Her hands pluck at the air, threading strands of invisible luminescence between her fingers, tugging them into a lattice, an alignment of colour and intention.

She ignores the ache that spirals through her hips from sitting in the same position for hours and hours, as dawn came and put dew onto everything, as the sun touched the furthest edge of the courtyard, coaxing the flowers back into bloom. Sound, sight, the texture of the stone beneath her, all of it fades as Mary presses every ounce of her concentration into holding her Force shield.

It’s supposed to be second-nature to her at this point. The others do it with a gesture, with a breath, casting a loose net of Force into the air to deflect soft projectiles and, more recently, stones. Mary has bruises all along her arms, her ribs, from blocking each one with her body.

Shannon’s fingers soft up under her shirt, probing each with terrible care.

“It’s not like… building a wall.” She said this, unhelpfully, while trailing the tip of her tongue along the path of Mary’s neck as they lay on her bunk, tangled up in Shannon’s nudibranch-print blanket. She splayed her palm over Mary’s shoulder, pressed lightly. “It’s more like throwing a tantrum. You just… put it out there.”

“Ah, that explains why you’re so good at it.”

Shannon’s teeth on her neck. Not a warning, never anything angry, just the pressure of her mouth.

“Oh, my girlfriend is a Jedi and a comedian?” Her breath laced with the faintest hint of toothpaste and the sour candy she ate afterwards, “Score.”

That was the same word she said on Ilum, shivering from the cold after Mary pulled her from an ice-cold pool. She stood with her teeth chattering, tucked her hands under Mary’s shirt to steal her heat. They were climbing through caves of ice and rock and monsters in search of kyber crystals and their first real lightsabers, not yet really certain of love.

In the dark, Shannon pressed a dozen of her effortless, invisible shields into the air above them, inviting Mary to press her hand into it, to feel the stretch of the molecules.

She explained it a dozen times, stretching her metaphors until she fell asleep with her mouth partly open, resting on Mary’s arm until it went numb. Still, Mary didn’t move.

The shield wouldn’t come to her. She could meditate for hours, trying to lash out with the Force, pretending to run with blaster bolts darting past her body, but no amount of daydreaming brought her any closer to manifesting a shield.

Maybe it was because, for her, using the Force has always been a thing of motion, a blind reaching-out. She touched it, used it first amid the blur of rock walls back on Tatooine, when she was seven and taking part in deadly races across the landscape of her home planet. Pod-racing was banned in Republic space, but there were no laws on Tatooine, just gangsters.

She remembers how she used to surround herself in a nimbus of something as her podracer threaded through the others. Her helmet rattling overlarge on her head and all the world reduced to the desert and the track and the need to cross that finish line. She used it more than usual on the day she met Shannon, performing a breakneck manoeuvre around crash close to the finish line, forcing power into her engine as she burned a runnel of hypermatter into the sand, taking a corner so fast that any other human would have broken the ship into pieces, but Mary held it through brute force.

The stands erupted when she pulled up, climbing out before the afterimage of the rupulsor-lines had disappeared from her eyes. She fought with the strap of the helmet under her chin, and then looked up and saw her.

The girl on the sidelines, surrounded by a gaggle of other, oddly-dressed children. There was a woman behind them, dark eyes fixed on Mary as she stood there.

The helmet slipped from her fingers, making a hollow noise as it bounced away from her boots, which were held together with random bits of leather and twine. She listed a little against the hot metal chassis, exhausted, but her eyes moved back to the  girl, odd and golden with her hair chopped short.

She darted through the opening of the garage as Mary approached it, ignoring the other drivers glaring at her back and wondering if she’d be safe walking the eight miles back through the desert to her little nook in the old cave systems.

Wondering if Watto would pay her or insist on sinking her winnings into ‘repairs’ on the pod.

If she had enough credits in her threadbare backpack to buy some algae packets on the way through Mos Espa.

Then the girl, rushing out to meet her. Behind her, tall and steady and strange, was her guardian. Mary had always been observant – you had to be, living as an orphan on Tatooine – so she noticed the weapon on the woman’s hip as it caught the light.

She froze, even as the girl skidded to a halt in front of her with her arms behind her back, trying to stretch as tall as Mary.

She was shorter, just by an inch.

The Jedi stayed in the shade of the garage opening, letting the others racers stream inside, watching them shoulder-check Mary on their way past, though they avoided the other girl like water parting around a stone.

Mary wanted to run, or hide, or go back and drive the pod straight home even if it meant being charged for the fuel cells, but something in the girl’s posture stopped her.

She stuck out a small hand for some reason.

“Hi, I’m Shannon. You race well, but your corners are sloppy. You know momentum is a vector quantity, so you should keep to your lines as much as possible.”

Her hand stayed where it was with Mary staring at it. She didn’t know what a vector quantity was, but she knew how to take corners out in the desert. With a glare, she said, “The sand doesn’t let you travel in perfect lines. It has texture, and it moves with you. If I tried to move in a straight line, if I tried to fight it, I’d just lose more speed.”

“Oh, like a boat.”

“A what?”

“That’s enough, Shannon,” the Jedi called from inside the garage, but not harshly.

The girl – Shannon – stuck her hand back in the pocket of her robes. They were beige, and clean.

Mary, in contrast, wore her better shirt and the soft pads on her shoulders and her arms and her knees, which would stop her skin from sloughing off if she got thrown from her pod. They were patched together from dozens of trash piles, cannibalized into something that made her look like an overstuffed sofa.

“Master,” Shannon did a dainty little half-turn, heel rotating in the sand with a dancer’s grace, “I think I can feel it!”

Mary clutched at her helmet as the Jedi nodded, gesturing for Shannon to return to her side, which she did, hopping over and slotting herself in a half-step behind the Jedi.

Nothing spared Mary from that dark, alert gaze. There was a softness threaded under the Jedi’s words as she spoke, but they were a command.

“Tell me, child, where are your parents?”

A day later, Mary sat in a ship sent all the way from Coruscant to collect them, belted into a seat with cold metal coating her spine in goose-pimples. Her arms, too.

The ship had atmospheric controls, according to one of the droids tucked in at the entryway. The other children had ignored it, but Mary stopped to stare at it, all shiny in its casings, so unlike the PIT droids who scuttled around her pod at the refuelling stations.

Droid binary was Mary’s fourth language, so she wasn’t very good with it, but she knew enough to understand that atmospheric controls meant the ship could sit at an even 283 Kelvin, despite the heat of the desert.

Shannon noticed her prodding at the goose-pimples on her arms. At the time, she just thought of them as cold bumps, lacking the vocabulary for describing cold. Even in the desert, at night, when the temperatures can plummet fast and hard, Mary never left her skin so uncovered as to see it take on that texture.

“You’ll get used to it,” Shannon chirruped right in her ear. She’d claimed the seat next to Mary by glaring at one of the other younglings, who bowed out with the grace Mary expected from a Jedi in training.

Back then, Mary didn’t know what a bird was, but in the years to come she’d describe Shannon to herself as birdlike, flitting from place to place as though forever on the edge of flight.

“Get used to what?”

“Being cold.” Shannon nodded sagely, “Space is cold.”

The hum of the engine started in the metal all around them, and Mary pressed down into the seat, trying not so show fear. In Mos Espa, people could smell fear from a half-mile away even over the mounds of Ronto dung and the smell of roasting meat, so Mary had learned to bury hers deep out in the desert. She only took it out when she was alone with the light of her lantern, praying that her solar battery would last long enough for her to rehydrate the algae packet stuffed down in her boot.

A hand slipped over her armrest, catching Mary’s fingers in a tight, sweaty grip. “Don’t worry,” Shannon said lightly, “If we explode, we’ll barely understand that we’re dying before it’s all over.” She seemed to think this was comforting.

It was.

Mary stared, gravity pressing her into her seat as the ship peeled away from the planet’s surface. It only occurred to her then that she was leaving, and that in all likelihood she would never go back to Tatooine. She clung to that hand – her hand - as the ship accelerated, staring at the fingers criss-crossed with lines of charcoal, or ink.

Shannon was always sketching. She’d sketched Mary’s little house – or, well, her cave – when the Jedi drove them there on a speeder so that Mary could say goodbye to it. She wasn’t supposed to take anything with her, because she was going to the Jedi Temple on Coruscant, because Jedi had to leave all of their past behind them.

There was nothing she would have taken, anyway, except perhaps a spare algae pack to keep in her boot, just in case it was all a trick, but the fingers tangled in hers felt solid as the ship transitioned into weightlessness and Mary floated up against the straps holding her in her seat. She became suddenly and violently aware of being loosened from the ground; that there was no ground, only space.

She clung to Shannon’s hand, laughing despite herself at the absurdity of it all. Over the roar of the engine, she heard Shannon yell, “I like to just pick a direction and call it down. It helps you not to feel sick if you can orient yourself, even arbitrarily.”

It was odd, hearing words like arbitrary coming from a seven-year old girl. The children Mary knew spoke mostly in curse words and a melange of different languages all competing with each other for syntax. She blinked, looking around for a direction. It made sense to decide that the floor of the ship was down, but some part of her knew that she had already oriented herself instinctually in relation to the hand clasped around hers, in relation to the girl at her side.

Shannon

///

She senses her first.

It’s a feeling Mary didn’t understand, for months and months after they kissed and the bond snapped into place. She described it to herself over and over as an indescribable warmth, or the first bite of food after starving, or the feeling right before you reach the finish line when you know you’re going to get there before anyone else.

‘Oh.’ She remembers sitting in her room with Shannon, elbows pressed together as they sat in the frame of the window looking out at the lights in the city where it poked above the bedrock. Mary sat there trying to describe what she felt when she touched Shannon, all the while watching a sketch take shape on the pad in Shannon’s lap, but it stopped when she floundered at the end of a sentence.

Shannon looked at her, and said ‘oh’, and then dropped her pencil onto the pad to take Mary’s hand. ‘I can describe it for you, if you want. It’s very simple, actually.’

‘I’ve been doing emotional long-division over it, so I hope not.’

A tight laugh, ‘It’s not really a, um…’

‘A skill issue?’

That was old slang, from the race track. A thread of their first argument about sand and corners and momentum.

‘No, it’s just…’ Shannon licked her lips, huffed out a sound that was not a laugh, not a sigh. Just an exhalation, maybe. ‘When I reach out for the bond,’  her hand tightened around Mary’s, ‘It, uh, it feels like coming home.’

That left her speechless. Many things did.

In the courtyard, with the impression of a barrier shimmering in the air like oil on water, Mary senses her first.

Sees her then, resolving into a smear of colour and light. Mary has to pick her out in pieces; her particular gait, sprinting full-tilt across the courtyard. The padawan braid behind her right ear, threaded with a ribbon of blue silk, a white band at the bottom because Shannon is studying healing.

She keeps bringing her notebook full of anatomical sketches into Mary’s room, showing her joints and tendons and using words like abduction and adduction, circumduction and plantarflexion.

Mary thinks she does it on purpose, because she thinks it makes her sound seductive.

It does.

She runs, trailing a succession of disapproving but unsurprised looks from Jedi in various meditation poses. Her braid is stuck to her neck with sweat and Mary knows immediately that she must have been  ten levels down eating shrimp noodles, must have climbed up through the ducts and the elevator shafts to get here. Indeed, as the barrier wavers and collapses, as the feeling of home cuts through Mary’s concentration, she sees the streaks of black grease on Shannon’s hands as she hops over a decorative stream and straight through a bush until she has a straight shot at Mary.

Without deciding to, Mary stands, braces her backfoot for the moment Shannon crashes into her, hands tangling in her robes. “If you’re being chased by a fruit vendor again I’m not-”

But Shannon just pulls her behind one of the pillars, still out of breath. Her fingers leave stains on Mary’s robes.

“Did you-”

“Yeah the lift was taking too long to arrive but Mary, listen. I just had the worst thought in the world.”

“So you just had to share it with me.”

“Mary this is so, so serious.” And, despite the dab of sauce on her chin, despite her sweaty hair, longer now and pulled into a tail, she does look serious. Mary’s hand tightens on her shoulder, a wordless thing passing through the bond between them.

Shannon smiles, melting into Mary’s arms. She ducks her head, presses into Mary’s sternum, voice almost lost in the folds of her robes. “So I was down arguing with someone about the best broth for synth-noodles and you know it just hit me that we’re both shipping out soon. You have Cere and I have fucking knobbrains-”

“His name is Vincent.”

“-and then we’ll be ready for the trials in literally no time because you’re amazing and I’m stubborn.”

She pauses, suddenly. Mary rolls her eyes when she realises it’s for dramatic emphasis, and not so that Shannon can catch her breath.

“And then… we’ll be Jedi.”

“Shan, please tell me it isn’t just occurring to you now that we’re going to be Jedi.”

A finger pressed to her lips. One of the decorative fountains has a flaw in its plumbing - Mary can hear it, like she could always hear claws in the dirt when womp rats tried to bite her ankles back on Tatooine.

She listens to that, instead of the flutter of her heartbeat, as Shannon traces her bottom lip almost absently.

“No,” she admits. “I know we’re going to be Jedi, but did you ever think about, you know, what they call Jedi.”

“You mean Master.”

Shannon buries her face in Mary’s chest again, voice decidedly muffled now. “Mmff. Yeah. That.”

She waits, so Mary takes the bait, works it out. Just like long-division, always working back and back to follow the threads of Shannon’s thoughts. Mary imagines she’s untangling the wires of the repulsor engines in her pod, working to snap the energy field into place that latches the vehicle together and lets it fall apart gracefully when it doesn’t smash against a rock face.

It takes her almost a minute, during which Shannon keeps up a steady stream of pathetic noises.

Then, “Oh. Oh shit.”

“I’m going to erase myself from all legal records immediately.”

Mary looks down at her, at the nape of her neck still damp with sweat, the messy tangle of her tied-back hair. “Oh, come on. It won’t be that bad…. Master Masters.”

She darts a kiss onto Shannon’s scalp in the instant before her head whips up, pulling back to avoid Shannon’s head, to appreciate her consternated glare. Her laughter echoes through the courtyard, drawing eyes, but for once Mary doesn’t mind as she pulls Shannon into a hug.

She squirms, whispers harshly into Mary’s jaw, “You’re the worst girlfriend in at least nine parsecs.”

“Are you really upset?”

“Yes,” but she’s fiddling with Mary’s padawan braid. It’s simple, compared to Shannon’s with her bright silk thread, just a black band to mark her study in covert operations, in linguistics and in dampening her Force-signature. All the little techniques that keep Jedi spies alive in hostile space.

Mary kisses just under her ear, smirking when Shannon’s shivers against her. They’re still behind the pillar, but Shannon makes a small, wild noise and grabs Mary’s hand, pulling her into a small stand of tall shrubs and flowerbeds.

When they stop, she presses into Mary immediately, tongue slipping through her teeth. Mary kisses her back, feeling the Force spin around them as invisible threads of light.

Shannon breaks away with a breathy sound, taking both of Mary’s hands in hers and raising them up, leaning into them.

It’s an old game of theirs, locking hands, trying to push each other out of a ring of chalk sketched onto the ground. Now, it’s just habit.

“You can be the same as me,” Mary presses her thumbs into the soft centre of Shannon’s palms. “I don’t have a last name at all, so everyone will call me Master Mary, I suppose, which… also sounds stupid.”

“I promise to just call you Mary.”

They’re out of sight now, hidden among the tall shrubs and hushed by the noise of the water trickling through the grooves under their feet. Shannon doesn’t need to go up on her toes anymore to kiss her – she’s a whole inch taller, which she claims is ‘probably because of all the shrimp noodles and the shrimp chips and the-’

‘Wait, doesn’t ‘shrimpy’ mean small in Basic?’

‘Whatever.’

Mary feels the brush of her lips again, struck by their bond, that feeling of home, home, home. The kiss is long, lingering, Shannon’s hands slipping inside her robes, over her ribs. She knows where the bruises are, presses some and avoids others, swallowing the small sounds Mary makes.

It feels, for an instant, like they’re back on that ship making anchors of each other, like the floor is down but Shannon is the centre of it all.

When they pull away there’s a soft shimmer in the air all around them, a tight bubble that presses their bodies close. Shannon’s hands linger on Mary’s hips as she looks up, lips bruise-bright. She reaches out, and a cascade of colour erupts where her hand makes contact with something solid, shimmering and almost invisible.

“You did it,” she breathes, taking her hand back. Little globs of colourful light cling to her fingers for a moment before fading. “You made a shield.”

It’s stupid, repetitive, like things always falling toward the ground, but Mary reaches out and takes Shannon by the jaw. Kisses her because she knows too many languages to say the words that erupt in her mouth like bruises onto skin.

No, you’re my shield.

[detective4blog]

I wanna write with Sebastian again because I miss him but idk which idea so.....poll.

[vincentbonedaddy]

Rayx and his children. Scorn oldest, Lucifer or Luci second born, Ezra or Ezy third born and Priny the princess